It’s Not All Gravy

Musings on Life and Writing


Monday Musings

Posted by mcm0704 on October 22, 2018 |

How was your weekend? Great, I hope. I had a fun time at a craft fair at Holly Brook Baptist Church on Saturday. Not such a fun time driving in the pouring rain on Friday to get there, but Saturday cleared up and people were ready to get out of their houses after days and days of rain in the past couple of weeks here in East Texas.

Having the sign for direction around the building right behind me was a great draw. 🙂

I sent the weekend at the Holiday Inn Resort on Holly Lake Ranch with my daughter, Dany. She is my book-buddy, and we always have a good time together. Saturday was busy and intense, but I met lots of nice folks, and I look forward to going to the fair every year. Sunday, was a gorgeous day, and Dany and I were able to enjoy the morning at the resort.

This was the view at the front of the condo.

The view out the back. Being the country girl I am at heart, I liked this one best. 

Sunday morning we walked along a hiking trail that was supposed to take us to a waterfall. When we got to the gully, we could not get close enough to actually see the falls. It was too muddy to try to go down a steep incline. So we had to satisfy ourselves for watching the run-off from the lake to the creek. Looks sort of like a waterfall, and the sound is perfect.

Every building we went into at the resort was really decorated for Halloween, as were the grounds. I thought these hay-bale spiders were quite nice. Too big to get into anybody’s house and scare the bejeebers out of them. 🙂

On another note. Early voting has started in many states across the country, and reports show that people are turning out in record numbers. While I keep reading headlines referring to the record number of early votes, I have not been able to find a site that has statistics for the entire country. However, I did find this interesting site, National Conference of State Legislatures, that has information about which states have early voting, absentee voting, and which do not.

There is also some analysis of early-voting trends at the site, Talking Points Memo, that is quite interesting.

I’m proud of my fellow Texans who have already voted, and I plan to get out to the polls soon. I hope you will join me. After all, we can’t complain if we don’t vote. 🙂

That’s all for me for today, folks. I got a late start on posting a Monday Blog, and I need to get off the computer for a while.

Be safe. Be happy. And go VOTE

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Nothing Like a Dance

Posted by mcm0704 on October 17, 2018 |

Slim Randles returns as today’s Wednesday’s Guest, and I never know if I like his humor best or the more thoughtful essays. If you read the entire post, there is a treat at the end. 

Autumn is in the air everywhere now, and just a couple of weeks before Halloween it seems to be an appropriate time for some apple cider. Help yourself and enjoy…


Mrs. Doc watched the dancers swirl around the cleared hardwood floor of the Legion hall, and smiled to see her husband, Doc, waltzing with Ardis Fisher. But Mrs. Doc was never one to sit out a waltz, so she looked around at the menu.

Over in the corner, smiling and tapping his foot, was Pop Walker. Pop and several other residents of the Rest of Your Life retirement home were there to enjoy the dance and celebrate the end of summer. Pop has a hard time with his memory, these days, but always forgets things with a smile.

“Pop,” said Mrs. Doc, “how about a dance?”

“Why sure … uh?”

“Mrs. Doc.”

“Right. Mrs. Doc.”

There are some who say Mrs. Doc has an actual first name, but you know how rumors are spread.

Now Pop had learned to waltz back when more people did it, and the decades had smoothed his dance steps with the fine sanding of time. It was a pleasure for Mrs. Doc to go around the floor with him.

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Image courtesy of

She smiled and winked at her husband as she and Pop danced by, and Doc grinned and swirled a fancy di-do with Ardis, just to show off. Then she and Pop got closer to the bandstand and there was Dud Campbell playing his accordion. He looked happy and surrealistic in the muted reddish lights on the stage. Next to him sat Carla Martinez, playing rhythm guitar and smiling out on her town and her life. Jim Albertson was up there, too, playing the waltz’s melody on the harmonica, and trading the lead with Jasper Blankenship on his fiddle.

As she and Pop Walker danced away, the bandstand receded in a blur of light and sound. Passing like ships in the night were Dewey Decker with Mavis from the Mule Barn truck stop. Mavis’s hair is growing back in since the treatments, giving everyone in the valley just one more reason to be thankful. Randy Jones and Katie Burchell sailed by on wings of love.

