A Dog Dreams of Paris Blog Tour With WOW Women On Writing

Blog Tour Dates:

June 29 - July 31

 

Link to The Muffin for dates and details!

My dream for April's story became a reality in May this year. Her picture book was completed and up on Amazon. I met my deadline of having this project completed before my hip replacement surgery May 12th. My book designer, and sister, made it happen by giving me her full attention! We pulled the project together in six weeks, although it has been in my mind for several years. Pam saw the project in Technicolor and made this book a beauty to hold and look at. Pages bursting with color and  full of all the graphics  and text I sent her. She is a one women wonder with her company PD King Design. While she does all my books with Gilbert Street Press, she works with other authors, too.

Below is the kick-off e-mail from Wow Women on Writing to launch my tour. How fun is it?


Have you ever seen a dog "sleep running"? The most common explanation is that they're dreaming of chasing something ... a car, a ball, a rabbit. But what if it's something else --what if they're dreaming of hightailing it through JFK airport to catch their flight to Paris?
 
If you're wondering who would come up with such an unexpected scenario, it's author and dog lover Barbara Barth. In her latest book, a charming picture book for dreamers of all ages, you'll meet April, a rescue dog turned diva. A Dog Dreams of Paris is a fantasy dog memoir -- April' travel diary on places she would visit in Paris.


My other dream is to use this book to help raise money for my favorite animal groups. A portion of all sales goes to animal rescue and books can be purchased in wholesale lots for fundraisers. I live with six rescue dogs that rescued me after I became a widow.

I'll keep you posted on my blog tour and what's next in the writing world around here. I now have five other dogs that want a bit of fame, too. Perhaps 2015 will be the year I finally complete my dog memoir!

 Buy On Amazon. Paper only. $10.95

 with part of the proceeds going to animal rescue!

 

 

 

Addicted to Jewelry

My latest fix - necklaces with old religious medals.

There. I've said it. I am addicted to jewelry.

Now I need to clarify that statement. Not expensive diamonds and gold, but artist made pieces that are full of imagination and spirit. Vintage jewelry with a history and patina. Junk jewelry I find at thrift stores. Mingle it all together and you have what I call 'my style'. You also have my drug of choice. Buying jewelry calms me down when I am stressed. It is also my main distraction when I am writing late at night and need a break. At 2AM you'll find me sneaking up to Etsy to find my latest fix.

It is a relief to me that I have narrowed it down to jewelry. I became an antique dealer because I was addicted to huge old painted cupboards. You can't just toss those on a tray on your vanity and walk away. Then it was art...then it was vintage clothes...I have downsized my craziness to fit in my pocket. You know, that pocket that has no money in it, but is filled with beautiful things I love.

When I wrote my memoir "The Unfaithful Widow" my jewelry choice then was vintage turquoise Native American pieces. I found it didn't matter what I wore, everyone noticed my jewelry. I layered it around my neck and up my arms. There were two rings on each hand. I felt 'interesting' during a time I felt so alone. Wearing turquoise jewelry eased the word 'widow' that had become a part of my vocabulary.

My very first - and actually only - book club signing - the gals all wore turquoise jewelry in my honor. I stepped into their warm surroundings, soup simmering on the stove, wine punch in a bowl, and felt at home. Several of the members came up to me waving their arms to show turquoise bracelets. "We loved your chapter on Turquoise jewelry." Then I took off my coat and realized I was wearing only silver. My turquoise was piled up on the dresser at home. My mood that day called for vintage Mexican silver.

It seems my mood dictates many choices for me.

My latest passion  - crosses, and lots of them, dangling on silver chains and surrounded by vintage rhinestone necklaces. I wear 'dead people' around my neck as I was reminded by a group I had dinner with a few weeks ago. My latest purchase from Etsy arrived. An assemblage necklace with an 1800s tintype photo of an old woman, hair pulled back in a stern bun, and dressed in black. It was in a small antique gold frame circled with tiny rhinestones. I was ecstatic it arrived in time for my dinner adventure.

"Is that a relative you have around your neck?" I looked up from my shrimp salad confused. She pointed to my necklace. "That old woman in the frame."

I smiled and looked at the group. "No, it's a dead person I don't know." I suppose I got a bit of joy out of the moment. The young gal that ushered me to my table had complimented my necklace only minutes before. "It's so cool." My dinner companions looked at me with peculiar expressions. End of conversation.

