This past week, I had the privilege of doing a little work outside—repairing a fence and a few other small jobs. It wasn’t that much work actually, and took only about two and a half hours.
 
The temperature was barely above freezing and although I really despise the cold weather, it didn’t seem that bad outside. In fact, I even took my coat off about a half an hour into the job because I was getting a little warm. Maybe because I was working!
 
On my way home, I drove past some construction workers. They were all standing around, hands in their pockets, hooded sweatshirts on, and shivering—like it was cold or something.
 
A minute or two later, I passed some city workers. Same story. Standing there doing nothing, all bundled up and shivering.
 
Me, I still hadn’t put my coat back on and was driving with my window down.
 
I considered stopping to let them know that if they actually did some work they might not be so cold. But I figured they didn’t really care what I had to say. So, I kept driving.
 
But when I stopped at the gas station and the guy pumping gas asked how I could be running around with no coat and a short-sleeved shirt, I couldn’t resist.
 
“Been working,” I told him.
 
“Me too,” he said.
 
Well not hard enough or you wouldn’t be cold! I thought it but didn’t say it. No, not because I’m thoughtful really. I normally say whatever comes to mind. But the reason I didn’t say it is because usually I’m the guy shivering in the cold. So, I know how it feels.
 
At least that’s part of the reason.
 
The rest of the story, as Paul Harvey used to say, is because of my wife. Not that she’s a cold-blooded killer. Or cold-hearted. She just likes the temperature cold. Really cold. She’s been known to run the air conditioner in our house in December. And January. And this happens frequently! Rarely, is the temperature in my house at a livable level and I wear a coat inside nearly all winter. (In fact, I’m wearing my coat as I type this). Because apparently, my wife thinks the house should be kept suitable for a polar bear habitat.
 
So, I know from experience that once a guy gets cold, it’s hard to warm up. Especially if you have a wife like mine. And now that I’ve finished with this post, I’m going to go turn up the heat. ’Cause I’m cold! ~
 
 
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.

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything about my school days. You’d think that I would have exhausted all my stories about school by now, but no. What I have done is exhausted the supply of stories that I’m willing to divulge. But I figured if I thought hard enough, I could dredge up one that wasn’t too damaging.
 
And I did. Maybe.
 
I was in the fourth grade. My teacher, an elderly lady who should have retired long before I was in her class didn’t seem to like me much. I’m not sure why but it didn’t really matter because I didn’t like her much either. But then, none of her students did.
 
Which is why when I came across a copy of an upcoming test, lying there on her desk for all the world to see, I devised a little scheme. No, I didn’t take the test, didn’t even touch it. So, technically, I wasn’t guilty of any wrongdoing. At least in my mind. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t use what I’d found.
 
Let me explain. See, I’ve always had a pretty good memory. I could memorize things with very little effort—and in very little time. So, I took the liberty of memorizing the test, all of it, while the teacher was busy correcting my work that I’d turned in for that day.
 
Back at my desk, I carefully wrote down each of the questions. Then, flipping through the textbook, I found the answers and filled them in. My original thought was to make copies and hand them out to my classmates. But I knew that would cost money; besides, I also knew that someone, wasn’t sure who, but someone, would rat me out. So instead, I conveniently left the test inside another kid’s desk when no one was looking.
 
As I’d hoped, the next day, this other student shared his new treasure with a friend. And then another friend. Soon, it seemed the whole class had a copy of that test. Except me. It appeared I was the only honest one.
 
Yeah, my teacher didn’t buy that either.
 
As I had figured, someone did tell her what was going on. She went around the room, from desk to desk, collecting all the papers that had been circulated. But of course, when she got to me, I didn’t have one.
 
She didn’t say a whole lot but I could tell that she knew. And obviously, though I didn’t think of it at the time, it was all in my handwriting, which I’m sure she could easily recognize.
 
