Name This Rock (2)

I’ll give you a hint as this is not a common form. It’s soft enough to cut and carve with hand tools such as a knife, file and sand paper. It’s not talc nor is it soapstone. It’s fairly simple to finish it to a high glossy/glassy sheen.

There was a small lode of it by the side of an old highway leading to Lake Roosevelt, Arizona. Sadly, when the road was widened, the lode was destroyed.




Sorry about the fuzzyness. Still not good with a camera.

So, what do you think it is?

Discern Katon University Book One, by Andrea Pearson (A Book Review)


I have been a fan of Andrea Pearson for years; saddened when her Kilenya series ended. Now, she’s started on another series, Discern, and it’s truly captivating; still full of magic, but a totally different story.

Nicole, born with Arete powers entered college in order to learn to how to strengthen and control the powers she was born with. Even though an undergrad, she was chosen to be one of a few students to join Professor Coolidge on a mission to learn if the myths of the Agarchs and Shoggoths were in fact not myths, but the creatures still exist.

Not wanting to relate too much of this novel for fear of ruining one of the many exciting surprises, I’ll say that it’s a page turner and perfect for all ages from young adult to old people like me.

Can’t wait for the next of the series. Will she read the book that is now locked and unable to get to her? Will her not so nice mother get her hands on the book, and why does she want it? Are the leather bound papers evil or good? Is she rid of the spiders invading her apartment, and is the book responsible for those creepy insects?
You will find the paperback on Amazon at

WESun (Sun Winks) 8/24/14 – Poetry? Give me a break.

Doug’s WESun (SunWinks!) 8/24/14 challenge was to write one good (epigram). Since I don’t get it, I wrote a good poem and one bad poem. Not being a lover of poetry, I decided to do it anyway. Granted, he won’t approve, but I bet I make him laugh.
A good poem.

Here’s a really bad poem.
Playing Dodge Swatter

Sitting in my tee
On the patio is me
Then the little demons come
Begging me to play some

Let’s play Dodge Swatter
Come on, play Dodge Swatter

Ten against one
Not fair, I want them gone
They won’t leave me alone
They keep singing their song

Let’s play Dodge Swatter
We want Dodge Swatter

Getting better at the game
Two down, three lame
Reinforcements in
I can’t win

Playing Dodge Swatter
Playing Dodge Swatter

Gull durned flies. *Swat*

WESat (Writing Essential, Saturday), 8/23/14 – Embarrassed

This Week’s Challenge:

Write a true story (prose or poetry) relating an embarrassing situation in which you were involved as a kid.

If any of you want to get involved in the Writing Essential group, you’ll find this challenge and others at

Once upon a time in Pam/Transamerica Title land, at age 23, I joined a UFO tracking group. That was just before and somewhat after the Travis Walton incident near Show Low, Arizona.

Transamerica Title, aptly known fondly as Training and Transfer, housed their main office on the first two floors of the Transamerica building. The floors above that were filled with law firms. This company, one of the largest title companies in Arizona, didn’t believe in technology, so our receptionist greeted people and also ran the phone switchboard. [For you young readers, a switchboard consisted of plugs and wires. If a call came in, she would route the call to the requested party. She would also eavesdrop.]

I know I mentioned to the leader of the UFO group that I had been on TV, and I might have neglected to tell him that was in high school days. Stupid! Stupid! He picked me as the one to do an interview on Channel 5, 10:00 AM news.

On the day of the interview I took an early lunch, not telling a soul of the destination. Yikes! Never having been in a real studio, this adventure sent my blood pressure soaring. Totally forgetting anything I had knowledge of, having a gadget put on me that I was told was a mike (okay I was expecting a large mike that stood on a pedestal), I was not ready. My only comfort was knowing none of my friends would see this—they were at work.

The anchorman asked me to tell about our UFO research. I asked him what he wanted to know about. We did a little adlib—okay he did the adlib, I answered while wringing my hands. Then, due to my mind being a scared blank, started making up words.

The interview lasted hours, but finally it was over and I went back to the office. Should have called in sick—my colleagues had gone upstairs to a law firm to watch my live performance on television. Never did live down all those words I made up.

WEThurs August 7, 2014: Squeamish, Centipedes

Last Thursday’s Writing Essential’s challenge was to write about what makes you squeamish. If my story makes you squeamish, I want to know all about it.
Beer, the wonderful liquid that kills my pain can be a pain. Middle of night and bladder complaining. Time to get up, take a whiz and wash my hands; always hoping I’ll stay half asleep. Not that night.

I guess everyone has issues with things that go bump in the night. Light turned on, body bumping into walls due to half closed eyes, hoping that whizzing and washing wouldn’t fully wake me, I turned on the faucet. When the centipede crawled out of the drain and I screamed… well I was fully awake.

The only thing handy was an empty beer can on the sink counter. I tried to behead it, but those devils are hard to kill. It ran back down. So I plugged the drain, determined to get some sleep.
No go. There was another one on the wall, directly above where my head would have been resting. Did I mention that centipedes were hard to kill? Needing a hammer, to the garage I went. Knocked a hole in the wall, but I killed that evil creature.

Desperately needing sleep, I climbed under covers, wiggled a lot (I’m a wiggler) and finally dozed off, only to be woken by a burning sensation in a rather delicate part of my leg.

Yep. I slept with a centipede.

Drather sleep with a centipede than a scorpion—done that way too many times.

Writing Essential Saturday. What the writer meant.

We partied hardy during those times. It was the best until the room started spinning, barfing began and the ultimate hangover; making it the worst of times. Perhaps it was foolishness, but we believed blood leaching was the epoch of incredulity.


My apologies to those that love this classic, but I’ve never been able to get through the first few pages, so I have no clue what this story is all about. Shame on me. We own a 2nd edition of, A Tale of Two Cities.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity…