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The Wind Could Blow a Bug – Book Summary


Here is the back cover summary for my upcoming young adult contemporary romance called The Wind Could Blow a Bug.  To be notified of book release, please sign up at:

Jane Riley is a quiet high school senior growing up in a rural Alabama town, surrounded by hot farm boys. When Wade, the handsomest one of all, takes a sudden interest in her romantically, Jane falls hard for him. Being adopted, Jane’s search for her birth mother leads to unexpected revelations. After graduation, everything in her life begins to fall apart. While suffering from depression, Jane must cope with the unknown challenges of college. Jane must discover that family isn’t always who you would expect. She is reminded that The Wind Could Blow a Bug and her life could change in an instant…

Morning Thoughts

I often think it would be better to live back in the pioneer days. My mom pointed out the other day that people back then worked from sun up to sun down, and it was a hard life. But think about it.



Farmers, for instance largely (with exceptions, of course) worked for themselves. Sure, we can get a 40 hour a work week, and the rest is free time. But that is 40 hours of YOUR LIFE every week that you are working for someone else, doing their menial tasks, and missing out on seeing your family. If you were back in the old days, you had to spend all day washing clothes, growing and preparing food, and making your own clothes, soap, etc. But it was FOR YOU! If you slacked off, then you had nothing to eat. Your family worked at your side next to you.

MORNING THOUGHTS-pioneer woman

I used to have a monotonous job that I knew exactly what to expect everyday. That job bored me to tears, and I hated it.

Now I have a job that challenges me. Everyday is something new. Now I crave the familiarity of boring.

I have issues with having a job just for a paycheck. I feel like I should enjoy it, and be happy to go and spend my time there. This is where my anxiety comes from. What if I am wasting precious hours of my life doing THE WRONG THINGS? I don’t have a problem with being a responsible adult. I have problems with the precious moments of my limited life slipping away. That is why getting up every morning currently give me life-altering anxiety.


When I was in school, I once thought if I sat for long enough and thought hard enough, that I could figure out how the universe was created. I tried it one day.


But this illustrates my point. WHY can’t I just accept the Big Bang theory or Creation or Aliens grew us in their laboratory? Why do I feel like I have to do everything myself? It was the same way when I started my quilt. I didn’t want to read any books about it or ask anyone. I just wanted to invent my own way.

I am a person who felt guilty leaving my dog at home by herself for 4 hours daily. My husband and I worked different shifts for years, and one consideration for that for me was always that the dogs did not have to hold their pee for 8 or 9 hours. Now, our one remaining dog is now along for 9 hours in a day. But we avoided it for as along as possible.

Other people seem to be able to just work 40 hours (or more) and drop their kids off at daycare with no problem. Some people do this from the time that their children are born. I was lucky enough to have three years at home with my rug rat.

What is wrong with me? Why do I have to question every tiny aspect of my life to try and figure out if it is right or wrong until everything just seems wrong? Why can’t I just chill and be happy?

And the thing is, when my kid and I were at home, he spent large quantities of time watching television and trying my patience until I yelled at him. Maybe he is better off learning educational fundamentals and surrounded by adults who have to be more patient with him, because it is against the law not to?

I can’t be the only one bothered by all of this. My asbestos friend makes an annual list of why she home-schools. Near the top (not that the reasons are ranked) is always “we would miss our girl if she was gone to school for 8 hours everyday.” She works part-time, so somehow her life magically balances out with lots of family time, even with all the volunteering she does. Her family gets along very well on little income.

My household does not. We bought our modest house at the height of the real estate market. We both recently bought new cars, now incurring car loans. We didn’t do this lightly. We had kept the old vehicles for 14 years and 10 years. But now we are trapped in this work cycle. It is not so bad for my husband. He worked 4-10hr days. Therefore, he gets a 3 day weekend every week.


Sometimes it hits me that my dog is gone.

My car is gone.

My best friend’s dad is gone.

All in the last month.

Soon I will be gone as well.

I have to hurry up and get my eight potential books published before it is too late…

(Maybe I should start with ONE book first.)

Picky Eater

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I was out to eat with some ex-coworkers recently at a nice restaurant someone had spontaneously suggested. I had no chance to research the menu online ahead of time, as I normally would. It turned out it was a seafood place. The typical conversation ensued as I looked at the menu.

