Tag: memories

Photo Friday, No. 915

Current Photo Friday theme: Wildflowers


You belong among the wildflowers
You belong somewhere you feel free

–Tom Petty

I don’t have many wildflowers in my yard right now, but pictured are some tiny ones to go with a flag to celebrate International Pride Day in the USA. The last time I did a LGBTQ+ themed post on Instagram, I lost followers. I don’t keep up with who follows me, but if that made anyone unfollow me, it doesn’t feel like a loss. I’ve never made a secret of my role as an ally.

For as long as it takes for this meme to be obsolete and beyond.

ETA: The amount of hate I’ve seen directed at anyone who dares to post something positive about Pride or LGBTQ+ awareness confirms that allies MUST NOT be silent.

Mindful Monday

Leap, 2006, acrylic on canvas

It was back in May of 2019 when I made the decision to start rewriting a novel I’d last written in the late 1980s/early to mid 1990s. It had a single title (it was the first of a series of three novels) and was nearly 600 pages long (that is way too many pages). My plan was to edit it down to an actual publishable length.

I randomly split the stack of manuscript pages, read a few, and immediately decided that was a bad idea. The writing was nothing like the style or voice my writing had evolved into by the time my other novels were published in the 2000s. My distaste for what I read wasn’t only because of a difference between the style compared to the style of the published books. I just didn’t like what I read.

But those characters had been resurfacing in my consciousness for a while. I can see proof in a lot of my posts in the months prior to that decision to rewrite–the way the most random topics would lead me back to remembering those people and their stories. As I finally said here in 2019, I wanted to know how the decades of changes in me would impact how I would change them. In order not to be influenced by the past version, I packed the manuscript away unread and began my novel in an entirely different way. I never looked back.

As I’ve admitted repeatedly, I didn’t edit that old book down to publishable size. I stopped imposing rules on it. Rules are for publishing houses and their marketing and publicity. I’m not seeking that. I’m writing… because I have to. Even if it’s for the two readers I have. [I’ve tried other readers. That hasn’t worked out well for me so far. I have to rise above the insecurity and doubt other people’s reactions or even indifference cause me so that I can keep writing. This isn’t easy. Writers crave readers.]

Once again, the book was getting TOO LONG. I split the new manuscript into three books. I’m now on the seventh. In each new novel, refreshers are needed relating to plot and characters, but I try to do those in a variety of ways that aren’t tedious for a reader.

Recently, I reached a point when I questioned why the plot unfolded as it did for these people in the old version. I know what motivates them now, but things are a lot different. So what motivated them back then?

A few days ago, I pulled this out again.

I read it first page to last. It was startling how different things are between that old version and the one I’m writing now. I can barely recognize these people. In the decades in which I first conceived them, I was either a teenager smitten by music and musicians, or I watched a lot of daytime TV, plus prime time TV offered dramas like “Dallas,” “Dynasty,” and “Falcon Crest.” Many bestselling novels of those decades were from Jacqueline Susann, Sidney Sheldon, Judith Krantz, Jackie Collins, Harold Robbins, and Danielle Steel, among others. That genre was referred to as glitz, and I suppose because I was writing about people with money, ambition, and fame, I thought I had to write something similar to that style.

I think that old novel fails not because I was writing outside my life experience, but because I was writing outside what I regard as my authentic storytelling voice. So what the heck ever, whether I have two readers or twenty or none, I hope I’m doing all the things listed on the above quote from Mary Lou Cook. I love these people and their flaws, mistakes, virtues, depth, humor. I break a few rules with them. I’m fine with that.

I write for my characters. I write for me. (We are not the same.)

Sunday Sundries

I introduced the sundries topic last week and asked for suggestions on content for it. Today’s theme, suggested by Mark L, required a bit of foraging and was fun. As a child, Mark began a bookmark collection; he still uses bookmarks from that collection as an adult. Having grown up in a house full of readers, bookmarks were definitely part of my environment, both for pleasure reads and textbooks.

Though I read a lot of ebooks now, and they open to the page I’m on each time I pull one up on my iPad or phone, I still have a need for bookmarks because I continue to read and reread physical books. Here are photos of some I found (they don’t include Tom’s, who always has a physical book with a bookmark in it on the bookcase closest to his reading chair).

First up, let’s hear it for the booksellers!

