Showing posts with label Roseanne Dowell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Roseanne Dowell. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 2, 2019
A Rough Month
It's been a rough month. I had surgery May 14th for a disc removal called Anterior Cervical Discetomy and Fusion (ACDF) It's the most common surgery for neck pain symptoms - in my case a pinched nerved caused by a problematic disc in the cervical spine. Typically the surgery is done through the front of the neck, hence the name This procedure is done in conjunction with a cervical spinal fusion to maintain stability where the disc was removed. (from excerpt)
At any rate, I guess I didn't quite understand front of the neck. Oh I researched everything about the surgery, the risks involved, recovery, etc. But for some reason, I didn't quite understand they were going to cut my throat. Okay, that might be embellished, but that's what it feels and looks like.
The scar isn't as bad now as when I first removed the bandage, the day after surgery.
I liked my doctor, but he lacked a sense of humor, which, when I get nervous, I make jokes.
So the day of surgery, the anesthesiologist came in to speak with me. One of my daughter's and my hubby were with me. He had a great sense of humor. He said when I woke up I might notice some tiny pin holes in my forehead and feet. These were from needles they used to check my nerves. So, of course in my nervousness, I joked. "So you're going to make a voodoo doll out of me." He found it amusing. Later, my doctor didn't when he said they glued me rather than stitched me. Oh well so much for humor.
The next morning as I sat down to breakfast, they came in to draw blood - only took a few minutes and the scrambled eggs were still somewhat warm. Before I could swallow them - oh that's another story I'll get to in a minute- someone came in to take me for an x-ray. So much for scrambled eggs
Hubby was there- God bless him - he had come in at six (parking is horrible much later and with his emphysema walking is difficult, so to get a good spot, he came early) - I told him to ask for a new breakfast if they came for the tray. But the cold eggs were still there when I returned. So I told the guy who brought me back to tell the nurse. A new breakfast came.
So, while I was in x-ray, one of the nurses said I was 5 - 6 because she was in surgery with me the day before. "5-6? I'm only 5 - 3. What did you do stretch me? I asked.
She laughed and said, "that was the disc they removed."
"Phew, I was worried. First they used me for a voodoo doll, glued me back together, and I thought you stretched me."
Well, they thought it was funny.
At any rate, I was prepared for the sore throat from the tube they put down and I was prepared for the incision pain. Can't have surgery without it. But I wasn't prepared for the pain from swallowing. I mean just normal every day swallowing, not to mention food. Although I did read that I might be on a diet of smoothies, ice cream, puddings, and soup for a while (Notice I mentioned the good stuff first). But the first meal they brought was soup, chicken, potatoes, broccoli, and peaches. That surprised me. I ate the chicken noodle soup (three noodles in the whole bowl) and it went down fairly easy, albeit painful. I managed to eat the chicken, couldn't swallow the potatoes and the cubed peaches were of the canned variety, which would have been fine if they hadn't sat out and dried up. At any rate, it was still difficult to swallow. Dinner consisted of soup and a cheeseburger, which somehow I managed to eat and swallow- small bites for sure. The scrambled eggs were fairly easy to eat the next morning, but the toast forget, too hard to swallow.
At home that night I ate penne pasta and that was okay - soft. However the next night, I choked on a steak fry - should have known better. After that I stuck to a diet of smoothies, soup, and scrambled eggs, with orange creamsicles for snacks in between. The frozen delight helped numb my throat and made it easier to swallow. That lasted for the better part of two weeks. The sore throat only lasted a few days, but swallowing - well let's just say it's still sometimes difficult and even today (June 10th) as I write this the incision hurts and my throat feels funny, like something's stuck in it or it's crooked or something. Hard to describe. I'm sure most of its the weather. Rainy again today.
So needless to sat, I've not been writing much, but all of this reminded me of Aunt Beatrice Lulu and her experience with Traumatic Brain Injury TBI. in All's Well That Ends Well - book 2 of the Family Affair series. Poor thing couldn't do anything for weeks. Like her, it drove me crazy not to be able to do anything. Finally 3 weeks after the surgery the doctor cleared me - for housework - oh fun. I'm dying to get out between the rainy days to do some yard work. Nope not yet. Probably not for six more weeks, that's the next time I go back. That's going to be mid July - right, the weeds will be so overgrown, I won't be able to pull them. Plus with all the rain, they'd pull out easy right now. By then it's going to be hot - Did I ever tell you I'm not a fan of hot. I like warm. I can even handle the cold - you can dress for that - but hot, well suffice it to say you can only take off so much. Most of the hot summer days are spent inside with the air conditioning.
