I finally admitted I'd outgrown my kindergarten-level Samsung Galaxy Core Prime smartphone and upgraded to a Galaxy 7S a little over a week ago. I could sing love songs to this new phone. And I am extremely grateful to my favorite Verizon guy who took the task of transferring all my "stuff" from the old phone to the new. Technology-wise, the smaller the learning curve for me, the better. One of the things I did before putting my old phone on the shelf was transfer the photos I'd taken on it over the last two years to my computer. I've deleted more than I kept because--let's face it--3 megapixels. The camera sucked. But here is a sampling of life as captured by my cell phone camera over the last two years. Beginning with lunch with my friend, Terri Watson, in Nashville, TN. Such a fun afternoon! Great memories. An in-the-wild book sighting of Bridges Burned: Kensi daring me to keep working on edits: Caught on Mystery Lovers Bookshop's ...

My very first post when I started this blog was about the maiden voyage of our "new" camper. That was back in 2006. After a few years of road trips, we settled it on a "permanent" site in a campground in Confluence. Hubby would go fly fishing. I would write. It was my writing cave away from home. That was 2009. A few years ago, we moved from our "permanent" site to another spot and then another. Same campground. Different neighborhood. Alas, the new neighborhood was a bit more crowded and noisy than the one up on the hill. But it was still an escape from the obligations back home. And it was still my secondary writing cave. Times change. My back doesn't tolerate the camper's bed as well as it used to. "Obligations" back home have changed, too. Now I sit there, two hours away, waiting for the phone to ring with news that I need to rush to the ER for my mom. Yeah, it's not the relaxing escape it once was. So we've decid...

The SECOND draft is done! Yes, I’ve crawled out of the writing cave yet again. With a Vengeance has been sent off to my beta readers—fresh eyes to read the entire manuscript straight through. In the meantime, I’m taking two weeks off to do other things. Like blog. And begin outlining the next Zoe Chambers mystery. And get out in the sunshine! This weekend, my camera and I hit the bike trail between Ohiopyle and Confluence on a beautiful summer day. I wasn't the only one enjoying the day. This guy was fly fishing at the confluence of the Casselman River, the Youghiogheny River, and Laurel Hill Creek. My hubby was out there on the Yough (pronounced YAWK) somewhere, too, but this wasn't him.  Here's a view of Confluence...both the town and the spot where the Casselman comes in from the upper right, is joined by Laurel Hill Creek on the upper left, and merges with the Yough at the bottom of the frame. Further along the trail, I took a few moments a...

We’re trying it again. Our local Sisters in Crime chapter seems to have a reputation for not being in Mother Nature’s good graces. We had a blizzard the day Hallie Ephron came to town to present a workshop for us. Our Christmas party was cancelled one year because of a major ice storm. And our last writing retreat in the spring of 2010 will forever be known as The Great Flood and Writers’ Retreat . But ever undaunted, we’re taking another stab at it. This weekend, we’re heading back to Confluence, although we’re staying in a different place this time. The scariest part for me is the fact that I've somehow become the sole presenter. I never intended it that way. It just happened. And we only have one other attendee who is a Great Flood survivor. The rest are all newbies, eager to find out what natural disaster will befall us this time. Frankly, I’m afraid the natural disaster will be me, boring them all to tears. Yes, my insecurities are showing. At least I got a nice bo...

For the last four weeks, all I’ve been doing is A.) writing like mad and B.) driving back and forth to our camp in Confluence. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m taking part in a critique boot camp . We’re three weeks into it, and the experience has been amazing. What I THOUGHT was a nearly ready-to-go manuscript has undergone a huge transformation. Week #1 was what I’d call “the rude awakening.” Like me, all of the participants went in thinking we didn’t have all that much work to do. Ha! WRONG. Week #2, we presented our attempts at correcting the problems we’d found out about in week #1. Let’s just say, I stopped at the store on the way home to buy some conciliatory chocolate. Afterwards, I had something of an epiphany… a way to possibly fix the pesky problems that just weren’t going away. It was one of those head-slap moments. Why didn’t I think of that before? Like six years ago??? Week #3 found some of us still scratching for a toe hold, while others were succeeding in climbi...

I usually love to retreat to my cave away from home, our camp in Confluence. On most of our trips, I get a lot of work done. And the cats enjoy looking out the windows at the rabbits, squirrels, wrens, moles, and chipmunks that frequent the underbrush behind our trailer. However, the last two times we’ve been here, my peaceful work environment has been shattered by—NEIGHBORS. Part of my problem with people living in close proximity is the fact that I grew up on a farm. Our neighbors were cows. The human variety lived at a comfortable distance. I could walk to visit my friends. But they couldn’t look in my kitchen window. Even now, at home I only have human neighbors on one side of our house, and they’re as reclusive as I am. We wave at each other when we’re out in our yards. But that’s about it. My mom lives nearby. I can walk there in under two minutes. But I can’t hear her talking to her lady friends on her phone. Here in Confluence, we’re squeezed in between two other camps....

