I have no idea how Dawn became Pussum Cat. I think James was trying to say Pussy Cat and it came out that way. Anyway, Dawn was mostly called Pussum. He loved it. Yeah, that’s right. HE loved it. Two small kittens were curled up in the flower bed in front of our house one freezing rainy day. James was three I think. Mama Cat wasn’t around. Snell ran to the vet and bought special milk for kittens and we put it as close to the babies as we could. Long story short. James named them. Kissy and Dawn. Kissy never warmed to us but would wander through periodically. Dawn was a bright young kitten and knew a good thing when she saw it. She stayed and let us pet and humor her. Finally, one day Dawn started getting into our laps and letting us really hold her. She had to be neutered. We didn’t need any more cats to take up with us. The vet said Dawn was male. Well, gender identity was never one of our stronger traits. Don’t believe us…Delilah became Samson, Lilac the rabbit became Smokey, Figaro looks like she has a pair but is female and the Queen of the house. We need to choose genderless names. Dawn knew his name. He and Puddles, the Puppy-Dog (oh I know, but …) loved each other. He made his way into the house and there he stayed. Forever. Dawn was an amazing cat. Tolerant of a toddler who loved him. Answered you when you asked him a question. “Want some chicken, Pussum?” ”yaa,” he answered.” “Want some turkey, Dawn?” “Nah”. He didn’t care for turkey at all. He and Snell loved to watch baseball and football. Really, Snell loved to watch the ball games. Pussum loved peanuts and potato chips. As long as Snell watched the game and would hold a peanut or chip down for Pussum, he sat right there. I had to buy one particular brand of potato chips because Pussum loved them. Snell would eat anything, but the cat had to have Lays regular potato chips. He would eat a bar-b-que chip every now and then, but that wasn’t his favorite. Dawn went in and out of the house. Our fenced yard kept Puddles from going out, but Pussum did roam a little more. Out backyard neighbor had a small farm with a few cows. Dawn visited there. When it was time to come home, all we had to do was open the back door, clap three times, and before we could yell Dawn, we’d see the white shadow headed our way. Before coming into the house, he shook his feet. A clean kitty, was he. Have you ever tried to give a cat medication? How many stitches did you get? I put his medicine in a little milk and he drank it. A pill? Hold him and put the pill against his lips. He swallowed it. This was a cat in a million. We love our pets because they are our family. We grieve over them, continue to miss them, and write little stories about them to keep their memories alive. Our four legged family members usually live around 18 years. We have our own cemetery. And yes, he is buried in the front yard cemetery and his complete name, Dawn, Dawn the Pussum Cat, is engraved on his tombstone. So lift a saucer of milk to Dawn, Dawn, the Pussum Cat. Long may his memory live. My husband has been in the hospital with pneumonia and a fracture T-12 vertebrae. He is hard of hearing. No, I take that back. He is deaf as a post. He wouldn’t hear the thunder if lightning struck him. I am the official hearing aid. I go where he goes. I am the official interpreter. Being an interpreter means I have been known to do odd things to get the message across. While in the hospital, Snell was having a great deal of trouble understanding. He mostly reads lips. The medical staff wear masks. Yep, might as well have been blind as well as deaf. He has pneumonia so every other syllable is punctuated by terrible coughs, followed by a moan of pain from the broken back. He was unable to answer their questions. I am invaluable, yes I am. I know all the answers. I walk in with a two page report of all of his doctors, medications, and medical history. I hand it over and the medical staff are like “Oh WOW. This is great.” Do yourself and your family a favor. Create a report for each family member. In a crisis you might forget a medication. Hand them the paper and your crisis is averted. I also have a 3 x 11 sheet of paper in each family member’s wallet that lists all our medications, medical contacts, and emergency contacts. I am also much more talented than I ever realized. Young people are more ignorant than I had realized. I told the nurses that I was having to do my Marcel Marceau impersonation to communicate. Clueless. Had no idea who the most famous mime and interpretive movement actor in the world was. I educated each of them. Then it hit me. These adults probably have no idea of the people who made the entertainment industry truly great. They only know artificial acting and computer generated creativity. Sad. “Do you know who Cary Grant is?” I asked several of the staff. They all said no.” Bette Davis? Ingrid Bergman? Alfred Hitchcock? Humphrey Bogart? At