Anyway back to Aunt Beatrice Lulu, she wasn't allowed to do anything either. Here's an excerpt:
Excerpt from All's Well That Ends Well
I paid for the paint and went next door to the bank. I always went inside because I didn’t trust those machines. Besides, I never could get close enough to those damn things and had to get out of my car anyway. I counted my money, put it in my purse, and headed outside. What happened next even I couldn’t believe. I no more got to my car and something jabbed into my back. Someone grabbed my car keys. He popped the trunk and ordered me inside. Yeah, like I was going to climb in there willingly. Was he nuts? Apparently so, because he pushed what I assumed was a gun harder against my back. I swung my purse around. “I’ll teach you to sneak up on someone.” He ducked, grabbed me by the ankles and knocked me down. Damn, I didn’t expect that. “How dare you? You don’t know who you’re dealing with!” I kicked backwards and missed. “Stupid old lady.” He laughed the evilest laugh I’d ever heard. “I’ve been called a lot worse than that. Just ask my former students.” I twisted and tried to hit him. “I’ll teach you a thing or two.” Again I missed. I got up on my hands and knees, grabbed at his ankles. Walla, down he went. I climbed on top of him. He wasn’t getting away. Oh, no. “I’ve got you now.” At least I thought I did. Damn fool flipped me over, grabbed my arms behind my back. “Dumb bitch! We’ll see who teaches who.” He pulled me up, bent me damn near in half, and pushed me into the trunk. Fear tore through me. I tried to scream but no sound came out. I fell into the trunk, and he slammed the lid. Darkness engulfed me. My claustrophobia kicked in immediately. My breath bounced off the top of the trunk. I tried to move. My heart raced. Pressure weighed against my chest and face, like someone knelt on me or smashed a pillow over my head. I gasped for breath. Nausea rose in my throat, I gulped it back. My stomach cramped, twisted, knotted. Something strangled me, squeezed my neck tighter and tighter, cutting off my air flow. I was suffocating. God help me, I didn’t want to die. Air! I needed air. My breath came in short gasps. I tried to move, but my arms were pinned under me. I swallowed and gagged. Finally, I laid still. I was going to die and no one would find me. I’d never see Ed again. Would he miss me? Come looking for me? Probably, but he wouldn’t know where to look. How soon would he realize I was missing? My life couldn’t end this way, could it? Suddenly reason returned. I had to breathe. I managed several deep breaths. Think. I needed to think. I twisted around and tried kicking the trunk lid. Of course it didn’t give. Tears slid down my cheeks. The trunk had a safety latch inside. If I could reach it, I could be free, or at least get some air. If I could just see. I moved my left arm, freed the other one from under me, and felt around. The latch had to be there somewhere. I pushed, pulled, and yanked everything I touched.
At last, the lid released. Light flowed in. I held onto the latch to prevent the trunk lid from opening all the way. We were moving, and I didn’t want to alert the guy driving. At least I had air. I peeked out. Nothing looked familiar. I had no idea where we were. We’d been driving a long time. Where was he taking me? Worse, what were his plans for me? I wasn’t about to find out, but I knew he was going too fast for me to jump out. The fall would probably kill me. If a car would come up behind me maybe I could signal to him. I remembered my phone. If I could just find my purse. I let in a little more light, tried to position myself to look around. There, at the back of the trunk. Moving around in the confined space wasn’t easy. I caught my purse with my foot, eased it toward me as far as my foot could move. Thankfully, far enough to grab it with my free hand. I felt around inside. Success, I grabbed my phone. Within seconds I pressed 911. “9-1-1 what is your emergency? “Help, I’ve been kidnapped. I’m in the trunk of my car.” “Can you give me your location?” “I have no idea. I was at my bank on the corner of Pearl and West 14th. We’ve been driving for a while, but I have no idea which way we’re headed. The car slowed, came to a stop, hopefully at a traffic light. I looked out, saw the street sign. “I’m at the corner of Parkbrook and Oakpark. I’m getting out.” Now was my chance. The trunk lid sprung open. I positioned myself to jump out. Not an easy feat considering my weight, but determination overruled. No more did my feet hit the ground and a siren sounded in the distance. The driver flung his door open. He looked me full in the face for a second, then took off running. I leaned against the bumper, heart beating so hard I thought it’d pop out of my chest. Never in my life had I been so scared. As if I suddenly realized the danger, my knees buckled. Dizziness overcame me. I came to with Callie leaning over me. “Aunt Beatrice Lulu, are you okay?” She knelt down next to me. “What happened?” I tried to sit up. “Just lay still, an ambulance is on its way.” “An ambulance? For what? “You hit your head pretty hard when you fell. You need to be checked out.” “I fell?” Again I tried to sit up, got dizzy, and fell back. Sirens sounded in the distance. My head hurt. “Yes, don’t you remember? You called 911 and said you were kidnapped. I got here just in time to see you fall. I’m sure you’ve got a doozy of a bump.” I wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t remember falling. Everything was foggy. Part of me remembered getting out of the trunk. I closed my eyes. It hurt too much to think. “I’ll call Uncle Ed to meet us at that hospital. Someone will drive your car to the station.” I opened my eyes for a minute as the EMTs put me on the gurney and wheeled me to the ambulance. All I wanted was sleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but Ed stood at my bedside when I woke. “You gave me quite a scare, honey pot.” He leaned down and kissed me. “You’ve got something called Traumatic Brain Injury, a type of concussion. You’ll have to take it easy for a while.” “Okay.” I didn’t have it in me to argue. My head hurt, and I was so tired I just wished he’d let me be. The room spun and nausea rose to my throat. I closed my eyes. At some point someone had put a collar around my neck. I didn’t know why, didn’t care. Suddenly my stomach
