You all know what I’m talking about.  You start on something, usually important or life changing, and someone has to come along and fuck things up.  Over the past few months things have been hard enough on most of us, and yes one of the monkey wrenches was a result of that and that one I do understand.  What I’m talking about are people who just have to come along, and screw shit up.
This last one however, was one too many, and also pathetic.  I can’t and won’t go into what it is about.  I will tell you this, if there is any way I can fuck this situation up sideways, believe me, I’m going to do just that.  I know where all the bodies are buried.
Also, anyone who thinks for one minute that I’m stupid, you better think again.  I’ve got more brains in my little finger than you have in your whole body.  You’re a self-serving moronic idiot who needs to be locked away somewhere because you’re crazier than bat shit.  The real reason I’m pissed is because you thought you were smarter than me.
Don’t get me wrong people I know I’m not the smartest person out there, but I know when I have more working grey matter floating inside my skull than some people.  You want to throw that monkey wrench you damn well better be sure I don’t have a bigger one, and I’m here to tell you, I do.  Way bigger.
What’s really funny here is that the person I’m talking about will never know.  They’re not that smart.  Even if by some chance they are, that’s a laugh, there ain’t shit they can do about it.
I have to admit there is a list, although it is small, that has a few people I have a pure dislike for.  That last was an understatement, but I’m trying to be somewhat nice here.  A couple of the people, actually outside of one, they don’t know I have a list.  Even the one person who does know I don’t like them doesn’t know that outside of this person there is anyone else I don’t like.  It really is that few.  But each one on my list is there for a damn good reason.  When I say good, I mean you really have to screw up so bad that I have to turn away and walk.  I have to say to be my age and there are less than ten, I’m not saying how many exactly.  I’m not doing too bad in that department and yes, I do pray about it.  I wish none of them any harm, or bad fortune.  Just leave me and mine alone.  That’s all I ask at this point.  So far this last wrench doesn’t look like it will cause any damage, but if it does…When I pick it up and throw it back you’re going to think I dropped a bomb on you because all the crappy garbage you’ve pulled will blow up in your face.  Like I said, I know where the bodies are buried, and I’ll have no problem with digging them up.
Please understand this is not in any way a physical threat to anyone.  It is simply a statement that, unlike you, I do know all the secrets and I have no problem in letting them be unearthed.  Don’t believe me, try me.

I don’t know how most of you might feel about what is happening, but I’m guessing you’re not any happier about it than I am.  For one thing, I’m tired of being lied to.
Shall we’ll start with those damn masks.  First, they tell us that they won’t protect us, but hey we need to make sure that medical personal need them to protect themselves.  Don’t get me wrong, if anyone should have first dips on the damn things it should be the people who are trying to take care of the rest of us, but to tell us they are useless in protecting us…If they are useless in protecting us how can they be of any use to those on the front line of this mess.
Second, don’t go outside, stay in.  Then They come on the news and tell you to get out and get some sunshine and exercise.
If those two aren’t confusing enough let’s go with the rubber gloves.  I’ve seen more people with rubber gloves on than I can count, and I want to slap them.  The rubber gloves do you absolutely no good if you if you are handling things all day and then turning around and scratching your nose, rubbering your eyes, or wiping your mouth.  The gloves are just as contaminated as your hands would be if you didn’t have on the gloves.
I was stopped at a gas station earlier today and some nitwit tried to get me to roll down my window so he could hand me a flyer because he was trying to raise money for a school’s athletic department.  Can you tell me how many things were wrong with that picture?  No, I didn’t roll down my window.  When he approached my husband, buddy put up his hand and made him stop in his tracks.  Six feet is six feet and he wasn’t going to allow that man any closer than that.
I would also like to get a straight answer from someone who knows what they are talking about.  Right now, there is a young man in the hospital not doing real well because of how he has reacted to this virus.  His wife is having mild symptoms and yet this otherwise very healthy young man is in critical condition.  One minute it is the elderly who is at greater risk, now it’s our younger people who may be in greater jeopardy.  The news has taken a gloom and doom attitude toward the whole thing and has the entire American population scared half out of their mind.  Does anyone really know why they are dealing with?  I’m at a point where I trust no one at all in authority because to be honest I don’t think they know their ass from a whole in the ground, or if they do, they are keeping it from us.
It seems to me that what we need more than anything right now is some good old fashion common sense.  I personally would like to come out of this alive, but more important I want my three daughters and their children to survive this.  For all of us who are not testing positive, and maybe they should be checking all of us, maybe we are immune to the virus and the curse could be something as simple as whatever is in the bodies of those who might be immune to the disease.  I would be willing to be exposed under certain conditions and tested to see if I’m immune and if I could help with a cure.  Yes, I know what the consciousness might be if I’m not, but I would accept that if there is a chance that I might help others.  Remember the three daughters and grandkids.  Yes, I would take that risk.
Anyway, all I can do for now is try to give the only thing I have that might make the waiting and worrying a little less constant although it isn’t a big thing.  I’m making all my eBooks free at Smashwords until May 1, 2020.  It isn’t much but it is something that comes from my heart and I hope will give some relief to those not working and don’t have the money for a book or any other form of entertainment for now.  We have to deal with enough so any small thing any of us can do to make it easier for those around us can only help, even if only a little, and maybe bring a smile to someone’s face.  So please, think of something you can do and share to help those around you and even those far away to know a small bright spot in their lives.  One little thing may not be much, but a lot of small little things may make a big difference.  God bless you all and if you don’t lean that way then may you find peace and comfort in these hard times.
The link is
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/CathyPMatthews

