Clover Autrey

 
 

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          Port Hope
     
     

          by Clover Autrey
     

     

         
            Giveaway ends January 09, 2020.
         
         
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Going on a cruise has been something I've wanted to do for a while and it finally happened. My husband, two youngest sons and myself drove down to Galveston (only a 5 hour drive away) to get on Carnival's Valor. The entire process of checking in, moving down the gangplank, was new to us, and exciting.

We had a wonderful time, even though my men were not the funnest travel companions as they didn't quite stick with me. We pretty much met up for meals. But being the kind of person who enjoys my own explorations, I walked all over that ship, went to whatever show I wanted to see, wrote a little, and gained four pounds.

Pat and I on deck

I'm an early riser so I went to breakfast by myself before the rush. It was awesome having time to myself while gazing out to sea, well, the Gulf of Mexico. Our ship went straight through the gulf down to Cozumel. We never made it to the open sea, but the gulf is so huge it looked like it. Felt like it too. Whoever told me that you don't feel the ship move was incorrect. We felt the sways, but I kind of dug it. Gave the experience a kind of not-your-everyday feel to it.

The ship was smaller than I expected, but I've since learned that the Valor is one of the smallest. It reminded me of being in a Las Vegas hotel, just on water. It had the same type of atmosphere...the gambling, the buffets, the entertainment, the extravagant decor. But better as there wasn't anybody waiting on the curb to hand out stripper flyers.

Sam in our cabin's window, looking out at Galveston

By far the highlight was scuba diving with Sam and Tate. They had never been before and Pat and I hadn't been for long time. We went through the short--extremely short--orientation. They basically went over the hand signs, how to clear your ears, and your mask...and off we went. But we were diving off shore at only 20 feet so all the depressurization stuff was a non-issue. We had a blast. As a mom, I was really enjoying watching my boys experience this new thing. They were great at it. And all too soon it was over. 30 minutes in the water was not long enough.

First view of Cozumel

 

Then we sailed back to Galveston and drove home, tired and refreshed and ready to do it again. Next time, I think I'll go with my sisters or girlfriends. I love my guys, but not the best traveling companions. November 2020 my writers group is going, which will be nothing short of awesome. Ha! A group of romance writers on a cruise together...grinning at the thought. In between I'm going to try and get my sisters on board. Sisters trip, yay!

People watching at the airport is an interesting thing. I get there early because I'm a nervous nelly and want everything to go smoothly so, of course, I have nothing to do for two hours but wait.

Parking myself in one of the starched seats is critical. I want to sit by myself. If there's several seats alone I'm drawn there, but that's risky. I try to find a couple empty seats between a few people where I can leave an empty seat between us. Bonus if I can find a person who already has their earphones and is engrossed in their tablet or phone. The universal I'm-not-here-to-chat sign. My people. We can ignore each other in peace even as we side-eye to see what has the other so engrossed on their tablet.

Then it's all about propping my feet up on my carry-on and watching people.

There's the mom on the layover with two kids. Her hair's in a messy bun, she has no make-up, and her eyes wander the area as she stands guard over her chicks who are sitting, playing video games and eating the bags of chips she has just gotten for them.

There's the entire family, mom, dad, a couple of kids and baby. They are a controlled unit unto themselves, the parents tag-teaming duties.

There's the business folks, computers out. There's the guys and gals, loose shorts, sandels, sloppy buns, tats, frayed backpacks, who look ready to step off into the wilderness. There's the young women dressed for success or the runway. Maybe on their way to a wedding?

There's the sweet old religious lady who looks like the typical grandma. She's even wearing a gingham dress. She's zeroed in on a younger woman whose expression I'm trying to gauge as grandma is sharing her religion. Does she want to hear this or is she held hostage by politeness? And being the awful person I am, I don't save the young woman. Instead I worry that I'm going to be stuck next to grandma on the plane. Will earplugs be enough to fend off a two hour sermon from someone who genuinely feels it's her duty to save all she can?

I'd rather sit by the dog-mama. Because yes, dog-mama has just sat down beside me with her little dog in a baby wrap against her chest. The dog is well behaved, hasn't made a peep. On second thought, no, I'm hoping I'm not next to them either. I say that, hoping I haven't just offended all dog lovers here. Not my intent and no animals were harmed in the writing of this post. But the truth is, I've had a deep seated fear of dogs since I was a young kid. It's never gone away. Sorry. I'm sure I could handle sitting beside a well-behaved dog for two hours, but the relief was real when I didn't have to.