erupted and I threw up. I think a nurse came in and cleaned me up, but I can’t be sure. It might have been Ed. “They’re going to keep you overnight for observation,” someone said. Ed stood next to me, stroking my brow. Other people hovered over me, asking questions, looking in my eyes. I just wanted to sleep. Why didn’t everyone leave me alone? I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to talk. I must have dozed off again because next thing I knew an orderly woke me to take me to my room. Ed walked next to me, holding my hand. For the first time I saw the worry on his face. I didn’t remember exactly what happened, but had a vague memory of lying on the ground and Callie kneeling next to me. A nurse helped settle me in the room, talking softly and only turning on a dim light. I hated hospitals, doctors, and anything connected with them. Hated getting sick. To me it was a sign of weakness. At that moment, I didn’t care. Nothing I wanted more right then was to lie back and be taken care of. The nurse left and Ed came in and took my hand. Much as I loved him, I’d rather be left alone. Left to sleep and get rid of the throbbing in my head. I didn’t even care what happened. How or why I was there didn’t matter. Maybe tomorrow I’d care. “Go ahead and sleep, Bea. I’ll be here when you wake up.” The next time I woke up, a nurse stood over me, asking me questions. My head wanted to explode. Yet, it was like watching from outside my body. A weird feeling, I might add. It seemed every hour someone woke me, asked me a bunch of questions, and finally they gave me something for the pain. Someone, a doctor I think, asked me what happened. The last thing I remembered was staring at my kidnapper. I’d never forget that face. I didn’t remember falling. Callie told me I did, but you couldn’t prove it by me, except for the bump on my head. A nurse came in with soup a few minutes later and fed it to me. It’s not easy to eat soup lying flat even if you’re being fed. I think I wore more of it than I swallowed. They wouldn’t allow me to raise my head. Right! All I wanted was more pain meds. The next day they allowed me to go home. Never had I felt more outside myself. I didn’t know which way to turn. Everything moved in slow motion, and I waited for someone to tell me what to do. I couldn’t wait to get into bed and spent a week there allowing Ed to take care of me. Ed’s always spoiled me, waited on me, and pampered me, but never had I seen him so patient. Words formed in my head but wouldn’t roll off my tongue. Talking in full sentences became impossible. Stringing two words together was difficult at best, and frustration overwhelmed me. Pretty much all I wanted was sleep. Even the light from the windows hurt. Ed covered it with a blanket. I made several visits to the doctor – Ed took me because I wasn’t allowed to drive – my skull hurt and they prescribed strong pain medication. I admit it worked, but it also put on weight, and more weight I didn’t need. After a couple weeks I decided to go off it. I hated this feeling of helplessness. Other than doctor’s appointments, I didn’t leave the house, not even to sit outside, for almost two months. I walked around in a fog, unsure of myself, and found it difficult to speak. Poor Ed was a saint. Crying jags erupted for no reason and bouts of depression. No matter what Ed said or did, it didn’t help. Ethel paid me daily visits to no avail. Sometimes I spoke to her, sometimes I sat and cried. My mother, sisters, and nieces were so supportive. When I became frustrated, one of them would remind me I’d suffered a TBI – traumatic brain injury. Of
course, they’d tease and try to make me laugh by saying, “At least you know you have a brain.” I will admit, it often made me smile. The first time I went outside it felt like I’d not been out in years. Ed did an amazing job cleaning up the yard and taking care of my flowers. The trees started to turn and fall. It smelled good and the cobwebs in my brain finally cleared. I couldn’t wait to venture out by myself. That was by far the worst period of my life, and I’m still easily distracted, but Ed claims I’ve always been like that. Maybe so, but time goes on, and Ed promised a trip to the cabin. I could hardly wait. Callie stopped by with a batch of photos to look through. The first time she showed them to me, I could barely focus, and I agreed to go through them again. Unfortunately none of the men looked familiar. My kidnapper remained at large. For the first time in my life I didn’t feel like investigating. I didn’t like what was happening to me.
As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Weekly Winner ~ Get Fired Up For Summer Contest
Jackie, please email bookswelove@telus.net
to claim your prize.
Congratulations!
Books We Love
Get Fired Up For Summer with
Books We Love!
Monday, April 11, 2016
Books We Love's Tantalizing Talent ~ Author Roseanne Dowell
While working as a school secretary, Roseanne Dowell took a
correspondence course, writing for children. It didn’t take long to realize
that even though she had six children, it took someone special to write books
for them. That’s when she moved on to romance novels. But they sat in the attic
with her poems and journals.
In 2002 at a Book Club meeting, she confessed regret about
not pursuing a career in writing. That’s all it took. Her friends convinced her it wasn’t too late.
She decided they were right and took another writing course. Within a few
months, her first article was published in Good Old Days Magazine. Since then,
she’s had articles published in several magazines.
In 2006, Roseanne’s first book, Satin Sheets, was published
and sold over 35,000 copies. Since then, she decided to go the way of the
future – E-books. She writes various
types of romance – paranormal, contemporary, mystery and women’s fiction. Her
heroines range from their early twenties to late seventies. Yes, seniors need
love, too.