Just scroll through the stuff about me and you'll see all mu books and they are all free.  I make no money off this.  I hope you;ll read and find some e enjoyment and a few minutes of not having to think about everything going on right now.

 I know that we are all facing a tough time right now, actually tough is probably an understatement.  I know that there are those who will not be hit as bad as others, but none of us are completely immune to what is happening.
I also know that what I’m doing is a very small thing, but I do hope it will help some of you to pass the time, if even only for a few hours, a little faster and with less boredom.  Just click on the link below.

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/CathyPMatthews

 We all have at some point or another lost a special friend, but sometimes, someone touches your heart just a little more.  Albert was one of these people for both my husband and me.
This amazing man was so much more than a friend to us both and to our daughters.  He was also our next-door neighbor.  He kept an eye out for all of us.  He was the guarding knight at the gate, our friend, our confidant, the person who made sure we didn’t get into trouble, and the one who would let us have it if we did.
He made us laugh, smile, sad, and now tearful.
He wasn’t a perfect man; he would tell you this in a minute.  He carried his demons inside himself and we often talked about them.  He and I often shared secrets and giggles, or whatever it is that passes for giggles with a man, and our hopes for the future and our goals.  He was an amazing artist with a wicked sense of humor.
He was also a caregiver.  He took care of his aunt, his mom, his dad, and his brother when they became ill.  He nursed each with loving care and I never heard that man complain once.  Rarely was he not smiling.  He lost his aunt, mother, and father, but his brother is still here to remember his brother.
So, Albert my friend, it’s your turn to be taken care of.  May God hold you in his arms and fill your soul with warmth.  May you know nothing but joy where you are now.  Just know this my friend, you left behind many people who loved you.  People who will miss you.  People who’s lives will continue to hold you in their hearts and whose lives will be left a little lonelier without you.
Rest easy now my friend, you’ve earned it.