Yep, as boring as the airport is, it's also fairly entertaining. I make two trips to the bathroom because I want that bladder as close to empty as I can get even though I could guzzled down a bottled lemonade. Who wants to make the I-didn't-go-while-I-had-the-chance walk to the back of the plane with everybody glancing up to see who is moving past them? I hate people looking at me, but it's more ick when they know where I'm going--literally going. Taking care of my business is nobody else's business, especially a plane full of people I don't know. No thank you.

I'll pull my big girl panties up, or down as the case may be, if I have to, but I'd rather not, so bathroom visits while waiting is key for me.

Then the boarding begins. We are a patient society, yet I can still feel the eagerness of getting on the plane even though that means we'll just be sitting in the same seat longer. Truth is, we all want to make sure our carry-ons get to be close to us. Turns out mine isn't close to me at all, but I stuck a big patriotic scarf on it that I can see once the overhead bins are opened. I feel better about that, even though if I saw it being grabbed, I'm not exactly going to hurdle over twenty seats to bypass everyone in the aisle waiting to get out.

As it turns out, I'm in the last seat, last aisle in the back. How did that happen? I checked-in a day early online. It's a window seat except there aren't windows in this aisle. Upside, I'm sitting by the two fashionistas who don't talk to me at all. Score! And the plane has movie choices. I have my earplugs and get to spend the entire flight watching Pitch Perfect 3 and the first half of Black Panther. Just perfect.

Peyton and Kyle June 16, 2017

We welcomed another person into our family as Peyton and Kyle were sealed for all time and eternity in the Provo City Center Temple. 

I am thrilled with my new daughter-in-law. She's sweet and easy-going, has an inner strength and beauty that will serve her well throughout life. The Ginger boy did well.  
I have to tell you a little story. For us Mormons, having your son serve a mission for two years is a big deal. Four years back, Kyle was ready and prepared to go, then one dumb thing kept him from going for a year. It really was a ridiculous circumstance and I kept wondering why this had happened. What's the point? He was ready. He was a great kid and was ready to serve. But instead, he stuck around home and got his first year of college in. Not a bad thing either. And the gut feeling I kept getting when I asked why, was that he was going to meet the girl he was going to marry on his mission. If he went when he was supposed to (my timeline, not God's),  he would have been sent to a different area and missed the time when Peyton was there altogether. 

Fast forward two years at the completion of his mission in South Dakota and he tells me he's met a girl who served in the same place that he'd like to date when she gets home in another month, this momma knew she was the one.  

Authors in Bloom is one of my favorite blog tours. And this year we have a Facebook Party going on as well.

Gardening is on my mind lately. In fact, I'm about to go in the back yard and work after I post this. You see my ginger son got down on one knee in a proposal of marriage to a sweet gal.
They are doing a tour of sorts of their own. He's working and going to school in Idaho. She's working in Tennessee where he'll be heading to pick her up and then they are off to visit her family in Pennsylvania, then flying out here to Texas before the wedding takes place in Utah.


And my son told me recently, very recently, "Oh Mom, we're having an open house in Texas."

"You're what?" Yes, I have a month to get my yard in shape. Yes, the yard I have pretty much ignored this past year as I've taken on new challenges with work that leaves me zero free time and less energy. Yes, that yard.

And my lawn mower won't start. Off to get new spark plugs.
Fortunately, I also have a 16 year old who is very eager to earn money by tackling the harder jobs so he can go back into his batcave and order more part upgrades for his super computer that he built. I only hope that he uses his genius powers for good.

My gardening tip is pretty simple. Know your property.

• Walk around and notice what areas of your yard get the most sun and which are shaded. That will help you know where to best plant which kind of plants. 
• You can also have a simple soil test done at your local garden center to see if your soil is well-balanced in nutrients and pH. Mine is not, so that's another thing on my to-do quickly list. 

This is the first of my flowers to keep alive until April.


N

I love my critique partners. They have literally rescued my characters out of plotting wells I let them fall into...or helped me shovel crap onto ones that needed it. I so admire these ladies and their intelligence and creativity. And they are so fun to be around. When I can't make it to one of our monthly plotting sessions at The Cotton Patch (we're the noisy laughing ones at the long table in the back who never leave--our poor waitress) I really miss them and can't wait for the next month when I can be with them. 

Seriously. Even when my personal life feels as bleak as wading through a quagmire with leeches in a dark jungle with vines slapping my face, a few hours laughing with the cowtown critiquers strengthens my lungs to get back at it and keep swinging that machete.  