Roseanne has 16 books available from Books We Love
All’s Well That Ends Well
All in the Family
Love on the Rocks
Entangled Minds
Trouble Comes in Twos
Deadbeat Dads
Another Day
Geriatric Rebels
Ring Around the Rosy
Elusive Mission
Time to Love Again
Secrets, Lies, & Love
Shadows in the Attic
It’s Only Make Believe
Love on the Rocks
Special Edition
Amazon |
All in the Family - Book 1
of Family Affair Series
Taking
over the police chief’s job in her hometown should have been easy for Callie
Johnson. At least that's what she thought. After working in a big city, small
town crime would be a breeze. What a surprise when she arrives to find her
grandmother, the judge, accused of murder. As if that wasn't enough she’s
attacked while walking to her car. Between criminal investigations, her nutty
family’s antics and her Aunt Beatrice Lulu's matchmaking, Callie has her work
cut out for her. Will her grandmother be exonerated? Can Callie ward off her aunt’s
unsuitable suitors? What other surprises were in store for her? More
importantly, can she find the person who attacked her?
Amazon |
All’s Well that Ends Well – Book 2 of Family Affair Series
Aunt
Beatrice Lulu is back and creating more havoc than ever. When a body falls out
of a chimney in their newly purchased cabin, she takes it upon herself to
investigate. Just because her niece is Chief of Police doesn’t mean she should
mind her own business. Even her husband can’t control his busy body wife. It
doesn’t end there, too many things happening for Beatrice Lulu to overlook.
She’s bound and determined to figure things out on her own.
Find Roseanne's titles here: http://bookswelove.net/authors/dowell-roseanne/
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Happy St. Patrick's Day by Roseanne Dowell
Who was St. Patrick?
St. Patrick was a Christian missionary and bishop of Ireland. He was born int he fourth century to a wealthy family. He was kidnapped at age sixteen and taken to Ireland where he was held as a slave. Patrick worked as a shepherd for six years before he made his escape. He went home and later became a priest, returning to northern Ireland where he evangelized the pagan Irish. St. Patrick is Ireland's most prominent saint. He died on March 17th.
It seems everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day. People across the world celebrate the day.
Legend has it that people wear green to make themselves invisible to leprechauns, who would pinch anyone they could see.
March 17th is a national holiday in Ireland, but people of all countries celebrate. Many parades are held in honor of St. Patrick. Two of the largest are in New York and Sydney in the southern hemisphere. Thousands of people turn out in Chicago to see the Chicago River turned green as part of a tradition started in 1962, as well as the Vilnele River in Lithuania.
In London, a St Patrick's Day Festival begins on March 13 in Trafalgar Square. A colorful parade with performers from sports clubs, dance schools and community organisations leaves from Piccadilly at midday and ends up in Trafalgar Square.
Some countries show their support by turning buildings green for the day, including the London Eye and HMS Belfast in London, Trinity College in Dublin, the Pyramids and the Sphinx in Egypt, Sydney Opera House in Australia, Burj Al Arab in Dubai and the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro.
Many traditional foods are served on St. Patrick's Day. We eat corned beef and cabbage, but Irish Stew, Boxty Pancakes, Smoked Trout with Guinness, Jameson Whiskey Irish Ribs, and Barmbarck (traditional Irish sweetened bread) are also served.
Oh, and don't forget the Guinness.
Happy St Patrick's Day everyone.
Harassing phone calls from a killer terrify journalist, Susan Weston after her first big byline.
Detective David Morgan investigates the calls and the fact Susan’s bracelet was found at the murder
scene. Sparks fly between them in more ways than one. To make matters worse, someone is leaving roses in front of Susan’s door. Is she being stalked by a killer?
Detective David Morgan investigates the calls and the fact Susan’s bracelet was found at the murder
scene. Sparks fly between them in more ways than one. To make matters worse, someone is leaving roses in front of Susan’s door. Is she being stalked by a killer?
Available from Amazon
As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Books We Love Spotlight - Author, Roseanne Dowell
Roseanne Dowell wears many hats - wife (married 50+ years) mother of six, grandmother of fourteen, great grandmother of three, Avon Representative, author, and former school secretary, she writes a variety of genres from romance to mystery to paranormal and suspense, all with romantic elements and a bit of humor. Her heroes/heroines range from their mid twenties to their seventies. Yes, old people need love, too.
In her spare time, Roseanne enjoys quilting and embroidery, especially combining the two and making jewelry as well as other crafts, Her favorite past-time is spending time with her family, her second favorite thing to do is write. She's currently working on Book 3 in her Family Affair Series.
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Roseanne Dowell,
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As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
One of My Favorite Christmas Songs - Roseanne Dowell
One of my favorite Christmas songs is Round and Round the Christmas Tree by Bing Crosby. We start singing it right about now.
I'm sure by now you know I love Christmas. It's my favorite time of year. There's something magical about it for me. I'm not sure what it is, maybe it's my childhood memories or maybe it's being with family. I love everything about this time of year, shopping, the hustle and bustle of getting ready, buying gifts, even wrapping them. Not that I have many to wrap any more. Even though our family has grown by leaps and bounds, finances haven't. I've had to cut back and for my kids and the married (or coupled) grandchildren, I often make them something. The rest of my grandchildren get something small to open and a gift of money. To me spending time with my family is more important than any gift. It wasn't much different when we were growing up. Money was tight back then, also and gifts weren't plentiful. Honestly, I hardly remember any of my Christmas presents. Memories from the time spent with my aunts, uncles and cousins - well like the commercial says - Priceless.