The waltz ended and Pop walked Mrs. Doc to her seat.

“Thanks for the dance, er … Honey,” he said.

“Thank you, Pop.”

The people who dance through our lives give us the reason to get up and get dressed each day.

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Brought to you by Dogsled: A True Tale of the North. Available on

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Check out all of Slim’s award-winning books at, and in better bookstores and bunkhouses throughout the free world.

All of the posts here are from his syndicated column, Home Country that is read in hundreds of newspapers across the country. I am always happy to have him share his wit and wisdom here.

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All About Dogs

Posted by mcm0704 on October 15, 2018 |

First I want to share this picture of a flower that just opened in a small bouquet I have in my kitchen. The bouquet is from periwinkles I have planted in the front of my house, and I’ve enjoyed bringing some of the color into the kitchen, especially when the buds open to such lovely blooms. I think this one is the best so far, although I did like the one I shared HERE last week.

I started to do a blog post about rules of writing after reading a take on Elmore Leonard’s Ten rules over at the Author’s Community site, but then I realized that post would work better on The Blood-Red Pencil blog, which is, after all, all about writing and editing. So, here I am late morning on Monday, without a topic for today’s blog.

Thank goodness I’ve found the website that offers a wealth of trivia to work into a blog post. Since I did a post, All About Cats, not long ago, I thought it might be nice to give equal time to dogs today.

  • Where do dogs like to be touched? Individual dogs have specific spots where they like to be petted; common areas are the base of the tail, under the chin or on the back of the neck where the collar hits. Most dogs dislike being touched on top of the head and on the muzzle, ears, legs, paws and tail. Which explains my dog’s reluctance to have his feet cleaned after a morning walk in the rain.
  • Can dogs see in the dark? Dogs see a lot better than humans do at night. Dogs have many adaptations for low-light vision. A larger pupil lets in more light.
  • Why do dogs lick? Right from birth that is how the mother communicates with her new puppies, how she stimulates them to start breathing and how she cleans them when they are born, so it’s very important to the survival of puppies.  In the wild and in domestic dogs, you’ll find they will lick around the mother’s mouth as newborns and puppies still retain that instinct. It’s also sort of a submissive gesture — the more subordinate members of a pack will lick the more dominant members and that’s important in maintaining pack harmony.
  • What dogs get along with cats?  Dog breeds that are typically good with Cats are: Basset Hound. These are loyal, patient, and low-key dogs. Beagle. Beagles were bred to hunt in packs, so they are typically friendly with other animals. Bulldog. Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Collie. Golden Retriever. Labrador Retriever. Papillon.
  • Will there be dogs in heaven? This has been highly debated over the years, and I have always believed the answer is “yes.” There is some biblical validation from this quote from Isaiah 11:6, “The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.”
  • How do dogs view humans?  Scientists are studying the brains of dogs, and what the studies show is welcome news for all dog owners. Not only do dogs seem to love us back, they actually see us as their family. It turns out that dogs rely on humans more than they do their own kind for affection, protection, and everything in between.
  • Do dogs experience the same emotions as people? Dogs have the same brain structures that produce emotions in humans. They have the same hormones and undergo the same chemical changes that humans do during emotional states. Dogs even have the hormone oxytocin, which in humans is involved with love and affection. So it seems reasonable to suggest that dogs also have emotions similar to ours. However, it is important not to go overboard: The mind of a dog is roughly equivalent to that of a human who is 2 to 2½ years old. A child that age clearly has emotions, but not all possible emotions, since many emerge later in the path to adulthood.

That’s all for me for today, folks. Please do share any dog stories you might have, including pictures of your canine companion. I hope your week starts off on a good note. Be happy. Be safe.

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Hurricanes and Global Warming

Posted by mcm0704 on October 12, 2018 |

Starting off this Friday blog post with a picture of some white wildflowers I saw on my walk the other day. It has cooled off here in Texas, and the mornings are perfect for walking. I’m seeing a lot of these little flowers along the road and they dress the place up nicely. 

While people rant and argue on social media, calling names and sharing highly controversial messages and videos to stir the rancor, two really awful things happened in the past couple of weeks that aren’t getting as much attention as the Kavanaugh hearings and the mid-term elections.

