Doree Anderson

Isn't it pretty. It's fire- exploding - In the air. 25, 50 feet above your head. And, as we've been taught, what goes up, will come down, in a rain of...fire. And what does fire do? Burn. Interesting. The Higher Ups in Utah, have extended our laws regarding the shooting off of fireworks. Instead of only permitting the discharge of fireworks 3 days before and 3 days after the Summer Holidays (July 4th and July 24th) we have extended those dates to June 26 through July 26th because those 7 days in a row of consent concern for aggressive and long burning fires to break out due to fireworks isn't heart squeezing enough. We want 30 days during the hottest and driest days on the desert to stir up the making of mountain and valley fires. Yes, when you add fire to dry desert tundra, it burns. Go figure. Heaven forbid should we wait until the Fourth of July to evacuate families from their homes because the hills are alive with burning sage brush. No, let...

A little early for Thanksgiving, but yesterday, the Mohacs stopped by for dinner. Not all were happy. (Ya think!)

I think that it should be said that there are certain things that make a 'father' and making a child isn't one of them. That being said; let me say; Happy Father's Day to: The father who holds his child's hand as they walk across the street. The father who sits for hours at a time and watches the child on the play ground, each and every time that his son/daughter shouts out, "watch me, daddy," and he does with a gentle, caring smile on his face. The father who rocks his sniffling child and assures him/her that the pain will go away. The father that hugs his son/daughter and promises he'll keep them safe, no matter what. The father that carries his son/daughter across the puddle of water or through the mud. The queasy father who holds his son/daughter as the doctor stitches up the wound. The athletic father who pushes his son/daughter's wheelchair across the field, proudly. The father who carries his son on his shoulders, hold his daughter...

This is what a visit with my grandson Callum looks like... That's right, real conversationalist. I picked him up from his house because, and here's the selling point, he would love to visit with his grandparents over the weekend. He says he enjoys doing stuff with us. What a little tease. He gets in the car and immediately changes my radio stations. According to him, mine are lame. I will admit to enjoying the Gold-n oldies every now and then. Elvis has been gone so long that this child's mother was born the year the gyrating pelvis was laid to rest. He thinks my music is long gone and over with. Really? Well...FYI - I've seen more movement in "The one foot in the grave" Keith Richard and Mick Jagger, than I have in this child at times. We then proceed to discuss the problems with the world. ie, a specific u-tube commercial that is the greatest. "You have to see this, grandma. It is brilliant." I suffer as a cat head with a pop tart body an...

Boogerbutt, scrud, and dag-na-bit. Those are words, right? Yet, they lighten right up with 'spell check.' Even shows up with one of those, vicious little pointer fingers going back and forth...no, no, no. But when I type in the most horrendous, nastiest, scum at the bottom of the pond, word in the world, query - nothing. No lights, not bright red lines, nothing. Good to Go, wouldn't you know?  But, in my heart, that diminutive word causes pauses in my pumper. Terror in my ticker. Why am I whining about it? Cause I have to write one. Yep, I forgot all about slapping one of those puppies together for good'old Ante Up. And now, I have to. Yet, nowhere in this house is there a crash cart available. My nucleus is critical and there isn't a flippin' thing I can do about it. Well...except write one. At critique today, Krissee wears this sweet little smile and says "GMC, Doree.  GMC." So, I think okay... I'll get my crowbar. No? Okay, Gobble more cho...

Our fourth grandchild is four today? This sweet little redhead is anything but docile. He can wrestle with the best of them and almost always wins. Of course, being the fourth means that if he cries, others are in a bucket load of trouble. "don't mess with the baby" is his title words. Unfortunately - this darling little man has a heart-stopping addiction: fruit snacks. This child begins his daily whine for them promptly upon waking and continues until his eyes are closed at night. It's quite the heroin fix for this action-filled, constant in motion cu-tie who celebrates his fourth big boy birthday today.  Happy Birthday, Nodin.  

When will I join the world and learn?  Right after you've lost not 100, 200 or even 1,000 words. But, after a whole chapter has been lost, gone bye bye, is now floating out into the wide world of never to be seen again land. While I was visiting with my sister, I decided to spend a few precious hours writing the next chapter to my YA. After I was done I decided to copy it and paste it into a composed e-mail that I sent to myself. (No, I did not save it. Why? Because I was being so smart and using the brain I was sitting on.) The next morning, I was locked out of my e-mail account because it was hacked. So, what becomes of the e-mail I sent to myself? Good question. I should have taken the time to send it to my drop-box and then back it up on a flash drive. But, I didn't. (Why? because that would have been the non-butt thinking thing to do). So, I have finally learned my lesson. And what is that? That it is hard to remember the words that you wrote in the chapter yeste...