I won’t go into why my husband and I decided to take our youngest granddaughter out for the day, I’ll just say it had more to do with her being our granddaughter.  I’m so glad we did though.
I’ve had Mia out we with me for the day before and I enjoyed it tremendously but yesterday was something that Buddy and I hadn’t been able to do with her before.  She’s not quite four, her birthday is in May, but she is one of the most amazing young people I’ve ever been around.  Don’t get me wrong, we do spend time with our grandchildren, but not often with them just one at a time.  Even more rarely do we have them for as long as we had Mia yesterday.  OK, I have to be honest here, unless it is an emergency we rarely have them for more than a few hours.  We aren’t babysitters and don’t intend to be.  We want to be the grandparents that the kids have fun with and not just someone who has to be around them.
We’ve had the older ones out more than Mia because, well she was so young and she is very attached to her parents.  She’s getting old enough to start breaking away from a lot of that and yesterday we had an opportunity to even the field with her.
There is a restaurant that Buddy and I like and to go to and it is pretty much an all-day thing.  At least it is for me.  This is a trip that usually involves me finding neat places to take pictures.  Believe me, it drives my husband nuts.  Fortunately, he is usually a good sport about it.  Sometimes he can be an ass too.
“Really Cathy, another one?”  I’ve heard more than once in more ways than one.
Since we stopped for a late breakfast we decided to do something else close to the restaurant we were going and just let Mia see some new things.  The restaurant where we were going was close to the Shiloh National Park, so we decided to take her there.  I know many of you may know what that is and for those who don’t, well this next sentence may not make sense.  Those of you who do know what this park is may be wondering why we would take a three-year-old there.  The answer to that is simple, because it was there.
Of course, this is not a park with a playground, well not for most children anyway.  Mia as I said, is amazing.  She took to the place like a duck to water, and I almost mean that literally.  It sits right on the Tennessee River and this kid loves water, any water.  She also has a bit of the, I’m going to put this in a more diplomatic way, and say she has a bit of the old pioneering spirit in her.  We had to explain to her several times that if we saw any deer the only shots that we would be taking would be with a camera.  I have to say, I don’t think this is a young lady who would have problems shooting Bambi’s mother or daddy.  She is already developing an interest in hunting.
Shiloh National Park has a lot of cannons.  When Mia discovered these and found out what they were her immediate question was, “can we shoot them?”  Once she was told she couldn’t, climbing and posing on them was her next best thing to do.  This child is afraid of nothing, and I do mean nothing.  Well, her Aunt Suzie did tell her once to be careful of owls because one might snatch her up and fly away with her, so she is cautious of owls.  My money would be on Mia.  The owl would never have a chance against this kid.  It is ironic of me to say here that this kid is a hoot, and she is.
So, what does this little ball of fire look like.  Not what you would expect.  She is all girl when it comes to her appearance.  Everything she wears has to match including her nail polish.  Yes, she has to have her nails done.  Oh, and God help you if you so much as even think of not putting some type of bow in her hair.  Yesterday the only thing that wasn’t matched to her outfit was her boots.  She did know that she might be out in the mud, so nothing would do but that she wear her cowboy boots.  She did bring an extra pair of shoes in case she needed to bring it up a notch in the way of her appearance.
I’m not sure who had more fun yesterday, her or her granddad and me.  I can tell you, I can’t wait to do it again.

 I’m always fascinated how people are drawn to big old houses.  People think that these are the ones with all the stories.  Yes, if you want stories of large parties, one rich person hobnobbing with another rich person, and yes sometimes intrigue.  But if you really want to find a place with a story to tell, find the places you might not normally look at.
Smaller houses, even one or two room shacks, the old stores and abandoned buildings along the highway, or even an old bridge.  Don’t look for your stories in cemeteries unless there is a reason to go there for something in particular.  Big mansions are great places to explore, I’ve done a couple myself, but rarely will you find a story that is new or different in these places.
An old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere had a family who once lived and if they were lucky, they managed to make a decent living.  A lot of times they didn’t.  They struggled, suffered, and died in those little houses.  If they were lucky, they raised families that grew up in those houses and ultimately just decided that wasn’t the life for them and moved on.  If they were unlucky, the whole family came to an end inside the wall of the house.
Old abandoned stores on the backroads used to be the meeting places for people to gather and talk.  The local news was passed on in these old dilapidated places.  Children reached for penny candy out of old jars while their parents popped their little hands because they might have the penny to spare.  Women bought their sewing supplies in these places while stocking up on the things they couldn’t raise themselves, most always counting the pennies making sure they didn’t overreach what was in their tiny little change purses.  Men bought their seeds for planting if they hadn’t stored any from the last harvest, but they usually tried to save what seeds they could.  You needed a part for that broke down old tractor sitting in that old barn, that was on its last leg maybe, had to be ordered from a catalogue.  God help you if it broke down during planting season or when it came time to harvest.  If you didn’t have the money to order that part, then you might be out of luck all together.
The thing is, somehow people often came together to try and help one another back then.  Your neighbor from down the road might let you use his or he and others would come and help you using just their hands.  As isolated as these places might seem to us as we drive by them now, back then word got around when a neighbor was in need.
More and more as time passes, we’re losing all signs of what was once there.  Just as we are losing all these wonderful old places, whatever they are, we are losing touch with where a lot of us originally came from.  If you have older relatives somewhere, go visit them.  Let them tell you about your family’s past and how it was for them and the people before them.  You might be surprised at what you find out.

