Tag Archives: My Town Monday

My Town Monday: Rottweiler Labor Day

Wolfgang and Evita are expert loungers

Today is Labor Day in the U.S. It’s supposed to be a day of relaxation, of enjoying time with friends and family, and most of all, an extra day off work for those of us with a traditional workweek. In honor of the holiday, I’m going to share a bit about those in my house who have relaxing down to a science:  our dogs, Wolfgang and Evita.

Wolfgang and Evita are Rottweilers, a breed that carries a lot of misconceptions.

The biggest misconception is that they’re aggressive and vicious. This is an unfortunate result of the Rottweiler’s popularity with thugs and gang members before they moved on to pit bulls (another misunderstood breed). These lowlifes often trained the dogs to be aggressive, and engaged in dog fighting. While some Rottweilers may have that temperament, it’s usually a result of breeding for it and/or training, and the exception rather than the rule. Rottweilers are more often big babies that crave attention and love people, especially kids. They’re a great family pet, and while they can be playful and rambunctious, they’re also gentle with smaller children and tolerate grabby toddlers with ease.  They are, however, fiercely protective over their own family, and if someone appears to be threatening a family member, the dog will aggressively protect his family.

Some other facts about Rottweilers:

  • There are two primary types: American and German. American bloodlines are typically bigger–100 – 120 lbs.–while German bloodlines tend to go around 80 lbs. German lines have larger, boxier heads with shorter snouts, and their mahogany markings are darker. German bloodlines can be found in the U.S.  Our dog Wolfgang is German-bred, and Evita is American-bred. American Rottweilers are more likely to be out of show spec as far as AKC guidelines go. Being bigger to start with, they’re more likely to have been bred extra-large, up to 160 lbs.
  • The breed originated in Germany, and is named for the town of Rottweil.
  • Rottweilers make great family pets, but demand a lot of attention. Like any big dog, they need plenty of room to run and play. Daily walks are recommended. Some will want to chase critters; others won’t. Wolfgang is very interested in chasing squirrels and rabbits during walks; Evita couldn’t care less. In the house, Wolfgang enjoys gerbil TV. They don’t require grooming, but love to be brushed, and shed like crazy when the seasons change.
  • They aren’t yappy dogs–ours typically only bark when a person or dog is in view, and not always even then.
  • Rottweiler puppies are exceptionally cute! They can also be destructive chewers – and don’t “grow out” of chewing until they’re around three years old. Older dogs will still occasionally chew. They love hard chew toys like Nylabone and Kong toys.

  • Wolfgang’s first night home

    Their lifespan is considered to be about 10 years. Our two past dogs lived to be 12 and 14. Evita is 12, and Wolfgang is 5 years old.

  • For show purposes, they are classified as a Working breed.
  • Rottweilers’ tails are docked at birth. The story behind this is that in historical times, Rottweilers were often farmers’ dogs, and accompanied merchants to the marketplace. After the produce/livestock were sold, the dog would carry the money home in a pouch around its neck. The lack of a long tail to grab made it difficult for robbers to get to the money pouch. Today, tails are docked because of tradition, although I wouldn’t want to be around a full size, wildly-wagging Rottweiler tail! From what I’ve read, the practice has fallen out of fashion in Europe (according to Wikipedia, it’s banned in some countries).
  • While traditionally a herding dog, Rottweilers also commonly serve as guard dogs, service dogs, and do police work.
  • They get a bad rap in the media, but Rottweilers can also be heroic. We’ve read stories of Rottweilers pulling unconscious or disabled people from burning buildings, bringing food to a diabetic person about to slip into a coma, and of course, saving their owners from being victims of crime.

Rottweilers work hard and play hard–and when the work’s done, they are experts in relaxation!

If you’re in the U.S., happy Labor Day! Did you do anything special for the holiday? We’re having a cookout for my dad, whose birthday is today (Happy Birthday, Dad!). And whether or not you celebrate Labor Day, who’s the best at relaxing in your home?

