A New Year and the Swear Jar – by Barbara Baker

 

My New Year’s Resolution was to stop using my favourite word - the f-bomb. Just so you know, the resolution was a suggestion from a loved one.

At first, I balked at the idea because, darn it, it’s my favourite word. But then, I do like a challenge. And really, how hard could it be? It’s not like I’m a potty mouth and drop the bomb into sentences inappropriately. I only use it when the situation warrants special effects or to get my point across. Although … there have been occasions when I’ve been told in private (by loved ones) to read the room before dropping said word into a conversation.

When I told people what my resolution was, the first response I got was ‘you’ll never do it Gramma.’ What kind of support is that? That night I fell asleep with visions of soap bars hovering over me.

Ground rules were established. I could not say the word, but it was agreed I could use versions of it in writing and texting. Hello texting – my new best friend.

January 1^st did not go well and I must admit, I was embarrassed how easily the word slipped out of my mouth. Maybe I am a potty mouth.

January 3^rd found me texting more than talking. I know, it’s hard to believe.

January 5^th a swear jar appeared on the kitchen table. What? No way. I don’t need that.

My husband said, “$20.00 for each f-bomb.”

“What? That’s outrageous.”

“It is what it is.” He grinned, winked and pointed at the jar.

I can stop. Just watch me.

That night there was $60 in the jar. A family member mentioned we’ll be able to go on a holiday in a couple weeks. Oh, ye of little faith!

January 9^th no more funds added to the jar. Look at me, I’m rocking it! I will mention that I stopped using any version of my favourite word in texts. It was just too tempting.

I rode the wave until January 14^th when I slammed my funny bone on a sharp corner. The word flew out of my mouth before I could stop it. Honest. I didn’t stand a chance. Even though its use was totally warranted and I apologized profusely, waving my injured elbow in the air, a finger pointed at the swear jar. Who the heck named it a funny bone? And why? It’s a nerve, not a bone. I didn’t have any cash, and the jar didn’t accept debit or credit, so I slipped in an IOU and made a mental note to go to the bank tomorrow.

In order to recover my dignity, I coerced my teeth into supporting me. Game changer. Nothing like a good chomp on the tongue to make me rethink word choices. Teamwork. I’ve got this!

January 19^th I lost our evening scrabble game (which isn’t uncommon) but for some reason it ticked me off and the word blurted out before my teeth could engage. My husband eyed the swear jar. After I added my donation, I told him, “It costs way more than what’s in that jar to go on holidays." He just smiled.

New data states it takes from 66 to 254 days to break a habit. What kind of margin is that? It used to only be 21 days to break a habit. What happened to that data? Quite possibly I’m doomed.

January 24th I was in a rush and got angry at the dishwasher because it wouldn’t do the right cycle. I pushed enough buttons to get an error message. I never knew it gave error messages. I f-bombed an electronic message on an appliance. I’m hopeless.

January 31^st - $180 in the swear jar and one IOU. I guess I had a few more slip-ups than I remembered. FYI - no big holiday plans yet but the year is young. 

Fear not. I’m determined to ride this out until I break the habit. The next time we meet, I hope the soap ring around my lips has disappeared.

What resolution did you make? How’s it going? Current research states only 9% of people succeed in keeping their resolution. That's a daunting margin. 

Baker, Barbara - BWL Publishing Inc. (bookswelove.net)

Barbara Baker Author Page Facebook

 

 

Summer of Lies by Barbara Baker — BWL Publishing

What About Me? by Barbara Baker — BWL Publishing

Jillian of Banff XO — BWL Publishing

 

 

Customs, Cameras, and Comic Relief by Naguib Kerba

https://www.nkerba.com/ordinary-people-extraordinary-lives

 https://www.nkerba.com/blog/customs-cameras-and-comic-relief-part-one

The story behind my latest series by J. S. Marlo

 

Wide of the Mark

(Coming in March 2026)

   

 

  

To buy any of my books, visit

J. S. Marlo's Books

I'm presenting you my latest series: Indomitable Spirit

    They possess the mental strength and the discipline to get up when it’s hard, when it hurts, and when they can’t, but in the face of insurmountable odds, they will need an indomitable spirit to survive, to prevail, and to give love a fighting chance.

The first instalment of the series, Wide of the Mark, is coming next month (March 2026).

    Assisting with the capture of a military doctor who kept a dead woman in his house is a thorn in Colonel Amelia Matheson’s side compared to the devastating news of her daughter Hope’s disappearance.

     On the hunt for the perpetrators who kidnapped her deaf daughter from the groomed trails during a solo biathlon training session, Amelia enlists the help of Morgan Anchor, a local sheriff who once sold her out. To find Hope, Amelia and Morgan must untangle a web of secrets, including their own, and trust each other again. 

     Held captive in a remote cabin in the mountains, Hope fights the storm of her life using her wits and her skills. Scared but unafraid, she sets out to escape and save the man that her mother sent to rescue her – a man who is not who he appears to be.

The second instalment, Blown Away, will be released in the Fall of 2026, and the third, which is currently untitled, in 2027.

So, what possessed me to write that series?

My children were athletes. For nearly two decades, I drove them to the pool and the hockey rink almost every morning, every evening, every day, and every month of the year. They learned to do their homework on buses or planes, and have breakfast or supper in the car. Camping trips and vacations were scheduled around their training camps, competitions, and tournaments. I sweated on hot and humid pool decks and froze in unheated hockey rinks. I watched them push their endurance to the limit, achieve thrilling victories, and suffer heartbreaking losses.