least, please tell me you know John Wayne?” I was quivering at the ignorance and innocence before me. Okay, maybe they don’t watch the great ones on the Classic movie channel. “Do you know who Harry Truman was?” When that one got a no, I said “ever heard of the atomic bomb? Or Hiroshima? How about World War II? “Some of them had grandparents that served in Viet Nam. Okay, this was my time. They knew doodly squat about Viet Nam. I wasn’t exactly frothing at the mouth, but it was close. Folks, you need to know a little about history so you don’t keep making the same mistakes over and over. So people, if you don’t know Cary Grant or Humphrey Bogart, watch a few black and white movies. You might learn what acting really is… You know where people learn the words and create a character and provide knowledge and entertainment without using a computerized brain. Watch some old movies. Expose yourself to something besides car crashes, foul language, and green screens. Maybe you will learn something about the history of our nation. No, the movies aren’t exactly accurate, but it is better you know something than nothing about how your world has developed. I am now going to get myself out of this invisible box and watch a Cary Grant movie, where intelligent conversation and a love stories without filth and nudity can entertain me. I have to use MY imagination. And Marilyn, diamonds are a girls’ best friend. Marcel Marceau was a master of silence who used his skills as a mime to save Jewish children from the Nazis during World War II. Marcel Marceau was a legendary mime, who survived the Nazi occupation and saved many children in WWII. He was known for his peerless style of pantomime, moving audiences without uttering a word, and creating his famous character Bip. He was also a multilingual speaker, actor, director, teacher, and public figure. Cary Grant, British-born American film actor whose good looks, debonair style, and flair for romantic comedy made him one of Hollywood’s most popular and enduring stars. Among his most notable films are Bringing Up Baby, The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Notorious, and North by Northwest. Marion Robert Morrison (May 26, 1907 – June 11, 1979), professionally known as John Wayne and nicknamed The Duke or Duke Wayne, was an American actor who became a popular icon through his starring roles in films which were produced during Hollywood's Golden Age, especially through his starring roles in Western and war movies. Marilyn Monroe (born June 1, 1926, Los Angeles, California, U.S.—died August 5, 1962, Los Angeles) American actress who became a major sex symbol, starring in a number of commercially successful films during the 1950s, and who is considered a pop culture icon. She was the secnd woman to own her production company, unheard of in the male run world of movies. Ingrid Bergman (29 August 1915 – 29 August 1982) was a Swedish actress. With a career spanning five decades, Bergman is often regarded as one of the most influential screen figures in cinematic history. Harry S. Truman (May 8, 1884 – December 26, 1972) was the 33rd president of the United States, serving from 1945 to 1953. A member of the Democratic Party, he previously served as a United States senator from Missouri from 1935 to 1945 and briefly as the 34th vice president in 1945 under Franklin D. Roosevelt. Ended World War II by utilizing the atomic bomb in Japan. "Getting old is not for Sissies."
-Bette Davis Talk about a true statement that is one. "If I had known I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself." -W.F. Woodard I fall down. Go splat. Me. Yep, I am officially old. I fall down a lot. And this time I won the big prize: fractured upper orbit eye socket, concussion, scratched cornea, bruised knee caps, and lovely, colorful patches all over my face. I guess it was good thing that I do like color, because I am a rainbow. I had gone under the house to find Snell. He had turned off his hearing aids and he can’t hear the phone and went under the house to change the filters on the pool. I was supposed to call him when the water level got to a certain point. No hearing aids, no phone and deaf as a post. I had to go under the house to find him. When he'd been gone a long time and didn't answer his phone. I got worried and went looking for him. Mistake No. 1. I swore if I didn’t get a full basement under this house I would NEVER go into the crawl space. I didn’t get the basement. I got a crawl space, in which I have been exactly four times in 27 years. This was the fourth. Mistake 2: Trusting Snell to NOT turn off his hearing aids. I was supposed to call him for heaven’s sake. He can’t hear the phone and the vibration isn’t strong enough to give anyone a thrill. So here I am, searching for an 85 year old man with no hearing aids working and a puny vibrator. I go all around the house. I stand at the crawl space door. I yell. I