Every Christmas Eve, my aunt and uncle came to our house with my four cousins for dinner. We had a traditional dinner -which I make to this day, but instead of having it on Christmas Eve, we do it a week before Christmas. It gives us another day to celebrate and be together.
After dinner, we always went to my grandparents' house where other aunts and uncles gathered. There weren't any gifts to open for anyone but my grandparents. Until this moment, I can't honestly say I noticed. Christmas wasn't about the gifts.Christmas Day we went to my aunt's and uncle's for dinner. Yes, the very same ones we spent Christmas Eve with. Again, no gifts were exchanged. It was a time for family, love, and making memories. Yes, Christmas is my favorite time of year and always will be.
To each and everyone of you, I wish you all a Blessed and Merry Christmas.
My book, Time To Love Again is about a widow who faces another lonely Christmas - Fifty-eight year old, Rose Asbury doesn’t care that people think she's a recluse or that the neighborhood kids thinks she's a grouch. She just wants to be left alone. She doesn’t need anyone and no one needs her and that’s just fine. At least she didn’t until this year. For some reason this year is different. Suddenly, Rose is melancholy and discontent with her life. And the man next door doesn’t help matters. He insists on speaking to her. So her stomach tumbles every time she sees him, that doesn’t mean anything. Hunger pangs, nerves, Rose just wishes he’d leave her alone. Or does she? To top it all off, his granddaughter and her friends insist on playing in Rose's yard, sledding, building snowmen and throwing snowballs at her house. Then Rose's sister’s ghost shows up and life changes drastically. Available at Amazon
Below is the song Round and Round The Christmas Tree. You can hear it on: YouTube
I'm sure by now you know I love Christmas. It's my favorite time of year. There's something magical about it for me. I'm not sure what it is, maybe it's my childhood memories or maybe it's being with family. I love everything about this time of year, shopping, the hustle and bustle of getting ready, buying gifts, even wrapping them. Not that I have many to wrap any more. Even though our family has grown by leaps and bounds, finances haven't. I've had to cut back and for my kids and the married (or coupled) grandchildren, I often make them something. The rest of my grandchildren get something small to open and a gift of money. To me spending time with my family is more important than any gift. It wasn't much different when we were growing up. Money was tight back then, also and gifts weren't plentiful. Honestly, I hardly remember any of my Christmas presents. Memories from the time spent with my aunts, uncles and cousins - well like the commercial says - Priceless.
Every Christmas Eve, my aunt and uncle came to our house with my four cousins for dinner. We had a traditional dinner -which I make to this day, but instead of having it on Christmas Eve, we do it a week before Christmas. It gives us another day to celebrate and be together.
After dinner, we always went to my grandparents' house where other aunts and uncles gathered. There weren't any gifts to open for anyone but my grandparents. Until this moment, I can't honestly say I noticed. Christmas wasn't about the gifts.Christmas Day we went to my aunt's and uncle's for dinner. Yes, the very same ones we spent Christmas Eve with. Again, no gifts were exchanged. It was a time for family, love, and making memories. Yes, Christmas is my favorite time of year and always will be.
To each and everyone of you, I wish you all a Blessed and Merry Christmas.
Below is the song Round and Round The Christmas Tree. You can hear it on: YouTube
Round and round the Christmas tree
Presents hanging there for you and me
Lights all shining merrily
Christmas a week away
A-ring around the Christmas tree
Children making up a melody
Grown-ups laughing happily
Christmas a day away
Wishing, hoping, boxes to open
But we agree it's right to wait
Turkey and dressing, after the blessing
And there's just a night to wait
Round and round the Christmas tree
Opening presents with the family
One for you and two for me
Oh what a Christmas Day
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Round and round the Christmas tree
Presents hanging there for you and me,
Lights all shining merrily
Christmas a week away
Lights all shining merrily
Christmas a week away
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Wishing, hoping, boxes to open
But we agree it's right to wait
Turkey and dressing, after the blessing
And there's just a night to wait
Round and round the Christmas tree
Opening presents with the family
One for you and two for me
Oh what a Christmas Day
Oh what a Christmas Day
Oh what a Christmas Day
Oh what a Christmas Day
Oh what a Christmas Day
Presents hanging there for you and me
Lights all shining merrily
Christmas a week away
A-ring around the Christmas tree
Children making up a melody
Grown-ups laughing happily
Christmas a day away
Wishing, hoping, boxes to open
But we agree it's right to wait
Turkey and dressing, after the blessing
And there's just a night to wait
Round and round the Christmas tree
Opening presents with the family
One for you and two for me
Oh what a Christmas Day
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong,
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Round and round the Christmas tree
Presents hanging there for you and me,
Lights all shining merrily
Christmas a week away
Lights all shining merrily
Christmas a week away
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Wishing, hoping, boxes to open
But we agree it's right to wait
Turkey and dressing, after the blessing
And there's just a night to wait
Round and round the Christmas tree
Opening presents with the family
One for you and two for me
Oh what a Christmas Day
Oh what a Christmas Day
Oh what a Christmas Day
Oh what a Christmas Day
Oh what a Christmas Day
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Roseanne Dowell,
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As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Where I Get My Ideas by Roseanne Dowell
I'm often asked where I get ideas for my books.