I plan to wear another 'instant relative' - the more politically correct phrase, dead person is a bit gauche, to dinner tonight.

Sometimes I leave the house and am naked of jewelry. That is always a buying situation ready to happen. I will walk into my favorite thrift store, check out the jewelry counter, find an odd little piece for under $3, reach up and feel the empty spot right below my throat, and point to the case.
"Can I look at that piece please?"

Most likely I will leave wearing it.

A bit of a game, but easy-peasy, and inexpensive at best.

My choices are simply what I love at any given time. Not to impress, not to shock, but to feel good when I pull myself together. I love art in any form, and the pieces I buy now are one-of-a-kind visions of artists who love old things as much as I do. Or used bits and parts I may fashion into something.

I've made jewelry before and sold it in our Botanical Gardens gift shop. My back room is full of oddities ready for me to pick up and design again. Perhaps after the first of the year I will. It may be time to lighten my jewelry load! Right now I am too busy writing. I only have time to shop online at night.

In celebration of my upcoming release, "Danger In Her Words" I will offer a raffle of a naughty or nice piece of jewelry. Details are coming.

Some of my recent purchases below. Are you addicted to jewelry? If so, share your comments below and be entered in my give-a-way.

 

Holy Crap, I Just Got My Medicare Card or Sparkle At Sixty-Five - It's All In Your Attitude

My new mantra for age sixty-five.

My first reaction to filing for Medicare was not a pleasant one. It was a symbol I was getting really old.  I'd ignored AARP for years, but you can't ignore Medicare. Of all people, I knew this better than most. Ten years ago I retired from my job with the federal government, working for Social Security. 

I called my best friend and whined. "What if my Medicare card falls out of my purse while I'm out with a young guy!"

She brought me back to reality. "You haven't dated in months. If you do go out, keep your purse and your mouth zipped."

I filed for Medicare the end of July. My coverage began August lst. For those of you reading this, my birthday is August 21st. Feel free to help me celebrate. But no old age jokes. They are off my radar and have been since I was very young.

The day my card arrived (last week) I looked in the mirror to see if I'd changed overnight. A long critical moment proved what I needed to know. I was exactly the same gal I was the day before, the month before, and actually all the last year, and maybe even a year or two before that! My daily routine of slathering my face with ROC at night paid off, I didn't see any more wrinkles. My lip-gloss shimmered and made my smile and teeth look good (all mine pu-lease, what were you thinking?).  My short hair (which I cut myself and have for twenty years) had that bedroom look I love. I still needed to lose weight. I was still ME!

What I needed was an attitude adjustment so I could put the fear of sixty-five behind me.

Then a close encounter of a romantic nature and a plan for my books gave me the kick in the pants I needed. I also found my word for age 65 to guide me through the year!

              

 S*P*A*R*K*L*E

 

The day I filed for my Medicare card on the phone ended with a perk that made it the best day I'd had in a dog year! (you do the math)

I filed my claim at 1:30. At 7:30 I was making out in the back seat of a car parked at Starbucks with an old boyfriend I dated in the late 1970s. He'd rolled into town to visit family and we had a small window to reconnect. Talk about perfect timing. In a matter of a few hours I went from feeling old to the high of a teenager steaming up windows in a rented car. The back seat was so small we couldn't get into big trouble . . . but passionate kisses were the best prescription for what ailed me that day.

Follow your bliss at any age. That is what I am doing this year. My two books are turning into a reality. A romantic, erotic thriller "Writer Beware" is almost completed and my long talked about sequel to my widow memoir should follow behind.

A new website and blog complete my goal to feng shui my writing portfolio. If you follow me at all, I have too many blogs, too many websites. I plan to simplify with one main blog and website for all my writing this year. We'll see how long that lasts. You know, two dogs eventually led to six. I will never get my old shop merchandise out of my house, because I still buy more. If I get an idea that inspires, a new blog could sneak in. But this blog will be my home base. So I hope you will book mark it and come back to visit.

Then look for Gilbert Street Press to build its business to include book and cover designs for others with my talented sister Pam King at the helm.

When you follow your bliss it doesn't hurt to sprinkle it with glitter. My new word for sixty-five is Sparkle!