Gettin' By the Best I Can
Could there be a brighter harbinger?
A panorama of flowers trying to ward off the mean old cold
The bright early plum
She wants to bloom free
Says winter’s a bum
I agree with the tree
Apples, coaching the laggard trees beyond
And the moss the moss on the stone is listening
As is the little strawberry nestled in the hay
Spring is coming, surely any day!
MARCH SNOW? NO!
Yesterday I forgot Ma’s medicine at the cabin and didn’t realize it until I got all the way into town. Idiot! Thus I had to drive back with Ma in the swirling snow last night. Of course my brother was there taking full advantage of my not being there, his big old truck blocking the driveway. Surprised him!
Anyway, I set the alarm very early to get in to work this morning as it takes well over an hour to get there from the cabin. The county had the roads cleared well, we only got a couple inches. I cruised up the ramp onto the Parkway, four lanes with little traffic. I set the cruise control on 70 and relaxed some. I pointed out
snowplows to Ma, I pointed out chilly flocks of birds. Then a big pick-up passed me.
This huge black Guzzlero 350 had prominent mirrors on either side. I told Ma those giant mirrors had turn signals incorporated, so the guy must pull a trailer. To have them that nice installed instead of the clip-on kind, he must haul something valuable, regularly.
The pick-up wasn’t the newest model, but had the appearance of being kept up. The black body gleamed, the chrome shone through the crusted snow, no dings or rust. With those mirrors he had to pull a long trailer and have enough money to maintain the truck, the trailer and whatever he hauls. Horses. Maybe he had a line on some horses for sale and was on the way to give them an experienced look.
Meanwhile, his wife accepts yet another Amway box from the UPS carrier that knows her name and asks how her sniffly rat dog is doing. “He died”, she told him, and then thanked him for her wonderful package. She wanted to sell Amway but all her neighbors avoid her anymore. She gave Shelly artful make-up sets, lip glosses and blushes for her wan face every Christmas, birthday, Easter and Earth Day and many cologne arrays to her son; he’s only 12 but was growing into it.
Shelly opens the front door, sees the boxful of all night mascaras and pineapple candles and feels the strong urge to go right back out before Ma looks up. Too late. “Hi, Ma.”
“Look honey, I got you these nice gloves that match this bracelet that matches this necklace that goes with this combination flashlight and Pumpkin Spritzer for your purse!”
Dad walks in and shakes off the snow, a rotten habit that makes the carpet soggy and it 
catches so much dirt. “Hey Shelly! Arnie Butz up in Fordsville has a spunky appaloosa that he’s gotta sell to get his wife some kind of exotic medicine. Dunno, but he’s selling it rock bottom. Help me hook the trailer up and let’s go get it!”
Shelley slumped, ‘There goes more of my meager inheritance.’ Aloud, she said, “Sorry Dad, Ma and I were heading out for breakfast. It’s the eleventh anniversary of my braces coming off and I need to celebrate. We might get some shopping in after that. Want to come along?”
“Hell no! You girls have fun, I can get this myself.” He goes out mumbling.
After a country ham and scrambled egg breakfast, Ma insists on going to the Goodwill. Shelly knows better but relents. Surely all of the Amway plunder Ma had sent her over the years and had donated was off the shelves, in some other ditzy woman’s house.
Ma got a cart because she didn’t like using a cane, it made he appear old. She leans on it and starts wandering. In the geegaw aisle, there laid in a perfect row, were the 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012 and 2016 versions of Santa’s Favorite never-opened lip gloss in hot pink. “Shelly, looky there! I wonder why some are missing?”
Shelly knew…
Ah, end of the Parkway, click off of cruise control, coming into town and traffic. Isn’t funny how a mirror on a passing truck can make a tedious drive more bearable?
Maybe it was the relief of Christmas obligations being over. Perhaps it was the end of the frantic push to get things done before the end of the year. I got the hood, tire and headlights fixed on the Subaru, that had to help. It could also have been getting a second four-day weekend so close upon the heels of the last that it felt freer, like a holiday. I had river of inspiration in full spate coursing through my noggin, much like the Wild Branch out front that overflowed its banks and chewed on the gravel road.
As I have not sent my 6th t’Hoot Sci-Fi book to the Editor yet, I took the opportunity to tweak it a bit and augment the ending. That book is now the last of the Elise t’Hoot series, the end of an age. I still love Elise, Ricky, stalwart Bartolommeo, that rascal Alvin Wing and the others; they feel like family. The new series will 
be different!
We remain in the paradigm of 100 years into the future, Earth in climate turmoil, governments holding tight reigns on the weary population and efficient space travel a reality. In the new series, we drop in on an asteroid mining operation out past Mars. Otto is a new Mechanic. Socks is a Chemist. I drafted the first book in which they both are nearly killed. Otto’s stepmother ET almost met her demise there doing the same job a few years before. Had ET not self-published some smashingly fine science fiction that sparked popular movies, Otto and Socks wouldn’t have had a chance. Except the main contributor to the danger was a guy who literally lived the movies.
I sat back dazed after drafting that story out. Something NEW! I hit “save” over and over. I backed it up on two different thumb drives. Then I wrote up eight more storylines with those characters and put them in three categories at around one in the morning. I’m excited that I like the characters, I like the story and it feels so durned good to have released that dammed up imagination. The words of the draft poured out in a steady stream, clear water from a crystal ewer. 
It seems these books will be much shorter than the intertwined storylined grand t’Hoot books. I will indeed use my new templates for the cover and interior. I will start with e-books only and print maybe two or three to a book later. Might I also create my own publishing imprint? The pearl in the big gooey oyster really seems within my grasp. Wow!
Here’s my first stab at the cover art for the new book. If I don’t get excited about all of it, who would ?
How Would You Do It? 