It’s my turn to be featured in the Sweet Grove Sentinel this weekend.
That means I’ve got a post up on the blog on the Sweet Grove website. Check it out here.
It’s all about the new HEROES OF SWEET GROVE series within a series coming on July 3, 2018.
You’ll get the chance to see the pretty cover for the third book in my Sweet Grove Romance series. I hope you won’t be too disappointed that there are only minor glimpses of the Wells and Elise Nelsen.
But beta readers are screaming about the great description and believable attraction between Jaz and Bailey.
Who are they? Click over to the Sweet Grove site and see for yourself.
Don’t worry. I’ll be sharing an excerpt right here in a few short weeks. Just enough to make you eager for the release.
For several decades, family vacations were defined in a certain way. But as with all of life, things change.
My most recent vacation to the South was a different sort of family vacation for me. However, that means next to nothing if the “norm” of family vacations remains undefined.
Welcome to the earlier definitions of “family vacation.”
The Childhood Definition
A vacation in my childhood involved a canvas tent, sleeping bags, a cooler and camp stove and public forest camping.
And I didn’t complain because I can count on one hand the number of times my father, mother, sister and I went on a trip together. The most memorable one involved a road trip from Oregon to Oklahoma in 1976 for a family reunion.
I wanted to become an Okie after that trip. But that could have been because I did NOT want to get back in the car for three days of solid driving through hot Kansas without air conditioning, no bathroom breaks, sleeping in the cramped back seat with my sister…and the switch.
Because there would be NO fighting. And Dad wouldn’t have to pull the car over thanks to the switch he cut and could handily whip between my sister and my’s bare legs with Indiana Jones precision.
So, I didn’t really know what a family vacation was all about.
The Definition I Adored
And then I married Mr. Wonderful whose family went to campgrounds with neighborhood friends and relatives every summer with regularity. And they slept in RVs. And girls showered and fixed their hair and applied makeup.
So that was a huge culture shock for the girl who caught her dinner in the creek, went to the bathroom in a bucket and washed her face upstream (if you get my meaning).
But once we had kids, we began our own traditions. And when the kids were old enough, we planned a fantastic Spring Break trip…just the four of us. Sometimes we asked friends to tag along, but when you’re jetting across the country that’s not always possible.
Most memorable to me: Washington DC and Disney Orlando
During our RV years, there were plenty of summer trips too. Of course, these were road trips. And the large-bladdered men in my family jibed me for too many bathroom breaks, but no one ever said I had to hold it for another two hours.
Some places we went in the summer: Yellowstone, Redwoods and Disneyland (we even got to fly to this destination-yay!)
Most memorable road trip during this phase: to Colorado.
This was the trip of the Piggyback Hike and the Boot Removal of Death. I’m pretty sure any man in my family can recall exact (and exaggerated) details of those events.
But, kids grow up. And now our “family” has grown to six and our vacations together are more sporadic and occur in December near Christmas. Generally to tropical climates.
A New Dictionary Entry
This past week, I visited family. That’s the new sort of “family” vacation. Rather than going somewhere with “my boys,” I planned an entire ten days around a special someone: my Aunt Betty.
Aunt Betty is an amazing lady. A real Renaissance Woman (and if there isn’t such a thing, now there is). She pursued a career when women were “expected” to marry young and fill a house with babies.
When a man didn’t deserve her faithfulness, she divorced him. Yes, in the Bible Belt in the 1950s. Unheard of. And highly unpopular.
She’s a true survivor. At the moment, she’s surviving her third diagnosis of breast cancer. And she’s over 80, so she knows she’s living on “blessed time” (see Psalms if you don’t know what I’m referring to here).
I tried to plan a trip in May to the College World Series in Oklahoma City (where Aunt B lives), but the ticket prices…stunned me. When I could take a Caribbean cruise for less money, I had to pass.
But we have a condo in Branson, MO. And they have great shows there and amazing Christmas light displays. So, I planned our vacation around visiting Aunt Betty in OKC and then taking her on a road trip to Branson.
And we all know how I feel about road trips.
What’s your idea of a “family vacation”? Am I all wrong with my three definitions?
It’s that time of year. No, not the one where we stress ourselves by chasing our tail to parties and shopping for gifts. Vacation time!
This year, my husband and I are heading to the South to visit family…and experience the joys of the holiday season in Branson, Missouri. Maybe while I’m gone, some angels will drop by my house and wrap all the gifts and spruce up the decorations.
I know I’ve been pretty quiet the past month, and it’s probably that December will be another “one post per week” time her at Sharon Lee Hughson, Author’s blog. I’ll try to jump online while I’m away (for ten days) and give you a sample of my trip to “Nashville of the Ozarks.” But I’m not making any promises.