And if you want to experience some extreme cuteness, check out these videos from the Animal Planet show, Too Cute. The first one starts with a commercial, but it’s totally worth it to see the five-week-old Rottweiler puppies wrestling with each other, and with toddlers! 😀

My Town Monday: The Road, Nature, and History

Last Thursday, I blogged about courting burnout, and some things I did in an effort to alleviate it.

One of those things was to take time out to play. I’d only ridden my Harley twice all summer, which my husband had been giving me shit about. Part of the reason is because it’s just been too darn hot for much of the summer – riding in that is like pointing a blow dryer into your face. In other words, not much fun. But even when I had decent weather, it seemed I always had too much to do.

So I decided to blow it all off and ride. This is what my husband does to blow off stress – just hop on the bike and see where the road takes you.

The road took me up north of Dayton, to Huber Heights, and to Carriage Hill and Metropark. The park is a goodly swath of green land and undeveloped, uncultivated, natural prairie; hiking and horse trails; and picnic areas. It’s also home to Carriage Hill Farm, a historically-accurate, operating 1880s-era farm.

I remember going there on field trips more than once during my elementary school days. Mostly what I remember about it was the farm animals — sheep, horses, cattle, pigs, and chickens. It was a great experience for any suburban or city schoolkid. There were a lot of things there now that weren’t when I was in school – the surrounding park, for one, and also the restored windmill, and a separate museum building and store. I’m pretty sure they also didn’t have the functional steam-thresher, which people were demoing that day and was pretty cool!

I took my time just wandering around the place. Although I have to confess: I took a few pictures, so it wasn’t 100% not-work. But it was fun and relaxing, and that’s what counts. Also, I got to enjoy three of my favorite things: the road, nature, and history!

Does your hometown have anything like this, where city and suburban folks can learn about history and farm life? Have you done anything to just get away and have fun lately?

 

Click any of the photos below to see a slideshow.

My Town Monday: De-stressing in a Place with History

Two or three weeks ago, I scheduled an appointment at a spa. My daughter and husband had given me a gift certificate for Mothers’ Day, and this was the first chance I’d had to use it. I had to schedule the appointment three weeks out – not because that was the soonest they could fit me in, but because that was the soonest I could fit it in.

I went to the Square One Salon in downtown Dayton. I didn’t know it at the time, but this place has won national awards and has been featured on MSNBC.com.

It’s also in a historic district, which of course is a plus for me. The building is called The Cannery, and is part of the Webster Station Historic District. The spa’s neighbors include a British-themed tea room, a children’s art gallery and education center, and loft apartments in the upper floors. The building also used to house The Cannery Art and Design Gallery, but it moved recently.

The building was originally built as part of an industrial complex in the mid-1800s by Eugene Barney, one of Dayton’s captains of industry in the streetcar manufacturing business. The neighborhood was powered by DC electric – a major innovation at the time! Over the years, many food distributors and grocers occupied the building, hence its name.

While I waited for my appointment, I found a local interest book called Metropolitan Dayton. It was clear after thumbing through a few pages that the book–a contemporary guide to local business and industry–wasn’t new, as many of the businesses profiled in its pages had either left the area, undergone mergers, or had gone out of business. Other organizations, like the Air Force Institute of Technology and Wright State University, are much larger now. I finally found the copyright date in the back: 1993.

So I got in a little history, and the facial and massage were great! If you saw my last couple of posts, you can see where this was much-needed. Unfortunately, it didn’t reduce the length of my to-do list any, but it did have the expected de-stressing effect.

Have you been stressed lately? What do you do to de-stress?

My Town Monday: Publishing Success Against the Odds

On Memorial Day weekend, my daughter wanted to do something “museum-ish,” so we went to one I hadn’t visited yet, but had been wanting to: the Paul Lawrence Dunbar House.

The Paul Laurence Dunbar House
Photo via nps.gov

I knew about this turn-of-the-20th-century author through my interest in local history, and also because he’s featured in the Aviation Heritage National Park, which I’ve visited a few times. It might seem odd that a writer would be featured as part of that site, until one learns who some of his first publishers were: Orville and Wilbur Wright, in their pre-flight days as printers of his newspaper, The Dayton Tattler.

