Monday, December 10, 2012
Carla Landreth Shares Her Latest Book
Sometimes as you go along the path of life you get kicked in the gut, hoping you don’t get back up, but not for me, not this writer. I have always worked hard and persevere in anything I do. Whether it be my role as mom, wife, or writer I have always thrown myself into my work.
It’s my passion for telling tales, and that would never disappear no matter how bad my life could get. It’s been a long five years for this author, but she has prevailed. I have pushed myself beyond limits others would not do.
Six years ago my last book, Silk Stocking Road, was a factually inspired story about racism and murder in the 1920’s. Set in the small backdrop of my home town of De Leon, Texas. That was my last book.
So much has happened since that little book came out, my husband’s death, my role as parent would be tested, decisions in my life would change dramatically and my writing would be set aside for a time being.
But who knew this year would be an interesting year. Not only did Silk Stocking Road get pitched to film producers, I got to meet people along the way, who would be not only sparking me back into life, but in my writing as well, and oh yeah, I got a new publisher--BookLocker.
Today, I have a new book coming out and my awaiting fans who have asked over and over again over the last five years, “When is the next book?” will finally have to wait no more.
I should explain how I got the idea for such a book. One day while watching a cheesy western on television, I got an idea when one of the women was scalped. As you know I can have an imagination. What if someone scalped a person now days? Why would they do such act? Before I knew it, I had my trusty legal pad and pencil and was sketching out the latest novel.
In one afternoon I had outlined a novel with characters. In four months I had completed the manuscript and now in one week that book will be out in markets across the globe.
As you know, it wouldn’t be a Carla Landreth novel without the most surprising ending and, yes, it’s a complete page turner. I was thrilled when my editor read the novel and reported back, “You certainly went outside the box and this time your mystery readers are in for a real treat.” I take that as a very good compliment, considering he has worked with greats such as Stephen King and Joyce Carol Oats in the past. Today, I thought it’s time to share what the buzz is all about and gear you all up for it’s release.
What is the story called? Devil’s Concubine.
What is it about? A fictional mystery set in small town Texas, a homicide detective is about to encounter the strangest and most bizarre case of his career.
Detective Gavin Reece is called to the scene of a gruesome murder. The victim is female and has been scalped. He believes this case to be cult related. However Detective Reece soon learns, with the help of his retiring partner and his new partner-to-be, nothing seems as it appears in this case. Reece will uncover a murderer’s seven year methodical killing spree.
In two weeks Detective Reece’s professional and personal life will interfere with this case. But when the killer has targeted one of their own, Detective Reece will do the most unthinkable act in his career, use riddles from an innocent man to catch a monstrous killer.
There you have it.
Over the next few weeks or at least the next few months, my blog, for those of you who follow my blog, I really appreciate it by the way, will see that each article I write will reflect some aspect of Devil’s Concubine. So I believe my readers will be in for a treat with that.
I am also asking my readers to not be shy and give a review of the latest book when you read it. You’d be surprised how many writers like me depend on your reviews.
As I said things are starting to get back into the groove around here and my fans, who I want to thank for being patient, will be seeing a lot more books in the future. Life may have kicked this writer, but she’s not going down without a fight!
This book will be available through Amazon or BookLocker But for those of you who want to learn more about me or any of my books, you can visit my website at
www.carlalandreth.com .
http://www.amazon.com/Devils-Concubine-Carla-Landreth/dp/1621417816/ref=sr_1_7?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1354228430&sr=1-7&keywords=carla+Landreth
Monday, November 12, 2012
Everything Has an Age Limit
Everything Has an Age Limit
There comes a time in every body's life we have to accept the fact we are older. With age comes letting go of the past. Like going past it's expiration's date, you need to throw away or at least put it up in a box to bring out later to share memories with your grand kids.
So what is it that needs to go to the attic as they say? Well, Carla is sounding off on this and hopefully some of you will catch my drift.
The first thing that needs to go is halter tops. Sorry, they are only good if you are pencil thin and have Heidi Klum's body or not past the age of twenty one, possibly twenty three, depending on how you are doing body wise. It irritates me to see these over weight, middle aged women putting on these halter tops thinking they are still young. It's nice to think you are young, but wearing your daughter's or grand daughter's halter top? Also tube tops are a no, no. Don't forget what comes with age. Whatever wasn't sagging before is now rushing to go south. We don't want to see it.