scream. I wave my hands in a please don’t be dead manner. Nothing. For the fourth time in my life I go under the house. Mistake #3. Over in the corner, way over in the corner, is Snell. “I thought you were going to call me.” Me “What is wrong with your phone?” Him“Nothing, I guess. I had to turn my hearing aids off because the pool motor was making so much noise. Mistake 4: Putting the pool motor, etc. under the house. (I didn’t’ vote for that either) Mistake 5: Telling me he turned off the hearing aids and looking puzzled at my concern. Mistake 6: Telling me later in the ER he discovered he had accidentally turned off the vibrator to his phone. In exasperation I turned and started walking/crawling to the door. The space is 4 feet high. I am 5 feet 3 inches on a good day. It was not a good day. I was mimicking the Hunchback of Notre Dame in walk pattern. The crawl space floor is concrete. I’m not sure if I won the fight, but I beat that concrete floor into submission with my face. I hit left eye first. My hands are not even scratched. I didn’t even try to break my fall. I just hit the floor and skidded on my face, filling my left eye with concrete dust. “What’s the matter? Did you fall? Are you okay?” No, I like laying on a concrete floor in a claustrophobic crawl space that I both resent and hate. I just lay there. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t think. All I could was hurt. I had a baby. This pain was so much worse. I was covered in concrete and other dust. My eye was filled with blood and dirt. My knees would not support my weight. I was gasping for air and inhaling dust, dirt, any critters that had died under the house. And it had started out as a very pretty and productive day. After several minutes, Snell was able to help me get out in the blinding bright light and fresh air. I tried to wash some of the dirt off my face. I washed my eye out with a saline solution repeated. Finally the majority of the dirt was out of my eye. My eye is swollen shut and the knot on my head could be used to carve one of the busts from Mt. Rushmore. Snell dropped me off at the ER entrance and I walked in. I thought I was doing okay by then, except for blindness and the headache. “Excuse me. I need some help.” One of the nurses looked at me and said “You sure do, Honey. What is your name and social security number?” Admission and fee paying always comes before treatment and/or death. I remember looking at her and thinking “Social Security Number.” I know I was in shock. I remember starting to say something and then I am falling backwards. Before I hit the floor someone caught me and then a chair was slamming under me and my sore knees. The next thing was a very bright room. I couldn’t see it was so bright. I had to shield my one open eye. The lights dimmed. “I’m Dr. whose name should not be mentioned for his indifference. How badly are you hurt?” Duh. What do you think, Doc.? I have an ostrich egg on my forehead. My eye is swollen shut. I just passed out in your entrance way. “Gee, Doc, I bumped my wittle head.” I could have strangled him with his stethoscope. Now this is the truth. When someone for whom I care goes to the emergency room I am there. I know enough about medicine to be dangerous but I am great at emergency care. I can butterfly a gash as pretty as any ER doctor. I can even to do Madison Bandage on an open torso wound. I am never hysterical. I am never nauseated. Blood is just interesting. I make sure that every wound is checked, treated and it is right. That doctor never came fully into the room. No one cleaned the concrete out of my facial wounds. My knees were never touched. I was skinned from in my hair line to my chin on the left side. My shoulder was painful and I couldn’t lift that arm well. I was just one bigopen dirty strawberry burn. Except that some places were very deep. The space above my left eye and on my left cheek bone were deeply raw. He ordered a CT scan. That was it. Oh someone gave me a barf bag. I remember being very nauseated. CT scans revel I do have a brain, perhaps a big jiggled up. It did not show the fracture of my upper left brown bone. Another doctor a week later determined that injury. I do not have a personality eyebrow any more. I cannot lift my scolding, loving, quizzical eyebrow. That brow is very important to my demeanor and my ability to communicate. Two weeks later my left eye opened. Dizzy spells have continued for all that time with a headache that simply pounds. Light is an issue and so is noise. The headache lasted off and on for nearly four weeks. I have saved quite a bit of money on make-up. No spackle is strong enough to cover this colorful face. People are nice to me. I get lots of kindness. It was all Snell's fault. I don’t care what he says!!! Make September 9 a World Wide Holiday!Nancy Maria Donaldson Johnson (28 December 1794 – 22 April 1890) was awarded the first US patent for a hand-cranked ice cream freezer in 1843.