To whet your appetite for the trip, here’s a brief itinerary:
Saturday: Squeeze in any last minute “must see” action
Sunday: Return to OKC and fly home
No, that’s not all we’re going to do. But if you’ve read any of my other posts on vacation (like this one or this one), then you know I’m NOT a fan of booking every day with activities.
In short, that’s a key to stress for me…and I vacate to relax. (Notice what I did there? Using my new definition in a sentence. Oh, yeah. Oxford will be adding that definition to their dictionary soon.)
Christmas is first about Christ and second about the twinkling lights. While we’re in Branson, we also plan to check out the glory of the lights. Lights in the square and in one (two or even all three) of the drive through light shows they have in Nashville of the Ozarks.
Have you been to Branson? What would you suggest is a “must see”?
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I love cats. They fill crevices in my heart with warmth. But they’re animals. I’m not really their mother.
So why do I worry about them more than I remember worrying about my kids?
Case In Point
We planned our week away several months in advance. And I contracted someone to stay at the house with my three little fur babies.
When the sitter cancelled a month before our trip, my first response was, “I’m not going to be able to go on this trip.”
My husband looked at me like I’d grown an arm out of the middle of my forehead. “We’ll get someone else.”
But there’s no one.
Because I really want this person to adore cats as much as I do. And I want to be comfortable imagining them alone in my house.
Am I expecting too much?
Needless to say, I don’t recall ever thinking I would cancel a vacation to stay home with my kids. Maybe if they had been sick.
But one time, my youngest had a bad fall and got stitches two days before I was supposed to leave to join my husband in Washington, DC.
My mother was keeping our sons. She insisted that I go on the trip.
I’d like to say she really had to twist my arm. But she didn’t. I wanted to be convinced it was fine for me to leave my small children.
But these cats?
“They do so much better when someone stays with them.”
I love cats for their independence. And my cats are as snooty as any Egyptian god or goddess.
But when we left them for a week and had my father-in-law check in on them daily, they pooped on the chair, destroyed a few items and sprayed my husband’s shoes.
It made coming home an instant relaxation reversal.
Another time, we had some neighbor kids come over and sit with them for a couple hours every day.
This time it was the bed that got used as a litter box. And the television and lights were left on. For how long we’ll never know.
So my husband’s plan to have the neighbor stop in daily to feed, water and clean their box wasn’t looking very pleasant.
Thankfully, my adult sons live nearby. Although they’d rather stay at their own place, they know and love the cats. It’s not too unreasonable for my youngest to commute from my house rather than his. He can even bring his cat (she loves playing with my cats).
As relief floods my chest when this plan comes together, I wonder, “What sort of person am I?”
Who worries more about leaving their cats alone than leaving their kids?
Although my kids were always with grandparents or other responsible adults.
Shouldn’t I want the same for my fur babies?
Maybe the relief I feel has more to do with coming home to no unwelcome presents.
That’s what I tell myself.
That and “You’re the best cat mother ever!”
What do you worry about when you go on vacation?
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Every author wants to have someone who believes in their writing so much they’ll buy it without blinking at the price. Some writers have fans like this who they’ve never met in real life. I have my sister.
And today is her birthday.
So I thought I’d take this opportunity to let everyone know what a fantastic person she is. Not just because she believes in me and buys my books. (You really think I’m that shallow?)
My sister and I share a common history. Not only does this involve our shared genetic ancestry, but it also includes experiencing the nature and nurture of environment for sixteen-plus years.
Anyone who knows us understands our shared experience doesn’t mean we’re similar. Although she does like to claim we’re twins (mostly so she can deduct two years from her age).
We understand where the other one is coming from. A lot of things remain unsaid in our conversations (and this totally baffles my husband) because they’re understood.
In the book that is our lives, we don’t need to go on about back story. We lived it together. Do we know every emotion and every heartache? No. But we understand the context for all of those things.
Top Five things I Love about Her
She loves to read the same kinds of books I do (and she lends me her books all the time)
She listens well and her responses show both how well she heard and how smart she is
We can do outdoorsy things together because we both love to walk and hike
I feel accepted and appreciated by her even when I’m being a huge jerk (are you surprised that I’m a jerk? Or just that I would admit it in such a public forum?)
We can talk about anything and everything (can you tell I like to talk?)
Five things I bet she would Change about Me
Since my big sister is such a nice person, you’d really have to twist her arm to get her to admit she’d like to change anything about me. So this list should probably be renamed.
What my sister makes me want to change about myself.
Sounds better right?
