Back in the Saddle Again

Well, I wish I was. I must admit, as much as I love horses, they do make me nervous. I’ve never had riding lessons and have only ridden trail horses from a stable. My last two experiences were not good ones. Be that as it may, they are still my favorite animal–so majestic and proud. One of my favorite oldies songs is “Ride Like the Wind.” I also loved “Wildfire” by Michael Murphy. Always wondered if it was the same Michael Murphy I knew in Aston, PA. He did play guitar but I never heard him sing.

Anyway, all of that is beside the point. What I really wanted to say here (this is my sleep deprivation: when I don’t get any sleep, I talk 90 miles a minute about nothing.) I was up all night trying to reduce my email inbox messages (there were over 1,000).

So. . .I have created a google+ author page. Yay! I have my very own website. And it is free (so far) and it offers all kinds of cool features that I’m still learning about.

Okay. I need to take care of personal hygiene now, so will be back later. Y’all have a happy, blessed, and glorious day. I love this Florida sunshine. BTW–no longer in Sebring. We moved 20 miles down the road to Lake Placid (the city of murals) to be near my mother-in-law, who was widowed 2 yrs. ago.

Okay, okay. I’m going.

“Dreamer” (Chronicles of Marithe, Book 1) by Patrick O’Scheen

Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady


We all have a little Dragon inside of us, something that struggles to find solace.….Dreamer is the first book in a series that portrays life as a mixture of fantasy and reality.

The main character, Magic, flows between the worlds, often preferring one more than the other. Both of his lives are fraught with their own dangers.

He must struggle with illness and alternatively with the life of a Great Red Dragon.

Available at:
Amazon US:
Amazon UK:


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THE OWL LADY PRESENTS: A free excerpt today from “Under the Ice: a Gus LeGarde Mystery” by Aaron Paul Lazar

Yep, this one’s a keeper, too. At this point I thiink I will probably start collecting his books. He doesn’t know how to write a bad one.

Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady


 What do you do when your past comes back to kill you?

After escaping her abusive husband, life is finally good for Camille LeGarde and her daughter, Shelby. She has a great relationship with her new husband, Gus, who also loves Shelby like his own child. But the LeGarde family’s fragile oasis is shattered when the man of Camille’s nightmares is released from prison.

Greg Robinson never wanted to be a father. But he’s playing the biological card for all it’s worth to get close to Shelby, so he can realize his true goal—revenge against Gus LeGarde, the man who “stole” his wife and daughter.

Lured by the promise of connecting with her real dad, Shelby vanishes, sending Gus and Camille on a desperate race through the worst ice storm of the century to find her before Robinson can act on his chilling threat…

If I can’t have…

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A Fire In Winter – A Christian Poem About Receiving Jesus

Couldn’t have said it better myself. This is so true, and beautifully stated.

Along the Barren Road

fireplaceOften times, we have a misunderstanding about accepting Jesus into our lives. We believe that we are not able to come to him until we have cleaned up our act. Maybe we’re not completely wanting to clean up our act; maybe we want to clean it up, but are scared; and maybe we just don’t know how to clean it up.  There is a misconceived notion that when Jesus enters into our lives, everything is great and wonderful. This is almost always false. Yes, Jesus does add meaning, purpose, and fulfillment into our lives, but that usually comes later. Our first meeting with him is not in paradise, but hell. When you are starving, you are in most need of food. When you are thirsty, you are in most need of water. When you are freezing, you are in most need of heat. And when you are the most sinful and broken…

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Jonathan Edwards, Prayer, and A Heavenly Experience

Oh, the love that drew salvation’s plan, and brought it down to man! Oh the mighty gulf that God did span–at Calvary. This is one of my favorite hymns. Oh how I long to be the servant my Lord deserves. He does fill me up when I take time to let Him.

Gospel Relevance

In his book, The Works of Jonathan Edwards: Letters and Personal Writings, George S. Claghorn gives us a glimpse of a taste Jonathan Edward’s once had in prayer:

Once . . . in divine contemplation and prayer, I had a view that for me was extraordinary, of the glory of the Son of God, as Mediator between God and man, and his wonderful, great, full, pure, and sweet grace and love, and meek and gentle condescension . . . The person of Christ appeared ineffably excellent with an excellency great enough to swallow up all thought and conception . . . which continued as near as I can judge, about an hour; which kept me the greater part of the time in a flood of tears, and weeping aloud. I felt an ardency of soul to be, what I know not otherwise how to express, emptied and annihilated; to…

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Otford to Bundeena: The Coast Track

Some absolutely beautiful scenery from Australia. Couldn’t pass up the chance to reblog.

Everyday Adventures

Following my post Sydney’s Best Day Walk? – The Coast Track, Royal National Park, on Sunday I successfully completed the walk from Otford to Bundeena with a small group of friends. It was my fifth time doing the track and first time in about three years after having to abort due to weather last year.

This time around the walk was threatened by the worsening bushfire crisis in NSW. On Friday Sydney was covered in a thick smoke haze and a small fire burning near the start of the track looked like scuttling us again. However, the weather cleared and after a call to the local National Parks and Wildlife Office the walk was on.

With temperatures forecast to hit the high 20s we opted to make an early start. That nearly backfired when we cut things about as tight as possible on the train from Sutherland to Otford…

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Book Promotion: The Luck of the Weissensteiners by Christoph Fischer

I’m enjoying this book so much, I wanted to write a promotion before I even finish reading it.

