We got a bit of rain yesterday! It was so wonderful. And it only got up to the upper 90s yesterday! I know, when you have to say "only upper 90s" it tells you how hot is has been. The rain is all gone and it looks like today will be another really hot day.
This week has been busy so I haven't gotten much writing done at all.
On Monday evening we attended the Lincoln Ladies Ice Cream Social to hear the candidates who are running for office in the county and some state wide offices speak while we enjoyed cookies and ice cream. We always enjoy the Ice Cream Social. By the way, if you live in Missouri, you want to vote for Todd Akin for U.S. Senate!
On Tuesday afternoon a good friend and her three little ones ages 2 and under came over to hang out. Sweet Pea and J-J had a wonderful time playing with the toys. They loved the play food and Sweet Pea made "chocolate cake to share." :) Sweetheart was just that. Even if she is only 4 months old, she seemed to think she should be in on all the action too. :)
Wednesday came and we had the kiddos over so Brother and Sis-in-law could go out on a date. The kids were here for supper and so were my best friends and their sisters. It was fun having them all here for homemade pizza. The girls didn't leave until about 8:00 while the kiddos were here until after 9:00. We had fun though.
Yesterday no one came over and I got some writing done. But I had to work on Priscilla's letter and it's still not done.
The rest of the days this week were "normal."
Writing. Last Thursday I got out my research books, my notebooks, my idea page, NEO and sat down to really work on "Ria and the Gang." Usually when I get my books out and start doing some research, I get lots of ideas and am able to write some that night and the stories just come. Well, I was able at last to get past the block I had for that one story in "Ria and the Gang," but when I went to write on Friday, I was stuck again. What was going on? Why couldn't I get this story to work? I had all kinds of ideas for stories for it and I wanted to know what happened, but for some reason, that book is just not coming together. I've tried to think of another way to write it, but my mind is blank. It is almost a chore to have to write "Ria and the Gang" now, and if you've ever written anything because you "had" to, you know that it usually doesn't end up very well written. I reread what I had written of that story and it was boring. :( Usually if I get stuck and I force myself to write a few more sentences, I'll suddenly be able to write again. Kind of like hiking on a trail and coming to a tree or some large rocks in the path. You can force your way over and then it is easy again or you can remain there. I've tried to cross the obstacles but I think the trail is completely washed away on the other side. So, I talked about it with Mom on Saturday. I felt like I had to write it, but every time I tried, I got stuck and things didn't flow. They were choppy and rough and I might get 200 words written in one evening whereas usually when I sit down with "TCR," "Dr. Morgan," or even a short story I can get 500 - 1,000 words in one evening without really trying. Mom told me that I should give myself permission to not write "Ria and the Gang." So I did. I'm sorry for those of you have been looking forward to reading more about Emma Foster Mitchell. I was too. But now this story is stopped. Perhaps someday I'll get inspired to write it again. Perhaps I'll discover what is wrong and why I can't write. Perhaps someday I'll be able to sit down and the words will just flow as they do for other stories. But for now at least, I'm putting it aside. Thank you all for your questions, your interest and your patience. I hope you will enjoy the other stories that are being written now.
I debated for quite a while about what story to post this morning. Should I post TCR or start another story? At last I decided to give you another TCR. I hope you enjoy it. Next week I'm going to start a story that I got many good laughs out of writing it. I hope you'll be back.
“We will be eating in the bunkhouse with the men tonight since Jenelle is not feeling well.”
Then Orlena’s indignation come forth in a burst. Her book fell to the floor with a thud as she sprang to her feet and placed her hands on her hips. “I will tell you what I told your wife. I do not associate socially with hired help!”
Norman had risen also and now stood facing his angry sister. “Would you rather not eat?” he questioned quietly.
“I would rather starve than eat with the help!” she snapped.
“So be it then,” and Norman turned to go.
“Norman Mavrich, don’t you dare leave until I’m through talking!” Orlena stamped her foot.
Turning, Norman regarded her with a feeling of irritation and anger struggling for mastery. “I wasn’t aware that you had anything left to say.” His voice was low and he could feel his temper slowly rising. He sent up a swift though silent prayer for help and waited.
