A Leap into the Unknown

Thought for the day: Time is but a stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it, but while I drink, I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slips away, but eternity remains. [Henry David Thoreau]

In honor of Einstein's birthday, participants in today's bloghop have a free round-trip ticket through a wormhole. To anyplace. Any time. All we had to do is figure out where (and when) we wanted to go. Into the past to observe, or perhaps alter history... somewhere into the future... or maybe somewhere... in between? Oh so many possibilities to consider.

What I came up with is probably gonna be a little different from most. And as for the 100 words, more or less, I picked more. (Sorry.)  First, a little background filler: this story takes place on the Georgia Tech campus, shortly before the monthly amateur radio testing session. Volunteer Examiners, such as my hubby Smarticus and I, administer and grade these tests so applicants can (hopefully) earn their FCC-issued amateur radio licenses. When the story opens, Smarticus and I have arrived early for the test session, and so far, are the only ones there. OK, get the picture? Here goes:

[Wikipedia]

"You can go on in if you'd like," Smarticus said. "I'm gonna stay out here until I finish this smoke."

Yeah, right. The way I figured, it'd be more like two or three smokes, so I gave him a peck on the cheek and a pat on the butt, and headed for the classroom by myself. As usual, the room felt like an airless sauna, so as soon as I got there, I cranked the super-duper-sized turbo-prop floor fan all the way up to what we liked to call the wind tunnel setting.

The fan roared to life, and created an instant gale force blast that whipped the cover up and away from a never-before-seen whatchamacallit (Please forgive the technical jargon.) sitting in the corner of the room. I, never one to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, immediately walked over to the behemoth to investigate.

The industrial gray contraption... rather generic-looking, if you asked me...  boasted knobs, buttons, and dials galore, and a metal plate that said, BEWARE: Wormhole Generator.  I, never one to fiddle with unknown knobs and dials, immediately  fingered the Cosmic Positioning System doohicky with one hand, while leafing through the latitude and longitude guidebook lying beside it with the other.

I took a quick peek at my watch. Oh good, I had at least five minutes. Plenty of time to change the world. Phooey on the Butterfly Theory. Nerts to worrying about a paradox. I was gonna go kill Hitler with my — my — never mind; I'd worry about that when I got there.

I punched my destination date, latitude and longitude into the CPS keyboard, took a deep breath, and then used both hands to pull the giant knife switch down. The air shimmered like a heat mirage, and then settled into place, forming what looked like the gaping undulating mouth of a dark tunnel. I, never one to venture half-cocked into any kind of adventure, immediately took a flying leap into it.

I'm so dizzy, my head is spinning...

Before my stomach had the opportunity to purge its contents, the spinning slowed, and came to a gradual stop. On wobbly legs, I emerged into a vaguely familiar room.

I looked around, noting the familiar arrangement of desks and computers, and the roar of the turbo-prop fan. A picture of Governor Max Cleland on the wall, next to another of President Hillary Clinton. And a calendar, telling me the year was 2013, and the day, the same as when I'd stepped into the tunnel. The generator that delivered me to this parallel universe was no longer there, but a different machine — a cute one —  stood in its place. It looked like a big red apple, detailed with an adorable smiley-faced worm emerging from a hole, and fanciful lettering that identified it as Einstein's Bridge to Everywhere. On the wall beside it hung a portrait... a portrait of me, identified as Susan Flett...  oh my God!... the bridge's inventor!? Oh, crap. Well, if I invented this thing, maybe I could figure out to get back home. To the right home, the place where I belonged...

"Anybody here to take the test yet?" Smarticus asked, as he entered the room.

I stared at him. Clearly, it was him. Same voice, same grin, same scent of cigarette smoke and sunshine emanating from him. But aside from an obvious upgrade in clothing, there was something else different about him, too. Something — intriguing. Time seemed to stand still as I continued to gawk.

"Um, no," I said, unsure of who we were to each other in this new reality. For all I knew, we could be nothing more than passing acquaintances.

