Books We Love Saves Christmas

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from your friends at Books We Love!

An Early Christmas Gift Almost Killed Me, by Sandy Semerad #christmasgift

     “We’re going to Ecuador and Peru,” daughter Rene announced.

     I was overwhelmed when she told me. The timing was bad. The company I’d been working for was bought out by a larger company. I had to convince them to rehire me.

     Before we left on our trip, I was rehired, but scarcely had the time to get the shots and meds required when one visits two third world countries. At least my passport was up-to-date.

     My traveling companions included: Rene, her daughter Cody (my eleven-year-old granddaughter), Rene’s bestie Dia and Dia’s daughter Michelle.

     Rene rattled off our itinerary. We’d be going to the Galapagos and Machu Picchu, but no easy way to get there, she said.

     Three days after we left Florida, we arrived in Santa Cruz, Ecuador. All five of us slept in the same room, and it wasn’t long before the toilet clogged.

     None of us saw the tiny sign in Spanish telling us not to put paper in the commode. We were supposed to throw it in the trash instead. Rene speaks Spanish, but the sign was almost invisible to the naked eye.

     Rene and Dia discovered the blocked toilet after they’d taken their Ambien. Their doctors had prescribed the Ambien in case they had difficulty sleeping on our trip. I don’t require a sleep aid and was peacefully dreaming when Rene poked me. “You’ll have to pee in the shower, Mama. The toilet is stopped up. We’ve tried to plunge it, but it’s still clogged.”

     As her Ambien took effect, Rene began to act silly. I’d seen scary reports about Ambien. Some people have had terrible reactions after taking it. They do crazy things, like driving a car while asleep.

     Rene started playing with the ringtones on her cellphone. “Isn’t that beautiful?”

     “No, it’s loud and annoying,” I said.

     “It is not. It’s beautiful and colorful.”

     “Let’s go to sleep and try to solve our problems,” Dia repeated three times.

     Rene, who never overeats, became ravenous. She stuffed her mouth with every snack she could find.

     I watched with trepidation. What if she’s still hungry after she eats the Pringles, crackers and candy? And what if she walks out into the night looking for more food?

     “You need to lie down,” I told her.

     “I’ll sleep like a baby soon,” she said, between chews.

     “I’m going to take a video of you,” I said.

     “I’m told I’m very funny.”

     After what seemed like an eternity, she did go to sleep, but sleep evaded me then, and with the toilet clogged, I began searching for another one.

      I looked everywhere, even in the hotel's basement, which had been roped off. I was clearly trespassing when I slipped under the barrier.

     I turned the knob on the first door I saw.

     It was unlocked.

     I eased the door open.

    A toilet sat in the back of a small room, no bigger than a closet. I tried to lock the door for privacy before squatting on the pot, but I was unable to secure it. I had an image of getting busted with my pants down.

    Unlike the upcoming adventures of our trip, I escaped unharmed. If I’d been able to see into the future, I would have stayed in Santa Cruz despite the clogged toilet. All in all, Santa Cruz was a lovely town with exotic birds, sea lions, giant turtles, good restaurants and shops.

     Since I had no warning of the tribulations to come, I boarded the boat to Isla Isabella with a smile. At first we enjoyed exploring the lava rocks on Isabella. We saw exotic birds, penguins, iguanas and white tail sharks.

     As we watched the sharks swimming in a canal, the guide cautioned, “Don’t wake them.”

     For Dia, a photographer, this was paradise, until she lost her balance and fell. The lava rocks sliced her shin to the bone. Our guide dressed her leg wound to stop the profuse bleeding, but it was not a permanent fix.

     We’d all planned to go snorkeling after the rock tour, but Dia opted out. A wise decision, I thought.

     After seeing the sharks in the canal, we didn’t want to entice them with fresh blood.

     Cody announced she was jumping in regardless. Nothing would deter her from the snorkeling experience.

     I plunged into the frigid Pacific with her.