First is Hurricane Michael that slammed into the Florida Panhandle with winds up to 155 miles per hour, destroying almost everything in its path. Mexico Beach, a small town on the coast took the brunt of the storm as Michael made landfall, and now there is not much left of the town but leveled buildings, downed trees, and piles of debris scattered across places where homes used to stand.

The destruction includes boats and docks, and over a million people are without electricity.

Six people died.

This is the worst storm to hit Florida in recorded history and one of the worst to hit the Continental United States in decades. In an article by John Schwartz for The New York Times, Haiyan Jiang, an associate professor in the department of earth and environment at Florida International University, offered several reasons why the storm gained intensity from a tropical depression to a category four hurricane so quickly. One of those reasons has to do with climate change and global warming.

The Gulf of Mexico has warmer-than-average waters, which in some places was up by 3.6 degrees Fahrenheit, or two degrees Celsius. “One to two degrees is a big deal,” she said.

Warmer sea surface temperatures, while subject to natural variation, are consistent with the effects of climate change.

And still people deny that global warming is a problem.

Remember the movie, “Waterworld”? According to a recent report from the UN Intergovenmental Panel on Climate Change that could be our world in 2040. An article by Rohan Smith in has the details of the report that was compiled by 6000 scientists around the world. The article has all of their findings, but the gist of the report is this: If we don’t curb global warming to 1.5 degrees Celcius, our children and grandchildren will suffer the consequences.

For an in depth look at the rate of global warming and the sharp increase since the 1980s, visit an article on The Union of Concerned Scientists website. It contains a wealth of information, as well as some telling graphs.

The other bit of news being overlooked by many on social media here in the United states is about, Jamal Khashoggi, a well-known Saudi Arabian journalist and Washington Post columnist, who disappeared from the Saudi Consulate in Istanbul October 2. He was at the consulate to obtain some papers verifying his divorce so he could marry again, but he was never seen leaving. Outside, his fiance waited hours for him, but she never saw him again.

What happened to the journalist is still a mystery, one mixed with a touch of horror if rumors of his death and dismemberment turn out to be true. An article in by Alexia Underwood, has more on the theories of what happened to Jamal, including the possibility that Saudi hit-men killed Jamal and took his body out in pieces, using a number of suitcases and boxes.

From my perch high up in my tree of idealism, it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around some of the awful things people will do to each other, and for some reason this story about Jamal is still swirling around in my mind, trying to find reason.

Maybe because I’m a journalist.

Maybe because I live in a country that has free speech.

We should never take the freedom of speech we have here in the United States for granted. Even if that freedom is filled with rants and name calling and ugly rhetoric. We can ignore the ugly stuff. We can chose to keep silent, or we can jump into the fray. But, hopefully, we will never be “disappeared” for our beliefs.

That is the lesson I have taken from the sad story of Jamal Khashoggi.

Now that I may have thoroughly distressed you, I’ll end with a couple of jokes to lighten the mood and start the weekend with a smile. Enjoy…

Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

Two old timers were talking after church one day and the one asks the other, “So tell me brother, what did you think of the soul food this morning?”

The other replies, “The food was excellent but the service sucked!”

I told my wife I was going to make a bike out of spaghetti. She couldn’t believe it when I rode pasta.

Oh, what a groaner.

Have a great weekend. Be safe, Be happy.

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Message From Beto O’Rourke

Posted by mcm0704 on October 10, 2018 |

Yesterday, while I was preparing this post to schedule for Wednesday, it was raining here in my corner of the world, with occasional thunderstorms. Sammy, my big coward of a cat was scared all day, hiding most of the time, and only coming out when the bowling balls quit rolling across the sky. When all was quiet for a time, he came into my office to sit on the desk and look out the window, and was quite content until this leaf landed on the outside sill. He jumped, then growled and hissed and ran away.

Silly kitty!

But I love him, anyway. 

On Saturday, October 6th, Beto O’Rourke sent a letter to his supporters that was his thoughtful response to the confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh. It does also contain some campaign rhetoric, but that is no surprise. Beto is running for office after all, 🙂

With the permission of Beto’s Campaign Staff, I would like to share the letter. 

