Fishing with Innocent Husband on Sunday on the McKenzie River.
Well, he fished. I helpfully asked the fish to eat the fly.
Plus, I ate the chocolate chip cookies. Someone has to do the hard work.
Twenty-five years married. Three beloved kids. Two cats, one naughty.
Good times and tough times, and I still think he’s a handsome, huggable fisherman.
22 days.
How well do you really know your spouse?
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Man-She-Married-Cathy-Lamb-ebook/dp/B079KTVHGD/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1539022280&sr=1-1&keywords=the+man+she+married&dpID=51I3PeqnpqL&preST=_SY445_QL70_&dpSrc=srch
My latest book is on sale for $2.99.
A short and sweet summary:
A 105 year old cookbook.
Six generations of women. Four countries. Four languages. One mystery.
I hope you like it! It’s a sweet deal. (‘Sweet,’ as in, there’s CAKE in this book!)
Thank you, Patti Callahan Henry for your review of The Language of Sisters!
A woman who lives in a tree house.
Grandma has a secret.
On sale. $2.99
Hello everyone! I love a cheap and sweet deal. My book, “If You Could See What I See,” is only $2.99 on kindle, on Amazon. It’s about a family lingerie company, a grandma with a secret, and living in a tree house.
An Excerpt From If You Could See What I See…
My family sells lingerie.
Negligees, bras, panties, thongs, bustiers, pajamas, nightgowns, and robes.
My grandma, who is in her eighties, started Lace, Satin, and Baubles when she was sixteen. She said she arrived from Ireland after sliding off the curve of a rainbow with a dancing leprechaun and flew to America on the back of an owl.
I thought that was a magical story when I was younger. When I was older I found out that she had crisscross scars from repeated whippings on her back, so the rainbow, dancing leprechaun, and flying owl part definitely dimmed.
Grandma refuses to talk about the whippings, her childhood, or her family in Ireland. “It’s over. No use whining over it. Who likes a whiner? Not me. Everyone has the crap knocked out of them in life, why blab about it? Blah blah blah. Get me a cigar, will you? No, not that one. Get one from Cuba. Red box.”
What I do know is that by the time Regan O’Rourke was sixteen she was out on her own. It was summer and she picked strawberries for money here in Oregon and unofficially started her company. The woman who owned the farm had an obsession with collecting fabrics but never sewed. In exchange for two nightgowns, she gave Grandma stacks of fabric, lace, satin, and huge jam bottles full of buttons. Grandma worked at night in her room in a weathered boarding house until the early hours and sold her nightgowns door to door so she would have money for rent and food.
Lace, Satin, and Baubles was born. Our symbol is the strawberry.
My grandma still works at the company. So do my sisters, Lacey and Tory. I am back at home in Portland after years away working as a documentary filmmaker and more than a year of wandering. You could ask me where I wandered. I would tell you, “I took a skip and a dance into hell.” It would be appropriate to say I spent the time metaphorically screaming.
In the interest of being real, this is what I looked like last night about two in the morning.
I realized that ALL of the edits I had made on my book the day before, for hours, were TERRIBLE. I had actually made this &%$^&)*^ book WORSE.
If I had spent that time rolling on my living room floor like a hot dog and humming it would have been better. If I had spent my time charting, in alphabetical order, the scientific names of all butterflies of the world while flapping my wings it would have been better. If I had spent my time counting brain cells in my own dang head it would have been better.
Sigh….
The glamour continues. The chocolate has been eaten.
Click on the link, answer the questions, ask to join…
https://www.facebook.com/groups/ReadersCoffeehouse/
Need a short and sweet beach story?
This is the opening scene to June’s Lace, on sale for $1.99.
Ten Things I’m Worried About:
Too many wedding dresses
Not enough wedding dresses
Grayson
Going broke
Losing my home
Never finding an unbroken, black butterfly shell
The upcoming interview with the fashion writer
Not having peppermint sticks in my life
Turning back into the person I used to be
Always being worried
And here’s another scene about June’s studio at the beach in a blue cottage where she designs unique wedding dresses…
My studio is filled with odd and found things. I need the color and creativity for inspiration for the non – traditional wedding dresses I sew. Weathered, light blue shutters from a demolished house are nailed to a wall. Two foot tall pink letters spell out my name, June. On a huge canvas, I painted six foot tall purple tulips with eyes, smiles and pink tutus. I propped that painting against a wall next to a collection of mailboxes in the shapes of a pig, elephant, dragon, dog, and monkey. The monkey mailbox scares me.
I dipped a strawberry into melted chocolate and kept stomping about. I eat when I get upset or stressed, and this had not proved to be good for the size of my bottom. Fifteen extra pounds in two years. After only four more strawberries, okay seven, and more pacing, I took a deep breath and tried to wrestle myself away from my past and back into who I am now, who I am trying most desperately to become.
“Remember, June,” I said aloud as my anger and worry surged, like the waves of the Oregon coast below me. “You are in your sky lighted studio. Not a cold, beige home in the city. You are living amidst stacks of colorful and slinky fabrics, buttons, flowers, faux pearls and gems, and lace. You are not living amidst legal briefs and crammed courtrooms working as an attorney with other stressed out, maniac attorneys hyped up on their massive egos.”
My tired eyes rested, as they so often did, on my Scottish tartan, our ancestor’s tartan, which I’d hung vertically on my wall. When I’d hung it in our modern home in Portland, he’d ripped it down and hid it from me for a month. “Tacky June, it’s tacky. We’re not kilt wearing heathens.”
I am a wedding dress designer in the middle of a soul-crushing divorce. I am a wedding dress designer who will never again marry. I am a wedding dress designer who has about as much faith in marriage as I do that the Oregon coast will never see another drop of rain.
A blast of wind, then a hail of rain pummeled my French doors.
I ate yet another chocolate strawberry. I have been told my eyes are the color of dark chocolate. Not a bad analogy. I washed the strawberry down with lemonade, then a carrot.
No, I have no faith in marriage.
None.
It was a bad day. It became worse after the next phone call.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/s?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=beach+season+cathy+lamb
When I watch this video I can’t decide if I should get up and dance and sing along with Aretha or sit down and cry.
Cathy Lamb All rights reserved © 2011-2024 |
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