The paper folded after just a few issues, but that didn’t deter Dunbar. The challenges he faced – and overcame – make him an inspiration for any writer.

  • Like many writers, he wasn’t exactly flush with cash.
  • He got paid for some of his early efforts, but not enough to live on, so he had to work a day job.
  • He self-published his first book, a collection of poetry titled Oak and Ivy.
  • Back then, there was no print-on-demand, and self-publishing was an expensive proposition, requiring a large print run with a comparable outlay of cash.

But the challenge that really set Dunbar apart was the fact that he was black. The son of former slaves, Dunbar had to contend with racial prejudice. Despite the fact that he had a high school diploma in an era where the majority of men did not, his color relegated him to menial jobs. His first job after graduating from high school was as an elevator operator.

English: Paul Laurence Dunbar (June 27, 1872 –...

Paul Laurence Dunbar, circa 1890. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

But even then, Dunbar made the best of his situation. He hand-sold Oak and Ivy, including many copies to his elevator passengers. The need for authors to self-promote is nothing new, and Dunbar was skilled in this area: he recouped his investment in two weeks. Part of his work’s popularity came from its two distinct styles: some of his poems were written in standard English, while others were written in colloquial black dialect.

Today, self-publishing success is one way to attract an agent or editor’s attention, and this too is nothing new. Fellow writers James Whitcomb Riley and William Dean Howells noticed Dunbar’s work and helped publicize it. As is common today, networking with other writers was a crucial part of Dunbar’s success. He also frequently gave public readings to garner interest in his work.

In 1897, Dunbar finally got a job befitting a man of his talents: librarian at the Library of Congress. He sold several works to publishers, and eventually made enough money from his writing to build a nice house in Dayton for his mother, who he’d always been close to. This is the home that later became the museum, not long after his mother’s death in the 1930s.

He continued to enjoy success in his writing, and soon left the LOC to focus on that. Eventually, he amassed a body of work consisting of a dozen poetry anthologies, five novels, four short story anthologies, a play, and dozens of song lyrics. His dialect works came under critical fire for perpetuating the comical, happy-go-lucky stereotype of black Americans, while others praised them as a celebration of his racial heritage.

Dunbar died at the age of 33 from tuberculosis, which he’d fought for over five years. This was exacerbated by alcoholism, ironically caused by doctors prescribing whiskey for his TB symptoms. In light of his short career, Dunbar’s accomplishments are even more inspiring.

Were you familiar with Paul Lawrence Dunbar before? Does your home town have a literary icon?

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My Town Monday, plus Excerpt: Ohio’s Worst Natural Disaster

It happened in March, 1913. The perfect confluence of weather combined over the upper Miami Valley in west-central Ohio, and dumped massive amounts of rain on the area for several days. This was on ground already saturated from melting snows, and on Tuesday, March 25, it proved too much for the levees in Dayton. The river breached the first levee around 7 AM, and within a few hours, water 12+ feet deep covered the city. Downriver, the cities of West Carrollton, Miamisburg, Franklin, Middletown, Hamilton, and Cincinnati weren’t spared, but due to the joining of five rivers on the north side of Dayton, plus the Great Miami’s S-curve there, Dayton was the worst-hit. In terms of property damage and lives lost (anywhere from just over one hundred to four-hundred something – records were sketchy), the 1913 flood remains the worst natural disaster in Ohio’s history.

Here’s an excerpt from Time’s Enemy that shows what it might have been like that day, almost 100 years ago:

Time's Enemy Cover

An inhuman shriek jolted Tony awake. His gaze darted across sloped rafters, to the end of a long room where dim light filtered through a dusty, mud-spattered window. Church bells rang amidst the roar of hard rain, and whistles were going off everywhere, but they weren’t what woke him. He clutched the quilt. Where was he?

He sat up. Then the scream came again. Outside. It started as a loud groan, then escalated to a grating, high-pitched howl that cut to his soul.

It went on and on then faded as whatever it was passed. Tony threw off his blanket and scooted to the nearby window.

A torrent of muddy water coursed through the alley below, coming halfway up the doorway of the warehouse across the street. He’d never seen so much water where it wasn’t supposed to be. “Holy Noah’s Ark!”