As a result of all this, the test was changed. Somewhat anyway. A lot of the same material was on the alternate test the teacher handed out a couple of days later—just switched around a little. But also as a result of all this, I had no problem completing the test; I’d searched out the answers already, and then written them down. The material still was in my head so the answers came pretty easily.
 
Eventually, a few weeks later, I think, the teacher did ask me if I had taken the test. I said no, but then told her what I’d done. She wasn’t impressed. In fact, she didn’t believe me. She said there was no way I could memorize an entire test in just a few minutes.
 
So, I recited the test for her, word for word—along with the answers. It worked, she was convinced; I hadn’t “taken” the test. For a moment, I remember thinking I was off the hook. Then she opened her desk, took out my test from that day, and marked a big red “F” on it. Now, some would say I deserved that but I’m still convinced that she just didn’t like me. Still not sure why either! ~
 
 
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. 

Well, here we are on the last day of 2018. The end of another year. As usual, it has flown by. In less than twenty-four hours, it will be 2019.
 
I’ve listened to the usual year-end examination of events—the year in retrospect, listened to the routine New Year’s predictions; the fears and concerns of what a new year will bring. Everything from politics to entertainment to security and health, even our culture will be impacted they say.
 
I find that for the most part, New Year’s predictions are, well, predictable. There are always those who think the world will end and there are those who say the world will be much better. Most people tend to fall somewhere in the middle, in that, they believe things will improve on some levels and on other levels things will worsen.
 
I can’t really predict the future but I don’t think all that much will change. Not drastically anyway, or all at once. The world is constantly changing and nothing stays the same but that change is gradual. The change takes time. I’m not sure that simply the advent of a new year really has much bearing on it. Except for one thing.
 
There is one thing that will immediately and noticeably change. One big change. And it will affect everyone. So, what is the one change?
 
The answer is a simple matter of addition; the eight in our year will become a nine. 2018 will be 2019—a difference of... one. That’s the one change I predict. ~
 
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. 

The time I’ve waited for has arrived! And no, I’m not talking about Christmas. And not the New Year either. What I’m referring to is that the days are getting longer! Not really noticeable yet, I admit, but still longer. Being that I’m a nocturnal creature and wake up when darkness falls you’d think I’d be happy with longer nights. But there’s something deeply depressing about it getting dark at 4:30 in the afternoon.
 
Back when I worked a normal job, with normal hours, I rarely saw my house in the daylight during the winter months—until the weekend. I’d leave in the dark and get home in the dark. Ugh! These days, I do get to see my house during the day but that doesn’t seem to take away the gloomy feeling early darkness brings. I always get the feeling that I’ve been short-changed; that I’ve been cheated out of a full day. And of course, it also affects how much I can get done outside, which leads to frustration.
 
And that’s why I look forward to the days getting longer. Don’t worry, I still stay up half of the night—or more, ’cause there’s plenty of things to do inside as well, and there’s that nocturnal part of me to consider—but I don’t have the sense that I’m being ripped off and robbed of my daylight hours. And though the time gained is negligible at this point, at least things are moving in the right direction and that always puts me in a better mood.
 
But six months from now, even though summer (my favorite time of the year) will by then be in full swing, I’ll start feeling a little bummed—because the days will be getting shorter. And again, I’ll be wishing away my life, looking forward to December 21st! ~
 
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. ​

The Christmas shopping is all done. And with more than a week to spare! All the presents for the kids, the grandkids, and everybody else have been wrapped; we’re just waiting on Christmas. I think this is the earliest we’ve ever gotten it all done. And it’s actually kind of a good feeling. No braving the crowded stores for that last minute gift, or gifts, as is usually the case; we’re all set!
 
Or, so I thought. It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t purchased anything for my wife. Not to worry though, it shouldn’t be too hard to remedy. Several years ago, we decided that instead of spending a lot of money on each other, we’d focus on the kids—and now it’s the grandkids. But that being said, we still do get a small gift for each other; a token gift. Something that says “We don’t need to go broke to tell each other Merry Christmas!”
 