They eventually stopped playing competitive sports to build careers and families. I thought my “driving/watching years” at the pool and at the rink were over, but was I ever wrong! My oldest granddaughter, who lives five minutes away (eight minutes if I hit all the red lights),  followed both in her mother’s and her uncle’s footsteps. Driving her to the pool and the hockey rink, and watching her win a breaststroke race and score a goal brings back lots of wonderful memories.

One day, a good friend of mine asked why none of my fictional characters were athletes. I'll admit that it was a fair question, which got me thinking...

And this is how the Indomitable Spirit Series was born.

Stay Warm & Happy Reading! 

Hugs!

JS

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website

To Thesaurus or Not to Thesaurus by Deb Loughead

https://www.facebook.com/people/Debra-Loughead-Author/61577095528637/

How much do I love the online thesaurus? I remember a fellow participant in a writing class once upon a time back in the mid 90s, telling me that a good writer would never need to use a thesaurus. Because using one for some reason makes you less authentic. Or something absurd like that. I begged to differ then and I still do now, scoffing at her claim as my well-thumbed and dog-eared Roget’s awaited my next writing session on my desk at home. 

Roget’s Thesaurus has been around forever, created way back in 1805 by Peter Mark Roget, who was a lexicographer and physician, among other things. It has been the go-to for synonyms for actual centuries! It became a bit of a debate at the time, but most classmates agreed that having a thesaurus on your desk could be extremely helpful, if you didn’t let it bog down your writing with uncommon, pompous or pretentious words a là Conrad Black. 

I’m not sure about you, but whenever I’m deep in writing mode, I don’t have time to stop and think, which sounds bizarre, but it’s true. When my busy brain is leaking words and I’m forced to start wracking said brain for a synonym, well that’s just counter-productive to the task at hand. When brilliant words and sentences are flashing out of my fingertips like Captain Marvel’s cosmic energy blasts, I don’t have a lot of time to pause and figure out a substitute for a word I might have already used too often. Especially since there are so  many possibilities floating around out there. So I turn to my smart phone, tap in the word that requires a synonym, and presto, dozens of words fill the screen instantly, saving me so much precious time. 

Back in the day, of course, you actually had to open a book and turn the pages to locate the word that needed an upgrade. Hence my poor, tattered, and now apparently entirely vanquished Rogets Thesaurus, probably discarded during one of my mad book purges, some of which I still regret. I actually just looked up synonyms for the word ‘vanquished’ to see if I could use it appropriately in that previous sentence, and yes, it really kind of works in a variety of different ways. I might have also chosen to use ‘demolished’ or ‘pulverized’ or ‘destroyed’ or ‘annihilated’. Then again, I might have used jettisoned. I’d better look up synonyms for that one. 

Hmmm. There’s ‘relinquished’ or ‘abandoned’ or ‘forsaken’ or ‘ditched’.

And wow, here I am, lost yet again in the black hole of the internet, overthinking, wasting time doing deep searches that aren’t even necessary. Might be time to head out and buy myself an actual brand new softcover edition of the good old Roget’s Thesaurus. 

Might just turn out to be a time saver in the long run!

https://www.facebook.com/people/Debra-Loughead-Author/61577095528637/

 

Small Packages

Good Things Come In Small Packages

My husband says, "You know, Julie, it IS possible for the UPS or FedEx guy to drive PAST our house once in a while." 

And I say, "Oh, but how fun is it when he doesn't!"

With the exception of bills (which are mostly online anyway) and junk (bonfire fodder), getting mail is usually fun for me. It just isn't quite what it used to be, I guess. I mean, I have to send myself packages, which isn't the same as getting something unexpected from a friend or family member. Buuut, if an Amazon order happens to get backordered long enough, I might forget about it, and when it suddenly shows up, it's a fun surprise then!  

Getting mail as a kid was so different. I remember writing to my cousin in North Dakota every week and anxiously awaiting her reply. We were the same age and had EVERYTHING to talk about. Long-distance phone bills, however, were a thing. A not-okay thing for families living on a budget. A tight budget. 

So, I wrote. And wrote. And wrote. And wrote.

I let my voice spill over the college-ruled paper, front and back, until I had said it all. Well, for the moment, at least. Then I counted the days. One... two... THREE days it took for a letter from Detroit Lakes, MN, to get to Enderlin, ND. With good weather. Then, at least one more foot-tapping, finger-thrumming day to give her a chance to write back. And agony of agonies! One... two... THREE more days it took for her letter to reach me. I watched out the window, waited for the mail lady to stop, then marched down the driveway as she got out of my way, opened the treasure trove, and claimed my prize. 

I devoured my cousin's words in a frenzied flash, and often finished reading it before I'd made it back up the driveway. Always wishing she'd written more (To be fair, she wrote at least as much as I did. We were both talkers.) I would re-read it and re-read it, listening to her voice, laughing with her, shaking my head at the latest drama, and seeing her sitting next to me.

What a treasure that little envelope held for me. A prize in the mailbox. A gift. Just words.

Now, I try to write my stories with the same vim and vigor, hopefully expanding my audience as I go. My second Forever Fields book is well underway and, if all goes as hoped, should be available to become a special prize from me to you in your mailbox (or your inbox) by the end of the year! 

A small package full of good things.