Enter the Smartphone

Okay! Here I am confessing: I must be one of the last people in the US to switch to a smartphone. On a trip to Atlanta to see a stellar grand-girl graduate High School, I was overwhelmed by family--both kids and grandkids--demanding that I get a better phone. So—I caved at last, regaled with all the storied delights that awaited me once I owned such a device. I returned home with said phone tucked inside a pair of socks. We had been too busy with visiting back and forth, hanging out, and attending various graduation festivities to go searching for a case through Atlanta’s daunting traffic.   I figured this would be a good time to make the big change, as I’d have two sons, two DILs and a grand girl to instruct me in at least some of the major arcana.

I was once considered a tech savvy person, but those days are loooong gone. There’s a certain inverted pride in still using a bona fide IBM keyboard from the 80’s, hitched to an early 2004’s computer. It is, however, getting to be more difficult to lag behind than to “get with the program,” as software, and hardware too, endlessly morph. IMHO, (as I learned to say on USENET) I suspect that all the “updating” is simply an excuse to wring more $$ from hapless consumers. One of my friends has a fantasy about MS65, a program geared to seniors, which would be guaranteed to run without chronic episodes of silicon insanity (could I perhaps be alluding to MS 10??) and also guaranteed not to change or alter in any way for a decade. That’s about the right amount of time for many of us cotton-tops to learn a software program these days, I fear. 

Of course, stability/continuity is not what software developers are into these days—the more things fail to work as promised, I guess, the better it is for business, or something. Anyway, while I’m griping, what’s with their penchant for hiding the most commonly used operations three or four—or five--pull downs deep? Is it so we have to humiliate ourselves and buy the latest copy of “…For Dummies”? And what’s with that “Search” that leads you into Alice in Wonderland conversations with   ?? Couldn’t "search" just continue to do what the word indicates that it does?

This morning, I awoke to the sound of chimes—my new phone, of course. I’d set the alarm, hitched it to the wall socket and left it wakeful. Now, I leapt out of bed, and attempted to turn the alarm off without first putting on my glasses. Next thing I knew, I’d taken four blurry pictures of myself. It took a few more minutes of struggle before I managed to figure out how to put the camera back to sleep and find the clock + alarm again. 

How did I, whose first and foremost mental image of “phone” remains the graceful black candlestick apparatus in my grandparent’s living room, enter a world where a small slim box in my hand can deposit checks, take pictures, tell time, and connect me to the internet and thence to untold wonders of consumption? As Charlie Brown so often said, "It boggles the mind."

~~Juliet Waldron

http://www.julietwaldron.com

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"Classic Ginger" HER Body, HIS Nightmare...Culture Shock by Ginger Simpson

Cynthia massaged her temples. "God, there's too much to remember. You can't expect me to store all that information in my brain. You went to an academy for months to learn all this stuff..." 

Suddenly her eyes widened. "I'm not going to have to shoot a gun am I?" 

"No! I've never even taken mine out of the holster. Don't worry. You'll do fine. Just remember the basics. You'll be surprised how things sink in even if you don't think they did. You'll remember what you need to know when you need it." 

"That's easy for you to say. I'm the one that has it the toughest." 

He scrunched up his face. "You? How can you say that? I haven't the first idea about how to be a woman, and we all know how complex they are." 

"We are not! Being feminine is very simple. Let me show you." 

She struck a pose that looked ridiculous and walked across the room. "The walk is the most important thing. Take small steps and lead with your hips. Let them be your guide.''

Alex's flinched at the sight of his masculine frame sashaying around the floor. Even more annoying was the way she made feminine gestures with his hands. 

He rolled his eyes. "There's no way I can walk like that, and I wish you'd stop. You're making me look ridiculous. Promise me you won't walk like that as long as you have my body." He jumped to his feet. "Real men walk heavy and hard ... and pull your shoulders back." He grabbed her forearms from behind, forcing her chest forward. 

She jerked out of his grasp, turned and glared at him. "Don't worry. I'll play up the macho thing, but I want to see you walk like I just did." 

He blew out a loud breath then reluctantly took one step, then another. The swivel didn't come naturally, but he tried following her example. Having a woman's form and a man's thought process was tough. The two didn't work well together. He walked across the room then turned. "Well, what do you think?" 

"I think you look like someone who just had casts removed from their broken legs. But, we'll keep working on it. I also need to show you how to sit properly, drink with poise, and how to be graceful." 

He grabbed two handfuls of her blonde hair and yanked in frustration. "Just kill me now." 

"I can't. You promised I wouldn't have to shoot anyone, and I don't want to be the first to un-holster your gun." Her giggle sounded forced. 