     The guide told us not to worry about the sharks. “They usually prefer the warm canal.”

     I prayed he was right.

     As we swam through the ocean, Cody and I found ourselves caught in a fierce current. We thrashed our arms and kicked our flippers, trying to swim out. One of the guys in our group kicked me in the face in his battle to free himself.

     The guide yelled, “Stay away from the stingray.”

     As soon as Cody and I were able to rise above the ocean’s surface, she said, “I’m tired.” I was exhausted. So we swam back to the boat.

     Once on dry land, Dia’s leg looked red and infected. She needed medical attention pronto. A doctor at the hospital stitched up her wound and prescribed antibiotics. No charge. (Healthcare in Ecuador is free.)

     The next day, we went hiking up Sierra Negra, elevation 4,890 feet. Sierra Negra is a large and active volcano.

     I wish I’d worn hiking boots, not sandals. (I must have been thinking of that Bible verse: “For forty years I led you through the wilderness, yet your clothes and sandals did not wear out.”)

     In the beginning of our hike, we walked through the rain forest, where it never stops drizzling.

     “I can do this,” I told myself. I exercise daily with Jane Fonda’s Prime Time workout. I’ve walked all over Chicago and San Francisco with daughter Andrea. (Andrea probably would have enjoyed this hike, I thought. She’d walked all over Panama last summer.)

     Hours into the climb, I began to question my sanity as the terrain became higher and hotter. The rocks cut my feet. I started walking like an aging Galapagos penguin.  

    “This is worse than giving birth,” I complained.

     We were given no time to rest and sightsee. Only thirty minutes for lunch.

     When I sat to catch my breath, the guide yelled, “Up, up. Don’t stop.”

     “How long have you been a guide here?” I asked him.

    “Fifteen years. I do this every day.”

     “Have you ever had anyone to quit or faint or die?”

     “No,” he said.

     “This is tough,” one of the hikers said. “I’m sure he’s had someone to quit, turn around and go back. I think it’s wrong of him to rush us along like this.”

     After hours and hours of trudging nonstop, we finally saw the volcano’s rim in the distance. “How much longer,” I asked the guide.

     “Twenty minutes,” he replied.

      It looked like a vertical climb to the rim--much too dangerous. No bars, no restrains. Easy to fall in and die.

     My feet were burning. My whole body ached. My head was swirling from the heat and volcanic gases. Not much bottled water left.

     Dia and Michelle had already started back down, but not Rene and Cody. They were determined to hike to the rim.

     I bid them farewell, then looked for a trail marker to lead me out. I kept searching, but couldn’t find a sign. On a rocky terrain, it’s difficult to detect a path.

     I got horribly lost.

     I stepped on a sticker bush. My feet and legs stung like fire.

     I spotted a spider and thought it may have bitten me.

     I couldn’t see anyone from where I stood, no guide, no hikers, no Rene, no Cody. I hoisted myself up on a giant rock to get a better view.

     I spied specks in the distance. I thought I might be hallucinating.

    Then I saw blonde and red hair.

     I yelled as loud as my dry lungs were capable of, but Rene and Cody didn’t respond.  

     I ran toward them. My adrenalin and desperation had imbued me with renewed strength.

     Rene finally turned in my direction. “What happened to you, Mama?”  

     “Don’t ask. I think I need a hip replacement.”

     “Stretch and you’ll be fine.”

     No sympathy.

     Every muscle and joint in my body cried out in pain. I don’t know how I endured the hike back.

     A couple of days later, I felt better and could walk without aching, but in Cusco, Peru, Rene suffered. She threw up several times. The coca tea and leaves--natural remedies used to treat altitude sickness--didn’t work for her. Someone brought out an oxygen tank. She inhaled the oxygen, but it provided only temporary relief. BC Powder—an old Southern remedy for aches and pains--was the only thing that helped, she said.

