Down the road a few miles from where I lived as a small boy was a fruit stand. It wasn’t much of a stand really, I don’t recall any buildings, just a few farm trucks backed in among the shade trees at a little clearing near the junction of two highways. Even on a hot and humid summer day, the gentle breeze coming through made it feel nice and cool. I remember the little wooden baskets in the back of the trucks filled with peaches. And we always got to pick out our own peach! They probably had other fruit too, I’m not sure.

My family stopped there a lot. The peaches were delicious—juicy, plump, and sweet—the best I’ve ever tasted. Occasionally, we met my Grandma and Grandpa there and somehow, in my mind, peaches got associated with my Grandma. It probably didn’t help that once when my grandparents picked up my brother and I for an overnight visit we stopped there on the way to their house. I remember my Grandma peeling and cutting up the peaches for us, while my Grandpa frowned and shook his head, muttering that she should just give us the peaches, we’d learn to eat them like everyone else in the world had. (Hmm. Starting to see why everybody says I remind them of my Grandpa). To this day, I think of my Grandma every time I eat a peach.

We moved from the area when I was six and while I have been back there a few times, I’ve never gotten another peach out of one of those baskets. In fact, the last time I was there, the place had changed—and quite drastically. Sadly, there were no shade trees. They had been cut down. Nearby was a convenience store. While I’m sure the store was air-conditioned, I missed the shade trees. And there were no peaches. Well, that’s not true. The sign outside said they sold peaches but that’s just not the same.

I still haven’t tasted a peach like the ones I got back then. I’ve tried to find one and while some are good they just don’t compare. Maybe it’s because my grandma didn’t peel it and cut it up.  ~ 

HBB!

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, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.

It’s been ten years since I’ve worn a watch—about the time I started carrying a cell phone. (Yeah, I got into the cell phone thing a little later than everyone else). Up until that point, I’d worn a watch almost constantly since about age six. I only took it off occasionally to look at the pasty white mark on my skin that never saw sunlight.

Not sure why that was important, other than it showed how dark the rest of my skin was, which usually wasn’t that dark.

But after getting a cell phone, I couldn’t really justify buying a new watch when my old one broke. So, I just stopped wearing one.

The first summer without my watch, the white band on my wrist began to go away. I’ve never really had a problem with getting sunburned, my skin just slowly darkens. So, I didn’t worry about the bleached skin burning and thought by the end of the summer it would be completely gone. But it wasn’t. And it was still there the next year too. And the next. In fact, it’s still there, ten years later. It is pretty faint now but  noticeable. Enough that people have asked me if I forgot my watch that day. They never seem to believe me when I tell them I don’t wear a watch.

I don’t know why the skin doesn’t get darker there. It’s almost like the pigment is gone and there’s nothing for the sun to bake.

I also thought I would get used to not wearing a watch, and I sort of did. If I need to see the time, I usually reach for my phone. But, occasionally, when I catch sight of the slightly whitened band around my wrist, I still find myself checking for the time. Crazy? Maybe. And maybe in another ten years or so, the mark will go away and I won’t be checking my arm for the time. Or, I could actually figure out that I don’t wear a watch by then, you never know! ~ 

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, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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The worst part of vacation—the end. It wouldn’t be so bad but the end always comes too soon. Before I even get used to the idea of vacation, it’s time to go back to work.

Yes, as some of my gifted readers may have guessed, I was on vacation last week, one of three that I’m allotted per year. Getting a day off any other time is not likely—unless a hospital stay is involved. Since that’s not my idea of a day off, I generally just go to work!

On this occasion, my wife and I celebrated our anniversary by visiting her family in Wisconsin. (I can hear the groans now of all those who think visiting their spouses family is a horrible way to spend a vacation). But, it’s okay, I actually like my in-laws!

One thing that made this vacation memorable was we took our one and a half year old grandson along with us. The kid is quickly becoming a seasoned air traveler as this was his tenth plane ride, I think. At more than one every two months, he is well on his way to joining the frequent flyer program. (That may diminish somewhat when he actually has to start paying to fly).

It was a fun week—at least for me. I guess I can’t speak for my wife, or the grandkid, or the in-laws for that matter! I think we all had a good time, relaxing, catching up, and enjoying the summer. But ultimately, my vacation was too short. And here it is Monday already and time to return to the daily grind.

I think I need a job where I work three weeks out of the year and vacation the other forty-nine. The opposite of what I do now. That, I could handle. Maybe. Although, it probably wouldn’t take that long before the forty-nine weeks would just not be enough and I’d be complaining my vacation had ended too soon!   ~ ~ ~

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, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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My wife and I are working on a project together. A book. A children’s book to be precise.

