A few months ago, I wrote a post (read here)
about being a sculptor. Specifically, how as
a kid I’d tried my hand at the art of sculpting without much luck but
then in later years while working as dental technician, I realized I was
sculpting teeth. After that enlightening discovery, I started making all sorts
of things: little guns and holsters, cars, candles, birds, or anything else I
could think of.
Recently, while sorting through my vast amounts of junk—er,
collectibles—I discovered some of the “art” I’d made. Yes, I saved most of it,
as I do with nearly everything. I dug through the box, remembering how fun it
was to create this almost meaningless stuff. I say almost meaningless, because
although it serves no purpose, it’s kind of nice to have and look at once in a
while. (My wife would probably not agree).
But after I quit working at the dental lab, the creation of
my pieces of art stopped. Not having an entire lab full of equipment and
supplies at my disposal rather hampered my creativity. This no doubt made my
wife happy but I missed making my little treasures.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, I had an occasion to need a few
items that we had in the dental lab. So, I ordered some supplies and basic
equipment. I now can create little trinkets again! (My wife will be so thrilled
to read this). I’m not sure what I will make first. Or, when I’ll have the
time. Or, what I’ll do with what I make. I guess I could sell it but that
doesn’t really fit with my habit of keeping everything. Although... it would be
one way to recoup some of my loss. But no, I’ll probably keep it all.
With the cost of the supplies and equipment, some (my wife)
would say this could be an expensive hobby. But I look at it more as an
investment. Should I, in the future, ever need dentures, I can make them
myself! Considering the cost of a dentist visit these days, I think the cost of
my hobby just went way down! ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen
books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead
Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and
The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes,
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.
Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS.
Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.
So apparently, guys are not supposed to take young kids to a
restaurant by themselves. At least that’s what I hear. I’m not sure if they
aren’t allowed to or if people just think they shouldn’t. Either way, I guess I
went and broke the rule.
I found this out last Saturday. My wife and daughter went
shopping and I kept the one-year-old grandkid. I thought it would be a good
time to enjoy a nice dinner at my favorite Chinese restaurant. Yes, the
grandkid likes Chinese food. And he knows how to eat by himself, with utensils,
so it wasn’t a big deal. Or so, I thought.
We got a lot of strange looks from staff and other customers
the minute we walked in. The hostess, who wanted to seat us at a large table,
kept asking if the rest of our party would be coming soon. When I finally got
through to her that were alone, she gave me a strange look but seated us at a
table for two. Even the waitress appeared concerned, asking if I needed her to
help me feed the kid. I guess that was a nice offer but, uh, no. I’m quite
capable of managing on my own.
But, apparently people just don’t expect guys to take young
kids to a restaurant. I think what they expect is guys to be incompetent, or
intimidated, or something. Well, maybe some guys are. I am not. That doesn’t
make me special. Taking care of a one-year-old is not exactly hard. And doing
it successfully shouldn’t give anyone bragging rights. It should be just
normal. When my own kids were little, I took them anywhere and everywhere I
went. Seems only natural. Especially since the alternative would be to leave
them home alone. Pretty sure that would cause more problems than whatever
catastrophe everyone is waiting for.
Eventually, everybody at the restaurant got used to the idea
that we were there alone. But the waitress, still obviously worried about me,
came by and in her heavy Chinese accent asked, “Are you okay?” I nodded and she
went on her way. But in a couple of minutes she came back by. It was then that
the grandkid, who is into mimicking everything he hears people say, looked at
her and, in the same foreign accent, said, “Are you okay?”
She laughed, as did everyone within earshot. “He say that
like me,” the waitress said, smiling proudly.
We finished our meal, packaged up the leftovers, and went to
pay the bill—all the while the grandkid is listening intently to the workers
talk, trying to copy them. And doing a pretty good job if the audience response
was any indication! His audience being the entire restaurant!