     I’d been given a prescription for the high altitude, but the pills made me pee excessively, and I stopped taking them. (I’ve read it’s better to take it easy for a couple of days and avoid anything strenuous in order to adjust to high elevations, but when you’re seeing two third world countries in sixteen days with an action-packed schedule, resting and relaxing are impossible).

   

My nose bled, but it wasn’t severe enough to keep me from enjoying the spectacular vistas of Machu Picchu--the "sacred landscape" of the Inca. It sits on top of a mountain, encircled by the Urubamba River.

     Machu Picchu is in the southern hemisphere, 13.164 degrees south of the equator, 50 miles northwest of Cusco and about 7,970 feet above mean sea level. It’s one of the most important archaeological sites in South America.

     After visiting Machu Picchu, we took a long train ride. A taxi driver picked us up from the train and drove us back to our hotel in Cusco.

     After a night and day there, we began the long journey back home. We had an eleven-hour layover in Ecuador, but Rene didn’t mind. She was happy to be rid of her altitude sickness.

      “I could have died on that hike to Sierra Negra,” I told her.

     “My hands were so swollen,” she said. They looked like a giant’s.” She showed me the IPhone pictures of her hands and the volcano’s rim. “Isn’t that amazing?”

     “You and Cody could have fallen in,” I said. “There were no restrains.”

     “But we survived,” she said.

    “This early Christmas gift almost killed me," I said. "I feel lucky to be alive. I’m going kiss the ground when I get back home.” 
     Now that I'm here, there's no place on earth I'd rather be than at home celebrating the Christmas season. Here's wishing you the happiest of  holidays, and if you're traveling, be safe.

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     After working as a newspaper reporter, broadcaster and columnist for many years, Sandy Semerad decided to try her hand at writing novels. Her first novel, Mardi Gravestone has been republished as SEX, LOVE AND MURDER. She wrote her second mystery HURRICANE HOUSE after a hurricane ripped through her community. Her third book, romantic thriller A MESSAGE IN THE ROSES, is loosely based on a murder trial she covered as a newspaper reporter in Atlanta. All books have received five star reviews. Semerad is originally from a small town in Alabama, but now lives in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida with husband Larry, their spoiled Shih Tzu P-Nut and wayward cat Miss Kitty. She has two daughters and a granddaughter.

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A Short Christmas Story by Ginger Simpson

This story is geared for those who celebrate Christmas, but I would like to wish each and everyone, no matter your faith, good tidings and a prosperous New Year.

Santa the Tooth Fairy

Little Kayla sat near the Christmas tree and wiggled her lose tooth. She stopped and turned her attention from the crackling fire beyond the hearth. “Mommy, if I pull my tooth, do you think Santa will leave me a dollar.”

Her mother laughed. “I think you have things mixed up, honey. It’s the tooth fairy who leaves money.”

Kayla cocked her head and flashed that familiar look of independence. “I know that, Mommy! But if my tooth falls out at tonight, maybe Santa will reward me, too. I’m not sure if the Tooth Fairy works on Christmas Eve.”

Although only four, the child had a penchant for being creative. Margaret Tanner put her knitting aside and walked past her daughter to the fireplace. She poked at the logs and sent flaming fingers stretching up the chimney. “I don’t think Santa will have time to look under your pillow. You know, he’s very busy this time of year.” She walked back to her chair.

The front door opened, and a blast of cold air flickered the fire. “Daddy, daddy,” Kayla called, rushing over and grabbing him around the knees.

He ruffled her hair with his gloved hand. “Hi, Sweetheart. Let me get out of my coat and I’ll give you a hug. It’s cold outside.” He shrugged off his outerwear, sending snow flaking to the marbled entry hall floor, and after hanging his coat in a nearby closet, he scooped Kayla into his arms and nuzzled her neck until she giggled. Stopping, he leaned his head back. “Have you been a good girl today?”

“Oh yes, Daddy, and I’ve decided you can pull my loose tooth.”

He flashed a puzzled look at his wife.

