All good things must come to an end. At least that’s what I’ve heard. I’m not sure if this blog is a good thing or not but I do know the time has come for it to end.
 
I recently started a new job and my work schedule is not really conducive to continuing my blogging habit. So, after nearly eight years (seven years and seven months to be exact) of writing a weekly blog, I have decided to wrap it up. Not completely, however. I’ll still post a story occasionally. But the weekly post will be no more.
 
In some ways, it’ll be a relief to not spend each Sunday night typing away on my computer and then posting the result of my brainstorming online. But in some ways I’ll miss it I think. It’s been fun and rewarding to take memory trips from my childhood and share them with the readers, to tell about some current happening that I found amusing, or describe the inspiring antics of my grandchildren.
 
My wife will probably suffer the most from this decision. I like to tell stories but instead of having this outlet, I’ll more than likely be rambling on and on to her about everything. Then again, maybe it won’t affect her at all, I think she usually ignores me anyway. Which is okay. It’s not like what I’m saying is important or useful.
 
Anyway, thanks everyone for reading and indulging my sometimes odd sense of humor for these past few years. Until we meet again... ~
 
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. 

Here’s some helpful advice if you plan on moving — don’t. I know, that’s never really an option. And even if it were, most people who are planning to move are not concerned with anything other than wanting to move. But, fair warning, it’s a lot of work.
 
I’m not talking about the actual moving of the furniture and other possessions from one house to another. That’s a little work but  it’s not the half of it. The work isn’t even in the packing of everything; it’s putting it all away in the new place.
 
First, you don’t know where anything is going to go and then when that is finally determined, multiple boxes and other items have to be moved seventeen times to get things situated. Not to mention the unpacking and sorting, and then the disposal of all the boxes and packing material. Then there is the cleaning of the old house, the new house (numerous times) and dealing with all the broken or damaged things. And the list goes on and on.
 
It sounds like I’m getting ready to tell you that I moved recently, but that’s not the case. I did, however, help my parents move this past weekend. It went very well, as far as getting everything to the new house. We had lots of help and got it done in a single day. Then, we all left, leaving my Mom and Dad to do the real work of arranging their new house, opening fifty or sixty boxes and finding a place for the contents, hanging pictures and mirrors, cleaning, and all the rest.
 
We tried to sort things a little before we left but my Mom’s kitchen was pretty jumbled, as was my Dad’s study. In fact, I don’t think there was a single room that had much semblance of order. I’m thinking it’ll take them a month or better to get things sorted out.
 
Moving takes a LOT of work.
 
And I should know. Having lived in over thirty houses in my 52 years, and being involved in countless efforts to move other people, I have an extensive experience in moving. I guess you could say I’m an expert — of sorts. So, while my wife and I would like to move out of town someday, my good sense and expertise says (as I advised above) don’t do it. But we all know how well people take advice. ~
 
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. 
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Recently, my wife and I decided we would replace some more of the flooring in our house. About a year and a half ago, we took out the carpet and put in vinyl floors — except for the bedrooms. Now, we’re updating the master bedroom to match.
 
I started the project last week, tore out the carpet and pad, pulled staples, and did some other prep work. Then, I got sick. Well, actually, I was sick when I started but chose to ignore it, hoping it would go away. It didn’t.
 
So, my plans to get it all done in a few days didn’t quite pan out. I am getting over the sickness — but not fast enough. And now, due to other obligations, it’ll be a couple of weeks before I can get to back to the floor. In the meantime, we have a nice sub-floor to look at and walk on. The dogs are not impressed. Neither is my wife.
 
I’m hoping all will be forgiven when the new floor is done. I’m just not exactly sure when that will be. I told my wife I’d probably have it done within the next year or so. She didn’t really SAY anything in response to that but the look she gave me said I might want to work on getting it done just a little bit quicker.
 
I think I might try that. But I can’t make any promises, ’cause you know, I might get sick again or something. ~
 
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. 
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Today is National Prank Day, better known as April Fools’ Day. As with many holidays, it remains unclear exactly what the origins are. There are many theories, some of which make sense and others that do not. Regardless of how it all started, the day of practical jokes and pranks has survived for many centuries in many countries around the world.
 