He stood, then regretted it when his head smacked into a rafter. With a curse, he rubbed the sore spot as his memories of the previous day fell into place. The Saturn Society. Taylor Gressman. The wanted posters and Theodore Pippin. Goodwin’s Smoke Shop in 1913.

What had he warped into? He twisted around to search the rafters, as if answers hid in their dim recesses. The only reply was the beating rain. Then it hit him. March, 1913. He’d escaped the Saturn Society only to wind up in the middle of the worst natural disaster in Ohio’s history.

The horrible shrieks started again. He crouched and peered out the window. In the raging waters, a horse struggled to swim, its reins caught on the crossbar of a streetlamp. The yellowish-brown waters came to within a couple feet of the light globes. The horse raised its head, its lips drawn back over its teeth, and let out another ear-piercing cry. Tony cringed. A wooden crate bumped the helpless animal, knocking it free, then the current carried the crate and the horse away.

The view out the other window was much the same. A barrel floated by. Small, dark shapes clung to it. Rats.

Photo used on the cover of Time’s Enemy. Courtesy of Dayton Metro Library.

Tony leaned against the window, the glass cold against his hand and forehead, and stared in morbid fascination at the water below. The rain churned its rushing surface between pieces of broken furniture, crates and unidentifiable flotsam. Bumps and clunks came from below, probably furnishings, floating around in the shop’s lower level. He moved to the window, his fingers unable to decide whether to form fists or clutch at the window jambs. His breath formed a foggy circle on the glass. Another loud crash, then a few seconds later, a piano floated by, followed by a mass of splintered lumber that had once been a building.

The water swirled and eddied around the debris, lodging it between a telephone pole and the Smoke Shop. In the pile of wood beneath his window, a broken sign read ry’s Market. They wouldn’t be doing business any time soon.

Something moved in the wreckage. A small arm sheathed in a clinging, ruffled sleeve emerged from the water, and little fingers clutched at one of the larger pieces of wood. Slipped.

Grasped again, lost purchase.

A little girl. “Oh my God.” His voice echoed in the empty reaches of the rafters. The child groped again, failed to latch on, started to slide.

He grabbed the window sash’s blackened han-dle and pulled. Stuck tight. With a grunt he leaned upward and pulled harder. “Come on, open, dammit!” The sash didn’t move.

He could barely hear a thin, plaintive wail over the rushing water. He grabbed the sash handle, yanked upward, and this time the window obeyed.

The girl’s cry reached him again. Helplessness pinned his feet to the floor. Fear he wouldn’t reach her in time mocked him. He’d have to climb out on-to that haphazard pile of wood. One misstep could plunge him into the icy, raging current. But if he didn’t go out there, that little girl would die.

He yanked off his suit jacket. Cold as he was, it would only get in the way. “Hang on!” He climbed over the sash. She tried to grab hold of a broken timber. Missed. Then slipped into the water.

“No!” Despair stung him. The same way it had the night Bethany hadn’t come home, and a state trooper rang their doorbell. Tony had known his daughter was dead before the man said a word. “Hang on!” This little girl had a chance.

Want to read more? Time’s Enemy (e-book) is on sale for only $.99 as part of the Booklovers’ Buffet through June 22, along with over 150 other books, novellas, and short stories. You can buy Time’s Enemy at Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Smashwords and many other online retailers.

What do you think? I’d love to hear from you! I will be away from my computer today and won’t be able to respond to comments, but please know that I appreciate every comment, every re-tweet,  and every Facebook Share. I’ll reply and visit your blog, if you have one, when I can! Thanks for reading!

My Town Monday: A Remembrance for Memorial Day

English: Paul Laurence Dunbar (June 27, 1872 –...

Paul Laurence Dunbar

Yesterday, my daughter and I had a mom-and-daughter afternoon and visited a local historical site neither of us had yet visited: the Paul Lawrence Dunbar State Memorial. Dunbar was a celebrated writer who was born in Dayton in 1872 (died in 1906) and is a significant literary figured not only for his work’s own sake, but because he was an African-American who wrote both in black dialect and in standard English.