My sarcastic humor which goes too far sometimes and pops out at inappropriate moments
My sweet tooth. Back in the day, it would have been so there’d be more Russian Teacakes for her, but now it’s because she wants me to be healthy
The knack I have for putting myself down
Confidence in my writing ability (because she believes I am so much better at writing than I really am, so it makes me work hard to improve)
All my excuses – because I should have been where I am now two decades ago, but I had so many justifiable causes to hold me back
So – no more excuses. Why are you still writing this blog, Sharon? Get back to the writing that will be published and read. Words that will change the world.
Happy birthday, Sister. Hope you have a wonderful day. You deserve it!
Let’s face it. I didn’t have a vacation in 2015, and after everything that befell me (mostly good), I deserve to have two in 2016. Come along with me on my second sunny vacation in three months.
I wrote a tad about how this vacation came about earlier.
In fact, my class reunion in July 2015 became the springboard for a jaunt to a resort we’ve been eyeing for ten years.
Indio, California is about twenty miles south of the famed Palm Springs, vacation home to numerous celebrities.
The town proper includes everything you might want for a vacation. We bought groceries at a WinCo located a couple miles from our home base. There was also a pharmacy and numerous restaurants in that shopping center.
A few miles in the other direction, we found the rest of our supplies at a WalMart Supercenter.
Worldmark Indio is a gigantic place. Fifteen buildings, three or four stories tall, house various condominiums. There are two large pools situated at either end of the lovely green space on the back side of these stucco monsters.
Thirty-six greens and fairways circle most of the resort. Palms whisper overhead. Birds offer up early-morning catcalls. Duck families enjoy the central pond network.
Since it was Easter, bunnies even hopped around the place. (Actually, I’m sure they live there full-time.)
Two basketball courts and a double tennis court offer outdoor recreational opportunities. A large recreation center houses billiards, Ping Pong, air hockey and a dozen video games-even classics like Centipede and Space Invaders.
The pool nearest our room (which included two hot tubs, wading pool and swimming pool, also featured a lazy river. This is a winding path of water with its own current. You plop onto the provided tubes and let the river do the rest.
Joshua Tree National Park
Obviously, there was plenty to do at the resort. Especially if you’re like me and think the best vacation involves a lounge chair and a good book.
However, a number of national parks are nearby, and one of them features forests of Joshua Trees.
Don’t know what a Joshua Tree is? Let me help you out.
And it’s Spring, so the desert flowers are blooming. On our outlined plan of action for the week, a trip to Joshua Tree National Park was a must for three out of four of us.
This is what the itinerary looked like:
Monday: Hang out at Resort
Tuesday: Joshua Tree
Wednesday: Spa and 18 holes of golf
Thursday: Palm Springs
Friday: Pool Day
I planned to hike a few trails in the park, so I dressed in tennis shoes. My friends warned that it would be ten to fifteen degrees cooler in the park, so I should dress warmly or bring warm clothes.
We left at 9AM and returned around 7PM. Here are the photographic highlights of the day:
The Living Desert I didn’t see
Come back on Thursday to hear the whole story, but the Thursday itinerary got an overhaul. Namely, only my friends went off to Palm Springs.
I’d been to The Living Desert-the local zoo-during our first trip to the area on our second honeymoon. I loved it and looked forward to a repeat.
After all, they had a baby giraffe now.
But I saw a real live desert on Tuesday and that was going to have to tide me over until my next trip this far south.
If you love dry sunny days, you should plan a trip to Indio (or Palm Springs or Palm Desert). I highly recommend using the traditional Spring Break timing for this trip. (In fact, a teacher I work with has been going there for a decade during Spring Break.)
The desert was in bloom, giving color to the brown canvas. Breezes cooled the high temperatures of 90 degrees to feel like a balmy, Hawaiian 75.
In fact, my husband enjoyed the location so much, he’s trying to convince our kids to take a family vacation there with us next year.
A sunny vacation is my ideal. What about you? What’s your ideal vacation getaway?
Don’t talk to strangers. We’ve heard it all our lives. So having dinner with strangers would be even an even bigger faux pas.
Not if you’re on a cruise ship. In fact, the fancy dining room setup using cozy tables for six or eight added the perfect touch to our cruising experience.
By the end of the trip, these dinners marked in the top three of things I enjoyed most about the cruise overall.
Top three? She must be crazy!
I talked about the dining room seatings in an earlier post. For a refresher, click here.
Sunday night (the first night of the cruise), my husband and I were both feeling a little nauseous, and I had a headache. I didn’t feel up to making polite conversation. In fact, I only went to dinner because I hoped putting some food into my stomach might convince it to behave.
