Ya All know my new magnificent obsession is the second book. I sure hope someone wants to read this stuff because I can't seem to stop myself. Anyway...several people have asked when they get to read it. I figure if I let ya all see too much of it, and I actually ever get it published, all what, ten of you who either love me enough, or are curious about me enough, or just want to see if there is someone who looks, sounds, or smells, like you in it; won't need to buy it. (I promise there are no sentences this long in the book. Rick helps with my self edit and he keeps messing it up with punctuation).

To make along story short. In just a few more sentences, well maybe paragraphs I'll give you a little scene from the book. First, I want to tell you something about Rick. He proofs everything for me and is my sounding board. I know I'm making him crazy, well, more crazy with all of this but he is, for the most part a good sport. The thing that makes him the most nuts; he keeps looking for himself in one of the characters. When I killed someone off, he was sure it was him. The truth for me and probably most writers is that every character comes from our minds, add to that the people and experiences we have had. In my books there is not a single character that is anyone person I know but a conglomerate of all people I have known,met or observed somewhere in the past however many years.

Yesterday I had to write a small scene to give my character motivation to leave the room and seek out her grandmother. I started to write a minor disagreement. By the time I was through I was laughing so hard I had tears running down my face. I'm not really that funny but this scene was so Rick. He actually does some of these things (the light fixture thing). I really believe anyone who has ever been married, had a son or a male roommate can relate. Men cannot find anything by themselves and they get crazy looking for things.

Don't be afraid to let me know what you think. (It has only been edited by me - a scary thing -so it's pretty raw and there may be typos, but you'll get the idea.)

“Oceanna help me find my dark suit,” Alex asks pulling everything out of his duffel bag.

“I sure hope it’s not in there. I don’t think it’s here. The only time I saw you in the dark suit was your first night back. We stayed at your Uncle Stavros’ house that night, maybe it’s still there,” I offer.

“No, Jared brought it here with the light suit. The one I wore at the wedding. I must have the dark suit for tomorrow. Do you know where the dark blue shirt is?” he says, looking around the room, like he’s going to see it hanging from the light fixture.

Is he kidding me? “I don’t know anything about the suit, but I do know where you dark blue shirt is, if it’s the same one you wore for the wedding?”

“Yes, that is it,” he says and looks at me like I saved the day.

“Alex, that blue shirt is stuffed in the backpack at the goatherd cabin. Don’t you remember I wore it when we left?”

The look on his face says I had better stop what I’m doing and help him find the dark suit because now I’m the spoiler of blue shirts. Besides, I can’t find my little black dress or my black jacket.

“Is there a closet in this room,” I ask.

“Of course,” he says showing me an old fashioned tall chest with large double doors.

It looks like an old fashioned tall chest with double doors not a closet. I roll my eyes and open the doors. Sure enough, it’s a closet, and there is Alex’s dark suit, the light one, my dress and jacket all hung up neatly. Now I am the savior of suits, but he still needs a shirt and the next crisis is a tie.

“Just wear your shirt open at the neck. I have never seen you wear a tie,” I try to console him.

“This is a funeral. I must have a tie,” he says.

“Alex, you don’t have a shirt. Who gives a damn about a tie,” I say, giving him what I hope is my death stare.

Alex looks at me and starts to laugh. So much for my death stare.

“What is so funny,” I ask and hard as I try not to; start to giggle myself.

“I think we are fighting,” he says.

“Humm,” I say not wanting to agree. I know he is right. “I’ll be right back.”

I head straight for my grandparents room. Sam gave him a shirt that fit a few days ago, maybe he has another one and a tie.

I tap on the door and whisper as loud as I dare, “Grandma are you guys still awake?”

She opens the door so fast I wonder if she was standing behind it waiting for me.

“What do you need, honey?” she says drawing me into the room.

“Alex needs a shirt and tie for tomorrow. Does Sam… Grandpa have something he could borrow?” I ask.

“Sure,” Sam says and nods his head toward a ‘closet’ like the one in our room. I did not even notice him sitting on one of the couches.

I look in the closet and see that there are several dress shirts. I glance over my shoulder at Sam and shake my head. For eighteen years I don’t think I ever saw him in anything but a t-shirt. The first time he dressed up was at my mother’s wedding and then again at mine. I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t know these people at all.

“Maybe I should bring Alex back and let him pick. He’s stressed out about what he’s wearing and everything I do or suggest seems to be wrong,” I say.

“Come over here and sit down a minute,” Grandma says.

“I should go back. I’m sure he needs me to find his shoes or something,” I say and sink down into the couch opposite Sam.

“Honey, Alex is worked up about something bigger than his wardrobe,” Grandma says.

That's it. Your comments are welcome and appreciated, but be kind.

Keep in mind, when I write 'thinking is optional'.