 I don’t think there is nothing I hate more than formatting a manuscript.  If anything can go wrong, it will.  My problem always comes in because I started using the format from Createspace.  It has been a nightmare ever since I started using it.  Well Createspace no longer exist and now I’m having to try and unscramble the mess it makes if I want to revise a book.  Right now, it is extremely important that I get two books revised.
No, it wasn’t that there was anything wrong particularly in the way they were except something had to be added.  I’ve got a project that meant I had to come up with a bit of a backstory for another character.  That part was easy but once you do that the formatting process starts all over again.  I hate doing that.
I don’t know why some of it comes so easy for me, but others simply drive me insane.  I can knock out ten thousand words in a day with a clear and concise story line, all while making it fit into about eight different short stories but when it comes to the f’n numbers of the pages Word starts playing ‘hide the pea’ on me.  My mistake was using a preformatted template.  Never again.  I can start from scratch and have no issues.  Explain that one to me please.
Anyway, this is important, and I have to get it done.
I’m faced with a dilemma with this in another way.  Both Journey Into Nightmare and Nightmare Express aren’t really just short stories.  Nightmare Express is actually the history in a very short version, if I had tried to do a book on his, or Jude for that matter, we’re taking about as much as ten books maybe the size of ‘War and Pease.’  Hey, these guys have been around for a while.
When people read Journey Into Nightmares, they became so enthralled with John they wanted to know more about him.  I came up with the idea of adding his story to the end of short story.  The fact is all the stories lead into one another in one way or the other.  I just didn’t know how else to list is and be as honest as I could with the people who bought the book.  At this point I have no choice but to try and find another way of doing this and instead of calling them short stories, which each could stand alone they are going to be, oh look a chicken, chapters.  Something bright and shiny caught my attention, oh look another chicken, yep, it happened again.  My phone rang.  Hey, it is bright and shinny when a call comes in.  Look, I have three daughters and that can make for a lot of distractions at times.  I would share with you what was so important to one daughter that she felt the need to call twice in minutes of one another, but you really wouldn’t want to know.  No, nothing like that, just the title of a very distant relative.
Anyway, back to the whole counting pages crap and hoping I have hair left on my head by the time I’m finished.

 I spent a good portion of the day yesterday taking a way through a cemetery.  I’m not talking just any cemetery, but one that takes you on a walk through time and history, Memphis history.  Also, a part of my husband’s past.  The first part I will talk about but the second I won’t.  No, it wasn’t anything bad, it just brings tears to my eyes even tonight.  I will say that real love, no matter who it might be for, has no end.
Back to the first part.  Elmwood Cemetery in Memphis will take you back over a hundred and fifty years and depending on the part of the cemetery you’re in you open a kind of time capsule for the different eras.  Not only does it take you through these capsules of time but also to different parts of this country and even parts of this world.
It will also take you down different paths that divide the social economic structure of our civilization.  The divide in religion may not be so apparent here, however.  Nor, is it apparent who might have died by the hand of another or who might have been the one who took a life.
There is an audio tour you can take by stopping off at the little cottage visitor’s center on your left just after you cross the bridge leading into the cemetery.  On your right is a lovely little chapel where all kinds of services take place.  It’s really quite lovely.
What’s kind of sad is that as you get further and further from the front of the cemetery the less cared for it looks.  I can say they do keep good records there and if you need to find a grave, they can and are more than willing to help you find it.
Is it a place you should visit?  Yes.  Like I said, you do see a lot of Memphis’s history buried here, and I have to say it is an extremely complicated, often tragic, and wonderfully glorious history to Memphis.  We may be on a lot of worst top ten places now, but we have been in the past and managed to come back.  I have no doubt that this city can do it again.  When it does, I can only hope that Elmwood will be able to carry on the tradition of telling the story of how the Phoenix rose from the ashes once again.
I will have to ask you though not to be as stupid I was yesterday.  I had packed up my expensive camera equipment to do some videos and take some pictures.  I pulled that wonderful equipment out and something very important was missing from the special backpack I carry it in.  No, not the camera, lenses, or filters.  Nope, just the f’n batteries to the damn thing.  I ended up having to use my phone for all the videos and pictures I took.  Now ain’t that a kick in the pants?