Dunbar’s parents were both former slaves, and his father enlisted to serve the Union in the Civil War. Dunbar was always proud of his father’s military service, and his first poem was published when he was only sixteen! It’s particularly relevant today as we remember those who served and sacrificed their lives.

 

“Our Martyred Soldiers”
by Paul Laurence Dunbar (public domain)

Dayton National Cemetery at the Veterans Affairs grounds

In homes all green, but cold in death,
Robbed of the blessed boon of breath—
Resting in peace from field and fray,
Our martyred soldiers sleeping lay.

Beneath the dew, the rain, the snow,
They heed no more the bloody foe,
Their sleep is calm, to them alone
‘Tis giv’n to lie without a moan.

The sun may shine in all his might—
They know no day, they know no night,
But wait a still more lasting ray,
The coming of eternal day.

No longer marches break their rest,
Or passioned hate thrills through the breast,
They lie all clothed in calm repose,
All safe from shots of lurking foes.

The grave’s a sacred place where none
Of earth may touch the sleeping one;
Where silence reigns, enthroned, sedate,
An angel guarding heaven’s gate.

The wind may blow, the hail may fall,
But at the tomb is silence all;
Man finds no nobler place to pray,
Then o’er a martyr’s lifeless clay.

Sleep on, ye soldiers, men of God,
A nation’s tears bedew the sod;
‘Tis but a short, short time till ye
Shall through the shining portals flee.

And when this memory lost shall be,
We turn, oh Father, God, to thee!
Oh find in heaven some nobler thing
Then martyrs of which men can sing.

 

I’ll share some photos and more interesting facts we learned about Dunbar in future posts.

What are you doing this Memorial Day? Or, if you’re not in the U.S., does your country have a similar day of remembrance? Do you have a friend or family who served that you’d like to tell us about? Please feel free to do so in the comments!

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My Town Monday: Where the Stars Come out for Brunch

Last week for Mothers’ Day, my husband and daughter took me out for brunch at my favorite place for breakfast – The Golden Nugget Pancake House. Not to be confused with the Chicago-based chain of the same name, the Golden Nugget’s been in the Dayton area since the early 60’s. They don’t have a website, so I wasn’t able to easily check exactly when it first opened, but it’s been a fixture on the south side of town ever since. With its retro-diner decor, hearty portions, plain and simple but delicious coffee, and paper coasters that haven’t changed since I can remember, it’s like a tasty trip back in time.

The paper coasters featuring "Goldie" the burro haven't changed since the 60s

I can remember going to the Golden Nugget with my grandparents when I was little in the early 70s. I vaguely remember the exterior looking like the postcard above, although I don’t remember the interior being those colors – I remember the chairs and booths being a 1950s aqua blue, which they were until the building burned down in 2006. Thankfully, they rebuilt it, with an updated look that still has a retro flair.

It became a regular spot for me after I graduated from college. There’s nothing better after a night out partying, if you can hack the 1/2-hour or longer wait. Back then, there was no waiting area in the restaurant, just a long vestibule along the front. On weekends, the line would fill that area, and wrap around the building. If there were only two of you, and you were at the back corner of the building, the wait was 30-40 minutes. Once you got inside, it was about 15. And it was totally worth it. Unsurprising since “Pancake House” is part of the name, there’s a good variety of pancakes available, although not what you’d get from some of the larger chains. My favorite is cinnamon pancakes with apples. They also offer this in French toast, which was what I had last week. Yum! The coffee’s fantastic – strong, but not bitter. They use Superior coffee, which from what I understand, is a common offering from restaurant supply services. But nowhere else does it taste like at the ‘Nug (as my friends and I affectionately called it). The servers are very conscious of coffee, too – it’s unusual for your cup to be empty.

The Golden Nugget today

I also went there for lunch occasionally, since I worked down the street for my first “real” job. Lunch is good, too – basic stuff like burgers, grilled cheese, and soups. My favorite was broccoli cheese soup. I had a coworker who ate lunch there every day. The main reason was she was a coffee fanatic, and loved the friendly wait staff who always kept her cup full. She almost always got the same thing to eat: fried mush. I tried it once, and it was good, but not being a real Southerner, I can’t vouch for it. I can vouch for the biscuit and gravy though – awesome, and a sure ticket to a food coma!

