A New Release - The Christmas Countdown - It's Crazy!

The days are ticking away and Christmas is fast approaching...and I haven't done any Christmas shopping. In my defence, I have a book coming out on December 10 which has pretty much taken my attention. But we'll get back to that later. For now it's my abysmal lack of Christmas preparation that has me a bit frazzled. I admit I did have the "how are we doing Christmas supper" talk with my brother. This year is going to be a bit different as we've decided to split the cooking and meet in the middle - mom's. My mother has always hosted Christmas which sounds like an imposition on her. In reality, it's what she's always wanted. And we do the cleaning up - now we're doing the prepping up too. This year she's supplying the place and us the food. Although I did hear she's cooking turnips.

Sigh.

Don't know about you but I've never liked turnips. There's something about that root vegetable that just - well it's one of those things you eat so you don't starve.


Anyway, today I'm pushing that toe deeper into the waters of Christmas preparation and hauling out the Christmas decorations...  this evening. We'll see how that goes. But for now, with no ornaments out and about - I'll share a pic of my recent visitor looking suitably Canadian/Winter/Christmas with her touque.

Yes, another five second photo shoot - she was not much enamoured of the touque. And, I know, I'm pushing things here but my next post, I promise, will be festive.


In the meantime, we're counting down not just to Christmas but on December 10 The Tears We Never Cried is releasing. Have you pre-ordered your copy?

Here's an excerpt from The Tears We Never Cried:

Prologue
From the diary of Jessica Jane McDowall
I’d always thought that death should come quickly. There’s nothing humane about lingering. But nature is cruel and there’s no finer example than what happened to Mama.
Mama’s illness was the worst of a string of bad luck that only brightened once with the birth of my daughter, Cassandra Lynn. But life is a fickle thing. You give life and then you have life taken away.
Mama and Dad have been gone for almost a year, my husband, Tom for quite some months. It’s only me and Cassie now and that part feels right. What feels wrong is the fact that my parents are gone. I know I’m too old to feel like this. After all, I’m the mother of a nine- year-old, but I feel like an orphan. I have nothing left of Mama but the pearls she so loved.
I plan never to tell Cassandra what happened to Mama. I know it’s about as useful as collecting good luck charms. I feel if I don’t talk about it, then it has become rather like Pandora’s box, safe as long as it remains tucked away ... unseen ... unknown ...

Chapter One December 6
I remember the moment it happened. I had barely pulled away from the curb, done a quick shoulder check, and that’s when life broadsided me.
I was thirty-nine, coincidentally exactly forty weeks from my fortieth birthday. I’ve lived forever since that moment, or so it seemed. Even though it was really only a year and change out of my life, that day that began it all. It was a day like any other except ... I swear the ring on my phone was louder than normal. And Mother’s voice was strident and demanding.
“Cassie, you best get over here now. I’ve lost my best pen and they’ve taken my Christmas cards away.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but the panic in her voice was real and like nothing I had heard before.
“Cassandra McDowall?” The disembodied voice was no longer my mother’s, but instead one that was male and full of authority.
“Yes.” Somehow my fingers were already knotting in trepidation of what he might want.
“This is Tod Rushinski, staff sergeant with the Regina City Police.”
My palms began to sweat.
“Your mother is Jessica Jane McDowell?”
“Yes.” Fortunately it was the only word required for it was the only word I could choke out. The police never phoned for a good reason.

“We have your mother here at the station.”
“My mother? Is she all right?” Images of my tiny mother, cuffed and chained, surrounded by burly police officers poised to pounce at her slightest move sent shock waves through me. I imagined the terror on her face, her usually neatly coiffed hair askew. Horror reels played through my mind. Mother hurt, injured, attacked by unknown thugs.
Elder abuse, rape, mugging.
Mother, her coral pink lipstick smeared across one crinkled cheek, swinging her purse and being taken down and left bruised and alone by a dumpster.

Who could have done this to her? What had happened? I couldn’t choke out the question. Instead I had a chokehold on the steering wheel....

So sit down with a glass of your favourite beverage and relax, enjoy the season and watch one of those Christmas movies or read your copy of The Tears We Never Cried a book that explores love in ways that go beyond romantic love - perfect for the season. Or, at least I hope... Get your copy and see for yourself.

If you're on bookbub - check out the contest that's running there. Give me and other authors a follow and be entered to win a gift card. Fessing up - there's a number of social medial links you can follow us on - I'd prefer Bookbub, just saying. But in the end - fingers crossed that you enter and win! 

Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

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One Week In A Care Home

I've blogged little this year. Time got away from me. Mainly because I was stuck in the mire of what else was happening in my life. I wasn't sure how to write about it or if I wanted to say anything at all. But what I've experienced this year and even last year, what's been creeping up slowly - was the return of dementia, Alzheimers, whatever you want to call it, into my life. Recently I decided that it's as much a part of my life as my writing is. It's time to fess up. After having lost my dad to this horrid disease I now face it with my mother in law.  Whether there was something that could have been done, less sugar, less stress or whether it was just a shitload of bad luck, it's crappy and there's nothing to be done to fix it, only manage it. Besides, Mum's not gone. We're figuring this thing out as we go along. And, there's still a whole lot of fun and laughter to be found. Crap happens and then we laugh. So let me share and tell you how the year began.

