Cathy Lamb's Blog, page 11

I told Simon The Cat my story idea and this is what he thought of it.

(Ya know you have been inside from Covid too long when you talk to your cats as if they can answer back in English.)

Some characters come to me and I know who they are in an instant.

That’s how I felt about Tate in A Different Kind of Normal. I could hear his voice, I could see him.

He’s a kid with an over-sized head with a huge dream and a big heart.

I put in a little history about the legend of witches in the family, a woman named Jaden Bruxelle who doesn’t like to believe all that stuff about herbs and curses, and an irreverent mother who is a soap star actress in Hollywood.

It’s a story about family, love, laughter, and following your dreams no matter how many obstacles are standing smack in the middle of your way.

If ya need a book, it’s on sale for $7.23. Yep. That’s an odd price.

Well, it’s that time again.

I write yet another draft of a book and then I grab my scissors with a semi-crazy look in my tired eyes and start cutting it up. I gleefully use a stapler, too, for good measure.

I usually have cookies on hand to adhere to ‘Cathy’s Healthy Eating Diet’ and I mutter things like, “You are a terrible writer…this is a terrible book…I can’t believe you wrote that, Cathy. Why on Earth did you think that was a plausible idea?…that character is ridiculous, delete him, don’t argue with me he IS ridiculous…you should have been a carpenter and why do you have to eat THAT many cookies?”

So pleasant, that voice inside my head.

The glorious life of a writer continues.

I read the news then head to the garden to look at something pretty.

I think we all need a lot more pretty right now.

Wishing everyone well.

“So I say to you, walk with the wind, brothers and sisters, and let the spirit of peace and the power of everlasting love be your guide.”

— US Rep John Lewis, son of sharecroppers, minister, Civil Rights leader, Freedom Fighter who was beaten multiple times with fists, baseball bats, chains, lead pipes, and stones, but still stood up, yet again, and again, to fight for equal rights.

January 3, 1987 – July 17, 2020.

Innocent Husband and I went on a bike ride.

He had an inelegant small crash and left skin from his elbow on the pavement. He said bad words.

The arthritis in my hands screamed at me, “WE ARE NEVER BIKING AGAIN, CATHY, NEVER.”

My butt and Innocent Husband’s butt both really hurt and I told him that I did not want a “cool-looking” bike anymore but a pretty blue bike with a huge flowered seat and a basket in front so I could bring lemonade, cookies, and my kindle on our future bike rides.

He rolled his eyes at me and I did not run him over when he did that because I am serious about that pretty blue bike and flowered basket.

We had to stop at a bench and “take a load off” because we were tired. He put his arm around me and we felt like two, old, long-married people watching the world ride by. We laughed at that.

When we were sufficiently rested from our adventure we creaked up, bones protesting, and hobbled back over to the bikes to finish our ride.

We had a great time. I told him he looked pretty darn cute.

If you need a book to get through life right now, all of these books are under 10 bucks.

Yes, I made sure to put in laughing scenes.

I think I just made up a new phrase – laughing scenes. But sheesh. We need a laugh right now.

Wishing you good health and peace during this difficult time.

(Now I COULD make all these book covers exactly the same size and shape but, eh. That would take too much effort and we have raspberry pie and I must have some. Go and eat some pie or cake. We deserve it.)

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Cathy-Lamb/e/B...

And on a lighter note, because we all need lighter notes right now…

I’ve finally gone and done it. Tonight Adventurous Singing Daughter wanted to go to the store because apparently our family needs four types of bread during quarantine to stave off starvation.

I’d been cleaning the garage all day, had been covered in dust, wondering how we collected so much junk, and was now clean and in pajamas. I was too lazy to change because clearly I have embraced frumpiness.

Yes, I drove to the store like a crazy lady and sat in the parking lot in pajamas while she shopped for starvation-preventing bread, truly hoping that no one I had ever, ever met in my entire slobby life would see me in the above-mentioned pajamas and my lamb slippers.

Wishing you all well and I hope you are not driving around in your pajamas because that is ridiculous.

Also, buy bread. Add butter. It’ll make you feel better.

Do you have a place that calls to your heart?

I live in Oregon but I can hear Montana calling my name. Both of my sisters live there and want us to move so we can grow old together and become crazy cat ladies.

My sisters live on land and can see beautiful sunsets every night under a wide open sky, blue mountains, rolling hills, and miles into the distance.

I set my book No Place I’d Rather Be in Montana. I was thinking about our ancestors, and what they had to do to get to America so they wouldn’t starve to death and live in abject poverty for the rest of their lives.

The ancestors’ stories in No Place I’d Rather Be are told through a cookbook handed down through the generations, complete with ingredients and hand-drawn photos.

From Odessa and pogroms, to Munich and the Nazis, from the Kindertransport, to the Blitz in London, and finally to Montana, Olivia learns about her relatives as she cooks.

Kindle, $8.58. I have NO IDEA what it’s $8.58.

It is not my fault that I am gaining weight during this time.

Adventurous Singing Daughter and Rebel Dancing Daughter are home and they are cooking and baking up a storm.

It’s like my kitchen is on fire, culinary-speaking.