He sagged down on the sofa. "I guess I'll be spending the night again. Looks like we have a lot of ground to cover."

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Meet Beatrice Lulu Eberardt created by Roseanne Dowell

I’m Beatrice Lulu Eberhardt. Some of you know me from my niece Callie Johnson. Callie’s the new Chief of Police of our little town. I first appeared in her book, All in the Family.

Callie doesn’t know it, but she’s my favorite. She got annoyed with me sometimes because I tried to fix her up with a nice young man, well several nice young men. I didn’t want her ending up an old maid like I almost was. If Ed hadn’t come along – well I shudder to think what my life would have been like. Callie didn’t much care for any of the men I introduced her to. Praise God, she finally met a nice young man on her own.

But that’s neither here nor there. This story isn’t about Callie. It’s about me. That’s

right, me and pretty much no one else. I’m a bit of a sleuth. Some call me nosy or a busy body, but honestly, I’m only trying to help. I don’t mean to interfere.

It all started when Ed and I bought a cabin. It’s a beautiful place with its own lake. Ed loves to fish. We thought it would be fun to have a place just for us, away from everyone. You may not remember I’m from a large, crazy family. Crazy in a fun-loving way, of course. So Ed and I wanted a place to relax. Not that it’s turned out that way. We’re seldom alone. Guess it’s because we genuinely like people. So now days when we go up there, someone always comes along. Usually Ethel and her husband, Greg. Ethel’s my sister, by the way. I have two other sisters, also – Charlotte – we call her Lottie – and Lillian. Lillian is Callie’s mother, and I have a brother, Clyde, but we don’t see him as often.

Anyway, we bought the cabin and Ed and I went up there to clean it up. No one had been in it for years. Cobwebs filled more than the corners I’ll tell you that. It was going to take days, if not weeks, to clean it. But Ed promised we could fix it up and Ed never breaks a promise. That’s one of the things I love about him.

So there we were looking around, deciding what to do and Ed decided to build a fire to take the chill and damp out of the air. The place smelled musty, the way empty houses smell after being locked up for a long time.

Well there I was, thinking about where to start when I heard a strange clattering noise. I thought Ed fell or something. I turned around and lying on the fireplace hearth was an arm – well what was left of the arm, bones and tattered flannel from a shirt I assume. Although I’ve been told never to assume anything.

If you want to know what happens next you’ll have to read about it in All’s Well That Ends Well soon to be released from Books We Love.

If you haven’t read All in the Family – Book 1 of the Family Affair series, you can find it and all my books at Books We Love. Just click on the book and it’ll take you to the buy page.

Sunday Snippets from Ginger Simpson #sundaysnips

Note:  Cynthia has gotten up the nerve to invite her handsome neighbor for dinner.  Now, the old tenament in which they live is interferring with their getting to know one another.  Of course, there is still danger lurking around...

I'm camping in the smokey mountains, so this was a Friday Freebits at one time.  I think it bears repeating.  :)

"Whoa, what happened?" Alex asked.

Cynthia wanted to swear but restrained herself. "It's that darn breaker. The old fuse boxes were replaced, but nothing has been done about the ancient wiring. The breaker switch trips every time I plug in one extra thing. I have no idea how this building passed the code restrictions. Sometimes I actually see sparks fly when I vacuum."

His melodious laughter filled the darkened room. "Maybe you should slow down."

She poked him in the arm. "Very funny. I'm talking danger here, and you're making jokes." Despite the man-eating couch and the faulty wiring, the evening was still going far better than she'd hoped. She felt like she'd known Alex for ages.

"Do you know where the breaker box is?" he asked.

"Probably in the same place as the one in your apartment."

"Duh! Guess I should have figured that out. Do you have a flashlight?"

"In the kitchen drawer. I always keep fresh batteries there. It only took three or four times for me to learn they're a necessity at The Cairns."

She felt around for the coffee table and set her cup down. Rising, she groped her way into the kitchen to find the flashlight. She fumbled in the drawer where she remembered last putting it, and finally, her fingers closed around its familiar long handle.

The on switch wouldn't budge, but maybe Alex’s strong fingers could make the darn thing work. She turned and started back to the couch and ran smack into him. The flashlight fell to the floor with a thud. "Yikes," she yelled. "I thought you were still over there."

"I guess I should have stayed." He chuckled.

She dropped to her knees and began feeling around in the darkness.

"Ouch!" Her head collided with his. "What are you doing down here?"

"Just trying to be helpful."

His warm breath fanned across her face as she rubbed the point of impact on her forehead. "Thanks, I guess."

"Eureka, I found it," Alex yelled.