Ma D or Mum (my mother-in-law) moved into a care home shortly after the start of the year. This wasn't something she wanted to do or even believed she needed. In her mind she cooked for herself, cleaned her house and toodled around town in her little car. In reality, I had cooked the majority of her meals for over a year, chauffeured her to the majority of her appointments and with the rest of the family basically managed her life.  The car, well it sat in the garage with the keys tucked safely away. I'm not proud of the fact that we had to trick her into moving but it was the only way to keep her safe. When coffee was left on the burner for hours, when doors were left open in the midst of January on the prairie and with doors unlocked, and a friendly smile, she'd let anyone in - stranger or neighbour - it was time. So we began the arduous journey; wading through the options, readying her and her things for where she needed to go.

Mum fought through the early days of that first move in. It was tough for all of us but we'd found her the best place we could. Her own little suite where she could shut the door and call it her own, where staff checked on her and the meals are great. Except, problems came one after the other like a tsunami. Confusion at being moved doubled - a temporary occurrence thank goodness but one that had to be dealt with. So, week one I moved in for a few days to lend her the support it was clear she so desperately needed.

Day 1 in a Care Home

After a day of convincing her that this is her new home, after facing more failure than success - watching the 2018 Olympics seem to make everything right. But, night brings other troubles. Staff check on their latest resident throughout the night and each time she pops up on cue. On my end, the couch I sleep on is too short, even for me. It is too slippery too. The pillows shoot out from under my head and launch across the room. I just get them back in place when a sound has Mum sitting up in confusion. Settled once again and then it's the sheets that the staff so kindly lend me - they slip every time I move. So when Mum sits bolt upright in bed with a question as to where she is, the sheet slips off the couch as I sit up to answer every time, all half dozen times that she awakes through the night. I hunt down those pillows and remake that makeshift bed again - and again and... Morning takes a long time coming and finds me pre-breakfast sitting in a chair in the hallway wondering at six a.m. if the day that has only begun would ever end or if Mum will ever accept this place as home. It's the latter that has me worried. But Mum cheers up right after breakfast is served. Now, it is only the night that I dread. On the upside, the meals are great here and later in the day, for the first time ever, I actually enjoy pineapple on my pizza.

Day 2 in a Care Home
Mum's been the financial head of the household that once included the family farm, and she won't be fooled. So, when light is flooding under her door at midnight, she's concerned about what this might cost her. The issue comes up every hour on the hour through the night. I finally convince her that it is the hall light and the fact that the woman across the corridor has her light on and the door open. But, she's yet to believe that she's not going to be charged for the excessive use of power. And the next day, my short escape home for supper is interrupted as the care home calls - Mum is insisting on leaving and they fear they don't have the manpower to stop her.

I would laugh if it weren't so tragic. Mum used to be tall and strong. Now she is slightly shorter than me and when I take her hands in mine, she can't pull free. But she still gives the illusion of strength and her determination is legendary. So the night begins early as I head back to the home only to find Mum settled in her room with one of those fabulous staff members having taken charge and convincing her, for now, that this is home.

We go to bed early for I know the worst will come in the early hours of the morning starting from midnight on and there'll be no sleep after that. I'm sad as I tuck in those slippery sheets on that slick sofa thinking what has happened, how Mum's life has changed. But there's no choice, we need her safe.

Day 3 and 4 in a Care Home

The staff can make or break a place. Here, with welcoming smiles they've made Mum feel precariously comfortable. And, they make sure we're all watered, fed and happy, yes, even me who is planning an exit strategy soon. Meantime, I've stuffed a notepad and a pen in my overnight bag, just in case I have an idea or two for a story. Instead Mum believes it's time to go home and won't be convinced otherwise. I strike gold with the piano in the lounge and we both give it a go. It's the best therapy ever. Mum is a fabulous piano player - she can wing pretty near any piece with a combination of reading the music and playing by ear.

Fast forward a few months and we're celebrating Mother's Day. Except mum doesn't feel much like celebrating. We're playing bingo and she wants nothing to do with it. She shoves the bingo card at me
repeatedly and gets crankier each time she does it. I'm guessing she fears she may have forgotten how to play and doesn't want to embarrass herself. So I take charge of the card and gamely play. However, I miss one key fact - it's blackout bingo. So when I call bingo and they bring over the prize, the laughs on me when we realize that there is no win. On the upside, my embarrassment was worth Mum's smile.

And the journey goes on...

Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com

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What Are You Reading?

I'm one day behind on blogging the alphabet.  Does being one day ahead in the earlier letters give me any banked credit?  I thought not.  I also see that my reading might be a little behind too.  Possibly it's having five books on the go that's the problem.  Possibly it's those two book I'm trying to do edits on.

But all that aside here's some of what I'm reading.


Luckbane by Tony Breeden
In a dystopian future, online gaming is the ultimate escape… until one corporation gives a few lucky players the chance to play their favorite sword and sorcery game live and in person on a distant planet. In the inaugural Øtherworld campaign, the winners will face monsters, magic, warriors, dragons, and betrayal as they quest to find a weapon capable of stopping the dreaded Firelord and his armies.


Against Her Will by Peter Martin
Rape is every woman’s worst nightmare, an act so vile, so devastating, it robs the victim of any sort of dignity, leaving scars that can last a. lifetime. Having family and friends rally round can make all the difference in the world. But without this support the victim may never fully recover.
Donna is such a victim. 


Against Her Will is a dark story that draws you in right away and interestingly enough, written by a man.  Luckbane is a rollicking, fast paced story that took me into the amazing world of gamers.  So far, I'd recommend both.

What are you reading?



Ryshia
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