So, apparently, I’ll be heading back to the store tomorrow. I can’t wait much longer or I’ll be wading through the masses just to find a candy bar or something. Okay, I might actually get something more than a candy bar, I suppose. Although... I’m sure my wife would appreciate the chocolate! And truth be told, it wouldn’t be the first time I gift-wrapped a chocolate bar for her. But that was long ago—when we got more than just a token gift.
 
Now for the ironic part: When I confessed to my wife that I hadn’t remembered to get her a gift, she said that she hadn’t gotten me one either. So while the purpose of our token gift is symbolic and meant to say “I’m thinking of you,” I guess we really weren’t. Hmm, we may need to purchase bigger gifts this year! So much for the Christmas shopping being done! ~
 
 
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. ​

This past week my wife’s parents were visiting from Wisconsin. It was nice to have them here, especially since I hadn’t seen them in a while. Throughout the week, we also had other visitors; my kids and their families came by, as did my parents.
 
One night when everyone was here, several of us were putting a puzzle together. Some of the grandkids were helping—well, one said he was helping but what he actually was doing was taking the pieces apart and then reassembling them. But at least it kept him occupied!
 
One of the other grandkids was just watching. I asked if he wanted to help and he said no. I said okay. But he still stood there watching. A few minutes later, I again asked if he wanted to help. Again, he said no. But this time he explained his reasoning.
 
“Putting puzzles together is for old people,” he said.
 
I laughed, noticing it was mostly the adults who were working on the puzzle. But then I pointed to the other side of the table where his brother was busy finding where pieces fit. “He is not old.”
 
“He’s just practicing so when he gets old he knows how to do puzzles.”
 
Well, I couldn’t really argue with that. I think that’s what we all did; started when we were young and now that we’re “old” we’re using what we learned. And not just with puzzles. I’m pretty sure that’s how most things work.
 
After thinking about it, I told him that I was doing the same thing—practicing for when I get old. He said, “Grandpa, you don’t need any more practice.”
 
I guess he could have meant I’m very good at puzzles but I think it was just a nice way of saying I’m already old! ~
 
 
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. 

It’s that time of year again. Christmas music is playing in stores. My neighbors have begun decorating, stringing lights, uprooting (or maybe cutting) trees and dragging them into their houses, and shopping is becoming next to impossible due to the sudden influx of Christmas shoppers.
 
It’s the time of year when I like to stay home. Just avoid the whole mess of crowded streets and parking lots as well as the hoards of people. Yet, in spite of my misgivings, I find myself needing things and end up heading to the store. And then wonder why I did.
 
This past week I waited in line for what seemed like half an hour. It probably wasn’t that long but as a guy who is always in a hurry, wasting time in a checkout line is a little annoying. Especially when it’s unnecessary. When it was finally my turn to checkout, the cashier asked if I’d found everything okay.
 
“No, I haven’t found my way home yet,” I said.
 
The response I got was rather interesting. “Do you need help finding your house?” the lady asked with a look of concerned pity.
 
Wondering how the lady planned to help me when she didn’t know where I lived, I shook my head. “Just need to get out of this crowded store and I’ll be fine,” I told her.
 
Again she gave me a strange look, sort of frowning at what I had in my hand. I didn’t know the reason until I looked down at my hands.
 
While in line, I’d been messing with my phone and somehow had turned on the flashlight. As it was late in the afternoon and dark outside, I guess the lady thought I really was having a hard time finding my way home. Or maybe she just thought I suffered from dementia, I don’t know.
 
I paid for my items and headed to the door. I noticed the lady still watching me so just to give her something to worry about; I paused in the doorway and turned my flashlight back on. As I left, the song blaring from the speakers was I’ll Be Home For Christmas. Hopefully, I thought. As long as I can find my way with this flashlight! ~
 
 
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. ​

November is a cold month. At least where I live. It’s snowy with freezing rain and lots of wind. It’s not the time of year I’d typically think of building anything outside. Usually. But this year has been different. We’ve had decent weather; no snow, no wind, and a generous amount of sunshine. And that got me to thinking.
 