"Tell you what, hot rod," he said, stroking my cheek, and making my toes tingle in the process. "After we get done here, let's stop at The Italian Stallion on the way home. I'll get you some chianti and something to eat that has all the garlic and mushrooms your little heart desires. With the grandkids all coming in tomorrow, you deserve some relaxation and a special treat today. Maybe a foot rub when we get home?"

I, never one to act without considering the consequences of my decisions, immediately smiled.  "Sounds good to me, babe. There's no place like home."

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[source]

Isn't the idea of parallel universes intriguing?

Anyhow, thanks so much to the brains behind this bloghop, our delightful hosts Luanne, Laura, and Stephen. It's been fun. If you'd like to check out the other entries for this bloghop, just click on the badge in the sidebar, and it'll whisk you away...

Speaking of whisking away, if you aren't participating in this bloghop already, where would you want to go through that wormhole?

In honor of Einstein's birthday, I'm thinking instead of a birthday cake, we should all have ... pi. After all, tomorrow is 3-14, ya know. Make mine lemon meringue.

Woo-HOO! LATE BREAKING NEWS:  Carol Kilgore has completed her random drawing for the winner of a signed copy of her book In Name Only, and the lucky winner is (Insert drum roll here.) Keith, AKA the Optimistic Existentialist. Congratulations, Keith!

                                 Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.


Perhaps home is not a place, but an irrevocable condition.  [James Baldwin]

Have Time for a Chat?

Thought for the day: In Ireland, you go to someone's house, and she asks you if you want a cup of tea. You say no, thank you, you're really just fine. She asks if you're sure. You say of course you're sure, really, you don't need a thing. Except they pronounce it ting. You don't need a ting. Well, she says then, I was going to get myself some anyway, so it would be no trouble. Ah, you say, well, if you were going to get yourself some, I wouldn't mind a spot of tea, at that, so long as it's no trouble and I can give you a hand in the kitchen. Then you go through the whole thing all over again until you both end up in the kitchen drinking tea and chatting. 

In America, someone asks you if you want a cup of tea, you say no, and then you don't get any damned tea.

I liked the Irish way better.  [C.E. Murphy]

Don't ya just love it when a friend stops by for a cuppa tea and a chat? 

Or a beer and a ballgame?

Or just to say hello?

Me, too. But after previewing what Carol has to say, instead of preparing a pot of tea and a tray of cookies, I shoulda stuck a ring of kielbasa on the stove. 

Too late now. She's here. Carol Kilgore, that is. The lovely lady has a few words for y'all... and she's giving me the day off. (And giving you the opportunity to win a signed copy of her book!) So, Carol? Take it away! 

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Thanks for having me on your blog today, Susan. I love visiting here. One day when I visited, I learned how to make kielbasa, one of my favorite things. Seeing what’s involved, I’ll just watch you make it. I’ll make you chili or enchiladas when you visit me. Or we’ll get takeout J

Hi, everyone!  Susan gave me free rein, so I’m going to take advantage and talk mostly about my upcoming release, Solomon’s Compass – April 2, Amazon, paperback and Kindle.

 Solomon’s Compass is the story of Lieutenant Commander Taylor Campbell of the US Coast Guard. While she’s on leave at the Texas coast tending to the details of her uncle’s estate following his death, she meets sexy former SEAL Jake Solomon, and sparks fly. There may even be buried treasure. But that’s another post.

Early on in the writing of Solomon’s Compass, I had a vivid image of Taylor sailing a catamaran. The Coast Guard has everything from small outboard boats for port security to large ocean-going cutters. But as of this writing, they don’t have catamarans. At least none that I know of. And I’ve never sailed a catamaran. So I yelled for help.

I was graciously put in touch with a man I’ll call Bob … because that’s his name. Bob is not only a former Coastie, he’s also a devoted catamaran sailor. Trust me, the man knows everything there is to know about all kinds of catamarans, not just Hobies.