[1] Sainthood may not be good enough an honor! Ms. Johnson invented the hand cranked ice cream churn as a way to reduce the time required to make ice cream. Ice cream was originally made using very intensive labor over several hours. Johnson essentially created a way to make ice cream faster and easier. Originally, there were many steps to creating ice cream. President Thomas Jefferson had an eighteen step recipe. Johnson’s brilliant idea changed ice cream making into a much easier and faster route to happiness. On September 9th, 1843, Patent numberUS3254A was issued for the. Artificial Freezer and antedated on July 29th, 1848. A Philadelphia housewife married to Walter Rogers Johnson in Medfield, Massachusetts. Walter was a scientist and first secretary at the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Nancy, herself, was a very successful inventor. This was very uncommon in her days, because women’s legal identities were taken away when they married. Under the laws of coverture, women were not allowed to control their own finances, own property, or sign legal agreements. Men represented their wives, mothers, and daughters. Nancy was a bold and determined woman who empowered women, teaching them they can make their own way for themselves. In 1843, she filed for her patent for the first hand-cranked ice cream churn (US3254A). Her invention was called a “disruptive technology” because it made it possible for everyone to make quality ice cream without electricity. This technology changed the way that ice cream was made forever and portions of her patent continue to be used today. Johnson received $1500 during the course of her lifetime for her Artificial Freezer. She adapted her original patient and refiled September 9th, 1843. She sold the rights of the patent to William G. Young, a Baltimore native, who improved some on the ice cream freezer on May 30th, 1848. Johnson sold the rights of the patent to Young for $200. People erroneously credit Young as the inventor, but it was a Nancy Johnson who made the world a better place. There are some people who should receive sainthood for the amazing deeds they do. Heroes should receive awards. We need to recognize the people who have made a difference in this world. September 9 should be celebrated around the world! Nancy Maria Donaldson Johnson should be known universally for ice cream. You scream. I scream... We all scream for ice cream. And scream most loudly for Nancy. Nancy Maria Donaldson Johnson, thank you, thank you, thank you. You made my life and the lives of so many better. (Information derived from Wikipedia) Marlene is available for her speaking engagements. She is an award winning author and her books are available through amazon.com and scribblersweb.com. Join www.MsRatWrites.com for her monthly newsletters. Hey Y'all, Well, I am a day late and dollar short once again. Things have just been demanding and time has fled from my grasp. I hope you all are having a wonderful Easter Sunday. My next book, Tips, Tricks & Techniques. A Self-Directed Search for Easier Learning should be available within the next two weeks. I think this book did not want to be written. I have been trying now since the first week of December to get it out. I seem to be the only person really thinking it should be printed and available. If you are a female in the arts field (music, dance, visual arts, writing) look up National League of American Pen Women, Inc. (www.nlapw.org). We have and Atlanta Pen Women chapter and meet monthly (second Wednesday at 10 am). Pen women is very encouraging to artistic women. If you would be interested in joining, send me a note (mrat30052@aol.com). Founded in 1897, the National League of American Pen Women, Inc. (NLAPW) is a 501 (c) (3) nonprofit organization that supports and promotes professional women in arts, letters, music, and allied professions. I have just accepted a position on the Board of Directors for Southeastern Writers Association. they have the best conference each year at Epworth by the Sea (St. Simons, GA). If you are a writer, check out this group. It is wonderful. Here is a little piece I wrote this morning. I hope you will enjoy it. Now I need to go water all my indoor flowers, the orchids are blooming! Antique or Vintage? It is my birthday. I am not sure which category I fall into, antique or vintage. I suppose if something has to be 100 years or older it is an antique. That makes me vintage. Like a fine wine, but a bit tangy, occasionally sweet. Perhaps even a tiny bit bitter. I suppose it could be worse—dried up bottle of dust.