Today, the Senate voted on the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to the U.S. Supreme Court. If I were in the Senate, I would have voted no.

The events of the past two weeks — including Dr. Ford’s courageous, powerful, and credible testimony and Judge Kavanaugh’s temperament in his response — have only added to my concern that he does not meet the bar to serve on the Supreme Court.

I am disappointed that he was confirmed. I know that today’s news and the headlines we’ve seen over the last few weeks have been extremely difficult for many Texans and especially painful for survivors of sexual assault and sexual harassment — so many of whom bravely spoke out, shared their stories, and continue to lead the way. The news has also been hard on those who might feel let down after making their voices heard by calling their senators, organizing with one another, uniting for what we believe in. Today, we are going to come together for one another.

But tonight and tomorrow and in the days that follow, I want you to know that we are going to meet this disappointment weighing on many of us with the power of people who want to make sure that our government represents all of us. In a democracy, the government is the people and the people are the government. If the government does not represent the will of the people, we will change the makeup of the government.

We will ensure that the senators voting on lifetime appointments to the Supreme Court fight for people, for our rights, for our future. That they put country over party. That they bring a sense of civility and decency to what is supposed to be the greatest deliberative body in the world.

Together — not as Democrats or Republicans but as Texans and Americans — we will ensure that the next nominee to be confirmed to the Supreme Court represents all of our interests.

We will do it because in a state that is last in voter turnout — not by accident but by design — we understand the importance of voting rights.

We will do it because in a state that is the epicenter for the maternal mortality crisis — three times as deadly for African American women — we understand that Roe vs. Wade is the decided law of the land and that women should be able to make their own decisions about their own bodies, and have access to the healthcare that will save their lives.

We will do it because in a state where you can be fired for being gay and where the justice system does not serve everyone, we understand the importance of civil rights and equal justice under law.

And we will do it because we understand the need to put people over PACs, people over corporations, and people over special interests.

Thank you for staying strong for one another, for Texas, and for this country. We will not let one another down.

Whether or not you agree with everything in this letter, I do hope you agree that “In a democracy, the government is the people and the people are the government.” As well as the call for decency and civility in our government. 

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Writing Through Adversity

Posted by mcm0704 on October 8, 2018 |

Before moving on, I thought I’d post this picture of a bloom from a Periwinkle plant. I have lots of the flowers outside across the front of my house, and they are so lush that sometimes I clip a few to bring inside. The blooms don’t last long, and I’ve never had a bud open in the house until now. The shape of the petals is quite unique, don’t you think?


Recent flares of pain from that unwelcome guest, Ramsay Hunt Syndrome, have laid me low for a while, and I have a hard time sustaining any activities without the use of pain meds, which I hate to take. But I do, when needed, so I can function at some level of normalcy.

This issue, which is now closing in on the end of the third year, also wears me down emotionally, making it even harder to gear myself up for much of anything, including writing. Realizing that, I thought about this article I wrote some time ago about tenacity, and writers who used it to charge on despite challenges in their way.

It’s a good reminder for me, at this juncture, and may even offer some inspiration to others.

Some people say it takes an enormous amount of talent to succeed in the highly competitive field of writing. Others consider luck to be the determining factor. But I’ve always believed in tenacity. The kind of tenacity that kept Zane Grey in New York long after the first fifteen publishers told him to go back to his barber’s chair.

We’re all familiar with such stories of perseverance and determination – the ones that keep a writer going until someone has the good sense to recognize the talent. It’s part of that indomitable spirit that separates those who would write from those who do.

But the spirit is as elusive as the muse. It abandons us at the flick of a rejection letter, tempting us to throw up our hands and say, “Dat’s all folks!”

I’ve done that a lot. Quit, I mean. If I just stop, I reason, my life would be so much simpler. Just think, no more pitches to an editor about a story idea that lost its sparkle even as I spoke. No more writing hate mail to the producer who beat me to the screen with my latest great idea. No more impossible deadlines that reduce me to bribing my children to cook supper. No more forcing my way through a logjam of ideas that refuse to make sense. No more painful cutting of the junk I wrote the day before.