We usually exchange small gifts at Christmas time. This year I wanted to add a personal touch and thanks to Pinterest (Best ideas ever. I want to do everything and I don't even like crafts.) I saw these personalized frames that would be perfect. So I had each of my critique partners write down what they love about writing or reading. Printed it off, and voilà! 



Turned out pretty nice if I say so myself. Below are the quotes they each gave me.


"I write because it's who I am. I've been writing so long, I can't imagine not putting words to the page. It would be like a chunk of me is missing. Writing is just me. Besides, it's the only way to keep the voices in my head subdued."  C.A. Szarek

I ran into an old friend I haven't seen in at least a decade, if not more. We had kids close in age. We each had kids with health issues, but you know how it goes, you just push on, keep them healthy and happy and do whatever needs to be done. Live life the best you can.

We moved out of the area first and then they moved. So it was an unexpected surprise and pleasure to run into them.

We hug. We exchange pleasantries. So good to see you. You look great. How is everyone? Then she asks, "Is everyone healthy?"

And that tiny part of my heart that is still hiding, still whimpering, tucks farther away and I hear myself answer, "No, we lost Chase five years ago."  Even as I say it, my mind is reeling. How can it be five years? It still hurts so bad.

She nods gravely. Her expression is different than the usual wince of sympathy. It's calm. "I'm sorry. I had no idea. It's not a club we wanted to be in."

It takes a few seconds for that to sink past the focus of trying to push it all down and keep my emotions from bubbling out "What?"

"We lost Spencer two years ago. Tumor in the brain. They gave him eight months. I'm sorry, I thought you knew. His wife was pregnant. He wanted to live long enough to see the baby born."

"Did he?" I ask with a little hesitation.

"Yes." She smiles and I look past her shoulder at her family, at her daughter-in-law, sitting behind her. And I understand her expression now. The calmness, the understanding. It's the difference of having gone down to all the depths of hurt and loss that would take lifetimes to express them all unless you've been through it. Funny how all that hurt can be conveyed in one look. That club no one wants to belong to.

I remember Spencer well. He was a light. A smart funny kind kid who took every obstacle by the horns and rode it through. I'm glad he had a child, that they have a little piece of him in another person.

Our exchange was brief. I was already tearing up, even though I knew I could get it under control in a few minutes. Even though there was so much I wanted to say, most of it wouldn't have gotten past the lump in my throat anyway. But there really wasn't anymore we needed to say anyway. We get it. We're members of the same club.

P.S. If you’re an author and have a fantastic book you’d like to feature for free on My Book Cave, go on over.  I did. They’re always looking for great books.







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My daughter and SIL

Why my sudden interest in bridal traditions? I'm researching for my up-and-coming Chantry Inn series, which will feature several weddings and one long-lost wedding gown. To be notified when these books will be released follow me on Facebook or my newsletter. 

Last night I read an article in the RWR (Romance Writers Report) about a writer, Sheila Athens, who attended a recent workshop with Julia Cameron, author of The Artist's Way. Apparently this book is a must-read for authors, painters, singers, actors, pretty much anybody who yearns to delve deep into their artist spirit. Okay, I just made that description of the book up because I have no idea what the book is really about other than hearing other writers talk about it. I've never read it.  

Article from July 2015 RWR (trademarked) But the article was only a little over two pages long... so I've got time to see if everything worthwhile in the book is cramped in there. Anyway, the writer (Sheila) summed up a few things she learned from the other writer (Julia). What caught my attention was the tool of "morning pages".  Basically an artist will write 3 handwritten pages every morning to connect on a spiritual level with her creativity. Just write. And for writers, we aren't supposed to use those 3 pages as part of our WIP (Work In Progress). I admit I winced at that one because if I'm writing I want it to count as something substantial. But no, WIPs are to be set aside and this is free forming. Julia claims that will make our WIPs more productive later when we let everything on our mind flow out. So bright and early before I had to head out, prepared to sweat while helping out with my son's band's parade. And yes I did get wet and sticky. Not because I did anything strenuous, but because I was outside in Texas in July. Don't know why I bothered with showering. Keller Central High Band  Where was I? Oh yes, bright and early I pulled out one of my notebooks, grabbed a pen and wrote. Oh my gosh, I am shocked, simply shocked, at the spew of mucky roadkill that flowed onto my 3 pages. From "I am an introvert and would rather stay home from this parade" with a side helping of "I miss my son." and all sorts of random resentments on top of things I'm grateful for and plain old things that don't really matter at all. It was strange, I'm telling you. And those pages need to be shredded. Anyone who came across them would think I've lost my mind. Did it clear my mind well enough that my WIP flowed better? Well, I don't know yet. I haven't gotten to it yet. Have to take a second shower first after the parade. Maybe I better read that book. Have a wonderful Fourth of July!!!

garter from ExclusivelyWeddings

Tossing the garter used to be a custom called Fingering the Stocking back in the old days (Fourteenth Century thereabouts) in England.