Our tractor is celebrating its birthday, too. It is one year older than me. So is my husband Snell’s favorite car, a Cadillac Sedanette. Both were born in 1948. Snell has kept all three of us going for years. 1949 is really the year of my birth. Easter Sunday at 5:05 pm. Piedmont Hospital, Atlanta, GA. I am not sure where the Ford tractor or the Cadillac were born. Anyway we have all arrived in Georgia, the land of slow vowels and beautiful springs. 1949 is the Year of the Ox on the Chinese calendar. I thought I was a hog or a rat, but I am an ox. Well, I guess I am kind of shaped like one now in middle-old age. I am going for longevity here. 74 is middle aged if you live to be 150. Oxen are described as “industrious, thrifty and clever, and they make careful calculation and strict budgeting for everything. Also, they never do the things beyond their capability, so they seldom suffer losses; they attach great importance to the fairness of benefit distribution. They are destined to have average luck in early years, favorable luck in middle age, and excellent luck in old age.” Still waiting on some that to mature! I need to learn to say “no, thank you” more often. And I am an Aries. According to the information I found Aries are the trailblazers. Passionate, independent, loyal, smart, and impulsive. They always have multiple projects on their mind, and won't be satisfied until their work, social life, and personal lives line up exactly with the dream life they've envisioned. Aries are all about initial attraction. They can sense chemistry in the first sentence uttered by a potential partner. (This is true. I knew on our first date when Snell kissed me goodnight that I would marry him. That was in 1975, still together. I had to work on him though!) Forthright and unabashed, an Aries will do everything in their power to go after someone they want. A combination of an ox and a ram. No wonder I am who I am. Another truth, I am a liar. I lie about my age. Lots of people do. When I first started teaching I had a student who was only a year younger than I. When asked about my age I lied. Sometimes I would be ten years older, other times twenty. I haven’t formally taught in many years and trust me there are no students even close to my age now. No reason to lie, you think. There you are wrong. I add ten years to my age. I look good for some in their mid-eighties, not so hot for mid-seventies. So middle-elderly aged, fat and sassy, blessed with a wonderful husband, a great son, who is regular middle aged, dear friends, and an old tractor that still works—happy birthday to me. In researching this I found a quote in the Aries description. It is my new motto. "When you know yourself, you're empowered. When you accept yourself, you're invincible." (Marlene is an award winning author who is available for speaking engagements. Her books are available on www.scribblersweb.com and www.amazon.com. You can reach her through www.MsRatWrites.com or MsRatWrites@gmail.com) Hey Ya'll! I am have been pitiful about keeping up with anyone. I would like to say it was because I have been very productive in all kinds of things. It ain't true. I don't know where my time goes, but it isn't for very productive things. We're clean. That’s about all I can say! I did finish writing a book on learning styles. I have sent it in, but haven't heard back from the people who will do the publishing. I think I am going to go through Amazon for it. Tips, Tricks, Techniques for Self-Directed Approach for Easier Learning is the title. I am in the midst of getting the publishing on my first book back over to me. It is still under the publishers imprint. I am about to recreate the book I lost, Finding Home. I have 14 chapters, though not in order, that I retrieved. My favorite short story is The Caretaker. I am submitting it to a contest this month. Keep your fingers crossed for it. No, you haven’t seen this one. I wrote it two or three years ago. It is long and therefore not acceptable to most contests. I hope to get a book of short stories out this year. It will be in there. I had oral surgery on Thursday. I have one side of my face swollen and I look like a monster, but it is getting better. Bless Snell, I have slept pretty well all of Thursday and Friday. I have a meeting on Sunday with one of my writing groups. I hope my face will be less swollen and my headache and mouth pain will be better. It has greatly improved this morning. I am president of the Southern Sisters in Crime group so I hate to miss. I am watching a huge pileated red pecker on the suet block this am. He is beautiful. All the smaller birds are there and just ignoring him. James has branched out with his glass blowing and is making these incredible squids on rounded ball. The legs are very delicate, but just lovely. I included his fox as well, these are his two newest interests. I hope the pictures comes through. Hope all is well with you and your's. Marlene Hey Y'all, I am a bit behind on everything, not just the October news. I think I have more pies than fingers and I am up to elbows in sticky stuff. If you are in the Snellville area, I hope you can stop by the Elizabeth Williams Library this Saturday (11/3/22). Local authors will be there