CO-WORKER: You should try the seafood blah-blah. It is really good.
ME: I don’t eat seafood.
CO-WORKER: Aren’t you a vegetarian?
ME: No, I don’t eat vegetables either.
CO-WORKER: Then what do you eat?…You’re a picky eater.

I should have ended this exchange with “Pop Tarts”. But I didn’t. I admit, it is a little paraphrased. But I know how the conversation goes. I have had it a ton of times over the course of my life. And “You’re a picky eater” is always said as an accusation. I wonder if it is the same way people react when they find out someone is gay.


well done steak
pizza (just cheese or with green pepper or onion or ham)
cherry poptarts (strawberry* and brown sugar are
acceptable, but not preferred)
carrots (cooked)
mac & cheese
ice cream
cole slaw
lettuce (but it hurts my stomach)
hot dogs
well done hamburgers
white rice
white or wheat bread
pre-peeled oranges
pre-cut melon
select kinds of cheese (NOT KRAFT)
honey mustard
eggs (but not a big fan)
celery (cooked)
BBQ sauce

cottage cheese
American cheese (unless it is from McDonald’s)
mayonaise (unless in Deviled Eggs)
potato salad
macaroni salad
all fruit and vegetables not listed in the “I EAT” column
brown rice
beans (except jelly beans)
red onion
foreign food of any kind, except tacos and quesidillas

* delicious strawberry flavored death!

Now, I realize my “I EAT” column looks like it belongs to a toddler. But in truth, my toddler eats a more well-balanced diet than I do. But I have stayed alive all these years on this fine American processed food. And I grew another being while eating this food.

You have to realize, being a picky eater isn’t a choice. I was born this way. It is a curse. It is a burden I must bear. Some of the foods I don’t eat I have tried and hate, like pineapple and coconut. Some smell so bad, I would never want to put them in my mouth, like seafood and coffee. Some I have never even tried and have no desire to, such as tea.

Actual conversation outside Teavana at the Franklin Park Mall:
SALESMAN: Would you like to try a sample of blah-blah tea today?
ME: I don’t drink tea.
SALESMAN: Oh, then you should try blah-blah. It has a very un-tea-like taste.
ME (thinking): Um, if I don’t drink tea, then obviously I don’t know what it tastes like then, do I?

Think of all the social situations that food plays a part in. I always had packed lunch at school because I wouldn’t eat the school lunch. The entire four years I commuted to college, I never ate in the dining hall. (I used to get nachos from the snack bar occasionally, that was it.) At work, I rarely bought anything from the cafeteria. Potlucks are their own minefield. It is amazing how many dishes have hidden sausage or mayo or cream of mushroom soup.

Chicken nuggets, anyone? Yummers!

Recently, at a family event, I had the following exchange with an Aunt who is the most prim and proper person. She would believe she has excellent manners.

AUNT: (looking at my plate) Is that ALL you are going to eat?
ME: Yes.
AUNT: Are you a picky eater?
ME: Yes.
AUNT: You don’t want any this or that?
ME: I’m good. I found some things. Thanks.

Isn’t it bad manners to make a guest feel bad about what is on their plate?

Why no green pepper?  I can't ask.  Heart racing, breath quickening. Photo:

Why no green pepper? I can’t ask. Heart racing, breath quickening.

Cici’s Pizza is a nightmare for a picky eater with anxiety issues. Cici’s is a pizza buffet. They put out like 20 kinds of pizza at a time. But, of course, nothing for a picky eater. You can ask for any kind of pizza and they will make it for you and add it to the buffet. Except you have to be able to get past your anxiety and open your mouth and ask for it and not fear the rejection you expect to come.

As a life-long picky eater, I worry the rest of the world wants to reform me. (I know, I worry too much.) That they want me to broaden my horizons. I feel like the world thinks if I am forced to eat something, I will like it and eat it forever and ever. It is another way I feel that I am different. That I am wired wrong. But I should stop thinking that way. Because everyone else has their issues.

Some people overeat. Some people undereat. Some people smoke. Or drink. Or do street drugs. Or prescription drugs. Or run marathons. I don’t judge those people. (Well, I do judge the ones who run marathons. I judge them to be crazy.) Being a picky eater is my thing. Hey, I know. Let’s start calling it “selective eating”. That sounds more politically correct.

Yes, I am not wired THAT much different than everyone else. I am just a selective eater. And addicted to caffeine. And I mis-match my socks. And I have issues with tissues.

If I was a character on a sitcom, I could write great jokes about myself. *sigh*

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