Makeup is great to hide the flaws that age has given us, but do you really think you need that eighties blue eye shadow, bright red lipstick or that bright blush? The answer is no. You have no idea how much you look like a clown coming down the street with all that bright stuff on, it's scary. Add the big teased hair and you definitely look like a clown.
Speaking of hair, big teased hair is out, unless you are trying to hide the balding spot on the top of your head. A good hairdresser knows a few tricks without making you look like you belong to the Happy Beehive Club. Color is an issue. Believe it or not the older we get, our hair color is not suppose to be the same as it was in your twenties. Hair color needs to be chosen carefully, not what looks good on the box, which means stay away from the coal black hair or the bright red you are fancying right about now.
That perfume you wore in high school is no longer in style and please don't go for that stuff that smells like baby powder with flowers, what we call old lady perfume. It may turn grandpa on, but guess what? The rest of us are suffering two isles over.
The casual dress you wore when you were a teen and got you the Most Best Dress award at high school, doesn't mean you should carry that style up into your older age. I'm referring to those ladies and men stuck with seventies polyester suits, sixties micro minis and the Madonna look. Don't you just hate it when someone who is dressed like this says, "Everything comes back into style." Obviously we haven't been reading the complete article in Cosmo when it said it has been reinvented.
I remember an old woman in our little community, Mrs. Green, she was about seventy at the time and she was a huge embarrassment. But in her little mind she was still Mrs. Robinson. Wearing the big hair, bright makeup and yes, those halter tops. I won't mention the Daisy Duke shorts that only showed her wrinkled legs, saggy ass and high heels to boot. Everybody in town used her in a joke and when Tammy Faye came on we weren't shocked as rest of
I remember how many times she went for the men in our little community. The women found it amusing as this little old lady flirted her way with their spouses, boyfriends, dads, brothers, and uncles. There was no age limit as well, ask some of the young boys who worked at our local grocery store (sorry Steve) who was honored to carry her groceries out to her old Buick. The woman, herself thought she was a cougar while the town saw her as a joke and harmless.
Recently however in my little town I am seeing more and more of these little ladies on the move. At first I thought it was just my little town, I was wrong. It's hitting all of the little towns of
If you still want to dress this way after I have said you look embarrassing not only to yourself but to your family and friends, then I suggest you get with your significant other and play games in the bedroom. Everybody likes to play fantasies in the bedroom. Like, what character am I? Like I said there comes a time when age limit plays a part in our decision making as we get older and I think its high tide you think before you put on those things for everyday use.
Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth
Are We Having Fun Yet?
Picture this; my cousin, Becky and I have taken to an afternoon of fun at the local strip mall. Window shopping, which has become some what of a lost art. For those of you who don't know what that means, it means, you go into a store and don't buy a damn thing. You look, you touch, you put down and you walk out.
My daughter, George, needs something from Rue 21, a favorite among the teens and some adults as well. So we go in, while she searches for what she wants, we adults will browse around the store. I must make a quick note here, browsing for us is really playing around with the merchandise.
The store is unusually packed on this nice warm Saturday afternoon, but that doesn't stop Becky and me from doing our usual fun. We head over toward the jewelry, but not before we get caught by the panty bin. As we pick up some of the ridiculous panties, it is agreed, that only low class hookers would be wearing them and only if they were dead. We giggle, cracking jokes at the many things we see in this bin before finally making our way over to the jewelry.
The latest style however hasn't exactly hit a high note with us. The new style is owls and we cringe at the sight as everybody oohs and aahs over the latest fad.
That 70's craze that swept
So every time Becky and I see these owls, a blast from the past, we giggle and think of our aunt and her obsessive love for the fine feathered friends.
Today our jokes would be no different as we skimmed over the stuff. We are laughing, making little comments, some are clean, some are not so clean, but it's all in good fun. We keep them low and to ourselves but the laughter we have to share.
Now before I go any further with this story, let me say when Becky and I are hanging out together we have a blast. Don't get me wrong we know when to have fun and when to be on our best behavior. But overall expect fun when you hang out with us.