to talk about their books and writing. We also have the opportunity to sell our books. It begins at 1:00pm On Nov 19, from 2-7:00pm, I and my friend Lynn Hesse will be at the Walnut Grove Festival at the City Hall. Stop in so see all the beautiful decorations. Dec 3, three of my writing friends and I will be at the Snellville Performing Arts festival. The program begins at 9:00 and ends at 2:00 pm. I wish I could say I have finished another book, but I can't. I am trying, very hard. I have Tricks, Tips, and Techniques for Using color to Enhance Learning and Study Skills. I need to edit it and then send it on to someone who is a much better editor than I. Working on the title. Suggestions? Send your ideas to me (mrat30052@aol.com). If your title is chosen I'll send you a book as a gift. I need only to organize and edit another book like Life is hard. Soften It with Laughter. I am struggling for a good title. It is another collection of humorous essays based on the foibles of life. Please send me your suggestions (mrat30052@aol.com). If your title is chosen you get the first book off the press as a gift. If God is willing and the Creek don't rise, I hope both will be done by the end of the year. Unfortunately, I think the Creek have sharpened their arrows and are lurking in the back yard. Are you a writer? Monroe Walton Center for the Arts in Monroe , GA has opened up an Author's Guild and will sell your books. You must be published and you must join MWCA. For more information contact Barbara Barth (bb-bjd@comcast.net). Have a wonderful Thanksgiving and take care. Hugs, Ms Rat Celebrate the Good Times
Is it really time for Thanksgiving? At Thanksgiving dinner people will often sit around the table laden with great food. They will laugh, smile, and tell each other all the things for which they are thankful. They will declare their friendships, loyalties, and love for one another. What a wonderful time of the year. But wait. Why must we wait for a holiday to take a minute to list those things and people for whom we are thankful? It is so hard to get family together these days. Sharing love and thankfulness while you have everyone together is a wonderful thing. Maybe we should take a minute each day to remind ourselves for whom and for what we are thankful. It is just an affirmation of the positive side of our lives. Busy? Oh yeah. Who isn’t? Find a minute to flash a face or an event through your mind. Just say “Thanks.” Before falling asleep let your mind wonder to the good things of the day. It could be your cat being silly, a memory of a good friend, a rainbow. What does it matter? It will end your day on a positive note and your thankful thought will guide you into sleep. Isn’t it best to have positive thoughts? It is important that I take a few minutes every night to be thankful for the day I had and for the people I love. Sitting around a table once a year to declare my appreciation is just not enough. We need to be thankful in our minds daily. And we need to smile. Life is hard, a smile and good thought can perform miracles. Old school teachers do not think in terms of cool weather and pretty leaves. We think of lesson plans and setting the alarm. It's fall. It is time to go back to school.
I was recently asked to speak to Gwinnett County Retired Educators celebrating their 50th year in existence. I was thinking, "Wow. 50 years. That is a long time. Some of those teachers are ancient." And then it hit me. I started teaching 50 years ago, No wonder I was asked to speak. I was ancient, and I spoke their language, We went through that period of time when women did not wear pants, We knew the pains of girdles and garter belts. Dresses and heels every day. And we had a different type of student back then. Educators had parent support to do our jobs, and the parents would do theirs. Mama used to say time changes all things." And thank goodness it did. We got panty hose. Now you youngsters have no idea what a jay it was to have your lower body encased in plastic. It was better than a garter belt cutting you in two. And then, pants suits were allowed. The tops had to come down to the bottom of your fingertips and cover your derriere. Even that was a gift from the goddesses. I grew up and started teaching in the miniskirt age of the 1960-70s. Miniskirts were not as long as the tops required for the pantsuit. I remember going to a restaurant on a date and was told that I could not come in wearing pants. Fine. I stepped into the parking lot and pulled off the pants. Stuffed them in my purse and entered wearing a mini skirted dress. I taught art to high school students, When I told them my story, the girls cheered! I was a rebel back then! Fall is a strategic and traumatic time for many. For teachers, we had trepidation about doing a good job and having great students. For the kids, there was the fear factor of another year of homework, tests, and developing