But I couldn’t seem to grasp what he was telling me – for whatever reason. Well, I know the reason – I usually have to actually do something before I fully understand it. So I wrote and rewrote again and again. Finally he blessed it.

Then I changed it. In my defense, it was first draft.

I really tried hard not to change any of the sailing parts or the terms he used. Or the principles, which I think I finally understood part of. Maybe.

So when I wrote Bob to tell him about the book, he wrote back and told me he was glad the book was going to be available. He said he’d had a lot of fun telling everyone that he was “the technical advisor for a romance novelist.”

I made sure I thanked him appropriately on the Acknowledgments page.

And to thank you for reading this far, I’m going to give away one copy of my debut novel, In Name Only, to one lucky person who comments on this post. If the winner lives in the U.S., she has a choice of a Kindle book or a signed paperback. If she lives elsewhere, she will receive a Kindle book. He or she, of course, but that’s too clunky to write every time.

Also, I would like to invite each of you to my blog, Under the Tiki Hut, for a free virtual margarita to celebrate March Monday Mania.

Each Monday in March, guest bloggers on my blog are giving away a copy of one of their books. While they’re doing that, I’m giving away one copy of In Name Only on a different blog (like here today with Susan). Today’s guest at Under the Tiki Hut is Ciara Knight. Ciara writes Fantasy, Paranormal, Sci-Fi, and Young Adult Dystopian. To be eligible to win Ciara’s book, all you have to do is leave a comment at Under the Tiki Hut.

No home. No family. No place to hide. For Summer Newcombe, that's only the beginning.

The night Summer escapes from a burning Padre Island eatery and discovers the arsonist is stalking her, is the same night she meets Fire Captain Gabriel Duran. As much as she's attracted to Gabe, five years in the Federal Witness Security Program because of her father’s testimony against a mob boss have taught her the importance of being alone and invisible.

No matter how much she yearns for a real home, Summer relinquished that option the night she killed the man who murdered her father. But Gabe breaks down her guard and places both of them in danger. Summer has vowed never to kill again, but she's frantic she'll cost Gabe his life unless she stops running and fights for the future she wants with the man she loves.

AVAILABLE AT AMAZON

KINDLE AND PAPERBACK

Carol writes a blend of mystery, suspense, and romance she calls Crime Fiction with a Kiss. Always at least one crime; always a love story. Solomon’s Compass is her second published novel.

As the wife of a Coastie, she has lived in locations across the U.S. She and her husband now live in a San Antonio suburb and share their home and patio with two active herding dogs that keep them free from all danger, real or imagined.

You can find Carol here:

website . blog . facebook . twitter . goodreads . amazon

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Thanks, Carol. That was fun. Ready to order some take-out now? How about you guys? Anybody else want something...? Oh, don't forget to leave a comment, even if only to say "Howdy!" I've read Carol's book, and really liked it. I think you would, too... and an AUTOGRAPHED copy, yet! How cool is THAT? (Gee, I wonder if I'm eligible...) Nah? Oh, well. Good luck, all! Give it yer best shot...

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

A Woman's Place

Thought for the day:  For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.  [Virginia Woolf]

Know what today is...? Give up?

It's International Women's Day. (Yeah... really!)

The tradition started in 1910, but its roots were based in socialism, so for many years, only places like Russia and Eastern Europe paid any attention to it. That is, until 1977, when the U.N. finally climbed aboard, and officially proclaimed March 8 to thereafter be known as
International Women's Day.


So where's my damned cake?




A woman is like a teabag: you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.  [Eleanor Roosevelt]

Okay, no cake to go with my tea. (For now.) Nonetheless, I'll honor the day by telling you a little something about a little-known kick-ass American woman who deserves a spot in our history books.

Okay, quick: Who was the first woman in American history to run for national office?

If you said 1984 V.P. candidate Geraldine Ferraro...

you would be...

 ( Ding-Ding-Ding!) wrong.

She was the first to be nominated by a major party, but would you believe the first woman, who actually ran for President, did so fifty years before women were even granted the right to vote?