Kensi wasn’t all together certain she liked this camping stuff at first. She spent most of our two initial trips to the camp in Confluence hiding in the closet. During the day. She made up for it at night by exploring every nook and cranny and getting into stuff that I didn’t even know we had. However, she’s now a seasoned camping kitty. She and Skye actually get along, sitting side-by-side on the table, looking out at the world. You’ll have to take my word for it, because I didn’t get a picture of them together. For cats, windows are like television. Windows with screens add the extra dimension of smell-o-vision. Our windows have some pretty good programming in Confluence. There was a family of wrens who liked to sit on my bicycle and scold the cats. There were also moles, chipmunks, and a pine squirrel. Hubby tells me pine squirrels are the Pit Bulls of the squirrel population. I say they’re more like Chihuahuas . Small, but they have no inkling of their diminutive stature. And t...

Our camp in Confluence has always been my own personal writing retreat. After a week of missed writing opportunities, I look forward to a couple of days away to boost the old word count. Such was this past weekend. We arrived at the campgrounds by 10AM and settled in. After a short bike ride to loosen up after the drive (and to check the river conditions for my fly fishing hubby) and some lunch, Hubby headed for one of his favorite fishing spots, and I unpacked my laptop. Which is when I had one of those slap-myself-upside-the-head moments. I’d forgotten to pack the power cord. Yes, I said a few choice bad words. Followed by a few more. I hadn't even fully charged the battery. So I had very limited computer time for the next few days. But once I calmed down, I found a bright spot in my gloom. Instead of staring at the computer screen trying to conjure up words, I turned the gadget off and pulled out my notebook and purple pen. (I love funky colored inks!) For the next two d...

As I mentioned earlier, I had grand plans for the weekend. What I didn’t mention is that the “cave” I was crawling into was our camp in Confluence. I usually get lots of work done there. The first sign of things going awry was the news on Friday that my Kentucky Derby pick, Uncle Mo, had been scratched. But writing-wise, I was on a roll. Hubby was off doing his fly fishing thing. Both cats were napping. Life was good. Then Hubby came back to camp complaining about his shoulder. By Saturday morning, he was totally miserable. He hadn’t been able to sleep. And when I asked him if he wanted to go home early, he said, “Yes.” Not the answer I expected, so I knew he was in serious pain. So my writing plans went up in smoke, and we headed home. My consolation prize was getting to watch the Kentucky Derby on TV instead of online. By post time, I’d finally made my picks: Soldat, Dialed In, and ArchArchArch. Typical of my weekend, none of them finished in the money. I thought, well, maybe I’d get...

As I mentioned last week, Confluence beckoned. And we responded. We spent the last two days at our camp. It wasn’t a vacation. It was more of a test—seeing how certain new components worked out. Hubby had torn out our old lumpy, mushy bed and redid the thing. New plywood. New mattress. New covering. It worked out pretty well. I think it’ll be much better for our backs and sleep in general. I say “I think” because I couldn’t swear by it. Not this weekend. There was no sleep for me regardless of the new bed…because of the other new component. Kensi. If you followed this blog at all over the last couple of years, you already know that Skye is a wonderful camping kitty. She loves it. Travels well. No fuss, no muss, no bother. We went and messed up our lovely, drama-free camping home by adding one small cat to the mix. Kensi meowed the entire two-hour drive to Confluence. Also, the entire two-hour drive home. In between, she explored. In less than two days, she found nooks and crannies and ...

It snowed yesterday. This is hardly news. Winter roared in here December 1st and has refused to budge an inch. For months, all plans come with the disclaimer “weather permitting.” This morning I took a long hard look at the calendar. It’s April for heaven’s sake! Something clicked in my brain. It was audible. CLICK . It’s spring . Snow be damned. Okay, I’m also the person who, on day two of a head cold, is convinced I’ll be completely better by day four. Never. Happens. But today I’m in that kind of mindset where spring is concerned. I’m making plans to head to my beloved camp in Confluence…next week. I’ve decided the weather will be better by then. Just like day four of a head cold. The weather isn’t the only obstacle, however. We currently have no bed at the camp. And we tore the plumbing apart before we left last October. The bed has long been a source of pain and annoyance for us. Neither Hubby nor I have the best backs in the world. We both had too much fun in our younger days. (W...

It’s too early for spring fever, but signs that we’ve had our fill of winter are cropping up all around. This coming Wednesday is Groundhog Day. The little town of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania becomes the focus of the world for one morning each year. Punxsutawney isn’t all that far from here. Easy driving distance to be honest. However, don’t look for me in the crowd. More often than not, February 2nd is a crappy, gray, cold, snowy day, and I am not a morning person. Besides, is there any doubt what the little rodent is going to predict? If he sees his shadow, six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, about a month and a half. No, I look for other signs of spring. Hubby is talking about getting his fishing license. That’s a good one. The RV show in Pittsburgh has already come and gone. I missed it, though, darn it. Last winter, I had great fun there, although I still refuse to consider owning a camper that’s nicer and bigger than my house. The best sign of spring for me came in the mail t...