No more having to write.

I could go back to all those things I gave up to make room for writing and probably have a lot more fun.

At times, this thought of quitting has held so much appeal, I’ve even toyed with the idea of writing an article about it: The Day I Decided Not To Be A Writer. Slip in a little humor here and there, and maybe it would even sell. But wait a minute. That would mean I’m writing again.

I used to feel inordinately proud as the cycle of frustration completed itself and the spirit won out over my desire to replace Word for Solitaire. I’d mentally inventory all the obstacles I’d overcome and be amazed. Like the Valiant Tailor in the Grimm’s fairy tale, I wanted to stitch a belt proclaiming my accomplishment, “Seven at one blow.”

But then I thought about all the writers I know, or have known, who overcame much bigger obstacles than the frustrations of the business and kept putting words to pages.

  • A blind writer who continually loses tools no amount of technology can replace.
  • A friend who slogged through her last book hampered by the sludge of a mind drowning in personal problems.
  • Another friend who continued to write during her losing battle with cancer.
  • The writer who has such severe back problems she can only sit at her computer for a couple of hours a day.

These writers define tenacity. They all had perfectly legitimate reasons to quit, but they didn’t. They faced the challenge, conquered the demon, and kept on going. How can I even consider giving up just because I can’t handle the downside of the career?

Maybe I should make a banner proclaiming their heroics. I could hang it in my office to remind me that there are much worse things than a rejection letter.

Or Ramsay Hunt Syndrome.

Here’s hoping your week starts off well, and let me know if you find this article helpful. Be Safe. Be Happy

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What You Need to Know About Opera

Posted by mcm0704 on October 4, 2018 |

Slim Randles is here as today’s Wednesday’s Guest with some advice for one of his cowboy friends. All in fun. All in fiction. Enjoy a hot cup of coffee as you read on…


Our resident cowboy, Steve, brought us the shocking news: cowpuncher Three-Chord Cortez, that bunkhouse balladeer, plans to study opera, in hopes an aria or three will make him even more attractive to girls during a serenade. Apparently, singing La Donna Mobile might be more effective than “You don’t know what lonesome is ‘til you start herding co-o-o-ows” … especially if she doesn’t speak European.

I thought I’d jot down a few opera-watching truths for ol’ T.C. just to help him out.

1. Take off your hat. You can keep Jujubes in it if you want.

2. If you like a particular aria, you can yell Bravo! if it’s a man, Brava!
if it’s a woman, or Bravisimo! if it’s an isimo. It’s considered poor form to yell “Eeeee-HAAA!” or “You get ‘em, Hon!”

3. One of the strangest operatic devices is called recitative – pronounced rest-a-TEEF – (don’t ask), and is a combination of singing and speaking that is used when the composer wants to hurry through a song because he wasn’t too fond of it in the first place but it was in the contract and he wants it out of the way quickly. Feel free to mention recitative to a woman at half time.

Operas have two half times.

The speaking part of the recitative is done like a machine gun, and then you break into song when you get tired of that, and it can happen in the same sentence. For example:  “Don’t make me come down there, don’t make me come down there, don’t make me come down there and k-i-i-i-I-I-I-I-i-i-ck your bu-u-u-u-u-tt.”

4. That bit of music they play before the curtain goes up is called the overture, and not foreplay.

It’s to give you a hint of what’s to come, in case you decide to leave early. You might listen to the overture and say, “That allegretto tickles my fancy, but if that tenor duet goes on for more than two minutes, I’ll get the scours.”

This makes a guy a connoisseur, you see. Connoisseur is European for smart aleck.
And finally,

5. Don’t forget to clean your boots.

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Brought to you by Saddle Up: A Cowboy Guide to Writing. Available at


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Name That Plant

Posted by mcm0704 on October 1, 2018 |

Before moving on to the little contest, I want to share a picture from the First Page Book Festival I attended this past Saturday at the Decatur Public Library in Decature, TXThe event was great fun, and people seemed to enjoy my talk quite a bit. At least they were polite and laughed at all the right places. 🙂

When attending these events, I really enjoy meeting other authors, and I met quite a few this past weekend, including Jack Knox, a fine art photographer who was there with his book, Texas Ghost Towns, Gas Stations and a 20-foot Cowboy. I had to check it out just to find out about the cowboy.

