That's Cold

I thought I’d left behind the sub-zero temperatures when I moved from Wisconsin back to Oregon nineteen years ago. And I had, until this year. Not that it doesn’t get cold in Oregon, it does—but not usually where I live. Cold here means the thermometer is hovering around 25-30 degrees. But this year...

This year, things are a bit on the frigid side. The past week I saw a minus sign on the temperature WAY too much. Every day, I think. The coldest was -8, which for a lot of people, that might not be too bad but when I’m working outside, it’s COLD! Yes, I’ve been in much colder temps, even worked outside in them, but now that I’ve acclimated to a warmer climate, my body doesn’t deal well with weather that refuses to go above zero. Or, maybe I’m just older than I used to be.

If you saw last week’s post, you may remember I had a lingering cold, and I still do. It’s hard to get better with all the time I spend outside in this weather. Even when I get home from work, there’s shoveling to do.

But then, there is a bright side to all of my woes. My grandson loves to help grandpa shovel. Sometimes that means dumping a shovel full of snow on my head, or putting the snow back on the sidewalk I’ve just cleaned but the look on his face while he is “helping” makes it all worth it.

A few weeks ago, he was helping clear off the deck and behind me, I hear his sweet three-year-old voice say, “Grandpa, I’m really sorry. But, I love you.”

When I turned around to see what had happened, I was met by a huge snowball to the face. The light fluffy snow easily broke apart and found its way inside my coat and the filtered down my neck. I let out a gasp and after catching my breath, went inside to dry off and warm up. My grandson thought it was a slap-the-leg hilarious moment.

Yesterday, we were again shoveling off the deck and having learned my lesson, I didn’t turn my back to him. Of course, that didn’t deter the child. With no warning this time, he scooped up a shovel of snow and, as I’d taught him, threw it. Except it’s supposed to go over the deck railing. This particular shovel full came right at my head.

As I was trying to clean the snow off my hat and face and yes, down my neck again, I hear the little voice say, “Grandpa, do you remember that I love you?”

Yes, I did, I told him. In fact, I think I’ll remember he loves me for quite a while, probably every time I’m cold. And this year, that will be often. ~

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, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

Back Home

Wisconsin in August! Probably not the best time to venture into America’s Dairyland.

For those of you who did not see last week’s post, the family and I, all eleven of us, took a road trip from Oregon to Wisconsin. For some in our party, it was the first visit to the state, and their first experience with humidity and bugs! Oh, and thunderstorms!

Also, for some, it was their first experience with long distance driving. At first, the grandkids seemed excited at the prospect and eager to hit the road. But I think the novelty wore off after the first 100 miles or so. After that, the “joy” of driving transitioned into the typical “Are-we-there-yet view.

For the adults, the adventure took a turn for the worse after about ten hours, in the form of car trouble. Outside Evanston, Wyoming, one of our vehicles broke down. It would run but the transmission would not engage. Sitting on the side of the freeway is not a real exciting way to spend a vacation. After a couple of hours and a few visits from the Wyoming law enforcement (who were very friendly and helpful) we had the car towed to the dealership where we learned it would need a new transmission, which incidentally, was not cheap. Eventually, we rented a car and continued our trip, leaving the problem vehicle to be fixed. We were a day late when we got to Wisconsin but better late than never, I suppose.

But wait, there’s more. The day before we needed to leave, the key for the rental car decided not to work. It was one of those new key fobs and not an actual key. The message panel on the car just said “Damaged key” when we tried to use it. And although those type of keys have a “real” key inside them for such an emergency, that wouldn’t work either. No matter what we tried, the car wouldn’t start. We couldn’t even roll up the windows. Not a good situation in a place that likes to rain buckets of water! So, after another tow to the dealership and waiting a day for them to fix it, with fingers crossed, we headed home.

There a few more minor issues with the rental, but finally, we made it back to Evanston, Wyoming. There, we picked up the repaired vehicle, returned the rental car, and hit the road again for the rest of our journey. After a day and a half on the road, we arrived home dead tired—and slightly disgruntled.

But the trip wasn’t all doom and gloom. While in Wisconsin, we visited my wife’s family, celebrating her parents’ 50 years of marriage and, I think, we all had a good time. We saw a lot of family and friends that we hadn’t seen for a long time and had a nice visit. Also, on the way to Wisconsin we stopped at Mt Rushmore, and saw a few other sites too. The stops helped break up the trip for the travel novices, know as my grandchildren!

