It's easy to make the mistake of blaming God for what men do.

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Take THAT Anxiety!!!

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Something that not many people know about me is that I have dealt with anxiety and panic.  I have been told that it is unusual for panic to surface so late in life, but I experienced my first panic issue in my early forties.  I knew immediately what it was, and I sought the help of a doctor.  I also devoured a number of books and listened to relaxation tapes.  I practiced breathing exercises.  I took the initiative and brought the situation under my control.  I took pride in the fact that the doc prescribed Xanax, and I only ever took it two or three times--and that was half a pill.  I hated the feeling it gave me, kind of like being a zombie. There is a misnomer about such attacks.  Perhaps panic is not the best description of what actually occurs. I saw a reporter on the TV a few nights ago.  They showed a clip of him in the midst of a panic attack while reporting live.  He looked down and appeared confused.  He stumbled over...
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Trust Me. I'm the Doctor.

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I heard on the news today that the average life expectancy for women living in rural areas has dropped.  This was not good news to me as I am a woman living in a rural area.  The report cited lack of education and obesity as determining factors.     The study did not specify what is meant by lack of education.  But there are two possible ways to interpret this idea.  Perhaps the suggestion is that the women who are dying younger are not college graduates and, therefore, have lower incomes and cannot afford good medical care--a truth that I have experienced first hand.  Another way to interpret the “lack of education” might be a lack of knowledge about health and nutrition. I don’t challenge the accuracy of the report, but I am offended (maybe appalled is a better word) by the causes.  So it is coldly reported that fat and stupid middle-aged women, like myself, are kicking the bucket earlier--and it is because we are fat and stupid and poor....
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Excerpt from Upcoming Novel

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“What you wanna do is dump yer powder down the barrel.  Put in yer ball.  Ram it.  Rock yer hammer back and hold on!”  The soldier handed the rifle back to Cotton, adding, “It’s gonna be smoky, so make sure there is something close by to give you cover after you shoot.”  He nodded his head goofily and smiled as Della took her weapon and walked away.   And that was the extent of her training with a rifle.  Back in Boone, she could hit a small tree with a stone from twenty or thirty feet away.  So she considered herself to have a good eye.  The thought had never crossed her mind to aim at a living creature, but she was thinking differently now.  And she had two specific targets in mind. She would have liked to practice some, but ammunition was in low supply and could not be wasted.  One less musket ball in battle could cost a soldier his or her life.  So she took practice shots in her mind.  On the left stood Josiah J...
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