(Side note: we both took Dramamine after setting sail. After taking it, I felt WORSE than I did before. We didn’t take it the rest of the trip and felt no ill effects from the motion of the sea.)
But I had built the dining experience up to incredible levels in my mind and since I wasn’t feeling especially pleased with everything else (it’s hard to be happy when you feel sick), I wanted to experience the high class dining environment.
I wasn’t disappointed.
Your table number is on your sea pass (the card that works as room key, passport aboard ship and credit card). We had scoped out the location earlier when we’d been exploring the ship.
It was a round table set for six people. We arrived first (every night except for one).
A pair of ladies, petite and older than we are, joined us. We introduced ourselves with handshakes.
Catherine had a lovely British accent. So I was quick to point that out and ask where she was from.
My eyes widened. For a second I thought maybe she was mispronouncing our last name (had we mentioned it?), but then she laughed and waved her hand.
“I live there now. I’m originally from England.”
She was a dear woman who wasn’t shy about expressing her opinions about everything from the indecorous comments of people at a nearby table to inappropriate sanitation. (It’s dinnertime, so I won’t elaborate on how THAT subject came up.)
She was a seasoned cruiser, but her companion was a newbie (like us). Apparently, Catherine and her mother were scheduled to take the cruise but since her mam’s health wasn’t cooperating, she invited her sister-in-law.
Margaret reminded me of a silver-speckled sparrow. She was tiny and thin with doe eyes. Her home was in Ohio, but she’d been spending the winter with her brother (Catherine’s husband) and sister-in-law to escape the cold.
I could go on and on with tales about these two lovelies. But that’s not the point. The point is at that moment at 8:05 pm on the first night of a week-long cruise, they were strangers.
And we were being forced to have dinner with them.
I mentioned the amazing service we received in Isaac’s Dining Room in an earlier post. I’m sure I gushed about our servers, Shirlynn and Tyronne.
As soon as they handed us the menu that first night, Catherine began to expound on her earlier cruises. We discussed each of the starter items and entrees listed on the lovely, custom list of offerings.
I chose the chicken, a standard dish that was on the menu every night. I didn’t want to tempt my uneasy stomach to rebel in a violent manner.
Conversation ranged abroad. What were our the plans for the cruise? How we had settled on this ship with these destinations. It was all very surface, stranger-friendly conversation.
By the time dessert and coffee (decaf for me, I wanted to sleep) came, we were laughing, everyone much more relaxed and open.
I’d like to say it was my bubbly persona that won them over, but I think Catherine is the type of person who’s never met a stranger.
In retrospect, I think the fine service -and how we all noticed and complimented it-played the largest part. Our servers treated us like family and friends, so it was easy to step into those roles.
From Stranger to Friend
No, we didn’t exchange personal information. These two lovely ladies who enjoy reading as much as I do took my business card. They claimed a desire to read my books.
Whether or not they become a fan of my writing, they will be considered friends.
Why not? There are a multitude of people I’ve never even met face-to-face on my Facebook “friends” list. Shouldn’t someone I spent quality time with during a week-long vacation earn the same status?
The word friend is loosely defined these days. I would say a friend is someone you know and enjoy talking with about some subjects. In this case, whether social media or socializing on a cruise, my list of friends has grown longer.
The fact: Catherine and Margaret are no longer strangers. If they aren’t strangers, they must be acquaintances. Having shared a unique experience with them, I promote them to the level above acquaintance-ship.
Having dinner with strangers is only strange if you don’t convert them into friends by the time dessert is served.
Thanks for making me your friend, Catherine and Margaret.
Have you ever shared a unique experience with a person you only met that one time and yet you consider them a friend?
Some people love Christmas “the whole Christmas season,
Please don’t ask ME why, I don’t know the reason”*
Others might say “bah-humbug” or plot against “every Who down in Whoville” during December.
December 24th is generally my favorite day of the month. It brings my family to my home. We sing carols around the piano (loudly enough to camouflage my hack job on the piano). There is food, laughter and a true appreciation for the gift exchange.
Not that I’m morally opposed to Christmas morning. It holds its own set of wonder and tradition.
This year, I’m especially thankful that my adult sons and their women are going to spend the night on Christmas Eve. Because they want to carry on our Christmas morning traditions for one more year.
Christmas dinner is always fabulous. My husband’s mother cooks enough for half the county and it’s all delicious. This year, she’s roasting a turkey rather than a prime rib. Best of all, she’s going to make cornbread dressing!
Don’t count on leftovers of that ambrosia.
What are your favorite Christmas traditions?
*Something of a mis-quoted quote from my all-time favorite Dr. Seuss book How the Grinch Stole Christmas