My coworker also saw some interesting people there. Once, she saw Andre the Giant when WWE (or back then, WWF) was in town. She’s also seen Rob Lowe and Martin Sheen there, who are both from Dayton. I’ve never seen anyone famous there, but the food and coffee’s enough to make me come back, and even brave the line occasionally.

So now you know where to go for breakfast or lunch if you’re in the area! The Golden Nugget doesn’t have a website, but they are on Facebook. If you’re from around here, do you have any Golden Nugget memories to share? If you’re not, what’s your favorite place in your hometown? I’d love to hear from you – please comment and let me know!

My Town Monday: Hangar 18, and Cover Sneak Peek

Before Area 51, there was Hangar 18.

Yes, there was a small airfield in the Groom Lake vicinity that was used during WWII as a test and training facility, but Area 51 as a super-secret research and development facility didn’t really exist until the 1950s.

The Roswell incident, in which according to legend, an alien spacecraft crashed, happened on July 8, 1947. (It was later pretty much accepted that what really crashed to earth was cold-war intel equipment or a weather balloon, but go with me here…) Also according to legend, U.S. military personnel recovered the wrecked spacecraft and several alien bodies from the site, which was closed to the public for a good while after the crash.

The National Museum of the USAF. Part of Area B is in the background.

The military shipped the bodies and wreckage were shipped to the then-Army Air Corps’ Foreign Technology Division, located at Wright Field, a few miles east of Dayton, Ohio, which would later become Area B of Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. Supposedly, the spacecraft was stored in Hangar 18. The bodies were placed into cryogenic storage, for later research.

Of course, few who work on base today admit to believing any of this. But it’s fun to think about, and a few years ago, The History Channel did a wonderful documentary on the legends and the conspiracy theories that abound. The show was pretty convincing, and the book they based much of their material on (Exempt from Disclosure by Robert M. Collins) was even more so.

Interestingly enough, (but not surprisingly) there is no Hangar 18 at WPAFB, nor has there ever been, at least that I could find. There is a Building 18 complex, which houses the Air Force Research Laboratory’s Propulsions Directorate – folks who would be most interested in the alien spacecraft, had there been one.


I don’t really believe there were alien bodies and spacecraft bought to WPAFB, and chances are, what really crashed to earth near Roswell was indeed some kind of surveillance equipment – highly classified, so of course the military personnel would not have been able to confirm or deny its existence, or any details about it.

But the legends made me think: what if it was real? What if alien bodies were shipped back here? And what if they weren’t dead, but alive, in a suspended state? And what if one were to awaken, decades later? That’s the premise behind my upcoming science fiction romance, Hangar 18: Legacy. What’s even cooler is that, according to Exempt from Disclosure, the aliens  did indeed have significant psychic abilities, which was one of the key elements of my novel even before I’d researched it.

Want to know more? Check out Exempt from Disclosure, or watch this 20-minute video from the The Internet Archive. And for an entertaining take on the legends, give Hangar 18: Legacy a read when it comes out this summer. To be notified of its release, sign up for my newsletter, with the form on the right (visit www.jenpowell.com, if you’re reading this in a feed reader). Here’s the scoop:

U.S. Air Force research psychologist Adam Keller is an empath, accustomed to sensing the thoughts and emotions of others. Because of his gift, he keeps people at a distance. When a disembodied presence full of anger and fear invades his mind and demands rescue, dark thoughts of death threaten to overwhelm Adam. Then he meets a woman whose attraction to him quiets the voice. All he has to do to keep his sanity is risk his heart and experience the emotions he’s long denied himself.

Lisa Stark wants nothing more than to finish the subliminal messaging software she’s worked on for over a year. When someone wants it badly enough to kill for it, Adam senses Lisa’s in danger and comes to her rescue. Lisa fights her feelings for the sexy officer with an uncanny ability to guess what she’s thinking, but their attraction to each other grows, and not only because Lisa’s the only one who can warm Adam’s chilled body and soul. When he discovers the source of his mental invasion is an extraterrestrial thought dead for decades, Adam realizes that Lisa’s software is the key to releasing the being – if he can gain her trust and keep her alive long enough to finish it.