All in all, we had a good time, ate some good food, and...
nothing terrible happened. But apparently, according to the wisdom of the
general public, guys are still not supposed to take young kids to a restaurant.
And they may be right. After we got home, I had only an hour or two to get rid
of the Chinese accent the grandkid had acquired—before his mother came back! ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen
books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead
Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and
The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes,
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.
Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS.
Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.
WINNERS: Elizabeth Newton, Brian O’Hare, Richie Gerber
During the month of September, Rave Reviews Book Club is hosting one of the largest collective blog tours in the history of blog tours! Authors are promoting their own books on their blogs and visitors to these blogs can win prizes. (See the list of Grand Prizes). To enter just leave a comment below. Each time a visitor leaves a comment on a blog stop, their name will be entered into the drawings for our Grand Prizes at the end of the tour. Each time a visitor leaves a comment on a blog stop, their name will be entered into the drawings for DAILY PRIZES at each stop. Comments will be collected at each blog stop by 12 midnight, CST (at the close of each day) and winners will be announced the very next day! Winners of the GRAND PRIZES will be announced at the close of the tour.
I’m happy to be participating in the Rave Reviews Book ClubBACK-TO-SCHOOL BOOK & BLOG
BLOCK PARTY and I’m very excited to have the opportunity to profile
some of my books. Although I branch out to other genres and styles from time to
time, I tend to write mystery/crime/suspense novels, usually with a theme of
some sort of injustice that has occurred. I love to write so the list of books is
constantly growing!
My Books:
Available as ebook and paperback. Links are to Amazon but most books also available on Barnes & Noble, Kobo, iTunes, Smashwords, and more.
When eighteen-year-old Cynthia Holt takes a job at a former
sanitarium, now operating as an assisted living center, she discovers there is
something more occurring than providing the elderly with housing and care.
Something very strange is going on behind the locked door of Room 913. After
she is warned to stay away from the room and to not discuss it or the occupant
with her co-workers, she is even more intrigued. And suspicious. Letting her
curious nature guide her, she immediately begins asking questions. When she
finds that Room 913 has been closed off; locked and sealed for many years, her
curiosity turns to concern. Though rumors abound, no one seems inclined to talk
about it. Not giving up so easily, Cynthia persists in her inquisitive pursuit
until she finds out the truth - or does she?
The justice system is just a system, not a just system.
Sentenced to fifteen years in prison for a crime he didn't
commit, Ethan Rafferty has one thing on his mind—payback! With his time up, the
ex-con is free to pursue his mission of revenge. The District Attorney, Mariana
Clark, who, during the trial suppressed evidence that would've exonerated him,
is the focus of his vengeance. Intent on making her life miserable, Ethan employs
a variety of tactics to antagonize and torment the woman. Unable to retaliate
through the courts, considering her role in the previous trial, Mariana decides
to fight fire with fire. Soon, their feud escalates to a point where neither
imagined it would go.
Which one will prevail, Ethan or Mariana? Who will win? Can
either? Or, are both of them bound to a destiny produced by a Miscarriage of
Justice?
What would you do if Child Protective Services showed up on
your doorstep with an army of Sheriff’s deputies and tried to remove your
three-year-old from your home? Knowing there's no justification for their
action and the court documents they presented are fabricated, would you stand
by or fight to protect your child?
Over My Dead Body
explores the deadly reaction and consequences when a protective father,
Jeff Blake, tries to prevent the state from
taking his daughter. The director of Child Protective Services uses his
position to exact a personal vendetta in removing three-year-old Ashley from
the Blake’s home.
The situation quickly becomes violent as Jeff resorts to the
only response he feels he has. By the end of the short encounter, three people
are dead. Ironically, Ashley is still taken, so the tragic fiasco gained
nothing.
Matters are further complicated when Amy, the wife and
mother, winds up in a mental ward due to the trauma she witnessed in her home.