While I’ve been known to play a few practical jokes from time to time, I’ve never really gotten into the whole April Fools’ Day thing. I think it’s because that’s the day such things are expected. The day when playing pranks is considered normal. I prefer to not be predictable when it comes to jokes or pranks. So, I try to avoid attempting to pull a fast one on anyone on April 1st.
 
Of course, convincing people that I’m NOT playing a joke on them on April 1st is sometimes a chore. Like one time when I called my wife.
 
My pickup had broken down and rather than walk the two miles to the auto parts store, I was hoping she would be able to give me a ride. But she didn’t believe me. She kept saying, “Right. April Fools.”
 
For a moment, I was tempted to just hang up and walk to her job, take her vehicle and return home to fix my pickup. It would have been worth the walk just imagining her getting off work and coming out to find no car!
 
Eventually, I did convince her that I actually needed a ride. Good thing too, I think —because knowing my luck, she would have reported the car as stolen. That would have been fun when the cops showed up. Or not. Somehow I don’t think shouting “April Fools” would have been all that dissuading to them. ~
 
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. 
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Thought I’d share my recent experience with a scam artist. Maybe save someone from losing their hard-earned money.
 
It started with me answering a Help Wanted ad in the online classifieds. The ad was listed was for a Warehouse Assistant for Wright Textile. Starting salary was $2,800 - $3,300 per month. After some difficulty — the guy had neglected to leave any contact information — I managed to get in touch with the place.
 
They wanted the standard information, a résumé and cover letter, which I provided. Then there were a few more questions, along with a request for references. After a few emails, they offered me the job.
 
The guy was a traveling businessman who dealt in art and other antiquities. The story was he would soon be opening a gallery in my area and needed someone to take delivery of the shipments and deliver them to the warehouse. I would also need to correspond with some of the sellers on the guy’s behalf and arrange for payments, keep accurate books for accounts receivable and payable.
 
It would start as a part time job; 15 hours per week for which I would be paid $500. If all went well, the job would become full time with a substantial pay increase.
 
This sounded good to me, although, from the start, I sort of had my doubts about it all. As did my son, who said “It’s a scam,” the moment I told him about the job. There was just something, not sure what, said it wasn’t legitimate. One clue was, the guy, whose name was Bryan Wright, seemed to have a little trouble with the English language. That alone wasn’t reason enough to dismiss the job though and I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But the farther along things progressed the more red flags there were. Like his name changing to Bryan Chan in later emails.
 
After a few more days I began to assume the whole thing was a scam. Still, I was curious and wanted to know what sort of scam he was running, so I played along. And, there always was the slight possibility that everything was on the up and up.
 
Bryan Chan eventually told me I was hired and that my first paycheck, as well as my first assignment, would be arriving in the mail. I waited for a week, and then another. Nothing came in the mail. About the time I figured the guy had just been wanting my information, I did get a check in the mail. It was a cashier’s check for $1550.30.
 
I didn’t get too excited. First I looked up the credit union the check had come from and found that it was a real bank. I then took the check to my bank and they did an initial query to see if the funds were available. They were. So, I deposited it.
 
The next day, I received my “instructions.” I was to take $250 out for myself and send the balance to Motherless Babies Home in Dallas, Texas. Well, sort of. The director of the Motherless Babies Home had requested the money be sent to her accountant in Dallas via a Moneygram. This all sounded odd to me, like money laundering or something. It didn’t make sense that I would be needed for such a transaction. If Mr. Bryan Chan wanted to donate to Motherless Babies Home (which is apparently a legitimate charity) he could have sent the funds directly to them in any number of ways. No need to pay me $250 to do it unless he was wanting to hide the transaction. A Moneygram, of course, would have my name attached. Whether legal or not, whatever he was up to, didn’t sound like something I wanted to be connected with.
 
I sent off an email, advising Mr. Chan that I was declining the job. I also may have alluded to some discussion with the Sheriff’s Office, which may or may not have happened. And then I asked for his address, you know, in case I needed to send the check back. Strangely, he didn’t want to provide his address. And he kept insisting that I send the funds off immediately. At this point I still didn’t know what the scam was. But I was still curious. The next day, I found out.
 
Visiting my bank, trying to find information, I was given the details on what the deal likely was.
 