So Becky and I are having a blast. George normally keeps her distance from us, except today. This may have been a day she should have stayed away from us.
As we are laughing, having the time of our life, not caring what the world around us thinks, we are quickly approached by a serious woman, who asks us, have we been drinking?
Besides being stunned, we can't help but laugh, not only at the woman, but the entire situation. When we finally told her we haven't had a drop and that we were just having fun. We, however, got the impression she thought we were lying even though she said, "I wish I had that much energy." As the lady walked away we decided to go back to our fun despite being accused of public intoxication.
Later that night it occurred to me, that people now days have lost their spunk for fun. We were having so much fun and were so happy doing so, that nobody, not even a room full of people, could tell the difference between being drunk and being happy.
Now mind you we weren't being disruptive with our fun. In fact the oodles of teens and their nasty gossip were louder than us. We kept the jokes to ourselves except the laughing and you can't exactly muffle that when it's a good joke.
I have noticed that true fun, has disappeared in the population of
So I got to wondering, who's the culprit here? What has caused us to lose our fun mechanism? With a little research I think I found what is interfering with this little gene we call fun.
Schedules--we all live by them, in fact that's how the world runs; on schedules. But have you ever thought that sometimes you need to throw the schedule out the window. Sure every Saturday morning you get up, clean your house, do the weekly shopping, come home, plop your butt in front of the TV and call it a day. Sounds fun but when you factor in you clean house for two hours, get ready to go shopping in ten minutes, then shop for three hours...you get my point here. We demand schedules which, is interfering with fun.
Pair Down--In our society today we are in so many activities that it's a wonder we can even think. I call this category stress burners. Every hour of our spare time is spent doing sport events, school events, church events, work events, no wonder nobody has time to let lose. Sure those things can be fun but once again I'm talking about absolute fun. I feel if you are being pulled in so many directions, perhaps it's time to cut back on those activities. Clutter free life is not only for the house but your social life as well.
Spontaneity--We certainly lack this in our life. When was the last time at the last minute you decided to change something? Like instead of going to the movies, go outside and visit with your neighbor instead. Pop over and get an ice cream cone just plain cone not some fancy stuff in a cup you always get at the local Dairy Queen. While remodeling the house, you suddenly abandon work and go off with your spouse and have wild sex. How about calling your boss and tell him your taking a personal day. Then do something total out of character. Spontaneity hardly exists these days we live by timed schedules.
Smile and laugh--People don't do this enough, hence forth why we are discussing this. I have discovered people who smile more have a better life in general and those who laugh more are happier. I know what you are saying, what is there to laugh about in this day and age? Well, if you got rid of the schedules every once in a while and pair down social obligations just a little and throw caution to the wind when it comes to your spontaneity, you would be smiling and laughing more.
Sure the co-worker in the next cubical may think you have cracked when you start laughing out loud when you think back of the unadulterated fun you had over the weekend, but who cares, you found fun. That poor schmuck had to endure his rigorous schedule, which includes, two hours of cleaning house, three hours of shopping, two school functions which ran two hours each, a baseball game that went into over time that made him late for the boring company picnic, a short conversation with the preacher that turned into thirty minutes, and listen to his in-laws complain how he cooked the hamburgers wrong because he was trying to beat the sun going down.
My brother, Jason once posted on his Facebook, "If life's a journey, then where are the rest stops?" My answer is quite simple. You make them with fun. You find this little gem and the rest of the world isn't so bad and the rest stops are more exciting.
So what does all it all mean? It means, in order to have this absolute fun I talk about, you have to toss the freaking schedule sometimes, disappoint a few obligations, do things on a whim every once and a while and smile and laugh you're way through it. That's pure fun.
Hey Becky, they are getting a shipment of drag queen shoes, should we go look at them?
Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth
Monday, October 29, 2012
My Halloween Spider and Mrs. Strasner
When I was a kid at my house, there was no celebrating Halloween. My parents were convinced it was a devil holiday and that was it. No argument. So while my parents may have bought candy and that was a rarity, for the trick or treaters, we, meaning my kid brother, Jason and I, weren't allowed to dress up or go from door to door to trick or treat. Instead my parents loaded us up in the car and took us to both grandparent's and that was it.