"Great! Now, if we can make it to the fuse box without any further incidents, that would be nice." She hoped her voice carried her smile through the darkness. 

While Cynthia held the light, Alex fumbled with the breakers inside the musty closet. Finally, after flipping each of them to find the thrown one, the electricity surged to life. Alex raised his arms toward heaven. "And the Lord said, 'Let there be light'."

"Thanks. You're pretty handy to have around. I’ve done it myself before, but I'm glad you were here." 

"Maybe you should apply for the apartment superintendent's position. God knows we need a good replacement." She picked a safe topic but her mind fantasized about another scenario. Maybe staying in the dark would have been more satisfying. Would it be so wrong if they shared a kiss so soon? She snapped back to reality, hearing her mother’s voice caution Cynthia about being a brazen woman. A first date is way too early for romance.

Alex held up a hand in protest to her suggestion. "Nooo! Not me. This building could become a lifetime commitment, and I'm not planning on staying here until I die." He returned to the couch, sat and downed the last of his coffee.

Hiding her disappointment, Cynthia put away the flashlight. "Would you like another cup? I'm sure what you just drank was disgustingly cold."

"No thanks. I'm fine."

She joined him on the couch. Tucking one leg beneath her, she leaned closer. "Talking about the super and his job…do you find him as non-responsive as I do?"

Alex nodded. "I think he's a lazy, no-good shirker. It's easier to fix things myself then have to keep calling him. He's no better than the one who used to work here."

"Oh, I didn't know the other one, but this guy has only been in my apartment once since I moved here, and that's enough for me. He gives me the creeps. He has those beady little eyes and looks like he hasn't bathed in weeks. I just keep my fingers crossed that nothing else breaks." She eyed her door.  “Of course, I’m still waiting for him to come fix my deadbolt.”

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Now...hop on over to my blog pals and see what they have to offer:  Tell 'em Ginger sent you.  *lol*

http://authorjamiehill.blogspot.com/  (Jamie Hill)

http://triciamg.blogspot.com (Tricia McGill)

http://romancingscifi.blogspot.com (Vijaya Schartz)

http://connievines.blogspot.com (Connie Vines)

http://yesterrdayrevisitedhere.blogspot.com/ (Juliet Waldron)

LIFE IS A TEST by Ginger Simpson #humor

Life is a test for most of us. Sometimes you just look up at heaven and ask God to give you an "F" and move along, but things aren't that easy.  We all have to endure what comes our way.

I can remember when my test started. I was a “fat” child—even before the days of fast food and hormone-injected burgers. If one survived all the fat jokes and unkind remarks, then that person was sort of a survivor.  Bullies have been around since the beginning of time, trust me.

 Oh, you don’t know you’re being tested until you become an adult and wonder how you made it through those times. At least today, kids can blame their weight on their eating habits and the fact that both parents are forced to work and don’t have time to cook nutritious meals…in my time, my mother stayed home with us and cooked all our meals.

My dad worked in a raft shop for ninety-nine cents an hour. With four kids to feed, he used to “appropriate” things…like that word? That’s a new saying my husband  uses when he brings things home from work that he didn’t buy. Anyhow, my dad “appropriated” the canned rations that were used in packing life rafts.

Days that he brought them home felt like Christmas...those cute little tins with food inside. How fair is it that you can you get fat on rations that starving people, adrift in a life raft, eat to survive?

My mom had a strange habit of cooking one extra piece of meat.  Dad was a meat, potatoes and salad kinda guy, so that was our menu most of the time. Can you say “cholesterol”?

There were four kids and two adults in our family, and no matter how big the pieces were, she always cooked seven of them. I don’t think anyone wanted a second helping, but there it was, lurking for whoever could eat the fastest. Every night was like a contest you really didn’t want to enter, and you didn’t really want the prize, but you were compelled to perform. It wasn’t until I had stomach surgery and had to learn to chew everything I ate that I actually realized food has a taste.

Being fat as a child is exceptionally hard on your ego. I was always the last picked in any recess games. That’s how you really learn to manage stress. You're forced to line up while two team captains,
usually the slimmest and richest kids in class, select their favorites…one at a time. The line gets shorter and shorter until you are the only one left. In itself, standing as the soul remaining pick does some severe damage to your self-esteem, but when the captains start offering you to the other team as a nicety…that’s the worst. Imagine standing red-faced while two people argue about you--and not because they want you.

First team captain:  “Okay, we have enough, you can have her for your team"
Second team captain:  No, that’s all right, you take her…it’s only fair.”

Fair, schmaire! What would be fair is if you didn’t have to play those stupid games of dodge ball in the first place. What fat kid wants to run around trying to avoid being hit by something that’s
as round as they are?