The setting is the time leading up to World War II and the persecution of the Jews. This book is a well-written historical romance. It has everything: intrigue, passion, and betrayal. In my opinion, writing literary fiction is difficult, but Christoph Fischer has mastered it. Can’t wait to finish reading this book. Here’s the link:

Product Details

Please Promote Pattimari

Time Heals, Forgiveness Mends

This book is a suspenseful crime story in which Susan Morgan’s life has been turned upside down after her husband, John, is murdered. Suspects are questioned, one by one, each having their own motives for the killing. Susan’s life has drastically changed, but with time and forgiveness she races ahead to mend past hatreds and abuse. There are some who think she has gone off the deep end when she reaches out to the very ones who are suspects in her husband’s murder, but someone has to break the cycle of vengeance and hatred. Can Susan do it? – See more at:

The Peace River Chronicles

Again, please bear with me here. I’m struggling with this. Everything I’ve read about writing/publishing says not to start a book with the protagonist introducing themselves because the reader, at the beginning, has no reason to care about the protagonist. I’m asking for feedback here. How many of you would keep reading after this opening? How many would put it down? Do I need to rewrite this opening? This is not the whole chapter.

The Peace River Chronicle

Chapter 1 Book III

by Aleta Kay

I live along the Peace River in Arcadia, Florida. Television and real estate ads make river front property sound like paradise. Let me tell you about Paradise.
The dark caramel colored water is infested with gators, catfish, and floating debris from dead plant life and rubbish that morons throw into the water. The banks are dotted with campgrounds and canoe rentals. And get this: my folks named our place “A Peace of Paradise.” Get it? Yeah, right!

My name is Kayla. I’m fourteen and the oldest of three kids. My two brothers, Kyle and Kevin (my mom likes names that start with K) are ten and seven respectively. My brothers are okay as far as little boys go, but Kevin can be a brat. Mom and Sabello think he’s adorable–when they aren’t drinking and fighting. Then all kids are brats.
Like most people on the river, we have canoes, two to be exact. Our property is posted. One sign bears the name of the property; the second says it’s posted; the last one says we have a big mean dog named Grinder and warns trespassers to be careful. Grinder is actually a runt-of-the-litter Jack Russell who hates us more than any stranger he ever saw. On my part the feeling is mutual.
One of these days I’m going to get in one of those canoes and never look back.
It was a balmy summer day. The gnats and mosquitoes were biting more than the fish. The bug repellent my mom gave us wasn’t doing anything. Dad and I had been lazily moving along the river, looking for places where the fish were biting. We were sitting in our rented canoe in the fourth or fifth place we stopped. This was a good spot. The fish were definitely hungry.
I had just reeled in my fish when I heard yelling on the opposite bank. To my surprise, when I looked over there, a young girl about my age was sitting on a wooden glider swing in a yard about ten feet above the water level. There was no sign of the dog mentioned on the sign, or of the people who were apparently near to murdering each other. But there were two canoes moored beneath the bank where the girl sat.
My attention was riveted on the girl. She wasn’t especially beautiful, just an average pretty, but her facial expression was that of a frightened, wounded puppy. She sat on the glider with her face cupped in her hands, elbows propped on her knees. I guessed it was the brawling of her parents I heard in the background.
She glanced up at me, then quickly looked away. The pain in her eyes stunned me. I knew kids at school who were always in trouble. They always looked angry and defiant, even the girls. Never before had I seen such stark wretchedness. I silently began to pray for her.
My dad pulled in another fish and declared we had enough for supper. That last catch gave us a dozen cat which Mom would cook to perfection along with home fries and a required vegetable salad (yuck).
I tried to forget about that girl but I couldn’t get that lost look out of my mind. As we were sitting around the campfire later Dad must have said something to me I didn’t hear. My sixteen-year-old brother, Marty, started laughing at me.

“Okay, Jimmy, give,” he said. “How’d you manage to meet a girl while you were fishing?”
“I didn’t.”
“Whatever you say, bro.”
Dad cut in, ‘Don’t go chasing any local girls, son. We won’t be here that long.”
How did parents just seem to know what was going on in a guy’s head? I went to bed but I still kept seeing her face. Sleep didn’t come easy that night.

A Good Wife

“Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not eveil all the days of her life.” Prov. 31: 10-12

“I told you I didn’t want you going over there. Now look at the mess we’re in!” Rick raked his hand through his hair, his face contorted with a mixture of anger, hurt, and despair.

Sally’s lip quivered as she swallowed and choked back sobs so she could speak. “We’re just friends. I didn’t mean to give anyone the impression we were having an affair. And I certainly didn’t think he’d hack into our bank account. I thought I could trust him. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to fix this mess, Sally. You seem to trust everyone but me–your husband. Remember, the one you promised to love, honor, and cherish? Why is it easier for you to trust everyone else but me? Where do I fit in on your list of people that matter to you?”

“You do matter,” she cried. “You do.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel that way, and it certainly isn’t evident in the way to treat me and talk about me behind my back. What have I done to deserve your back-biting, two-faced, lying, cheating–the list goes on?”

“It’s nothing you’ve done wrong.” The tears were gone as her anger took over. “I don’t buy all that nonsense about wives obeying their husbands. That’s an old archaic rule to make brutes of men and weak, cowardly women who aren’t even supposed to think for themselves.” Her temporary remorse was gone, replaced by rebellion.

“Well,” Rick said. “If I have treated you as an air-head wife, I never meant to. But let me ask you this: are you happy with this mess you’ve made? Because this mess all stems from your refusing to communicate with me instead of everyone else. If you’re happier being independent and rebellious, then maybe marriage was a mistake.”

Dear reader, what ending would you give this story? True submission is freeing when married to a man who treats his wife with the respect and honor God’s word prescribes. In this story, Rick seems to be the kind of man who at least wants to respect and honor his wife. He would be willing to work things out if she would be willing to be the wife described in Proverbs. What do you think?