Jeff and Amy’s daughter is placed in temporary foster care, while the family’s
attorneys attempt to salvage what they can and re-unite the family. The police,
as well as the Courts, understandably, are not too concerned with the needs of
the family and it seems the entire justice system is against them.
Complete with many twists of fate, the story looks at the common
problems of a typical family caught between love and the law.
When a teenage boy, who thinks he knows it all, leaves home
in search of a better life, he finds out the hard way what everyone must learn—growing
up isn’t an easy thing to do.
Leaving home at fifteen, Kyle Davis’ path to adulthood takes
him on an eventful ride, and at times a dangerous one. His firsthand
experiences with the cruel realities of a callous world drive home the point
that he has a lot to learn and a long ways to go.
Unwilling to admit his mistakes, he flounders a while before
finally accepting life for what it is—hard work. It takes considerably more
time for him to reach the point of going home and apologizing. That’s when he
discovers the world didn’t stop to wait for him. Home isn’t quite the way he
remembers it, and he sees how drastically things can change.
Still, certain things remain the same; principles and values
are a constant. It isn’t a persons age, location or where they are in life that
determines when they’ve become an adult. Kyle realizes The Journey is more than
merely miles traveled. The road to maturity, whether literal or figurative,
takes a person only as fast as they are willing to go. Yet, at some point,
everyone has to make The Journey.
All cats can be a little strange! Some might even be crazy!
But it takes a smart cat to pull off some of the things this lovable cat named
Stupid does! Follow his adventures, told in his own words. (Based on the life
of a real cat, who thanks to his head-shaking behavior, earned the nickname of
Stupid).
WARNING: These books contain language that some may
consider offensive. This language, along with multiple acts of violence, is
directed toward Islamic radicals. If you are sympathetic to the terrorists
cause, sensitive to criticism of radical Islam, or are easily offended by such
content - DO NOT READ.
The Not-So-Politically-Correct Books on Fighting Terrorism.
Cruelly honest and unabashedly patriotic, slightly offensive
but extremely effective, Wynn Garrett is America’s answer to the problem of
domestic terrorism. When the Department of Homeland Security, assigns him the
job of eliminating the terrorist threat by any means necessary, they expect him
to follow a few reasonable guidelines. He turns out to be anything but
reasonable.
A proud American, Wynn Garrett is determined America emerge
victorious, and employs questionable tactics in his personal war on terrorism—much
to the consternation of his superiors in Washington. They constantly attempt to
curb his reckless behavior, but to no avail.
And coming soon...
The Lana Denae Mystery Series
by Bruce A. Borders
Dead Broke, the first title in this series, is scheduled to be published by the end of 2015.
Thank you for stopping by! Leave a comment below to be
entered in the contest to win valuable prizes. Brought to you by Rave Reviews BookClub. See our website for Official
Rules.
After two weeks of writing about my present day activities,
I think it’s time I dredge up some story from the past. Wait, that makes it
sound like I’m digging up dirt on myself, which I’m definitely NOT going to do.
Not that I don’t have such stories. I do. Plenty. I’m just not going to write
about them!
Okay, now that that’s settled, where was I? Oh yeah, the
skeleton that I once kept in my closet. And sorry to disappoint anyone but that
word, skeleton, isn’t a metaphoric representation of some big bad secret. I had
actual bones, a full set. And no, it wasn’t a lab model. It was a real live
skeleton! Okay, probably not “live.” I’m sure the creature that once used the
bones was quite dead.
As you probably guessed, the skeleton wasn’t of the human
variety. I’m not sure what is was—a small animal of some sort—but definitely
not human. (I’m not really a psycho). Whatever it was, I found it while
“exploring” outside one day and brought it into the house—for safe-keeping, I
suppose. I know I said it wasn’t a big bad secret but I did try to keep it
hidden—mainly from my mother. Had she discovered the skeleton, I think she
would have quickly disposed of it. So, I kept it out of sight.