I remember in school after the holiday, kids would bring some of their treats to school and snack on them at recess, leaving me feeling snubbed. Oh well, I had come to accept this as part of my world until I got into second grade.
My second grade teacher was Lurlene Strasner. A very smart woman or at least I thought she was. I heard getting her for a teacher was the best thing; however Wylie Jean Stokes was good also. Of course you know later I had Mrs. Stokes and she influenced my life profoundly even to this day.
Mrs. Strasner was one of those teachers who wanted to really teach, she believed in the rule not to leave one child behind before that rule even existed.
She made learning as much fun as watching the History Channel. She made it fun and educational. I learned more in that class than any other elementary class. She was real good in teaching us history before it became a requirement and fueled my love for the subject after that. She didn't bring out the books and say lets read this, take a test and call it that, not Mrs. Strasner.
Now while most teachers don't think to use the famous day by day chart, called the Calendar, Mrs. Strasner did.
I learned so much about the holidays that I was so unaware that I didn't know much about them until I got her class. When Halloween was fast approaching she began our studies on this wicked and controversial holiday.
I remember how she approached the holiday in question, "Does anybody know anything about All Hallows Eve?" The whole class sat quietly looking at each other waiting for someone anybody in our group to speak up. There was no answer. She then asked, "Does anybody know anything about Halloween?"
All hands came up!
She smiled, "Does anybody know what it means?" Those hands were up again like bingo winners at a bingo game. But the answer that was given was wrong. No it was not a devil worshipping holiday nor was it a holiday for candy.
She explained that Halloween was All Hallows Eve. From there we got a fascinating lesson, about truths, myths, the origin of the holiday and that it was observed around the world. We learned that certain cultures celebrated it differently and some cultures had added traditions and so forth. I told you she was a good teacher.
We read stories that related to Halloween and even watched a small cartoon on the projector called, The Headless Horseman. Our spelling words, even math had to do with Halloween, this went on for a good two weeks.
Now you would think that this would have been it, but it wasn't. Each day we learned something or did a project and I loved the projects we did. They were crafts and let's be honest; if kids can do things with their hands they will learn more. I told you she was ahead of her time.
Well one day Mrs. Strasner had a box of sticks that looked like she made poor Mr. Strasner gather from the yard. They were about a foot long and had several little tiny limbs branched from the larger limb. We all sat at our desk completely excited.
Before we got started she told us to bring out our scissors, glue, and a piece of Manila paper, pencil and ruler, which like good excited kids that's what we did. The very first thing she told us to do was write our name at the bottom of the paper.
She then came around each desk placing one of those little branches in front of us on our manila paper and told us not to play with them. As soon as she got those limbs to each student she came by with these little black pre-made pompoms. They were not real large but not too small either. She again laid one at each desk.
The anticipation was growing.
Then she came by with two little eyes and laid them beside our pompom and then she came by with white yarn. Now she pulled it out of the skein two times explaining that when she pulled it out each time and brought it to the tip of her nose it was roughly a yard. Of course she wanted to know how much she was giving us if she was doing this process twice. Then she would ask you to cut the yarn and place it on your desk.
Do you know how hard it is for a child to sit still with these marvelous things staring at us, not easy, but with Mrs. Strasner she told marvelous stories which entertained us which kept our mind occupied.
Once she was back at the front of the room she explained what we were doing we were making spiders and spider webs. She told us to take out our ruler and measure off so many inches on our yarn. I think it was six inches, I could be wrong. She then came by with a black sharpie and marked it. Math lesson 101 as they say was done. We had to glue the eyes to the pom pom and leave that on the Manila paper.
They would be drying while we did the next step. She told us to take our yarn and wrap it around the little limb we had. She told us to use our imaginations when doing this, but to leave where she marked on our yarn dangling down.
I remember we were so excited we couldn't help but talk to our neighbors with all the excitement. Yes, we still maintained a soft voice even with our neighbors. I must explain this because many teachers who are reading this now wonder; how did she do that?