The answer is really quite simple. Everywhere. The idea for Trouble Comes in Twos came from a visit to Locust Grove Cemetery in Twinsburg, Ohio. I have a thing for cemeteries. Not sure why, but ever since Junior High, I've loved going to cemeteries and reading the headstones, especially the old ones.
What sparked the idea for Trouble - Twinsburg was named for identical twins, Moses and Aaron Wilcox.The actual cemetery is set way back from the street, down a long drive. We almost drove past it and only saw it because we stopped at a traffic light.
A cemetery vault sat to the left of the drive, not far from the street.. Bodies were stored in vaults during the winter when the ground was too frozen to dig the graves. We paid several visits to the cemetery before I actually saw inside. Now it's used to store tools and such.
As I walked around the cemetery reading the gravestones, I came across the headstone for Moses and Aaron Wilcox. I
loved the wording on the headstone, so different from the inscriptons today. It reads: Moses and Aaron Wilcox who died Sept. 24 AD 1826 AE55 The former of them was born before the latter and survived him 19 min 35 sec. They married sisters and always continued together in business and for last 25 years were members of the Congregational Church. In 1812 they visited this town held and purchased 4000 acres of it and at their request was named Twinsburg. Their remains now lie deposited in one grave beneath here.
The twins were so identical only their closest friends could tell them apart.They held all their property in common, married sisters, had the same number of children, contracted the same fatal ailment and died within hours of each other.
Next to the cemetery is a home for seniors. As I stood in the far corner of this solemn place, it occurred to me how lonely and desolate it was even though it was in the middle of town. On the other side of the cemetery is a strip of stores. As I stood there, looking at the graves, an idea began to form.What if someone was murdered there? How long before someone found the body. Most of the graves are from years earlier. How many visitors came? By the time I arrived home, I couldn't wait to start writing.
Trouble Comes in Twos is available from Amazon
After a five year absence, Kate Wesley returns to Twinsburg Ohio to open a florist shop. She’s content with life until Mark Westfield enters the picture. To make matters worse her ex fiancé is back in town, looking to pick up where they left off, and she’s attracted to both men. As if her life isn’t complicated enough, she finds a dead body in the cemetery, the twin sister of the victim shows up and another body is discovered. Can Kate sort through the confusion her life has become or will she become the next victim?
Labels:
author,
book ideas,
mystery,
novel,
romance,
Roseanne Dowell
As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Before the Magic Box by Roseanne Dowell
I was nine years old when our magic box arrived. We all gathered around
and watched the deliverymen bring it in. I’m not sure who was more excited, my parents
or us kids. Never one to sit still for very long, it was difficult to remain
patient while they lugged it in and hooked up some odd looking things they
called rabbit ears, and set them on top of the box.
“Everyone ready?" The men turned a knob and the little box lit up. Wavy lines flashed across the screen. They moved the rabbit ears this way and that way and suddenly a person appeared. They turned another knob and sound came out, just like in the movie theater only smaller. Way smaller. "Enjoy," the men said and left.
“Everyone ready?" The men turned a knob and the little box lit up. Wavy lines flashed across the screen. They moved the rabbit ears this way and that way and suddenly a person appeared. They turned another knob and sound came out, just like in the movie theater only smaller. Way smaller. "Enjoy," the men said and left.
My brothers, sisters, and I sat on
the floor in front of it and watched as the voices we’d heard on the radio now had faces. It was the greatest thing since applesauce. We all sat there mesmerized while the
characters moved across the nine inch square.
Before the magic box, we
always gathered in front of the radio and listened to stories played out by
actors. Life before the magic box was
more imaginative. On cold winter evenings, we listened to our favorite radio
programs, The Lone Ranger, Fibber McGee and Molly, and Jack Benny.
Our
summer days, we spent our time bike riding, playing hopscotch, tag, kick the
can, and oh yes, at twilight hide and seek and catching lightening bugs. We went
on picnics in the park almost every night, weather permitting. Back then we didn't own a grill, let alone a gas grill. No one we knew did. Families went to
parks to cook out. When my dad came home from work, Mom already had the picnic
basket packed. While he washed up, we kids loaded the car and before you knew
it, we were on our way to the park.
While
Mom and Dad unloaded the cooler and picnic basket, we kids gathered twigs for
kindling and larger dead branches for firewood. No, we didn't use charcoal back
then either. My dad crumpled up newspaper and layered twigs on top for kindling.
Once it caught, he added the larger firewood and we waited until it burned down
and was glowing just right to cook.
Occasionally my aunt, uncle, and cousins joined
us. Then a baseball game ensued. With eleven kids and four adults, it was quite
a game. I can still hear us on that dusty field screaming if we hit the ball,
or cheering someone on to run home, and yelling at someone in the outfield to
catch the ball.
Sometimes
we took a walk with my brothers up a long hill, to a place we called the
witches house. The house is still vivid in my mind, covered in thickets of
ivy, the yard overgrown with weeds and trees. It was probably abandoned, but as
kids that thought never entered our minds. Besides, my brothers told us it was
the witches house and our brothers never lied.
Did they?
We certainly didn't think so back then.
Did they?
We certainly didn't think so back then.
We walked up the hill closer and closer to the
house until someone’s imagination spooked us.
“Look there she is!” someone yelled. We raced down that hill, like the devil himself chased us.