I hope this brought some laughter to your day.  Now, I sort of wish I could go back to those dodge-ball playing days.  :)

Check out my books on my web site http://gingersimpson.com.  If you find any broken links, please let me know.  I'm open to suggestions, too, since I did the design myself.

Sunday Snippets with Ginger Simpson #Sundaysnips

FROM CULTURE SHOCK THIS WEEK:

NOTE:  Someone is still watching.  Have you guessed who yet?  And things are about to get humorous.

He returned to his dreary apartment and sagged onto the couch. His gut fisted with anger. The two of them were together again. As much as he despised cops, he hated the blonde bitch more. Images of them embracing and sucking each other's tongues turned his stomach. The idiot probably wasn't even aware how she worked her wiles to entice him into a passionate frenzy.

Pounding his fist on his knee, he grimaced, not at the pain but with determination. There was only one way to save his fellow man and it fell directly in his lap.

***

Alex's fork clanked against the bottom of his empty salad bowl, and he wiped his mouth with his napkin.

Cynthia tensed, waiting for him to comment on dinner.

"Do I have any charcoal in my teeth?" He displayed his pearly whites in a wide smile.

Cynthia threw her napkin at him. "Oh, it wasn't that bad ... was it?"

"No." He grinned. "Everything tasted fine. I was just kidding because I knew you were stressing over the chicken."

"I'm usually a pretty good cook, but someone was distracting me." Making a face at him, she stood, cleared the dirty dishes from the table and put them in the sink.

"Are you saying that you burned the chicken because of me?" Alex called after her.

She turned and put her hands on her hips. "Make up your mind. Either it was burnt or it tasted okay. Which is it?"

She started to fill the basin with water, but after holding her hand under the faucet for a time, decided waiting for hot water might take forever.  She swished the soap around in the half-filled sink and gave up.  Besides, she hadn’t planned to wash them now, anyhow.  She had a better way to spend her time.

Alex pushed his chair back and stood. Taking his beer with him, he walked to the sofa. "Let's just forget about the chicken. Really, it tasted great." He patted the cushion next to him. "Come and sit."

Cynthia dried her hands then walked to the divan. Alex's arm rested along the back, a definite invitation to snuggle. She sat and pulled her feet up, tucked them beneath her and leaned back in the crook of his arm. "I really am sorry the chicken got a little overdone. Promise you won't hold it against me."

He closed his hand over her shoulder. "The only thing I plan to hold against you is me."

"Oh, really?" she said, not sure if he kidded her or not.

He put his beer on the table and pulled her into an embrace. "Yes, really.”  The sexy timbre of his voice made her shiver.

Before she could speak, he kissed her.

Her eyes closed and her lips parted to allow him access. She shuddered when their tongues touched. Words of caution played in her mind, but any restraint she had melted away as his kiss deepened and stirred her embers of passion into flame. She had waited all week just to savor his kiss.

Alex stretched out alongside her and snaked a cradling arm under her head. With his free hand, he traced her body's curvature, slowly moving his hand along the side of her breast, to her waist, and along the swell of her hip. A warming sensation lingered wherever he touched.

For propriety's sake, she should push him away and get up, but every nerve in her body tingled with want for him.

When his body arched away, she opened her eyes. With lips still locked to hers, he stretched toward the end table with a reach not quite long enough to turn off the light. The lamp craned in the opposite direction, and while grappling to keep it from falling, Alex's fingers grasped the ancient fixture's frayed cord.

Amidst flickering light, shooting sparks, and the shattering of glass, Cynthia contorted. She closed her eyes as a stinging electrical current coursed through her, arcing her against Alex. The powerful discharge bound them together by pure force.

Her eyes, the only part of her body she could voluntarily move, flew open in wide amazement. Nose-to-nose with Alex, she stared helplessly at him. Moments ago his luscious, blue eyes had been filled with desire, now they bulged in protest against the wattage. Suddenly, the room went dark. At last, the breaker had interrupted the current's flow.

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Sunday Snippets with Ginger Simpson Replayed on Friday -

Sorry for the confusion, but next month, Rita is going to be blogging on Fridays.  I'm in the midst of a move and today is my last day of Internet until next week.  Needless to say, I haven't had time to post a new blog, so you get a rerun here as well as TV.  Rita is only going to blog one more month then I'm not sure of the fate of the blog.  Don't know if I can keep it going by myself.  So...enjoy this scene from Culture Shock, and I'll be back on line as soon as I get service at our new place.  I'll be so glad to see no more boxes and bins.  :(

This Week from Culture Shock:

Alex stood in front of his locker and changed into his uniform, then checked his gear. He loaded ammunition into his nine millimeter, and fastened the gun in his holster. His thoughts constantly strayed to Cynthia. He couldn't get her off his mind.