This shares a bit of the bookmark evolution at my favorite Houston bookstore, Murder By The Book. I have many because I shop there a lot, and have also attended many booksignings and even had a couple of my own signings there. There are six (oops, plus one) shown here, but there are more throughout the house. Brazos is another Houston bookstore that’s a favorite. A lot of my literary choices and books about music and music figures come from Brazos, and next week in two weeks, it may figure into a story about an author I plan to share. The Independent Bookstore Day bookmark may have also come from a local bookstore visit. On my links to the right, there’s one to the Independent Bookstore Finder throughout the U.S. Whenever possible, I order through my local booksellers, but I also order from independent booksellers who host booksignings and publicity for authors I admire and read.

That Crossroads bookmark evokes so many memories. There were two LGBTQ+ bookstores in Houston, since closed, Lobo and Crossroads (I believe both stores are mentioned in The Deal, and my late friend Steve R worked at Lobo for a while). TJB and Cochrane/Lambert had signings at both, and Crossroads was my favorite place to go people watch, work on writing, and buy books. I met many people who became friends through Crossroads (including John, who I followed from there to two different Borders locations to Murder By The Book), and when Tim first moved here, he worked there! I miss Crossroads so much.

Then–speaking of the tenacity of independent booksellers who doggedly keep going in a hard market–yet another, older Murder By The Book bookmark slipped in. The Bookshelf was a used bookstore in Huntsville, Alabama where I used to shop. It’s “temporarily closed” since sometime in 2023. I hope they make it. Then there’s Borders, a chain since closed, but it was a vital place that hosted booksignings for us. When people complain that chains drove indies out of the market, I think they provided far more good than people appreciated. I still enjoy going to Barnes & Noble, where I can get a lot more personalized information than online algorithms offer.

Finally, a few neat connections.

I’m not sure about the cherub bookmark, whether it was a gift to me or belonged to my mother. But I’m sure that’s a Greg Herren bookmark from his Bold Strokes book Lake Thirteen. Also, back in the days of Live Journal, at least as far back as 2005, I think, other writers/authors and I agreed we needed to use the reading-is-hot tag on our blogs and websites. I still use it. A lot of readers helped us by sending photos of themselves reading in beds, bathtubs, etc. It was a fun time. I don’t remember where the bookmark came from and imagine it was probably not connected to that effort, but it certainly illustrated the theme. The bookmark on the far right was from the late Linda Raven Moore, who maintained several sites, including Markeroni, to which contributors documented with words and photos their visits to historical and local locations that had markers explaining their significance. I very much miss Linda, as I’m sure many do. On LiveJournal, she was whytraven.

These are some that belonged to and were used by my mother.

They live in a metal box where I have many small mementos belonging to her. The one on the far right is imprinted with the word JOY. I have a vague memory about the one made with yarn, but I’m not sure of its accuracy.

I’ve shared these on here before. They’re bookmarks made for Tom and me by his mother with beautiful beads. I’ve used them several times in thick, heavy books.

Finally, here are some I designed (and had printed by a company I’m not sure still exists; it’s in the old ‘hood) to give away at readings and to people who sent us novels to be signed.

Notice there isn’t one for the fifth book, When You Don’t See Me. I can only speculate that for me, some of the serious themes and painful events in the characters’ lives didn’t lend the novel to a whimsical bookmark.

There are also serious themes in Three Fortunes In One Cookie; that didn’t stop me then.

Regarding the websites listed on these two bookmarks–Tim no longer has an active website (which I miss very much), and I finally shut down cochranelambert.com this year since it had been inactive for so long (and websites aren’t cheap).

ETA: Later, I went to open one of my display cabinets, and found these three bookmarks with beautiful original art that were gifts from Geri. I don’t use them because I want the art to remain intact, and that’s fine. Even utilitarian items can be appreciated for their aesthetic value.

Thanks, Mark, this was a good journey, and as always, I found other things along the way that merit a little more storytelling. In fact, there are enough of those to require a Part Two on the Bookmarks sundries topic. Hope to see everyone next week when I share them. AND PLEASE give me more topics (I do have several thanks to visitors to this site, two who left comments, and others from people who tell me via other channels). As always, thank you for visiting and engaging.

Random Saturday musings


Back in March of 2019 is when I think I posted using Keri Smith’s Wreck This Journal for the first time. The page I chose to do involved fruit stickers, and it looked like this.

I may have added a few since then.

Here’s a new one I did this month. Another way to test my memory.