In all, we visited nine different states. I’m pretty sure the extended freeway journey made for a fun-filled experience for, not only the grandkids, but everyone else as well. But I don’t think any of them are ready to go anywhere in a vehicle just yet. Except me. I’m headed back to work. I’ll be driving all night again. But not to Wisconsin! ~

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, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

Almost A Vacation

Vacation! Yep, again. A year ago, on my summer vacation, I spent the week painting the house, and fixing things that had been neglected far too long. This year, I’m taking an actual vacation. Well, sort of. We’re traveling to that exotic land of enchantment, known as Wisconsin. (That last part may have been typed with just a hint of sarcasm).

It promises to be a fun-filled, or at least, interesting, trip. The whole family, my wife and I, our three adult children, our son-in-law, and the five grandchildren will be cruising down the freeway from Oregon to Wisconsin. Normally, it’s around a thirty-hour drive, but with that many people, and that many kids, it might take a wee bit longer this time. Hopefully, by the time anyone reads this, we will be there. Hopefully.

For everyone, other than me, this will be a LONG trip. By the end of our vacation, we will have driven more than 3,500 miles. I’m thinking the grandkids, and perhaps a few others, will have had enough of being car bound, listening to the hum of steelbelts on the asphalt, by the time we get back home. 3,500 miles is a lot of miles. I know. That’s what I drive every week. And now you know why I said I was “sort of” taking a vacation. ~

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, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

Too Cold At Home

The trouble with winter is, well, there’s a long list of things, but number one is, it’s cold!

When I was sixteen, and still living with my parents, we lived in a small town in eastern Oregon. Winters get pretty cold in this town and this particular year was no exception. Well, I take that back, this was an exceptionally cold year.

It was the week after Christmas and I had gone to work overnight, cleaning the floors at a local grocery store. The temperature was already well below zero when we started the job but by the time we were done, about four in the morning, the thermometer had dropped to -42 degrees. If you’ve never experienced that, or even if you have, that is cold.

Being young, it wasn’t as traumatic as it would be now, but it was still cold. Too cold. I decided that perhaps I should move. Maybe go someplace new, someplace warmer. I wasn’t really serious because I did like the town. It just happened to be cold at the time.

Well, little did I know that my dad was already thinking of moving. The following winter found us in Wisconsin. Yeah, not exactly a place known for its moderate weather temperatures and tropical climate. It was like going from the frying pan right into the fire—in an antithesis sort of way!

Everyone told me it got cold there but being that the year before I had seen -42, I wasn’t too worried. Then, winter came, specifically, the week after Christmas. I was “privileged” to experience the bone-chilling temps of Wisconsin with the thermometer bottoming out at... -42, again. A lot of good that move did!

Since then, I have moved again. Haven’t seen anything close to -42 in quite a few years. It barely gets below zero here. Except, I’m older now. And at this age, zero feels a lot like -42. It’s cold! And that is the trouble with winter. ~

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.  Amazon Profile - www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Thanksgiving, 1985

Thanksgiving. A time of family, food, and fun—as I recently heard it defined. Yes, I have another Thanksgiving tale.

The year was 1985. I had just moved to Wisconsin in anticipation of getting married. My wife, who wasn’t my wife yet, and her family traveled to spend the holiday in another town. I had to work so I stayed behind to keep the house warm for the cat and dog.

Now before anyone starts feeling sorry for me, I wasn’t alone. For Thanksgiving Day, I was invited to some friends’ house. We had a good southern meal—odd for being in Wisconsin, I know, but these people were from the south—and afterward, we spent the day playing games. I stayed until well after dark and then returned to my future in-laws’ house.

Meanwhile, it had been snowing—all day. It was still snowing when I left for work the next morning—and when I returned. And, it continued snowing well into Saturday. By this time, the long driveway was pretty snowed in. I’d been driving my father-in-law’s four-wheel drive pickup and hadn’t bothered to think about removing any of the piles of white stuff. And neither had I thought to shovel. Probably should have started that the first day, instead of playing games all day long!