 I just posted that I was returning to school, well that’s not happening.  The assistant professor who is, doing whatever it is he does, refused to allow me into the class I requested even after I was given a permit to audit the class.  I thought it was because of my age and in a way, I believe that is true.
You see it was an independent study class.  For those of you who don’t know what that actually is, and I have to be honest here, I didn’t.  The really stupid thing about this was that no one at the U of M that I talked to could explain it to me either.  Now when I went to register and pay the fee for auditing this particular class, I wasn’t told that this would be a problem.  I just needed to get a permit to audit it.
This person is a graduate student, or whatever, working on whatever it is that he is working on for his masters or whatever it is he is trying to get and I’m sure he felt that I was not a good fit for his needs.  You see one of the things the students do is assist him while they are supposed to be able to choose the subject, they are interested in.  Yeah, right.
Now while I was trying to get this permit this assistant professor is shoving me off into a class that I had no interest in.  It was of no use to me and not something I was interested in.  Even after I got the appropriate permit for the class I requested from his own department, this (person) started sending out emails to everyone I think and shoving me back into this class I didn’t want.  Oh, the subject was Introduction to Films.  Please.  I was well aware of what that class was and sitting in a room watching movies, and in some cases, just certain scenes I have watched.  I can tell you why they are significate because I have seen a lot of them.  It is a class where you can push someone off to the back and ignore.
Now after about 40 emails back and fourth between then and me not one time was I given a straight explanation regarding what an independent class was, I finally had to look it up on the internet, and had I been given the option of choosing another class I wanted it would have been different, but I wasn’t.  This person kept pushing back into this one class.
There were other options I would have considered had someone been honest, or maybe just been more informed, with me this wouldn’t have turned into something that became something beyond a disappointment.  I couldn’t even get a straight answer from the president’s office.  I finally told the person I talked to there that I was done and hung up.  Afterwards I looked up what an independent class and sent the definition to the president’s office so they might avoid this issue in the future.  It won’t help I’m sure because to be honest with you, I got the feeling this place is run with the left hand not knowing what the right is doing and vice versa.
The kicker is, that once I understood what this class was, I knew it wasn’t the place I needed to be.  If I had been told this over a month ago when I was signing up for this class, I would have shrugged my shoulders and would have looked at something else I might have been interested in and pursued that.
So, if you’re an older person who is considering maybe taking a class or even going for a degree, do you’re research carefully.  Make sure you have all the answers you need and remember you have the right to follow through with whatever you might want to do.  Don’t let anyone stop you.  This hasn’t me.
I’ve learned more yesterday from my husband and daughter than I probably would have in any class that place had to offer me.  I’ve been teaching myself a lot of things over the past few years, I guess I just need to continue to homeschool myself.
Understand, I’m not saying this is a bad school, I’m just saying they may need to look at their auditing program and the way they handle possible older students.
Now I’m just going to fall back on my southern upbringing and say, “Well, God bless them.”

 I have been asked many times why I separated the two words instead of combining them in the way they should have been in the way they should have been in this instance.  I’m going to try and explain this in a way that will make some sense while trying not to give too much away regarding the story.
We all have our bloodlines going back through time, but it also goes forward.  You have a child, that child becomes a part of your bloodline, it’s just your bloodline moving forward.  Let’s face it folks it takes two, under whatever circumstances we produce that child, to make that happen.  Here’s the thing, that child is the product of both the mother and father’s bloodlines.
If there is a bond between two people who are meant to be together, but something happens to keep these two people together or a piece is removed from those lines then the resulting bloodlines become broken.  That is what the title of the series represents in one instance.  The curse from the first book is a result of one such break.  I stayed with that theme in the second book because again two bloodlines are brought together but in this case it has more to do with the people that are produced by two different bloodlines.  The same in the third book.  Two different bloodlines but in this case of something bring these two together when a young woman brings it to the door of her cousin’s house one night.
Two families coming together can be a good thing, friendship, love, even a child.  It can also bring together hatred, violence, and death.  Think of the Hatfields and the McCoys.  The bloodshed from these two families coming together resulted in pretty much all of the above, blood lines.  They will forever be joined together but never bonding together.  Romeo and Juliet are another good example, although they are fictional, blood lines.  A tragic separation of the two families in both cases.  My Blood Lines series simply takes that kind of thing into consideration.  I simply couldn’t put the two words together and be true to the series.