When I did it, I kept wondering what smelled so wonderful. Well, it was a couple of pages prior, done in April 2019, and still smelling as FABULOUS as ever: splashes of Chanel N° 5.

It took me more than five years to have the nerve to do this one. It is done as of yesterday.

Author Keri Smith warned it would be difficult.

Did you flinch a little when you saw that I did it? Even book lovers who read the cheapest of paperbacks protect the spines. (And most of us use bookmarks to keep from bending down the pages.)

No worry about cracking the spines or bending the pages when I read ebooks on my iPad, including this latest one from Carolyn Haines in her Sarah Booth Delaney mystery series. Of course, my iPad has fallen to the floor a couple of times and now has thin cracks across the surface of the glass. I don’t blame the dogs, who ran into power cords and pulled it down. I blame whoever makes covers for devices like this one. When my old iPad that I had for many years stopped working, it still had a flawless screen because of the great case that kept it well-protected. When I replaced the iPad, I couldn’t find a case even close to that one in quality or protective features. So I deal with those hairline cracks; it’s worth it to read my favorite writers. Carolyn Haines is certainly among that group.

June Is Bustin’ Out All Over

The title of this post is taken from a Rodgers & Hammerstein song from the musical Carousel, a production of which I saw at a dinner theater with my mother, nephew Daniel, and Daniel’s mother Terri in 1986. At that time, I believed (right or wrong) the musical was a favorite of Lynne’s, and since I wasn’t familiar with it, I looked forward to seeing it. Had I known some of the plot, theme, and sorrow of it, I might have realized I was seeing it at the wrong time considering my reality during 1985/86, but…as Jim likes to say, “It is what it is.” It was a night out in company I enjoyed, and I remember that part of it with affection.

One of the advantages (for me) of getting older and a little wiser is that during particularly difficult times (however that difficulty manifests), history reminds me that everything is not all bad and forever and never has been all bad and forever. Though June this year has been challenging and expensive, it’s just… June. Just right now.

Yesterday, when the dogs and I had to be out of the house from early morning to well after dinnertime, we were in a quiet, cool place together. Meanwhile, Tom was overseeing and doing lots of things at Houndstooth Hall that will be beneficial in the long run, and I got to read two of three books by a favorite author, Martin Walker, that I’d downloaded via Kobo to my iPad quite a while back (meaning I still have another ebook to look forward to from him!):

I can never regret a day spent reading this ongoing series set in France, full of people, places, dogs, horses, and gastronomical feasts (without consequences like calories and hangovers!). I read all of the short stories yesterday, and finished the novel today. It was a joy once again to be in the company of Benoît Courrèges, aka Bruno, Chief of Police, in the fictional town of St. Denis.

I’m so grateful for writers.

Catching Up

I think I never posted any photos from Jim’s visit in March. I was pretty much a homebody; Tim and Jim did more going and doing this trip, and even that wasn’t a lot (though it did involve a jaunt to that shopping mecca, the Galleria). Mostly, there was: cooking, eating, talking, spoiling dogs, and playing cards.

We figured out a way to work around Jack. He stayed with Debby during the day, except to eat breakfast and dinner at home, and at night, he slept here. We handed over the master bedroom to Jim, because it has its own bathroom. That way, once Jim turned in for the night, he closed himself in, whereupon Jack came home. The first night, other than sniffing at the bedroom door, Jack seemed mostly unaware that we had a visitor, and they never saw each other face to face. It’s a shame that a dog who is so smart, loving, and good with us doesn’t like or trust but six people, and Tom is the only one of his six-pack who’s male.

The other dogs, however, were delighted to see Jim and give him lots of love.


Delta and Anime on the living room sofa with Jim. Jim is the one who gave Delta her name, and this time she gave him more affection and attention than on his 2017 visit.


Anime got her time in with him, too.


As did Eva.


Cards and apple pie.


Lynne and Minute were here this past weekend, which meant more cards, more food, a bit of errand running, and I read four new chapters from the Neverending Saga aloud to her.


Minute slept through the chapters; fortunately, Lynne did not. =)


In progressive rummy, low score wins, so it was a good night for me. That is NOT usual.

I have more dog stuff to share later. Another update: On Monday, the pile of tree limbs and other tree debris was finally picked up from our curb after the storm of May 16. After doing only a little driving around after that storm, I’m not surprised it took so long. There were a LOT of piles in front of a lot of homes.