maturity. That last thing is the most frightening. Establishing who you are while not quite an adult and no longer a child is a very confusing time. Fall also brings new engagements in the sickie-ickies. All summer, germs have been mutating, so new strains would attack the school population and, in turn, dill the parents and members of the household. New teachers should get an extra week of sick leave for their first two years of teaching experience. They are sicker than any student. Fall brings school sports into play. (Yeah, I know. A pun, and a puny pun at that.) The girls have bought new fall wardrobes. We are in the South, It is September and 89 degrees in the shade. Those beautiful sweaters are still in the closet as the kids wear short-sleeved summer clothes into October. On the first day, when temperatures drop into the low 70s or high 60s, the classrooms burst into color like the trees- all in the new cherished fall outfits. Fall is a time to participate in change. In Greek mythology, Persephone returns to the Underworld. The Earth begins to die, only to be rejuvenated in the spring when she returns to the Earth's surface. For many of us, fall begins a new dimension in our lives through education, The need for summer break to harvest crops has been replaced with laughter, pools, summer jobs, and freedom. Our late mornings and later evenings are now switched to a demanding schedule. As the Earth reverts to its autumnal slumbers, our children begin a new process of growth. Enjoy your fall, y'all. XOXO, Mama Marlene Ms Rat Writes March, 2022 Newletter Rabbit, Rabbit, Y’all The chant of “Rabbit, Rabbit’ said upon the waking on the first day of each month brings you luck. Sometime in the early 1900’s this tradition started. No one knows where or when or who, but saying “Rabbit, Rabbit” supposedly brings good luck due to the rabbit being a symbol of spring and renewal. I am not superstitious. Not very much. I like black cats. The number thirteen doesn’t scare me. We married on December 13, 1975. So far, thirteen has been good to us. I am not scared to walk under a ladder, but why take chances. My best friend Pickle (AKA Dotti) walked under a ladder, fell down and had a black for a week or more. Why tempt fate? Superstitions are interesting, but not dangerous. Knock wood. If we are together and you hear me mumble “Rabbit, Rabbit”, it isn’t superstition so much as a trying to get any good luck I can. Oh wait…. Okay, I like superstitions that bring good luck, not bad. So I guess I am a little bit superstitous. Aren’t you? Just a little? Spring arrives March 20 Spring is almost here and I am ready. The daffodils are amazing. The pear and cherry trees are starting to bloom. Things just seem happier and more maneage in the srping. The Hummingbirds are the way to our area. 1/4 cup sugar to 1 cup water makes a great nectar. Change it every other day. Do not add color. The birds are attracted by smell not the color red. Soon, I can start bushhogging. My favorite past time. Please note the other matching pair of boots is in the bottom of the pond. Neither boots nor golf carts float. You’ll have to read Life is hard. Soften It with Laughter to get that story. Did you know? The Colors of Spring and Easter are yellow and purple. I was born on Easter Sunday—many Sundays ago. Purple and yellow are my favorite colors. I wonder if it is just a coincidence. Events I have been invited to speak at several programs this spring. I hope you will join me. All of the programs are designed to be light hearted and bring a smile, if not an outright guffaw! (I hope). Please consider me for any of your gatherings. You can reach me online. (I’m cheap. Just let me sell my books.) Our son James will be 40 in March. How did that happen? I swear I still feel the labor pains. I know I haven’t lost all that baby fat I put on while pregnant. Here he is at DAY ONE with his Granddaddy, James E. Ratledge. And here he is pushing 40. Dang, time moves quickly. A New Book Finally, I have a title for the next book. Smile! It smooths the Potholes of life. It will be another collection of essays based on the foibles of life—yours and mine. I hope to have it out in May. Keep your fingers crossed and Rabbit, Rabbit. In the works is a collection of short stories? I don’t have a working title yet. They will be ghost stories with humor. I was thinking about Boo, Y’all. Anyone want to read my stories as they are written for corrections and cohesiveness? Let me know if you do. It is almost like being an editor, but not quite. You get to have your opinion and your advice heard by me. I don’t think I am hard of hearing. A Huge Thank You As always, thank you for taking the time to read my newsletters. I welcome your comments and suggestions. I write regularly for the GwinnettCitizen.com. My column is Hey Y’all, and can be found under the Opinions section. Please check out my webpage and sign up for my