The cashier’s check that I’d deposited was originally a good check — maybe — but before the transaction could be completed, whoever had written it would write another one with the same numbers and send it through for processing ahead of mine. Which would then make the check they’d sent me return as fraudulent. The idea is that most people would have already cashed the fraudulent check, purchased a Moneygram and sent it off. And, as a result, they would be out the $1300.30.
 
Meanwhile, Mr. Bryan Chan was getting antsy. He kept sending me emails, demanding to know what the problem was and why I hadn’t done as he’d instructed. Of course, he tried to play to my sympathies by referencing the poor motherless babies who were depending on me.
 
A couple of days later, the scenario given to me by my bank proved accurate; the check had been returned as fraudulent. I sent one final email, informing Mr. Chan that the “problem” he wondered about was that he’d sent me a fraudulent check. As such, I said I wouldn’t be sending any amount of money to anyone.
 
Strangely, I haven’t heard from the man since. ~
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. 

​So, almost all of the snow is gone from around my house! About time. I’ve lived in this town for 29 winters and I’ve never seen snow on the ground in March. Sure, at times there’s been a little skiff but it was usually gone faster than it came. This year, we’re talking feet of snow.
 
And it’s been here since early February. That’s a long time to put up with snow when winter should have been long gone. But I’m pretty sure it’s my fault.
 
See, back in January, I wrote a blog post celebrating the mild winter we were having. And almost immediately, things changed. The unseasonably warm temperatures turned unseasonably cold. The couple of little snow flurries we’d experienced turned to piles of snow.
 
A month and a half. That’s how long it’s been. It was supposed to be WARM by now. Usually, by mid-March, I’ve already mowed the lawn a couple of times. This year, it’ll be April before the lawn even starts growing.
 
So, I’ve learned my lesson. No more reveling in the mild winter on my blog — at least for this year. ~
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

​For a few minutes this past week, I thought the world was going to end. Not because any impending catastrophe was imminent. No, the reason was more innocuous than that.
 
Here’s what happened: Someone hacked one of my email accounts. Not the main email that I use, so that was good. But they were able to then get into my Facebook pages.
 
Okay, not exactly the end of the world scenario I started out with but still a little aggravating. I didn’t really lose any sleep or anything but it was just another issue I needed to deal with that I shouldn’t have.
 
From what I could tell, they didn’t really do much, no off-color posts, no posting of links to some other country, no attempts to scam anyone. I assume they just wanted information, and they probably got that. But, I don’t really post anything on Facebook that’s a big secret so...
 
As far as the email goes, I have no idea what they did with that. I could’ve sent a ton of spam out, I suppose. Well, not me but my account. so it would appear to come from me. But no one has sent me an angry response, so maybe not.
 
I think it’s all taken care of now, my Facebook accounts seem to be normal and I once again have control of my email. Now, I get to what to see what else they might do. Yay!
 
Such is life in the modern world. A few years ago, no one had to worry about being hacked. Now, it’s becoming a regular occurrence. Which is good in a way. If, by chance, people start receiving things that are totally out of character for the person supposedly sending them, it’s a good indication that they’ve been hacked.
 
Keep that in mind over the next few days. Just in case something untoward shows up, appearing to be from me, you’ll know it’s not. I hope! In any event, it’s not the end of the world! ~
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

While sitting in a restaurant with my wife this past weekend, my mind began to wander. Way back. About 44 years ago. Back to another time when I was sitting in that very same restaurant. It’s undergone some renovation and has a new name, but still the same building.
 
I could see the place the way it used to be, and for a minute or two it was almost like I’d traveled back in time. I started to smile to myself as I remembered an incident. My wife asked what I was thinking and I related the story to her. She didn’t think it was all that funny, so I thought I’d give it a try here:
 
S, there I was, about seven or eight years old, sitting at a table with my brother. We’d been there for quite some time, about two hours or more, waiting on our parents to finish talking to whoever we were with. Sorry, I don’t remember just who else was there.
 
We were at our own table, and getting a little restless. So, we got the bright idea of using our straws to shoot pieces of the crushed ice from our drinks. At first we aimed at various insignificant things: the windows, pictures on the wall, or the exit sign. Then, one of us, not sure who, started launching our ice projectiles toward an elderly man sitting across the dining area. Soon, it was both of us, taking turns. Seeing who could hit our new “target.”
 