Well, Mrs. Strasner taught us at the very beginning of the school year about our indoor voice. She explained to us the only time we use that loud voice is if we are in trouble. She pointed out your parents don't yell at the neighbors next door when they are right beside each other, now do they? She was right. I don't remember my parents ever raising their voice to people in public, so why should I, unless as she said you were in pain or in trouble and needed help. We were also rewarded at the end of the week if we had followed this rule and it usually was good.
Now back to my story.
Some of us really got to playing with our yarn and made what we thought was designs of what our spider would weave in the night. Mrs. Strasner went around checking our progress, encouraging those who weren't doing so good and praising those that were moving along fine.
When this step was done she moved to the next which was now glue our spider to the end of the yarn.
By the way this step was easier said than done, but we all glued the best we could then she told us to lay our spiders on the paper at the front of our desk. She would call each of you to carefully take your spiders still on the paper to the book case and lay them on top where she said they were going to get some sunning to dry.
We would forget these little critters until the next day. She told us to go and get our spiders and put them at our desk. We were so excited. We sat at our desk and she told us to bring out a sheet of notebook paper and our pencil and we had to write a short story about our spider in cursive writing. Yes, I had fun writing my story and yes at the end of the day we got our grade on our story and handwriting. Good story idea, but bad handwriting. To this day I still laugh about it. It wouldn't be the only time poor Mrs. Strasner would be working on my handwriting.
We would bring these creatures home and I remember for years I kept that thing until we moved and then lost it. We still however, never got to trick or treat, but I did learn Halloween wasn't a bad holiday all because of Mrs. Strasner.
When I had kids I sort of carried that crafting life with me and the history along with it. Each year I made those same little spiders with my kids, except we would go out together and pick the limb ourselves, bonding time as they say between mother and child. I also remember watching my kids with excitement in their eyes, as mine, when I was a child in school and feeling a little bit like Mrs. Strasner as I watched them make their spiders and spider webs.
A memory from school I carried to my children, who to this day laugh when they remember getting to make Halloween spiders for many years.
Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Bucket List
I know what some of you are thinking, bucket lists Carla. Are you dying? The answer is no, but I have recently discovered through my friends that they all have bucket lists. In fact they have this little document right up there with their wills. Now Carla is unfamiliar with bucket lists since she has lived under a rock for the last forty two years to know what exactly a bucket list is.
All my friends are in agreement when they told me this, a bucket list is a list of things you want to do before you die. Now most people don't make these lists unless they get the bad news they have some disease and the possibility of the grim reaper knocking at the door, hence forth why most people don't even think of the bucket list. But I have some eccentric friends and they live outside the box and recently their influences have me going outside my box.
I was wondering if this list is more than just a bucket list. And after listening to my friends opinions of why they have one while watching the kids by the pool on a hot summer day, I came to the conclusion these lists are more than just something we want to do before we die. I thought hard on this and this was my conclusion.
I think these bucket lists are more than what we want to do before we die, they are our dreams, desires, and what drives us to be creative in our lives. Remember when you were young and you were told you can do whatever you want when you grow up. The world is your oyster and you have the power to do whatever you want, well, somewhere along the way of the teen age years and college years they get lost. This is due to career choices, relationships, marriage, children, heck let's just say it, life in general.
As we get older we abandon the childish dreams we had and try to keep our head above the water for the fear of drowning in life's tidewater. Now that we are older and closer to an end we look back with regrets. You know what I mean, that little voice you're hearing right now that's saying I should have, when you did the other instead because of outside influences.
Now that the subject is brought up, you wonder did your bucket have a leak along the way, because mine sure did, as I think back. There's no need to be ashamed if you never thought of a bucket list. I never gave it much thought myself until, it was posed to me and I realized some of those dreams I always wanted to do was a form of a bucket list.
Before we move any further on the subject I want to say one thing about bucket lists, they are what you really would like to do. My one friend has on her bucket list, to sky dive nude if she can find a pilot interested in doing such. So far all of the pilots require clothing. While my one friend, who doesn't have a list by the way, has said she always wanted to spend the night on a remote island with George Clooney. Which do you think is more realistic? That's what bucket lists are realistic goals.