Back then, our family used to take long road trips, and usually,
we didn’t stop for a motel, we just kept driving. (No surprise I’m now a truck
driver). My dad, in order to stay awake, would listen to talk shows on the
radio. In those days there were only two: Larry King and the Night Caps. Since
I’ve always had an aversion to sleeping, I was usually awake and listening too.
I’m not sure which of the shows it was and I have no idea
now what they were discussing but I remember the guy on the radio saying,
“Everybody’s got a skeleton or two in their closet.”
Everybody? So why was I trying to hide mine?Oh
yeah, my Mother! Then, I started wondering why I’d never seen any skeletons
in anyone else’s closet. You got to remember I was pretty young at the time and
had never heard that particular phrase before.
Well, after that, I decided to get rid of the skeleton.
Didn’t want to be like everybody else! But being a kid, by the time we got
home, I’d forgotten all about it. Didn’t think of it again until we moved a
couple of years later. As I was packing, my dad came into my room and seeing
the skeleton, asked what I was doing with it.
By this time, I was a little more familiar with the English
language, idioms in particular. I said to my dad, “Doesn’t everybody have a
skeleton in their closet?”
He laughed but said I still needed to get rid of it, which I
did—I stashed it in a partially hidden cubby hole in the closet. Yeah, the same
closet, in the house we were moving out of. Hey, someone new was going to move
in and to paraphrase an old saying, “Everyone needs a skeleton in their closet!”
~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen
books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead
Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and
The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes,
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.
Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS.
Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.
So, I think I’ve opened up a can of worms! No, not
literally. I’m not going fishing! The can of worms, I’m referring to is the
home maintenance one of repair and beautification, something I’ve neglected in
recent years.
If you read last
week's post, you may remember that I spent the previous week, my vacation,
painting my house. That has resulted in the realization that I really needed to
catch up on some other long overdue projects. And these projects are all related,
entangled together with each one leading to two or three more. Thus, my analogy
of the can of worms. I start one project and soon have a list of others.
I’ve replaced the back door; installed one with a window so
we can see out onto the deck, which needs a few minor repairs and treated,
along with the cedar fence. I’ve repaired the door on one of my sheds, so it
actually closes properly! I’ve replaced the front entryway carpet, which was
completely worn out. There was only a thin piece of carpet to cut out around
the edge before the new carpet could be cut and installed. I’ve sealed up
cracks in the driveway. I cut some new trim boards, and attached them, painted
the front door, repaired the gate, and... well, I think you get the picture. Can
you see all the worms?
The good news is, only so many worms will fit in a can.
Problem is, I’m not sure what size can I’m dealing with. I shouldknow
since I’m the one who opened it! But no.
What I do know is I’ve now spent more than two weeks working
on my house and not getting much else done. (Maybe I should have left the can
closed). But the house is looking nice so at least I have something to show for
my effort. And, I think I’m almost done! Thinking can sometimes lead to
trouble though! Could be opening a whole new can of worms! ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen
books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead
Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and
The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes,
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.
Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS.
Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.
After sixteen years, I decided it was time to paint my
house. Way past time. Paint isn’t really supposed to last that long. The house
didn’t actually look that bad—until you actually looked at it!
But I was sort of dreading the job. Typically, painting
requires much more than simply painting. First, everything needs to be cleared
away from the house. In my case, this meant cutting the twenty-two rose bushes,
getting rid of the weeds, and cleaning all the junk stored in partially hidden
areas. Then, all the dirt has to be cleaned, loose paint scraped off, any minor
repairs taken care of, and all the cracks caulked.
Once primer has been applied to the bare wood areas, it
should be time to paint. But what color, or colors? Should it be left the same?
Modified slightly? Or, should the color scheme be changed entirely? If it’s
changed what color should it be? What color for the trim? There are literally
thousands of ready-made color sets, as a trip to any paint store will attest.