She smiled. “We’ve already discussed the tooth fairy, but Kayla seems to think Santa should play a part.”

He placed Kayla on the ground, took her hand, and walked to his plaid recliner. Sitting, with her perched on his knee, he scratched his brow. “Why don’t we just wait until that tooth falls out on its own? There’s no rush.”

“But, I want you to pull it.” Her eyes clouded with tears and her little bow lips pulled into a pout.

“Then, let me see.” He took hold of the loose tooth and wiggled it. “You’re right. I think it could come out.” Russell Tanner ruffled her hair again. 

“Then pull it, Daddy.” She scrunched her eyes closed and hunched her shoulders. 

“I already did.” He held up a tiny, white enamel pearl.

Her eyes widened. She smacked her lips, then made a face. A wee bit of blood dotted her bottom lip.

“Come on, Kayla, let’s rinse out your mouth and get you ready for bed. Santa comes tonight and if you aren’t asleep, he’ll just pass us by.”

Kayla slid off her father’s knee and flashed a smile. She looked adorable with a space where her tooth was just minutes ago. “Thank you, Daddy. I wanted to see if Santa will leave me a dollar so I can put it in the offering plate at church tomorrow. It’s Jesus’ birthday and I want to leave him a gift.” 

THE END

By the way, my story is dedicated to the memory of my father who always could pull a tooth without my knowing it. I can't believe how many times I fell for, Just let me feel how loose it is." I miss you, Daddy. I wish you could hear you say those familiar Christmas words..."Let's open JUST one."

Please check out my page at Books We Love.

New Releases from Books We Love

These titles have been released in the past month from Books We Love. All are available as ebooks from Amazon. Click on links for more information or to purchase.

A Murder State of Mind Trilogy by Jude Pittman

Murder: When One Isn't Enough by Karla Stover

Shell Shocked by Victoria Chatham

Pursuing Michael West, M.D. by Janet 
Lane-Walters

Whispering Spirits by Rita Karnopp

The Goldsmith's Wife by Anita Seymour

Marie's Second Chance by Killarney Sheffield

A Very Special Agent by Betty Ann Harris
 

Freedom by Killarney Sheffield 

Also Enjoy these Christmas titles, available now!

Merry Christmas, Marcie by Sydell Voeller

Merriest Christmas Ever by Betty Jo Schuler

To Kiss An Angel by Jane Beckenham

 
Desperately Seeking Santa by Jane Beckenham

Christmas Storm by Nancy M. Bell

Merry Christmas from Books We Love!

It's Christmas Time! Nancy M Bell

Hard to believe another year has passed and it's almost Christmas Eve again. As I grow older there are so many memories to sift through. The really early childhood ones from the '50's and '60's. Every Christmas Eve we would pile in the car and drive all around Toronto visiting my dad's sisters who lived there. We lived on the outskirts in West Hill. We usually started in Mississauga at Aunt Joy's, or in Whitevale at Aunt Ola's and then Aunt Gloria and always Aunt Loral's was last. I'm not sure why he planned it that way but it always was. By that time we had surged to a sugar high and were on the down swing. A great time to stock up on sugary treats for the ride home. LOL One year we were pulling in our driveway and Santa--YES SANTA CLAUS!--was walking down the neighbor's driveway. My sister and I panicked and raced into the house and threw ourselves into our bunk beds with our coats and boots still on. Nothing would persuade us to get into PJ's cause Santa was NEXT DOOR! and coming to our house next. I can still recall the frenzy of trying to fall asleep with my heart beating like crazy. Time passed and we grew up and apart. Later memories are of when my own children were young. Putting up Charlie Brown Christmas trees that wouldn't stay upright. One year I got so frustrated I hammered the tree stand to the trunk with 2 inch Ardox nails. (and tied it to the wall for good measure) But time passes on, children grow up and have families of their own and start their own traditions based on the ones they learned as children.
Sometimes I seem to lose the spirit of the season, but only briefly. A walk in the night with the moonlight burnishing the snow and stars bright in the sable sky always bring it back. When we had our own boarding stable in a big old bank barn in Ontario I used to take time every Christmas Eve to spend some time in the warm stable with the yellow light shining from the windows out onto the snow and the cedars whispering in the wind. The sound of horses chewing their hay and the smell of pine shavings and sweet feed calming my soul.