After sitting all day by the pool watching my darling kids and thinking back how many times Darrell had these wild dreams, which turns out weren't wild after all. I decided to come up with my own bucket list. A great list of realistic goals and possible one or two that maybe out of reach, but not really if you know who I am. I have also explained my reasoning, which is another good tip this is a realistic bucket list. By the way I'm changing the title "Bucket List" to "My Lifelong Wish List".
Here we go.
1. Fall in love again. Some people think I'm completely mad wanting this but if you know Carla, I am a romantic creature at heart. True love is an exhilarating feeling, better than any drug can give you. Not that I've tried drugs. I haven't, but I was given some meds after giving birth to a ten pound child that put me in la la land for a few days. Being in love makes you come alive. Imagine each gentle caress, the soft whispers, and searing touches. Imagine catching your breath when they walk in the room or your heart pounds when you think of them. Just laying your head, on their chest to hear their heart beat; magical. As humans we need love. Yes, with love sometimes comes arguments, disappointments, lies, deceit and anger, but to me the pros certainly out weigh the cons when it comes to love.
2. To walk the red carpet. Now it can be to one of my works or something a friend had done, but it is something that has been made into film. This is one thing I have always wanted to do since I was a teen. I even have in mind the dress I want to wear. That dress will be smoking hot black with a slit exposing my nice legs. Fake diamonds, since I can't afford the real ones. The necklace would ever so gently be dipping, almost pointing to my nice tan cleavage. I would be wearing the most gorgeous heels. Screw the doctor about not wearing high heels, for this occasion I intend on doing such and he can't stop me, unless the arthritis acts up, then I'll just pop some pills and go on my merry way.
3. Pose nude. Now don't get your knickers in a twist. It's not what you think. I don't want to pose for Playboy, please Hugh Hefner doesn't need to go into bankruptcy over me and I certainly won't do the vulgar Larry Flint either. I don't want a painting of me either. The idea an artist making my boobs look like sea monsters gone wild, would be hard to swallow. No, I want to be pinup style type of nude. Think Betty Paige, without the whips please. Now I have two reasons why I'm doing this, but my main reason is this. When I'm in the nursing home, I want this photo blown up and placed above my bed. I will be Miss Popular at the nursing home, while you other hens get snubbed. Sure my sex life will be shot to hell by then, but those men who thought I wasn't good enough when I was young will regret not checking it out before they made their decision to close that door.
4. To appear in Country Living magazine. I work hard for my house damn it. When my husband was alive we ripped the house completely apart and rebuilt it and were still building when he died. A widow woman, who took the plans of her dream home and fulfilled them in the midst of renovations to me, makes an interesting story, Sure the back story is, I cried, called the deceased husband names, chewed out and insulted people who didn't do their job and over extend the budget with my desires. At least nobody came off the ladder, cut their body with tin from installing the tin roof ourselves, electrocuted when changing out light fixtures or nail gunned themselves while putting siding on the house. It's a great house done with lots of love.
5. Take a lover. Now, I know this one caught lots of people off guard it caught me off guard as well. I figure if I don't fall in love, which is looking more what is going to happen. I will take a lover. Mind you I will do this much later when all prospects have petered out as they say. I've given myself an age limit when to find a lover. If I'm not in love by the time I'm forty five, I'm pulling the lover card out. Now I also have requirements for my lover. He must have a full head of hair (pony tails will not be accepted) and his teeth. No one with a criminal record, (i.e.: murder) or drug addicts or drunks. Please if you are over weight just keep walking. I know I'm not thin, but really the beer gut over the pants is not coming near me.
6. Ride a Harley. My husband would have been thrilled with me trying this one. He always tried to get me on a motorcycle and I always said no. Perhaps this is owed to him. Now, before anybody shows up in my drive way with your motor cycle, thinking I'm getting on; think again. I have a few stipulations. First, it must be only a Harley. No crotch rockets. If you have a significant other, stay away. The last thing I need is that person thinking odd things about us. I mean really, think about it, we are in an odd position. Another thing, I want a clean cut looking man. Remember in number 5 about qualifications for a lover? That's what I want. The last and foremost, don't you dare speed, because if we survive the speed thing, when I get off, you better have some damn good health insurance! You're going to need it.