And, if the colors they have aren’t enough, they’ll gladly mix any color you
want.
Decisions. Decisions.
Ah, but in my case, this was the easy part, I let my wife
decide; with only a couple of conditions—no pink and no green. (I didn’t really
have to worry that much, I doubt she would want a pink house and she doesn’t
like most greens either). I figured my strategy would give me plenty of time to
prep the house and allow me to put off painting for a month or so. But no.
Within a week, she had decided. The house would be Commuter Grey, which is
actually a dark blue with a slight hint of purple, and the trim would be Fluffy
Biscuit, a yellowish creamy color that looks just like the light golden color
on the top of a biscuit. Makes me hungry just looking at it.
So, last week, on my stay-at-home vacation, I spent most of
my time outside painting. Never realized how big of a house we have. It doesn’t
really seem that big from the inside. Of course, that could be due to all of my
stuff—or, junk as my wife calls it.
It was a great vacation project. I needed something to do
anyway! And the weather was awesome; plenty of sunshine, temperatures in the
hundreds, and no rain! Yes, it was a little hot but it is August!
Besides, painting in the summer can be cool—if you find the right shade.
I’m happy with the way the it turned out, it looks like a
new house. And although painting is a lot of work, I had fun doing it. And now
I should be good for another sixteen years, right? Maybe not. But for the
moment, the job is finished. Which is good because I have other things to
do—like go have a biscuit, a fluffy one. ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a
dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My
Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and
paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.
Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS.
Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.
It’s only logical that a truck driver is probably going to
have more flat tires, and/or blowouts, than the average person. More tires plus
more miles equals more flats. As the saying goes, “It goes with the territory.”
And since I drive a truck with twenty-four tires instead of the usual eighteen,
I’m more apt to have a flat than even the normal truck driver. I know this, and
am used to it. It’s just part of the job. Summer is the worst time; weak tires
do not fare well in the heat.
But this year, I’ve been sort of lucky. Down time due to
flats has been pretty low—I’ve only had one. Until the week before last.
On Wednesday, I’d gone less than thirty miles when one of my
drive tires decided that 14.7 psi was enough pressure. It wasn’t as it turns
out. But, I drove on to the tire shop and got it fixed, losing only an hour.
Not too bad.
The next day, I made it a little further. In fact, I was
almost done with my run when a drop axle tire blew. That was an easy fix,
though. There were no scales to cross and it was dark so I just lifted the axle
and continued on my way. Wasn’t even five minutes late. So far, so good, right?
Then came Friday. I was sent to a terminal pick up a loaded
trailer and when I got there, I discovered not one, not two, and not even three
or four, but five, yes, five flat tires. Since it was the only loaded trailer
there, I had to wait while they all were fixed or replaced. A two hour delay,
on a Friday night was rather discouraging. That two hours was cutting into my
weekend. Five flats on one trailer? That is a little ridiculous.
I’m usually in a pretty upbeat mood when I know I have two
days off coming up so, the wasted time left me a little deflated. Think I’m
ready for a vacation to roll around. After a week of flats, seven of them, this
truck driver is tired. ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen
books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead
Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and
The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes,
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.
Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS.
Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.
Did something this past week that I haven’t done in a long
time—spent the night at my parents’ house. Of course I have been to their house
many times since moving out years ago but this seemed different. Maybe because
my wife wasn’t there.
My dad is building a garage, and since he’s getting close to
one hundred years old, I thought he could use a little help. Oh, there I go
exaggerating again. He’s not really that close to one hundred, but he is a lot
closer than I am! And some days I feel like I could be one hundred years old so
you can see where I might become a little confused. Or, not.
Anyway, my dad is building a garage. I’ve been helping here
and there. Just how much help I’ve been is questionable, I’m a truck driver who
is definitely no longer accustomed to manual labor.