Waking up Saturday, I suddenly remembered my wife’s family would be returning that afternoon and they had taken a car, a car that I knew would have difficulty getting into and up the snow filled driveway.

So, I thought I’d help out. I went to the shed and started up the John Deere with a snowplow already attached. I figured the job would only take a few minutes. Well, as anyone who has been around me knows, that Mr. Murphy guy and me have a lot in common—if anything can go wrong, it will. I’d made only one pass down the driveway, when the John Deere stopped. Just stopped. I tried for several hours to get it running but apparently, I wasn’t much of a mechanic.

Looking at the driveway, I knew it would still be hard to get a car through it. The one pass I’d made hadn’t really helped much at all. So, I jumped into the pickup and drove back and forth until I had the snow packed down enough. Then I started working on shoveling the three days’ worth of snow from around the walkway and the house. By that time, I knew I definitely had waited too long to shovel. It was late afternoon when my wife and her family drove in and I still hadn’t finished.

My father-in-law, being a far better mechanic than I, seemed unconcerned with the stalled John Deere. As I recall, he had the tractor running in about two minutes. Then, while he cleaned up the driveway a little, I continued working on the shoveling.

I did apologize for breaking his tractor. He said not to worry about it, that any time a breakdown didn’t cost any money, it was good. Well, that’s true, except it had cost some money—I think I used close to a full tank of gas driving the pickup back and forth! But, as I recently learned, Thanksgiving is, among other things, a time of fun. And I certainly did have fun!

Happy Thanksgiving! ~

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.  Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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I Need A Longer Vacation

The worst part of vacation—the end. It wouldn’t be so bad but the end always comes too soon. Before I even get used to the idea of vacation, it’s time to go back to work.

Yes, as some of my gifted readers may have guessed, I was on vacation last week, one of three that I’m allotted per year. Getting a day off any other time is not likely—unless a hospital stay is involved. Since that’s not my idea of a day off, I generally just go to work!

On this occasion, my wife and I celebrated our anniversary by visiting her family in Wisconsin. (I can hear the groans now of all those who think visiting their spouses family is a horrible way to spend a vacation). But, it’s okay, I actually like my in-laws!

One thing that made this vacation memorable was we took our one and a half year old grandson along with us. The kid is quickly becoming a seasoned air traveler as this was his tenth plane ride, I think. At more than one every two months, he is well on his way to joining the frequent flyer program. (That may diminish somewhat when he actually has to start paying to fly).

It was a fun week—at least for me. I guess I can’t speak for my wife, or the grandkid, or the in-laws for that matter! I think we all had a good time, relaxing, catching up, and enjoying the summer. But ultimately, my vacation was too short. And here it is Monday already and time to return to the daily grind.

I think I need a job where I work three weeks out of the year and vacation the other forty-nine. The opposite of what I do now. That, I could handle. Maybe. Although, it probably wouldn’t take that long before the forty-nine weeks would just not be enough and I’d be complaining my vacation had ended too soon!

~ ~ ~

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 also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Long Awaited Road Trip

When my oldest daughter was two years old, I took her on a cross country trip. Just her and I. A father/daughter trip.

My wife had no desire to go along since she absolutely hates driving anywhere in the winter. This is probably due, at least in part, to a trip the two of us took before we got married. A trip that contained a little extra “adventure.” I wrote a blog about that event, which you can read here.

But back to the father/daughter trip. We traveled from Wisconsin to Wyoming to visit my parents at Thanksgiving. A memorable trip, and one I still look back on fondly. At the time, a few people thought I was crazy. Apparently, fathers do not generally take their small children on long trips. Well, I guess I’m not normal. We had a great time and I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. A few years later, I again took her with me, to Missouri this time.

Some years later, when my son came along, he and I made several road trips, to Wyoming and other places. Again, these trips made for great memories that I reflect on quite often. Reminiscing, as it is called. Now, I realize as a truck driver, my view may be skewed, but there’s something about a long road trip that connects people in a way nothing else can.

But wait, there’s more! I also have another child, a daughter. As a momma’s girl, when she was young, she never wanted to be away from her mother very long at all—with me or anyone else. And so, the two of us never took any extended trips together. That is, until this last weekend. She’s now an adult but better late than never, right?