7. One thing I would like to do is, get up one day, early morning, a feat in itself. Grab my duffel bag, throw some crap in it and then get in the car and just go. No place in particular just get up and go. No I wouldn't be answering my phone. In fact I would leave a little note for my kids to let them know I'm ok and I'm going to be gone a few days. I'd have my phone, it's a necessity in case I got lost, car accident, or car broke down. I'd have my phone in case of emergency. For the most part however I wouldn't use my phone. I'd drive anywhere to
8. Well, with all the above comes some reality. I would have to lose at least ten pounds to even contemplate the above mention. If you think I'm getting down to my skivvies, walking the red carpet, taking a lover, appearing in a national magazine, and ride a Harley with my legs nearly in the air, with this little bit of pudgy, think again. I have taken measurements and have discovered losing ten pounds will put me on the right path to gaining the above mention goals.
9. Writing my Biography. I would write my bio from the time I was a child to the time I'm old and have nothing more going on in my life. I would tell everything from my abuse as a child to my zany adventures as an adult. I would let people know its okay to be weak and vulnerable at times as long as determination and will power gave them strength to overcome obstacles. I would hope someone reading my bio would learn from my life's story as much as I had learned about myself.
There you have it, Carla's Life Long Wish List. Do you have a life long wish list? If not perhaps it's time for you to think about one.
Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Sleepless Nights and Clowns
I had no intentions of writing this but since my friend Andrea thought it was so hilarious and laughed so hard when I told her what happened to my toe, I thought, oh well, the rest of the world should get a giggle out of it. I'm sure my friend, Ted will since he is the culprit that introduced me to this whole thing.
As a child I loved clowns, they made me laugh. I especially loved the ones at the circus. How they would chase each other with a bucket, which I would think was full of water and then they would throw it at one of the clowns and it would hit the audience, turning out to be confetti. I also enjoyed them at birthday parties the things they could do with balloons were absolutely phenomenon. Ah childhood memories.
I never had a problem with clowns until recently. I must say I met a very nice man who is an actor/ stuntman and now friend. His name is Ted Alderman. I was total fascinated and intrigued by his work and the more he told me about his work, the more he drew me in. I watched several movies that starred him and have thoroughly enjoyed watching him perform. Yes, some are a little on the weird side, but that's what makes him an interesting person and has made me a huge fan of his.
But there's one movie he was in "Torment" which starred a clown as a serial killer. Scary movie and probably should have turned it off before I proceeded any further with this little horror flick. Especially, when the woman saw a black trash bag that look like it had somebody trying to get out of it. Now I am one who will watch a whole movie because, I support the artist in their works. No matter how bad the movie is I will watch it through. I may not ever watch it again but I will finish the movie. Believe me I have driven my cousin crazy forcing her to watch such films. The Last Mistress was quite interesting French film, sure you had to do a lot of reading but it was worth it. Hey, these people have worked hard they deserve to be seen. But when it comes to Ted and his friends I will be the first to admit; I will certainly stand in line to watch the film no matter how bad he thinks it is or anybody else thinks. Even if it's a freaky scary movie I will watch it.
The movie as I said is about a sadistic clown going around killing people. Starring my friend, Ted Alderman, as the handsome Sheriff Trembath and the beautiful Suzi
Still I watched it and because of that little flick I now have issues with clowns.
What kind of issues? Well, now if I see anything with a clown I'm in for a sleepless night. It doesn't matter if the movie is a comedy, sad, melodrama or even a circus that comes to town. If it has a clown, I'm guaranteed a night of tossing and turning. I just can't sleep. A weird clown killing people enters my mind. The fear of a deranged clown going around killing people freaks me out. Do you know how real that is? A freaky clown shouldn't be bothering me, but it does. I'm a widow woman, home most of the time by myself with the fear a clown could be lurking about. Clowns; I shudder at the thought. This brings me to my little incident which involved this new fear.
Picture this; I had spent the whole day before preparing for the annual Memorial Day party which commences at my house every year without fail. I finally got the pool cleared, plants all planted, coolers cleaned ready for ice and drinks that will fill them, all lights are hung and checked. Trash cans with bags expecting the over flow of paper good items, all making my home ready for fun.