Christmas 2010

My oldest son and his family Christmas 2012 Banff Alberta

Christmas Moon


In 1988 I wrote about Christmas at my small farm in southern Ontario. A Brandy Hollow Christmas I'd like to share it with you here. Wow, just re-typing this here has brought back so many memories.

There is nothing quite like a country Christmas, in this fast paced world it is very few of us who have the chance to live with nature rather than against it. am lucky enough to live on a small farm and experience the joys of working with the land. Recently, we sold this farm and I began to say good-bye to all the little things that are so much a part of living here. Suddenly, I realized that this Christmas 1988 I wouldn't be in my little house in the hollow. Perhaps because I won't be in Brandy Hollow for Christmas I want to share the Christmases we did have here.

The times when the snow blossomed against the living room window and laced the cedar trees, bending the woods under its weight. In the new light of morning the children and dogs make tracks across the virgin blanket of the lawn. The horses when I turn them out blow the snow up in puffs with their snorts and then roll and roll again. I want to share the special stillness there is here after a snow fall and especially a Christmas snow. Last year it came on December 23rd, but it was still a Christmas Eve snow. The sun just catching the top of the cedar and birch in the barnyard and the blue jays and the chickadees already searching for seeds. The gentle hand of the morning air sending sparkles dancing from the delicate fingers of the snow dressed trees. The warm smell of the horses and hay when I step into the barn from the frosty stillness of early morning.

The warm glow of my little living room, the sun coming in the window, a fire in the woodstove and the Christmas tree taking over the room. Every year we re-arrange the furniture so we can fit the tree in and by Christmas morning there are presents under the tree, on the tree, around the tree, and presents spilling across the floor and in front of the hearth as well. The cats just waiting for all that lovely ribbon and paper to be theirs. The lovely peace of Christmas Eve when the children are asleep and us old folks are waiting for Santa and midnight too, to see if the animals will speak to me. Yes, I still believe! The smell of the fire and the flicker of the flames against the walls. Jessie and Josh, the dogs, sleeping on the mat my grandfather made in front of the stove, joined by most of our five house cats. There is that special thrill of anticipation that comes only on Christmas Eve. The warm feeling of the love that goes with the presents. The sharing of joy in giving that special gift. The dark quietness of the night, moonlight throwing blue and silver shadows on the snow as I go out to the barn to tuck the horses in on this most special of all nights. The music of the wind in the trees and the starfire crackling in the stillness as I take a Christmas walk by the pond and take the opportunity to say my own private 'Thank You' to the spirit that created all this wonder.

There is a peace in this farm and always a feeling of love. As though this house and this land have always been blessed. But never is the feeling so strong as at Christmas. Even people who aren't sensitive to their surroundings feel this too. The goodwill seems to pervade the very air. All things find refuge here. Strays find their way to my door, both wild and tame, and human as well as animal. This is a safe place and a healing place. There is that little bit of Christmas Love here all year round.

I think one of the best things about the season is the love, the sharing, the giving. It is the one time in the year we can hug someone without embarrassing them or ourselves. Or kiss someone and say the things we think all year but never find the words or opportunity to share.

This year I'm leaving my little farm and I will miss it terribly. But I will never lose the peace or the love it has given me. And always, I'll have that little bit of Brandy Hollow Christmas in my heart. My Christmas wish for you and yours is that you will know the peace and joy that Christmas brings. An that 'all things wise and wonderful' and 'all things bright and beautiful' will be yours.

I wish you a Brandy Hollow Christmas!