“Look there she is!” someone yelled. We raced down that hill, like the devil himself chased us.
It
was a simpler time of life filled with memories of family togetherness. We
managed to live without all the new electronics. I’m sure modern day children
with their wide screen televisions, surround sound, cable or satellite dish,
VCRs, DVDs, computers and nintendos can’t imagine life without them.
What have they missed I wonder? Where are their imaginations? Can they even imagine television with only three channels and signed off at midnight. Can they comprehend life without MTV, twenty-four hour programming and hundreds of channels. Has progress squashed the minds of our young people?
Probably not, now they have to figure out how to combat the evil doer on their x -box. They are a different breed of children. Their lives, unlike ours, are involved in technical things.
I
think back to memories of days before the magic box came along like a thief in
the night and stole family life, and progress created individuals instead of
unity. I think back to a time when we gathered
on the floor in front of the radio and played games. While we listened to our
favorite programs, our imaginations played out the scenes in our minds. I
remember many evenings spent in front of that radio listening to the Cleveland
Indians in the 1954 World Series.
Ah,
yes, I enjoy the memories of a simpler time. Before the magic box, when fun,
love, and imagination abounded.
Strange, realistic visions and dreams invade Rebecca Brennan’s mind. When she experiences someone’s pain, she’s determined to find out who shares her mind. Her search leads to a small town filled with
BUY FROM AMAZON |
To learn more about Roseanne's and all of her Books We Love books visit her Books We Love page
http://bookswelove.net/authors/dowell-roseanne/
Labels:
author,
good old days,
picnics,
Roseanne Dowell,
television,
writer
As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
Monday, May 11, 2015
Things My Mother Never Taught Me by Roseanne Dowell
My mother never taught me about the
thrill of a first kiss or the hurt of that first breakup. She never told me
about the love between a man and a woman and the joy of standing at the altar
vowing before God, family and friends to love him forever.
My mother never taught me about the
emotions of holding my newborn child in my arms for the first time, or the feeling of
responsibility for their lives. She never told me about the overwhelming sense of awe I'd feel knowing that this child came from within me. That I created the life, nourished it for nine long months, and now had to nourish and care for it
in the real world. She never taught me I'd feel this amazing sense of awe with each child.
My mother never taught me the
feeling of swelled pride at watching my children take their first steps or hearing
her first words.
She never taught me about the
combination of pain and pride I would feel as I watched my children waltz off
to school looking so grown up and yet so young. So independent. She never told
me how I’d feel when they came home and said “But Miss so and so said it was
better to do it this way.” and the realization that I was no longer the sole
influence in their life.
My mother never taught me about the
fear of having a child in the hospital undergoing tests by a neurologist after
a normal eye exam discovered a problem or sitting in an emergency room while
your child undergoes an emergency appendectomy. She never told me how difficult
it would be to watch your child suffer through typical childhood illnesses, stitches
or broken bones.
She never taught me about the fear
of letting your child go down the street to play or crossing the street for the
first time by themselves.
My mother never taught me about
dealing with my daughter’s first crush and heartbreak and lost love. She never
told me how hard it would be to watch my children struggle to get good grades
or make the team or try to fit in.
She never taught me about the pride
of watching my child march down the auditorium to receive their diploma or
hearing about their first job. My mother never told me of the deep fear I’d
experience when they learned to drive or getting that phone call that told you
they had an accident.
My mother never taught me of the
excitement of their engagement and the trials of planning a wedding. She never
told me of the happiness and pride I’d feel watching them walk down the aisle
to stand beside the one they would vow to spend their life with or the worry
that this child was now totally independent of you.
She never taught me of the sense of
wonder I’d feel holding my newborn grandchildren for the first time.
She never explained that these
feelings of worry and concern never go away when my children grew up. My mother
didn't tell me the worries would only strengthen as my children married and had
children of their own. That I’d have more to love and worry about.
She never told me was how it feels
to be a mother. She never told me about
the joy, pain, and overwhelming awe of being a mother and grandmother. I now
know why my mother never taught me these things. Because these thing have to be experienced to
understand the wonderful sense of being a mother.
But the biggest thing my mother
never taught me was how I’d feel when she was no longer here to talk with, to
share my feelings with after she passed from this world. She never taught me
how to deal with the sense of loss at losing a loved one or the pain deep
within that I would carry through the rest of my days. She never told me how
much I’d miss her.
Roseanne's books can be found at Amazon
Forced to stay in a nursing home while undergoing therapy, seventy-two year old, Mike Powell refuses to get out of bed, won't cooperate with the nurses, and won’t take his medicine. At least not until he meets Elsa. The tiny, spunky little Elsa sparks new life into him.
Seventy year old, Elsa -left in the home while her son takes a family vacation - joins forces with Mike, setting the home on its heels, and later discovers deception and fraud. Can they find happiness together?
CLICK TO BUY |
Forced to stay in a nursing home while undergoing therapy, seventy-two year old, Mike Powell refuses to get out of bed, won't cooperate with the nurses, and won’t take his medicine. At least not until he meets Elsa. The tiny, spunky little Elsa sparks new life into him.
Seventy year old, Elsa -left in the home while her son takes a family vacation - joins forces with Mike, setting the home on its heels, and later discovers deception and fraud. Can they find happiness together?