I’ve been wanting to add on to my shed for quite a while now and since I had some free time, and the weather was cooperating, I finally decided to do. At first, I thought maybe I’d just get the foundation poured and wait until Spring to finish the project. But that’s just not me. Once I start something, I’m sort of obsessed with getting it done. Besides, the sun was still shining! So, I kept working. Figured I’d get as far as I could before the snow started flying. Built the walls, the rafters, put a roof on it, added the siding and trim, installed a door, and even painted the whole thing. Later today, I’ll be pouring the concrete step to finish it off.
 
I’m still sort of surprised I was able to get everything done; it’s now almost December. And still, no snow, no wind. But while the overall weather was great for this time of year, it is getting awfully close to winter. And that means shorter days, which translates to getting up earlier in order to have daylight. And even though temperatures have been in the fifties during the day, mornings are another story. For the first couple of hours each day, I thought I’d freeze. I had to work hard just to stay warm! But I guess I should have expected that. After all, it is late November, and November is a cold month. ~
 
 
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, I went to pick up my five-year-old grandson from Daycare last week. I’d like to say he was happy to see me but the truth is he’d rather Grandma pick him up. But she had the misfortune of having a dental visit. He did seem okay with me being there since Grandma was busy. As he put it, having me pick him up was better than just staying there all night. Nice to know I’m appreciated! But, I’ll take whatever I can get.
 
My diluted triumph was short lived, however. As soon as he got in, he started giving me the third degree. I probably should note that over the last few weeks I’ve been working, building things—fences, decks, pouring concrete, etc.—and my pickup was showing the signs. I’ve been carrying a lot of tools inside so there was a bit of sawdust, regular dust, and other clutter—in the seats and on the floor.
 
“Grandpa, you have no respect,” he began.
 
“Why?” (Never ask a five-year-old a question if you don’t want a long and extended answer).
 
“You have no respect for your truck,” he said. “You should respect your truck by keeping it clean. If you leave it dirty, it shows you have no respect at all.” He wasn’t done yet. “And if people see that you have no respect for your vehicle, they’ll have no respect for you. So, you really need to clean the inside, and probably wash it too.”
 
Okay then! I explained that I’d been busy working and hadn’t had a chance to clean the pickup. My excuses fell on deaf ears. When we arrived at the house, as he got out, he gave me quite a displeased look, pointing to the mess. “You know what you need to do,” was all he said.
 
As you can imagine, I did clean the truck—the next day. When he returned later in the week, I showed him my handiwork. I guess I thought he’d be excited or at least say good job or something. But no. What he did say was, “Now keep it that way!”
 
I can’t say he’s wrong or that I shouldn’t heed his advice. But I think in a few years, when the kid starts driving, I’m going to show him this blog post. ~
 
 
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. ​

My wife and daughters have a yearly tradition—a day of baking for the upcoming holidays. They’ve been doing this for ten or twelve years, maybe longer. They call it Cookie Day but it’s not limited to just cookies. They make a lot of treats: chocolatey, caramely, gooey goodies.
 
At least this is what I’ve been told. I’m never home for Cookie Day so I’m not really sure what they do. For all I know they could go to the store and purchase the ready made delectable confections and then sit around and visit. All I know is when I get home there are platefuls of cookies, candy, and other sweets.
 
As you can imagine, I look forward to Cookie Day. (Not that I really need all the sweets but I’ve never let that stop me before). This year, Cookie Day is today. Yay!
 
But this year, there is an added bonus—I’ll be home! First time ever; home for Cookie Day. No waiting until they’re all done to get my sugar fix. And though I doubt they’ll want my help in the baking, I might be allowed to taste test a few things. That is, if they actually DO make this stuff themselves. Guess I’ll find out a little later! ~
 
 
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. ​