Orlena was furious. All the emotions which had been stewing inside her for several days had risen, and seeing her brother’s outwardly calm face only added to her wrath. He didn’t care a thing about her or he would never calmly tell her she could starve! All he cared about was himself, his darling wife and his precious ranch. Well, she would set him straight!
“What more do you want to say, Orlena?” Norman broke into her thoughts. “Please say them quickly for even if you don’t wish to eat, I am quite hungry.”
“Of course that is all you care about. All that matters to you is that you have everything your own way. You don’t even make your hired help treat your own sister with respect and let your wife speak rudely to me when I have done nothing.”
Norman’s eyebrows shot up, “Jenelle, speak rudely?”
“Yes, Jenelle, your precious wife, who it appears, in your eyes, can do no wrong has rudely spoken to me and forced me to do things which are disagreeable because she won’t spend the money to hire someone else to do them. She seems to think that I’ve come to be her personal slave and I tell you I won’t stand for it any longer!” Again she stamped her foot.
“What things did my wife make you do, Orlena?” Norman’s eyes flashed but he managed to keep his voice quiet though his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.
“Sewing! Now fetch my trunk from the attic; I wish to pack tonight. Then tomorrow you may take me to the train. I’m going to Madam Viscount’s and will board there until school starts.”
Instead of replying, Norman strode across the room and stared out the window. For several minutes the only sound in the room was the ticking of the small clock on the mantle in the front room. Then the sound of a dinner bell rang through the still room where the brother and sister stood, each waiting a move or word from the other. At last Norman turned. When he spoke, his voice was still low. “We will discuss this after supper. Are you coming to eat?”
For answer Orlena gave a snort and glared at her brother’s back when, without another word or look at her, he walked from the room and she heard the kitchen door shut.
Left alone Orlena paced about the room muttering, and then giving way to the hunger and the loneliness which pressed upon her, she burst into tears.
It was with heavy steps and a troubled heart that Norman walked to the bunkhouse. How could he cope with a sister who was as spoiled as Orlena? Would it not be better to send her to some good school? Pushing your work off onto someone else, his conscience chided. Perhaps he should let her go to Madam Viscount’s Seminary this coming term, if she did her share of work now. “Rescue Orlena from herself, I beg you.” The words from his grandmother’s letter rang through his mind. “No,” he muttered, “I will not send my sister to that school! I’ve seen the ‘young ladies’ they turn out!”
Someone touched his arm.
He gave a start and looked up quickly. Lloyd was standing beside him at the door.
“Is Mrs. Mavrich worse, sir? Should I ride for the doc?”
Norman managed a slight smile. “No. Thanks though, Hearter. I was just thinking.”
“Must be some heavy thinking the way your shoulders stoop and with that frown on your face,” Hardrich said, motioning to an empty chair near him at the long table.
Sitting down in the offered chair, Norman sighed. “You’re right. It was pretty heavy.”
St. John brought in a plate of food for the ranch boss and joined the others at the table. There was no talking for several minutes as the men ate hungrily. Even Norman forgot his worries momentarily, but they came back in full force with the continued silence.
Norman turned, “Sorry, St. John, what were you asking?
“Isn’t your sister coming?”
Again silence filled the room except for the sound of knives and forks. Norman didn’t notice the glances exchanged between the men around the table but ate without thinking about what he was doing. Had his plate held sawdust and water instead of mashed potatoes and gravy, it is doubtful he would have noticed. Conversations sprang up among the men as the keen edge of hunger was dulled. But Norman, usually one of the men, full of talk and plans, was silent.
Blinking, Norman looked up. Every eye was fastened on him, some questioningly, others with concern. He smiled wryly. “Sorry, men. That’s the third time, isn’t it? Was someone talking to me?”
“St. John just asked if you would like more to eat,” Hardrich replied. Then he added in a lower tone after Norman had declined seconds, “Is it something you can share, sir?”
Norman hesitated a moment before replying.
What did you think?