Our tables were adjacent at the event, and after a while Jack came over to ask about my mystery, Boxes For Beds. He’d heard me tell a few people that the book is set in Arkansas, and he was intrigued. He’d grown up near Hot Springs, close to the same time as the setting of my book, and he knew a lot about the gangsters that ran everything in the city. He was kind enough to buy my book and let me get a picture of him.

When traffic was light through the library we chatted a bit throughout the afternoon, and I extended an invitation to him to be a guest here on the blog one Wednesday. As soon as I get some interview questions to him, I’ll set a date, so stay tuned for more on the very tall cowboy. I’m not giving anything away about it today. 🙂

While I was gone over the weekend, my daughter sent some plants and planters to my house via my son-in-law’s truck. They are on, and around my back porch, but unfortunately, I don’t know what some of them are. So, who can tell me what these two are and whether they need to live in sunlight or shade? Also, do they need to come inside for the winter?

First is this little red beauty.

This next one has no flowers, but perhaps someone can recognize the plant by the foliage. I’m guessing it might be a butterfly plant, but I haven’t a clue which one. Since some butterfly plants want shade and others full sun, I don’t want to put this healthy plant in the wrong spot and kill it.

I really hate killing plants.

The other plants that came from my daughter are soon going to bloom, so I will wait until there are flowers and see if I can name them myself. If not. I’ll be back.

Meanwhile, the first person to leave a comment, identifying both plants and telling me about care, will receive a free Kindle copy of my short story, The Gift.

A story about love and compassion just might be the best escape from these turbulent times.

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Understanding #WhyIdidntreport

Posted by mcm0704 on September 27, 2018 |

First something pretty to look at. Actually, a few pretties. While I don’t see nearly as many wildflowers here in the city on my morning walk as I did out in the country. I recently came across a few.

This looks like an iris, but I’ve never seen one bloom in the fall.

This next picture is of a flower that popped up in the middle of a small field along the RR right-of-way. The stems are like those of the Lycoris radiata  which is also called a red spider lily, but these flowers never opened and stood tall like the spider lily.


The last picture is of a vine with flowers that are probably morning glories, but the flowers are much smaller than what I have seen before. Each bloom is only about an inch and a half in diameter.


Now for the tough stuff.

As the Brett Kavanaugh senate confirmation hearings have gone on, and women have accused him of sexual assault, the response has been to push the blame elsewhere. It’s a political attack by the Democrats. The women are lying. The dems put them up to it. Why didn’t the women report the abuse when it happened?

Too many men and, unfortunately, a few women, don’t seem to understand why it is so difficult for women who have been sexually assaulted to step forward. This whole #whyIdidntreport that has become so prevalent on social media has now prompted women to share the reasons they didn’t come forward when they were assaulted or raped.

This is my story, a story so painfully similar to those of too many other women.

I was sexually assaulted when I was nineteen by a friend of my girlfriend who was supposed to be taking me home from her wedding reception. He asked if we could stop by his house on the way because he had to pick something up and would I mind?

Not suspecting anything because my girlfriend said he was a good guy, and it was okay to go with him, I agreed. We went into the house and he told me sit down in the living room while he went to look for whatever it was he was going to get. He told me that his father was home sleeping, and we had to be quiet, so I sat quietly waiting for him.

A couple of minutes later, he came back and sat down on the couch next to me and proceeded to try to kiss me. I told him I wasn’t interested and would he please stop.

He didn’t.

He pushed me down on the sofa and tore my blouse open, continuing to try to kiss me, assault my body, and get my clothes off. The only thing that saved me from actually being raped was when his brother came home and called out, “What’s going on?”

The boy rolled off me, and I jumped up, grabbed my purse, and ran out of the house, trying to hold my blouse together with one hand.

This happened at about two in the morning. I was in a small town in Michigan that I was not familiar with. I had a general sense of where my girlfriend’s house was, which was where I was supposed to go after the wedding, but I’d only recognize the street when I got close enough.