Back then, especially among families that were bent on getting the next heir as quickly as possible, making sure the marriage was properly consummated was a big deal. Big enough to have the entire wedding party come into the room (hopefully afterwards, but in some cases not) and take a good look at the stocking for, um, I guess some sort of evidence because apparently it was too easy to spill wine on the sheets.

If that wasn't bad enough, the guests would then fling stockings at the couple for good luck.  Because what is more lucky than stinky socks being thrown at you? Bonus points if you're the guest that gets a sock on top of the bride's or groom's head because you were then the next to get married. Has to be true, the socking said so.

But in France, the socks didn't even make it to the wedding bed. Once the bride uttered "I do" (Or rather a form of ‘I receive you as mine, so that you become my husband and I your wife'--only in French', the guests thronged her, tearing bits and pieces off her marital gown because what's more lucky than leaving your loved one in tatters at the altar? Kim Kardashian's idea of having three wedding gowns for the occasion gains a little more merit here. One gown for being torn apart and at least one other for the reception.

At some point, I'm sure in desperation, some brides decided to start throwing pieces of their attire out, hoping to avoid most of the rampaging at her and her clothing. Which went to finally the groom started taking the garter off and tossing that out. In my romantic nature I like to think of it as the protective groom stepping in to stop the mob in this manner, but who knows, it could have been the brides' idea for self-preservation. Either way, this new less-aggressive, less-invasive tradition began. Thankfully.

At this point the tradition of tossing the bouquet also arouse arose. Ha! Totally didn't mean to type arouse, but I kept it in there because I thought it was a funny Freudian slip.

There are also traditions that state that the garter represents the bride's virginal girdle so when the groom takes that off it's symbolic of what the bride is giving up to him. Who knows who connected the dots on that one but I guess it fits.


But for our modern times, there is little sock throwing and the wedding guests don't go into a frenzy to ruin that $5000 wedding dress.

Many brides will wear two garters both on the right leg above the knee, one for the toss and the other to keep.

The bouquet will be tossed first, followed by the groom removing the garter and tossing it out.

I read that the single male guest who catches the garter then places it on the leg of the single gal who caught the bouquet and superstition states that they will be the next to marry...and to each other. I've personally never heard of that part of it or seen it done, but, hey, they say going to weddings is a great way to meet people. Why not?


Why my sudden interest in bridal traditions? I'm researching for my up-and-coming Chantry Inn series, which will feature several weddings and one long-lost wedding gown. To be notified when these books will be released follow me on Facebook or my newsletter.  See my post on the Traditions of the Wedding Ring.

So I've been trying to learn more about myself as a person, be more positive, that kind of stuff. I've never ever meditated, but I found this on Mindvalley Academy and thought it was a good way to start going about it. At any rate, I'll have a few moments of quiet during the day and if it can help me sleep, win/win.

There's not many better things than writing "The End" on a manuscript you've been working on for months.Second to that is getting through your first round of edits and sending the thing off to your editor. That's where I am now with Highland Illusion.

Out of all the Highland Sorcery novels this one has given me the most grief to write and I'm really not sure why. It's just been a bear. It's also a little different than the rest so maybe that's it.

First, it's less action and more relationship building than how I tend to write. I love action. About 90 percent of this book takes place in the same building. The Same Building!

Also for a little switch-up, the hero in this one tends to be the damsel-in-distress more so than the heroine. But he's the only human in the midst of a colony of vampires who are all stronger, older, and predatory. Plus there is no hiding anything he is feeling. The heroine--vampire, also stronger and older than him--can sense every nuance of what's going on internally with him so when he's feelin it for her, there's no hiding where the drop in his blood pressure has gone to.

I also go into religion more in this one. I couldn't help it. In the previous book Highland Son where Lance was first introduced, he is the son of a religious fanatic who preaches that anything with magic is as evil as the monsters running around eating people. Well guess what, Dad? Lance has magic. He can cast illusions, the same illusions that have been saving your butt. So dad tries to kill him. Try coming out of that with an intact love of God and religion. I don't think so.

So who does he become attracted to? A Christian vampire. Yup.

Anyway, it's written, it's off to edits. Want to read an excerpt?