"Hey, Alex!" His patrol partner, Mike, interrupted some pleasant thoughts. "I can't help but notice a smile on your face this morning. Usually, you're grumpy as hell on Monday." He dropped his jeans and changed into his own uniform.

Alex finished adjusting his tie and turned. "So, grumpy am I? How come you never mentioned it before?"

"I just figured it was your normal Monday routine, but you shot that theory all to hell. So, tell me…what’s changed?”

Alex closed his locker and started toward the exit. "None of your damn business!"

"Aha! A woman. I knew it!"

“You think you're so smart. What makes you think it's a chick?"

"What else could it be? You got laid didn't you?"  He tagged after Alex through the rows of metal cabinets, yapping at his heels like an annoying dog.

Alex snorted. "I wish. It's been so long, I'm not sure I'd remember what to do."

Mike caught up with him at the door and grasped his shoulder. "That’s something you never forget, partner. It's like a bicycle…you just get on and pedal as fast as you can."

The sex talk made Alex uncomfortable only because it brought visions of Cynthia lying beneath him. He shook off the image. "It's no big deal. Besides, I think your  time and attention would be better spent focusing on our assignment. We've got to uncover something to lead us to the killer. C'mon, it's time to hit the road and catch the bad guys." He pushed through the door.

After roll call, Alex handed over a sheet of paper to Mike which had addresses they were supposed to check out.  He hoped to avoid any further discussion of his personal life and concentrate on their job.  His hope was short-lived, when Mike grabbed his arm just outside the meeting room.

"Wait a minute. You aren't going to get out of this so easy. What's her name and where did you meet her?"

Alex shrugged off his grasp, and continued outside to their patrol car. "What does it matter? You don‘t know her."

"Come on, Alex. Spill." Mike followed on his heels, still yapping. "You've been celibate for almost two years ... or is it longer? I'm your partner. I need to know these things." He laughed.

Alex stopped with his hand on the door handle. "Okay, okay. She lives in my apartment building and her name isn't important. Are you satisfied?"

"You lied didn't you? You did it. Was she good?"

Alex opened the car door, but before he got in, he peered over the roof at Mike. “You’re a pig. It's not like that. We've only seen each other a couple of times and she’s a real lady.  Just get in the car."

As the passenger, Mike pulled his seat belt forward and inserted the buckle into the latch. "Well, if  you didn't get laid, and you're this happy, I don't know if I'll be able to stand you when you do."

Alex fought a smile and, leaving the Bayview Police headquarters, drove across Oakdale, in the direction where the latest victim had been found so he and Mike could go over the crime scene one more time in hopes of finding overlooked clues. The Crime Scene Investigation team made a thorough sweep of the area already, but the Chief wanted to make sure they missed nothing.  The pressure from the public over this case weighed on everyone’s shoulders.  Alex wasn’t one to leave things to chance so he was fine with a follow-up despite his partner’s complaining.

Alex made a quick right turn into a narrow alleyway and stopped the cruiser directly in front of the yellow police tape that still marked the spot. They'd have to walk to where the victim's body had been discovered.

A sick feeling crept into the pit of Alex's stomach when he stood over the spot where the young woman's lifeless body had been dumped. The chalk outline on the asphalt served as a grim reminder that someone had lost a loved one. He knew what that felt like. His jaw tightened with the growing need to catch the son-of-a-bitch who obviously enjoyed torturing people.

He turned to his partner. "Let's canvass the area one last time. You start at that end of the alley and I'll start at this end."

Mike sighed. "Alex, you know the area has already been gone over with a fine-toothed comb. What do you expect to find?"

"Look for anything that might have a bearing on the case. The perp's eventually going to screw up and leave something to lead us to him."

Mike stomped to the alley's opposite end. Head down, he took measured steps, but his low grumblings echoed off the brick walls.

"Any luck?" Alex called from halfway.

"No." Mike held up his hands. "But I don't know what in the hell I'm supposed to find."

"I‘m not finding anything either. I guess you're right. We may as well give it up, at least for now. We have the addresses of other nearby alleys. The perp seems to like them."

Back in the car, Alex started the engine. He glanced over at Mike. "Thank you for humoring me. At least I feel like we've really done our best."

Mike smiled. "No problem, partner. I might come across as a jerk when you ask me to do certain things, but your devotion is what I like about you. You always give a hundred-and-ten-percent."  He read off the next address for Alex.

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