Being that we’re smack dab in the middle of winter, as you can imagine, my wife did not wish to make the journey. So, the two of us, my daughter and I, drove to Idaho to help my son move. A three-day trip that brought back a lot of memories from the travels with my other two children and reminding me of what I’d missed out on with her.

Of course, this time, I wasn’t “in charge” of, well, anything really. I didn’t have to hold her hand when we got out of the truck, order her food, or think up road games to pass the time. In fact, I didn’t have to take care of her in any way. She is quite a capable person! In some ways, that made this trip quite different. Yet, in many ways it was the same. A father/daughter road trip. Just her and I.

And at last, my trifecta of father/child road trips is complete! Good thing too. Because, apparently, I’m older than I used to be. Although I drive for a living, weekend trips tend to wear me out these days. But before I go to bed for some much needed sleep, I just wanted to say thanks to my daughter for traveling along!

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, Diesel Books, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Current Reads

Rave Soup For The Writer’s Soul: An Anthology

Various Authors

Damaged Goods

Jack Everett

Beneath African Skies

Gillie Bowen

SPOTLIGHT Author

Robin Chambers

 A Wizard Dreams

Ready-Made Pile Of Manufactured Grief

Writing last week’s post about being cold, reminded me of a car my wife and I once had. I should point out that we haven’t always had the best of luck when it comes to vehicles. And this particular vehicle, a Pontiac 6000, was exceptionally problematic.

There’s an old saying that goes, “If it don’t come easy, let it go.” We should’ve heeded this warning. Just buying the car was a chore in and of itself. It took the better part of a month due numerous delays from everything imaginable, from the dealership to the bank. But we were persistent because it was such a good deal—or so we thought.

We paid $3,500 for the four-year-old car with relatively few miles on it. But that, as we discovered, was just the initial buy-in fee. And what we bought into was a classic money pit. This car was a lemon of the sourest variety—and a very expensive one at that.

From the moment we drove off the lot, the car began having problems. Some were small and rather insignificant, others were major. The cost of the car immediately began to skyrocket. In the four years we owned the vehicle, we replaced nearly everything that could be replaced; alternator, regulator, power steering pump, injectors, air conditioner, master cylinders, wheel cylinders, wheel bearings, the list goes on and on—and on. We also had to do major repairs to the transmission and engine, multiple times.

I used to spend practically every weekend working on that car, fixing something, and then hoping it would run for another week. Usually, it didn’t. Yes, this vehicle was the source of much frustration; exasperating is what it was.

But perhaps the most annoying feature was the car had no heater—and we lived in Wyoming and then Wisconsin. In case you aren’t aware, it gets down right cold in both of those states. Neither are the place to be in the winter with no heater in the car.

I guess I should clarify what I mean by no heater. When the outside temperature is -25 degrees or colder, and the car is blowing out air at 0 degrees, technically, that would be a heater. But that is a rather meaningless, and ultimately useless, technicality.

Of course, I tried to fix it. I bought several new thermostats, flushed the cooling system several times, replaced the radiator (twice), and installed a new water pump as well as a new heater core. Nothing made a difference. We finally decided that as long as we had that car we were going to freeze in the winter.

Once we were finally able to trade it off, just for fun, I compiled a list of all the parts I’d replaced or repaired, and then listed the price. Adding it up, I found the total was over $10,000! Our $3,500 car had cost us $13,500. No, that didn’t include regular maintenance items like tires and brakes.

After this aggravating experience, I decided I was through buying used cars and our next vehicle purchase was a brand new pickup—a pickup that lasted exactly eleven days before the ignition broke. Like I said, we’ve not always had the best of luck when it comes to cars.

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, Diesel Books, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com

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Current Reads

Deceived: Soul Keeper

by L.A. Starkey

How To Get Anything You Want

by Mike Nach

Living With Grown-Ups

by Nadege Nicoll

SPOTLIGHT Author

Harmony Kent

The Glade

Return From A Far-Away Land

If you read last week’s installment of this blog, you know that I was on vacation. I have returned now. The plane has landed; I’m home, and ready to go back to work! Ugh! Did I just say I was ready to go to work? Can’t imagine that! Maybe, I should say I’m resigned to the fact that I now must return to work. Yeah, that’s better.