I’d love to hear from you! Do you think there might be some truth to the stories of alien beings and spacecraft recovered from Roswell? Do you think there might still be information that the U.S. government is hiding? Please comment, and let me know what you think!

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

No, it’s not Cheers, although for some of us, it is indeed a bar. My husband owned a bar like that for over ten years.

But in this case, I’m talking about a place, or a group of people, where we feel like we belong. Some people can find this almost anywhere. But for misfits like me, it’s unusual and special.

I can find that in my RWA chapter, now that I’ve been part of it for over ten years. And this, I think, is what makes writing groups something special, far beyond the learning craft and business that goes on there: we’re with people who understand us. Who don’t give us weird looks when we say a character started talking to us the other day. Who understand when we don’t want to stay out late partying, because it cuts into the writing.

I have another group like that too, and it took even less time than the writing groups. These are people I can talk about cars with to my heart’s content, and their eyes don’t glaze over. We understand one’s excitement when a small change made to our car makes it sound just a little different. We nod knowingly when one of us describes our Christmas wish list that’s half car swag (or more). We compare notes on the best cleaning products, waxes, and little cosmetic extras we can get for our cars to make them more “ours,” and compliments on our four-wheeled babies are always abundant.

The past Saturday was what’s become an annual event among my local Camaro friends: Mod Day. We gather at one friend’s huge pole barn that’s outfitted with heat (unfortunately needed yesterday), a lift, all kinds of power equipment, and best of all, friends to help each other with small projects or maintenance work.

Of course there is a lot of socializing – in fact that’s all some of us do. Many of us have other things in common – several of the Camaro friends work in the IT field like me, for example. But the talk always comes back to the cars sooner or later.

Another fun thing about spending the day with my Camaro friends is it gives me an excuse to put cool Camaro pictures on my blog!

A really cool surprise awaited me when I arrived at the garage this year. One of my friends had bought a paperback copy of Time’s Enemy and brought it there for me to sign! I’m not sure if he was aware, but yes, there is a Camaro in Time’s Enemy. (It’s also in Time’s Fugitive. 🙂 )

I’d love to hear from you! Did you do anything exciting this weekend? Do you have a special group of friends who just “get” you? Please share!

New Release! Travel back to prehistoric America in Time’s Fugitive

It’s here at last!

It’s been a long time coming. I’d originally planned to release this in December, but that obviously didn’t happen. My revisions took longer than I thought. My readers took a while to read, and my editor took a while to edit – but it’s all good. I’d much rather release late, than release less than the absolutely best book I can. Time’s Fugitive is a long, complex story clocking in at 143,000 words, a length typically found primarily in historical fiction or epic fantasy. It’s definitely historical, and my first readers assure me that it is indeed epic. Here’s what else they had to say. I’ll take their word for it, or better yet, yours!

Here’s what it’s all about:

A past shrouded in mystery

Violet Sinclair remembers nothing of her life before the day she awoke several years earlier, drenched in blood that wasn’t hers. But since she met Tony Solomon, she’s been certain of one thing – sometime in her hidden past, she knew him… loved him… and did something terrible to him.

A present fraught with danger

Time-traveler Tony Solomon is sure he never met Violet before they were coworkers, yet she bears an uncanny resemblance to the woman he loved and lost decades before he was born. After an impulse encounter leaves Violet pregnant with his child, she becomes the target of killers from the future.

A future feared in jeopardy

Framed for murder, Tony will do anything to protect Violet and their child, even if their only escape is to jump into the past, something he swore he’d never do again. But when they jump back much further than planned, they find their troubles are only beginning—and secrets can get them killed.

Time’s Fugitive is out and available in ebook at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords. Other retailers and print version coming soon.

What do you think? Would you willingly travel back to prehistoric America? What if it was the only way to save your child? I’d love to hear from you!