I walked all the way to her house which was probably about ten blocks, hoping and praying that a police officer would come by. I was so scared. So lost. So upset. But part of me didn’t want a police officer to stop. I didn’t want to tell anyone that humiliating story of what had happened.

And I’d already started blaming myself. I’d been drinking. I didn’t use good judgement in accepting the invitation to go into his house. I should have fought harder. It was all my fault.

I have read several comments on Facebook this whole week, that assign blame to Dr. Ford in a similar vein. What was she thinking? Why did she go to the party? Why did she drink?

Hello people, we don’t go to parties, or drink, with the intent of getting assaulted.

What happens is totally on the men.

The “wink-wink” “nod-nod” response to men and boys taking advantage of women has gone on too long. The grunge locker-room bragging about grabbing women has gone on too long. The mentality that men will be men and boys will be boys and the women better watch out has gone on too long. The acceptance of behavior such as “trains” and “sex-tally” clubs has gone on too long.

This is not an indictment of all men. I know many who treat women with the utmost respect and wouldn’t consider demeaning them in any way. But there are too many, especially those in powerful positions in business and politics, who think their power excludes them from responsibility.

I kept my story hidden for almost thirty years. I was so ashamed that I buried it deep in my subconscious, and it only came forward when I was writing my book on Drugs and Date Rape for the Rosen Publishing Group. Mary’s story in the first chapter is really my story, but I was almost to the end of the chapter before the realization hit. I was stunned.

Whatever the outcome of the Kavanaugh hearings, I do hope the #metoo and and the #whyIdidntreport movement forces a huge change in the way society, and law enforcement, looks at rape and sexual assault.

Women should not be blamed.


End of rant. If you would like to respond in the comments, I only ask that you be polite and civil. 

Have a great weekend.

I am going to be at the Decatur Public Library in Decatur, Texas on Saturday, visiting with readers and other authors. If you’re in the neighborhood, stop on by.

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#Humor From Slim Randles

Posted by mcm0704 on September 26, 2018 |

You just never know what good old Windy’s going to say when the guys gather at the Mule Barn truck stop, and today’s offering from Slim Randles is a good example. The Mule Barn Truck stop is a fictional place, but it sure reminds me of the little diner my husband and I used to go to on a Saturday morning for breakfast. Local farmers and ranchers gathered there at one large round table, and I made sure we sat close enough to catch part of the conversations about the weather, crops and critters. 

Of course the men we saw at our diner didn’t have a Windy to amuse them or us. But we did have good strong coffee and a great breakfast. If you haven’t had breakfast yet, try one of these country Saturday offerings. 


“Don’t you just love this time of year?” said Doc. “Football season. Rodeo finals coming up soon. Time to go hunting. All that stuff.”

Windy Wilson sipped at his coffee. Oh good. Doc gave us another topic.

“Sports,” Windy said. “thems my putner fav-o-rite things … well, ‘long with dogs … and country musicals and that kinder thing.”

The guys at the philosophy counter of the Mule Barn truck stop grinned at Windy, who has yet to encounter a sentence or thought he couldn’t improve.

“So,” said Steve, the tall cowboy of the bunch, “what’s your favorite sport, Windy?”

“That’d have to be individuated sinchernized swimmin’ I think. Or mebbe them ribbons them little flippitly-floppity girls swing ‘round so it looks like they’re in trouble.”

“But Windy,” Doc put in, “those are girl events.”

“Yeah they are,” Windy said, nodding. “But there’s somethin’ about ‘em, you know? Must be the cord-i-nation or somethin’. Anyhow, I like ‘em.”

“Always had a cowboy and hunting guide and camp cook figured for more manly sports, Windy. You know … shooting, rodeo, football …”

“Ahh… football! Why yessir, you definite hit on one of my pet sports. Love that there football. Why, at halftime them girls come out with their pommy poms and dance ‘round in shorty shorts …”

I think we all get the picture, don’t you?
Brought to you by Home Country with Slim Randles, the radio show. Coming soon to a country music station near you.

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Check out all of Slim’s award-winning books at, and in better bookstores and bunkhouses throughout the free world.

All of the posts here are from his syndicated column, Home Country that is read in hundreds of newspapers across the country. I am always happy to have him share his wit and wisdom here.


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