newsletters. www.MsRatWrites.com Happy Spring, Y’all (Please forgive any mistakes. I know I make them. It just proves I am human and don’t have an editor.) Recently I was asked by several people about how I became a writer and got my books published. I didn’t exactly go about things in the normal way. Snellville Patch was very popular at one time. I wrote a letter to the editor about topic of which I have no memory. The editor contacted me and asked if I would be interested in writing for Patch. I accepted and Hey Y’all was born. I wrote articles on the Snellville Saturday Farmer’s market, festivals, and events around town. I also wrote about some of the history of Snellville. Then the editor changed and Patch re-organized and I wasn’t needed anymore. My friend Cece Landress wanted to write the great American novel-or at least a story or two. She and I decided to take a class taught by Carole Townsend. Carole has published many articles in newspapers and with a number of books to her credit. Cece and I went to Carole’s book launch of Blood in the Soil. There we ran into Auveed Cawthon, owner and editor of the Gwinnett Citizen, a monthly newspaper. (www.gwinnettcitizen.com) Auveed asked if I would be interested in writing for her paper. I did and the rest leads up to my books. I attended a newly formed group named the Walton Writers. There I met an author, Tori Bailey, who was developing her own publishing company. With her encouragement, I collected a number of my better Hey Y’all columns and added some more and created Life is Hard. Soften it with Laughter. I used this phrase a lot-long before the book. Here is where my advice begins with you wanting to write. Join some author groups. Choose wisely. Explore Facebook and the Internet for potential groups to join. There are two groups in our area that I strongly support. Scribblers Web and Walton Writers. Membership in both of these groups is free. This first I would encourage you to join is Scribblers Web. It has a number of meeting in person locations My group is the Snellville Scribblers. We meet the third Thursday of the month at Main Street Restaurant and the last Monday of each month on Zoom. Both programs start 6:00 pm. Scribblers Web is designed to help you with the business end of writing and getting yourself published. I encourage you to join and peruse the past newsletters for a better feeling of the organization. We do not focus on critiquing your work, but you may share it with the group. This group has everything from cover artists, editors, web designers, publishers, and more. You are invited to submit your questions at any time. Look at the on-line bookstore and you will see we have writers from all genre. Walton Writers, which you can find on Facebook at Magical Muse Moments Create, Paint, Write, meets the first Thursday of each month at 7:00 pm. Monroe Walton Center for the Arts is the home of this group. The goal is to help you with the business end of writing, but also with an eye to work content. Monthly discussions on activities, events, and opportunities take place. Also, people are encouraged to share their work for critique/review. Another part of the Magical Muse Moment is Second Saturday Mic Night. It currently meets on Zoom (7:00 pm second Saturday of each month). Authors, musicians, and all creative people are asked to participate by sharing their work with others. Participation will strengthen your presentation skills. The feedback you get from the others will strength your work. I attended a number of writers’ conferences. Some were a complete waste of money and time. Again, choose wisely. Don’t pay to attend a romance writers group if you don’t like to read or write romance. Sisters in Crime is a great resource, but if murder isn’t your thing, look elsewhere. I would encourage you to explore Atlanta Writers’ Club, probably the oldest writing group in the southeast, and perhaps beyond. There is an annual membership fee. AWC host monthly meetings in person and/or on Zoom. There are two general conferences a year. This year AWC will sponsor a meeting for independent authors; those who publish personally. You will get great information from attending any of these conferences. The best conference I ever attended was Southeastern Writers Association. It will be held in June at Epworth-by-the-Sea. I plan to go again this year. My best advice for anyone who would like to write. Put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. Don’t worry about spelling, punctuation, or grammar. Just write your thoughts. It doesn’t matter what it says or how you say it. Just get it down. It is never wrong. It is just the beginning of a new adventure. A southern humorist, Marlene has won the 2020 Georgia Independent Author of the Year for Life is Hard. Soften It with Laughter and 2021 GIAYA for A Place with a past. She is available for speaking engagements. You may reach her through www.msratwrites.com |