Labels:
author,
Mother's day,
mothers,
Roseanne Dowell,
writer
As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
Thursday, April 16, 2015
My Favorite Things by Roseanne Dowell
One of my favorite things to do when I'm not writing is embroidery. Another is quilting. I’ve found a way to combine the two.
First, I made baby quilts for two of my nieces. White on white, I machine
embroidered them with the darning stitch so I had control. They turned out really
nice, but I really love to hand embroider. That’s when I discovered red-work.
During a quilting shop-hop, one of the stores highlighted red-work. For those
of you who don’t know what red-work is – it’s embroidery done in all red floss.
Just the outline of the picture, not filled in like other embroidery patterns.
Anyway, I fell in love with it. Every year I make something for Christmas (often a Santa) for my six children and give it to them on Thanksgiving. I found a Santa pattern and did it all in red-work, framed it and gave it to them.
That's when I decided to make a queen-size quilt for our bed, using
various flowers. I found a book with different flower transfers and proceeded
to iron them onto fabric and embroider them. It took the better part of a
year to finish the quilt and many times I wondered why I started it and was
tempted to quit. I’m glad I persevered. The quilt turned out beautiful and I
use it every spring/summer.
Once I finished that, I decided to make a baby quilt for each of my
Eventually, I found transfer books and started using them for designs. I looked everywhere for baby designs. I finally finished my
14th and last quilt. That’s a lot of baby quilts. Most of them are done in red work, but I varied some with other colors, too.
It took a couple of years to do all the squares. Four years ago, I made quilts for my niece’s twins using kitten and bunny patterns. They’re done in many colors. Since then she had another child, another boy, so I made one for him using baby animals.
Four years ago, I also gave my first grandchild’s quilt to my oldest granddaughter, whose baby boy was born in June – my first great grandchild. That same year, my fourteenth grandchild was born, another boy and I did puppies for him.
April
12th, I gave my second quilt at another granddaughter’s shower. She’s
having a baby girl in May. It’s exciting to see the look on their faces when
they open the quilt. I hope they cherish them and love them as much as I loved
making them.
I've
marked each quilt with the name of which grandchild they're supposed to go to in
case I’m not around to give it to them. My daughters have been instructed to
pass them out. I hope I'm around to give them all away.
This last quilt I made for another niece's baby. I'd say it's one of my favorites, but honestly I say that about all of them. It's impossible to choose one. They were all fun to work on. Now I have to find something else to keep me busy. I think I've found it, chip carving but that's a topic for another blog.
Check out my books at Amazon Here's one of my favorites.
Forced to stay in a nursing home while undergoing therapy, seventy-two year old, Mike Powell refuses to get out of bed, won't cooperate with the nurses, and won’t take his medicine. At least not until he meets Elsa. The tiny, spunky little Elsa sparks new life into him.
Seventy year old, Elsa -left in the home while her son takes a family vacation - joins forces with Mike, setting the home on its heels, and later discovers deception and fraud. Can they find happiness together?
Who says life begins at 40? Life is wonderful at any age, as long you're willing to live it. Elsa Logan and Mike Powell prove it. And I want to be just like them when I grow up! One of Roseanne Dowell's best, and my personal favorite!
Elsa Logan bears a striking resemblance to a romance writer I know who shall be nameless but whose initials are R. D. ~ Romantic Suspense Author, Gail Roughton
This last quilt I made for another niece's baby. I'd say it's one of my favorites, but honestly I say that about all of them. It's impossible to choose one. They were all fun to work on. Now I have to find something else to keep me busy. I think I've found it, chip carving but that's a topic for another blog.
Forced to stay in a nursing home while undergoing therapy, seventy-two year old, Mike Powell refuses to get out of bed, won't cooperate with the nurses, and won’t take his medicine. At least not until he meets Elsa. The tiny, spunky little Elsa sparks new life into him.
Seventy year old, Elsa -left in the home while her son takes a family vacation - joins forces with Mike, setting the home on its heels, and later discovers deception and fraud. Can they find happiness together?
Who says life begins at 40? Life is wonderful at any age, as long you're willing to live it. Elsa Logan and Mike Powell prove it. And I want to be just like them when I grow up! One of Roseanne Dowell's best, and my personal favorite!
Elsa Logan bears a striking resemblance to a romance writer I know who shall be nameless but whose initials are R. D. ~ Romantic Suspense Author, Gail Roughton
Labels:
author,
embroidery,
hobbies,
quilting,
quilts,
redwork,
Roseanne Dowell
As the second youngest of six children, I always had a vivid imagination and loved to make up stories. I often sat and daydreamed about imaginary characters and lost myself in books and make-believe worlds.
My love of writing began as a teenager, but only recently pursued it seriously. With encouragement from fellow book-club members, NEORWA and my husband, I began writing and submitting my work.
Although Satin Sheets was my first published novel, I have over forty articles and stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer along with several online publications.
Besides teaching three writing courses for Long Story School of Writing, I taught a writing course at Cuyahoga Community College.
In my spare time, I enjoys spending time with my six children, fourteen grandchildren and great grandchildren. My hobbies include ceramics, knitting, quilting, and jewelry making. But after my family, my first love is writing. I reside with my husband of forty-eight years in Northeast Ohio. You can visit my website at: http://www.roseannedowell.com
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