A few of our missiles landed close and the guy, a little confused, would look around wondering what was going on. Then, one of us — again, not sure which one — scored a direct hit. The old man was a bit startled as the ice splattered over his glasses. He took them off to clean them and gazed around the room, searching for the culprit. My brother and I feigned innocence of course, acting like we weren’t paying attention to the man and his “adventure.”
 
It should have been rather obvious who the guilty party was —we were the only kids in the entire restaurant — but for some reason the man never said a word. Not to us or our parents. Just resumed eating. Although, he did try to keep a watchful eye out for the rest of his meal.
 
Figuring we’d gotten away with enough for one night, we held our fire and moved on to other things. I couldn’t really tell you what, but probably things just as mischievous.
 
I know, not a very inspirational story. Hardly noble. But hey, we were kids. Kids having fun. We had a laugh and no one got hurt so all in all a decent outcome — sort of. I guess that depends on one’s perspective.
 
Then I had another thought; maybe there’s more to these straw bans than just the stupidity of legislators...  ~
 
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Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. ​

You’re never too old to learn — as my grandson pointed out to me the other day. He was explaining to me that three times 20 is 60, to which I agreed. But my agreement was not enough, he wanted to make sure that I actually understood WHY it was so. Now, keep in mind this is coming from a five-year-old so the logic may be a little convoluted.
 
He said, “If you have twenty and you add another twenty that makes forty. But that’s not sixty because you only had two of them. If you add another twenty to the first twenty and the other twenty, that makes sixty because now you have three of them.”
 
I nodded and told him he was right.
 
But he wasn’t finished. “It’s like if you add one and one.”
 
Now I frowned. “Not quite the same.”
 
He kept talking as if he hadn’t heard. “If you keep doing that, you’ll get to sixty — eventually.” (That last word was added with a roll of the eyes and a bit of sarcasm).
 
I had to agree again. But I told him I wasn’t going to just add one number at a time all the way to sixty because that would take too long.
 
He looked at me as if I wasn’t quite all there. “That’s why you just add twenty three times.”
 
“Oh,” I said.
 
He seemed satisfied he’d successfully explained the math problem to me but then felt compelled to continue our “lessons.” He asked, “Do you know what half of one is?”
 
“Um, half?” I asked, playing along.
 
He looked surprised. “Yes, one half.”
 
I said, “So how many halves does it take to make two?”
 
“Grandpa, you just have to add halves until you get to two.”
 
“That’s true,” I said. “But how many would I have to add to get to two?”
 
Sighing, he said, “I think you’re going to have to study some more. But don’t worry, you’re never too old to learn.”
 
Well that’s good news, I thought. At least he has confidence in me. “So, you don’t think I’m too old to learn?”
 
He shook his head. “Remember? I just taught you how much three twenties are.”
 
Well, okay then. I guess it’s true; you’re never too old to learn! However, you may be too young to teach! ~
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. 
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As you may know, we recently had a holiday. No, I’m not talking about today, which is Presidents’ Day, I’m referring to Valentine’s Day.
 
My wife and I attended a Valentine’s Banquet on Saturday. Not particularly surprising, I know, since we’ve been married for almost thirty-two years. What is surprising to me, is that she still claims me and is willing to attend such events — or even be seen in public  together at all. After being together this long, I’ve regrettably given her plenty of reason to not be so eager to do so.
 
So, there we were at the banquet, and of course, there were the typical games based on couple’s knowledge of each other. As usual, this leads to everyone talking about how long they’ve been together, or how well they know each other — or do not know each other, as the case may be. These games are certainly revealing, and quite often good for a few laughs.  
 
But the whole time, I’m thinking that’s not really a good measuring device for love. Not that my wife and I don’t know each other very well, we do. We can predict with nearly 100% accuracy what the other one is thinking and how we’ll respond to questions or situations. Still, that doesn’t really provide any real indication of the level of love.
 
A better way of measuring love is how well do couples put up with each other’s quirks and annoyances, or objectionable behaviors. Obviously, a game designed around such questions wouldn’t be nearly as fun, might cause a little trouble, or in some cases, lead to a breakup. But that illustrates my point. This would be a more accurate measurement of love. Because love isn’t all roses and hearts. Love is something more. Something deeper. Something meaningful. Love is a commitment. A “no matter what” decision.
 
I’m just glad my wife’s commitment means that she’ll still go out in public with me. Because I can easily see how she might be intent on having me committed! ~
 ​
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.