During our project, I’ve learned something: I don’t do well writing for kids. I like words too much. I like having many words to choose from and not worrying if it’s going to be misunderstood. That’s not really an option with a kid’s book. Too many unfamiliar words and they will lose interest. (Probably a lot of adults like that too).

It is frustrating though to have to curtail my word usage. By the end of it, I was saying to myself, Well, if they don’t know this word by now, it’s about time they learned. See why I maybe shouldn’t write children’s books?

But that is the approach I always used with my own kids. In fact, I’d specifically choose words I thought would be new to them. When they asked what the word meant, I’d say, “Look it up.” I did try to use context so they weren’t always at a loss for a word’s meaning, but quite often they were looking up words. Once they had a basic definition, we’d discuss the word so I could give them a fuller definition—connotations and meanings that the dictionary had omitted.

I don’t think it’s possible to do that with readers though. Even if it were, I doubt the practice would be advisable. Not really a good way to attract readers.

Back to our project: The book is about my wife’s cat—when she was growing up—and some of the rather stupid things he did. In fact, that was his name, Stupid, which is actually an endearing term. Really! Okay, that wasn’t his real name, it just sort of came to be; borne quite naturally out of the shaking of the head in disbelief at some of the things the cat did, mostly as a kitten.

I knew the cat, he was still around when my wife and I started dating, and he was far from stupid. And that’s saying a lot coming from me considering I really don’t like cats. Dogs are so much more relatable!

My wife took care of writing the initial story, and all the illustrations. She says she’s not a writer. She says she’s not an artist. Yet, I have indisputable proof that she is both.

Me, I got to do all the re-writes, to put the story in the voice of the cat, then more re-writes, formatting, cover design, and publishing.

We should have had the book done by now. Or, more to the point, I should have had it done by now. My wife’s part has been finished for quite some time. But as I like to say, art can’t be rushed! Well, unless you’re one of those speed painters, which I’m not. But it will be done soon; in a few days or so. And it might actually be out by the time this post goes live.

One other thing I’ve learned during this project; my wife and I make a good team! But then, this coming Saturday will be our 28th Anniversary so we probably should have figured out how to work together by now! I did have fun working on this project with her. Good thing, I think she’s already planning a sequel! ~

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, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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Does anyone remember when stores sold penny candy? A single piece of candy for a penny. They had other candy too, some was priced at two cents and some even up to five cents! I guess they still sell the same candy, it just takes more than a penny to pay for it these days. It’s more like dollar candy now.

I was always a cheapskate. Even as a kid, I didn’t like wasting my money. I would only buy the penny candy. Sometimes, I got lucky and the store would be having a sale, three pieces of candy for two cents! Yay! Time to stock up!

Problem is, I didn’t really like candy that well. I did eat it occasionally but it wasn’t what I craved and I could easily do without it. I always thought it looked good in the store but by the time I got home, I usually didn’t eat it all. So, I would save it. I had a big bag in my room that no one knew about. Wasn’t sure what I was saving it for but as it turns out, it was for a good cause.

When I was a kid, we had a lot of people stay with us. Once, when we had visitors, they had a boy about my age. I don’t think you could say that we were friends though. He was a little too annoying for that. I tolerated him; only because my dad said I had to. But the day I came home from school to find the kid had eaten ALL of my candy, my tolerance sort of faded. (More like flew away at the speed of light).

But before I could get myself into trouble, I learned the kid had come down with something and was sleeping—after having puked his guts out and moaning that his stomach hurt. Apparently, eating an entire bag of candy that had been accumulating for years tends to make a body quite sick! I wasn’t sure if it was the fact the candy was old or that he’d eaten all of it that had done him in but either way, I was happy.

I never told his parents, or mine, what he’d done. They just figured he’d gotten a bug and become sick. I did mention it to the kid though—indirectly.

While he was still sleeping, I’d made a trip to town with my mom—and replenished my candy supply. When we returned, the kid was up and feeling better. But, not for long. “Want some candy?” I asked, opening the bag so he could see my stash.

He just shook his head as his eyes glazed over and he looked like he was going to puke again.

Ah! Penny candy. Cheap Thrills!

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, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook and paperback on iTunes, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords, or at www.bruceabordersbooks.weebly.com. Amazon Profile - http://www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS. Bruce A. Borders also serves as the Vice-President of Rave Reviews Book Club.

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