
Photos don’t really do the real world any justice.
Then again, I am something of an advocate for experiencing life firsthand.
An author's collection of thoughts and stories

Photos don’t really do the real world any justice.
Then again, I am something of an advocate for experiencing life firsthand.
I had to scrap my plans to write in the morning, and start exercising instead. Frankly, it’s a lot easier to take the kids out on a long walk than it is to do aerobics in the living room — go figure — so I need to get out early enough to “beat the heat.”
Aaaand I’m not remotely an early riser. LAWL.
The good news is that our local swimming pool has finally reopened, and water is great for circulatory problems. I’ll definitely be adding that to the routine.
I *know* that my health suffers when I become inactive, so I’m kicking myself over this.
Anyway
I like to get the stroller loaded up with drinking water and outdoor toys, then walk a mile to the park with the children. There are usually a few other kids on the playground, as well as a tennis group on the courts, so it feels community-like without having to do anything other than smile.
I’ve noticed a brand new trend this year:
People aren’t using their phones anymore.
At all.
I guess they have gotten sick of it.

Some woman sat down two feet away from me and coughed, so I was like, “Is that a challenge?!”
I won.
Last year, someone living in the area got some chickens, then told me all about how good they are for gardens. I suspect that she imagined they’d carefully pick their way through the plant rows, eating pesky bugs and leaving fertilizing poop, so I burst her bubble by saying, “They will eat your vegetables.”
Come to think of it, that woman hasn’t spoken to me since, lol.
Actually, they don’t stop with vegetables. When you set up a chicken run, expect *everything* to die inside of it. And if you want to use the poop as fertilizer, then you need to compost it first — otherwise it will burn the plants and kill them.
Chickens aren’t a romantic pet in the slightest.
On that note: chickens are mean.
Really mean.
Our flock has taken to bullying one in particular, and I’ve had to separate her from the rest. This is actually a really common problem, and if left unchecked they won’t stop until the poor chicken is dead. Our little dear had a bloody comb when I pulled her from the coop, and was absolutely terrified of the others.
Interestingly enough, having a rooster prevents bullying, because he will manage the hens and keep them on their best behavior. Unfortunately, we aren’t allowed to keep roosters in our area because of the noise. Personally, I don’t think that they are any worse than dogs, but that’s how it is.
Chickens are fun, though. They’re definitely worth it if you can put up with everything. Just don’t expect them to maintain your garden for you.

A bit of random trivia is that Carol was actually the name of the main character from the first novel I ever finished … when I was 14.
I technically still have the file, but it’s encrypted so it can never come back to haunt me, lol.
As you’d expect from a novel written by a 14-year-old, the main character was a Mary-Sue. She had unlimited magical abilities, fell head over heels for a handsome prince, but was tragically the daughter of The Evil Antagonist. So. Epic.
But, because I’m a MAJOR weirdo, I didn’t name her anything AWESOME like Silver Raventhorn or whatever.
I named her Carol.
Yeah … I dunno.
I guess I had a pragmatic streak back then, too.
My current Carol, with The Scion Suit, is not in any way related to or inspired by the original. I recycled the name because it fit as normal and average.
And maybe also as a nod to my teenage self.


A dying bumblebee.
The word on the street was that it was stung by a wasp, but I didn’t see it happen.