Sorry, I get sidetracked easily. Back to my blog now. Yes, I have returned from the Land of Bugs, Humidity, and Flat Ground. This far-away land is better known as Wisconsin, America’s Dairyland. Thirty years ago, when my dad suddenly decided to move to the state, I thought we’d gone to a foreign country. Really! It was quite a culture shock for a guy who grew up in the West. Since I was only 17, I had to stay. Everyone said I’d adapt—I didn’t. And, shortly after my 18th birthday, I skedaddled. Then, promptly moved back three months later. I’d decided Wisconsin had something good to offer after all—the woman who is now my wife! And now, for better or worse, I am forever bound by unseen ties to that state. I ended up spending 12 years there and made a lot of memories, most of them good ones!

Visiting the place last week brought back a lot of those memories. The places my wife I dated, where we were married, the house we lived in, and where two of our kids were born, all are meaningful. And as you can probably tell, I no longer view the far-away land as a foreign country—just America with a twist. Maybe folks were right thirty years ago when they said I’d adapt. Maybe. Can’t really bring myself to laud the state with actual praise! And while I still maintain that it’s something akin to cruel and unusual punishment to suddenly be transplanted there, I will admit it’s not that bad of a place—to visit. Still don’t want to live there! I think the state is better enjoyed from a distance, like all far-away lands!

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Current Read
Heaven's Waiting Room
Clare Wilson

SPOTLIGHT Author

John Priest
The Curse Of Sea Shell Cave

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, Diesel Books, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice President of Rave Reviews Book Club http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordpress.com

A Lesson Burned

I’m from Oregon, central Oregon, and the arid climate of the high dessert. But, I did spend some time in Wisconsin, which I shall forever refer to as “doing time.” Actually, it wasn’t all bad and I did learn some things there, like; never eat lutefisk, how to pronounce uff-da, and that gasoline is highly explosive. All right, I already knew the last one, but let’s just say I learned it again.

It started one late August, with two dead elm trees that needed to be cut down, a task that involved some redneck friends, ropes, and pickups driving at high speeds down the alley. Surprisingly, that part all went well! After another friend had taken most of the wood, I cleaned up the yard and made a huge pile of limbs and leaves intending to burn it. Now, where I’m from, that would be unthinkable, especially in the dead of summer, but in Wisconsin, with the humidity and thick, lush, green grass, it’s the norm.

After several unsuccessful attempts to get the brush pile burning, I opted for every man’s fire-starter fuel of choice – gasoline! Circling the perimeter of the twelve-foot high pile of tree branches, I emptied a gallon can and found a match. Standing back a good five or six yards, in expectation of a quick ignition, I “shot” a match toward the pile – a technique I’d learned as a kid that could send a lit match up to 20 feet, sometimes farther. Turns out the match didn’t need to travel nearly that far. In fact, it didn’t need to go any distance at all. Due to the combination of high humidity and gas vapors, the moment the sulfur tip burst into a flame, so did the gasoline, and with a terrific sound. It was a deafening roar that’s best described as a cross between a boom and a swoosh. Later, I was told the blast had rattled the windows two blocks away – like a jet breaking the sound barrier.

For me, the deafening sound wasn’t the only thing of concern. A wall of flame rushed toward me and somehow I managed to close my eyes. I suddenly noticed that the already 100-degree temperature had increased dramatically. I didn’t know it could get that hot outside!

After the initial shock of the explosion, and once the fire had settle down to a slow burn, I made my way into the house. My wife, who had been watching the commotion with a why-did-I-marry-this-guy look, informed me that I no longer had eyebrows and the front portion of my hair was visibly missing. My mustache too, was gone. Some time later, I discovered the hair on both arms had been burned off as well.

The good news is my brush pile was burning nicely! My hearing gradually returned and eventually so did my hair. It’s been years now since I lived in Wisconsin, but I still remember the things I learned there. I don’t eat Lutefisk – rotten fish, uff-da - a Norwegian word, pronounced f´- duh, is a mild expression of disgruntlement or surprise, and to this day, I never start fires with gasoline!

Bruce A. Borders, author and songwriter has over 500 songs and 9 books. Over My Dead Body, his latest ebook, is available on Apple I-Pad®, Amazon Kindle®, Barnes & Noble Nook® and Sony Reader®. For more information, visit http://www.bruceaborders.com or http://overmydeadbody.jimdo.com/.