Last Friday night, I got off work and since my parents live
in the town where I work, instead of driving an hour home and then an hour
back, I just went to their house to sleep for a while before we got started. It
was a little odd, just me, by myself, staying at their house. I was hoping I
didn’t wake up and think I was a kid again. Although, that might be fun; just
for a day, to pretend that I have no responsibilities, no worries, and no
problems. My whole future ahead of me!
But then, now that I think about it, being a kid again may
not be that much fun. I think I would miss my wife, kids, and grandkids—and
several other things I take for granted. I wouldn’t be able to drive, make my
own decisions, write books, or a lot of other things. While I wouldn’t have to
go to work at a job (Yay!), I’m sure—based on past experience—my father would
have something for me to do! Like help build a garage! It seems some things do
not change with time.
Not sure what the point of this blog is. Not entirely sure I
had a point. We put the roof on the garage on Saturday and I may have stayed
out in the sun too long. Perhaps I’m a bit delirious. After all, it’s August
and that means it was hot! But we did have a good time. Nobody fell off the
roof or got hurt. Everything went well and the garage is almost done! Yes, it
was a good day. A productive day. It was also a tiring day. Did I mention I’m a
lazy truck driver?
And now, it’s Sunday night. I’m still recuperating. My legs,
ankles, and knees were not meant to spend that much time on a roof. Think, I’ll
try to get a little more sleep tonight than normal. I might need the rest—we’re
pouring concrete tomorrow! ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen
books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead
Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and
The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes,
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.
Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS.
Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.
As I’ve previously stated in posts on this blog, and
elsewhere, I’m a do it myself kind of person. I don’t hire things done if I can
help it. Can’t see paying someone to do what I can just as easily do myself. If
I don’t know how to do it, I’ll learn.
But among the things that I do NOT do, is sew. Not really my
thing. I have no doubt I could if I needed to, it might not look pretty but, I
could do it. So far, I’ve never needed to and there’s a good reason for that;
my wife is quite proficient in the art of sewing. As I’ve mentioned before she
makes dresses, fancy ones, shirts and, well, almost anything. She loves to sew.
She has, not one, but two, sewing machines and keeps them
both busy. Not at the same time, of course, although... that might not be true.
Quite often they are both setting out on the table, plugged in, light on, and
threaded—obviously being used. Just because I’ve never actually seen her run
them both at the same time doesn’t necessarily mean it doesn’t happen. Oops!
Off on a side trail again! See why I don’t sew? I get sidetracked too easily.
I’d never get anything done. Back to my story now.
Where was I? Oh yes, my wife has two machines. It’s my job
to keep them running. So see, I do get involved in the process. However,
sometimes I think she “breaks” them just to give me something to do. Really!
How often can a sewing machine break anyway?
As I was saying (again), my wife loves to sew. One of her
favorite things to make is quilts. And she makes a lot of them— a hundred or so
already this year. Okay I might have exaggerated that number slightly. But she
does make a lot; I think around thirty or better is a closer estimate for the
current year. You’d think then, that we’d have plenty of quilts in our house,
right? But no, most of them are given away, sometimes before I even get to see
them. (This, after all my hard work in keeping the sewing machines going).
Lately though, she has taken to posting them to Facebook, so I at least get to
see a picture!
This past week, she was once again on a bit of a sewing
kick. Binge sewing. I think it’s some sort of therapy or something—just not
sure exactly what it’s supposed to cure. In the case of quilts, perhaps it’s
meant to cure the cold—not the sickness, the temperature. There is a bit of
irony in that, considering it was 114 degrees outside this week. But then, I
guess that may be proof her efforts are paying off!
I’ve included a few pictures below so you can see her
handiwork—or, quilt work, I guess it would be called.
Okay, time to wrap up this post. My wife is sleeping and
I’ve got to see if I can snag another one of those quilts before they all
disappear. Winter is coming; I might need to stay warm, and as I said, I don’t
sew. ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen
books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead
Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, and
The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes,
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com.
Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS.
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