I kid you not. That lady had some serious kinda chutzpah.

Yep, her name was Victoria Woodhull, and in 1872, the Equal Rights Party nominated her as its presidential candidate. Equal rights is exactly what she believed in, too... for women, for blacks, and for the working class.A year earlier, she became the first woman in history to appear before the House Judiciary Committee, where she delivered an impassioned and articulate argument for women's suffrage. And she had other radical outside-the-box ideas, too, such as an eight-hour workday, graduated income tax, social welfare programs, and profit-sharing. Not exactly mainstream thinking for her day.

In 1870, before she ran for office, she was the first woman to open a Wall Street brokerage firm. Made a boatload of money, too, some of which she used to become the first woman to found a weekly newspaper. The purpose of the paper was to support her run for office, and its primary interest was feminism. During its six years of publication, the paper covered such taboo topics as sex education, free love, women's suffrage, short skirts, spiritualism, vegetarianism, and licensed prostitution.

I used to be Snow White, and then I drifted. [Mae West]

Uh, yeah, I did say free love. Not an orgy-filled, spouse-swapping kind of free love, mind you, although by the way she was treated by many people of her time, you would have thought that's exactly what she was espousing. What she believed in was a woman's right to marry, divorce and bear children as she saw fit... without governmental interference.

At right is a Thomas Nast caricature of Woodhull, depicting her as Mrs. Satan. She's holding a sign that says, Be saved by FREE LOVE, and behind her is a woman, laden with children and a drunken husband. In the caption, the woman tells Mrs. Satan, I'd rather travel the hardest path of matrimony than follow your footsteps. 

See? Not even the women of Woodhull's day supported her ideas. Not that it mattered... they couldn't vote.

Some people think having large breasts makes a woman stupid. Actually, it's quite the opposite: a woman having large breasts makes men stupid.  [Rita Ruder]

Oh, there's a lot more to the story of Victoria Woodhull... like her dabbling in magnetic healing and spiritualism; her friendship with Cornelius Vanderbilt; and why she was thrown into jail two days before the 1872 election... on obscenity charges.

But I said I was only gonna tell you a little something about Ms. Woodhull, so suffice it to say, she didn't receive a single electoral vote. Following the election, she said, The truth is that I am too many years ahead of this age and the exalted views and objects of humanitarianism can scarcely be grasped as yet by the unenlightened mind of the average man. 

Okay, so I never said she was humble. But she was right. Many of the reforms she campaigned for, considered extreme and controversial in her time, later came to pass. By the way, know who her running mate was? Frederick Douglass... the first black man nominated for national office.

How do you know if it's time to wash the dishes and clean your house? Look inside your pants. If you see a penis in there, it's not time.  [Jo Brand]

Well, it's not time for me to wash the dishes and clean house, either. Not yet. It's time to bake myself a damned cake. I am woman; hear me roar!

A woman should always know her place. Yep, by golly, a woman's place is in the House... and the Senate... and maybe someday...  the White House.

So on this day, International Women's Day, let us raise a glass to all those wonderful women worldwide, both known and unknown, who spent (and continue to spend) their lives striving to make this world a better place, and who exemplify these words by Maya Angelou: ... you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back.

I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific.  [Lily Tomlin]

             Oh, yeah... a timely reminder: Daylight Savings Time returns this weekend.

                                 Okay, one final thing before putting this post to bed...

Tiny Harmonies bloghop kicks off today. Represented by the ultra-sweet marshmallow peep to the left, this hop is yet another brainchild of the ultra-sweet Suze.

The idea is for participants to write a haiku every Friday for the next few weeks, based on a prompt she will provide. This week, the prompt consists of a single word:  origin. I decided to tie it in with the subject of my post.

With my deepest apologies to anyone who is actually good at these things, here is my tiny offering:

                                         Brazen seeds of thought,
                                         Sown now, bereft of sunshine,
                                         Shall bloom in due time.

                             Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

[Images come from Wikipedia, icanhascheezburger, and... Suze.]