I had bought new tiki torches this year. Oh they are so beautiful, made out of colored glass and metal. These will last longer than wicker ones which caught fire a few days earlier. Lucky for me my cousin, Becky and my daughter, George Anne, were with the water hose putting them out before the dry lawn caught fire and burned down the neighborhood. Well, while I was out buying the new tiki torches, I found these cute totem poles which you can put tea candles in and their faces light up giving you that island affect. But anybody who knows Carla knows she's not into candles outside. Please, the tiki torches, literally on fire was almost too much excitement. So to be on the safe side I bought some solar lights. Slipped them in and bam all seven of the totem poles light up the pool deck steps in the dark. Along with the flamingos that light up in bright pink color, the pool deck with clear and blue lights and the swimming pool itself is bright from the light that is showing the bottom of the pool. Yes, Carla is party ready!
The party will go without incident. The pool is busy with splashing water and laughter, the grill is getting its first real workout, music playing, setting the party mood and Carla's entertaining. By late night the guest have left including my kids who are residents at the home. Yes, they went to stay at their friends house leaving me alone with Chloe, my little miniature pincher, who is spoiled rotten by me of course and has been in many recent adventures with me.
I decide I will clean up in the morning, too partied out. Right now I will go in, take a shower to remove the latest smell of chlorine and smoke from the grill and after that I will relax in front of the television, which I always do in the evenings and write a little before I call it a night.
Now about
So I slink out of bed, Chloe ahead of me jumping as we go to the door. I'm amazed she didn't pee with all the jumping. But as soon as I let her out my imagination takes over. The automatic light, that usual comes on when she steps out didn't this time and in fact didn't come on when I stepped out. So no full moon, and with a dog that is black you can guess I've lost her. I'm trying to hear for her tags on her collar, but I realize
Of course as Carla gets closer to the deck she realizes that's it's not a freaky clown, but one of those damn totem poles that I put the solar lights in. Of course, I see them all when I approach the steps and realize all seven of them are staring at me; freaky looking little things. To make sure this little incident doesn't happen again, I go over and turn their head facing the back of the steps. Relieved it was just my imagination I call for Chloe but she doesn't respond. Instead we have decided to play a game of hide and seek. All I can think of is she's out behind the pool deck farting around.
So here I am half naked in my night shirt, a broom in my hand, calling for a dog name Chloe. But she doesn't come to me, so I figure it's time to turn on the pool lights. That usually brings her to me when I turn on the lights. I go to turn on the switch in the house, stump my toe on the way back, by hitting the deck in the dark which gave me a bad toe nail. I get to the back door which the light decides to work then and who is sleeping at the back door waiting for me; Chloe.
Now I know some of you are laughing finding this whole thing funny. You can just see paranoid Carla in her night shirt, calling for a little dog, thinking she has a demented clown on her pool deck ready to snatch her away, but it's not funny. I haven't been frightened like that since that time I was a child and I saw that horror flick about the frogs invading the world. It took me years to not fear frogs and still not a big fan of them.
So what has Carla learned from this, besides her imagination takes over easily. The next time I fear a clown in my backyard, I'm calling Ted up out of his nice, deep, slumber sleep. I don't care if it's one, two or even three in the morning. If I can't sleep why should the man who stars in really good horror flicks get to sleep and oh yeah, the dog, will just have to piss in the house!
Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth
Monday, February 6, 2012
Here's to You Mrs. Robinson
We all know that song. Simon and Garfunkel made it popular with the movie 'The Graduate' and it has been the musical feature in my freaky dreams for years. But have you ever really thought about the song? It's about a woman seducing a much younger man, hiding secrets from her loved ones, all the while acting like the perfect mom in the world. We call these women now days; cougars, but in reality they are nothing more than Mrs. Robinson and frankly, I like the word Mrs. Robinson better if you ask me. Cougar makes it sound so dirty. I think however the point of this story is to let every woman out there know they have been a Mrs. Robinson at one time in their life. Perhaps you just didn't realize it but you have.
As Valentines Day approaches, I think back to the loves of my life, which weren't many, but as I think back, one in particular love affair sticks out. This was before my husband, this was way back when I was in De Leon Jr. High and I was in eighth grade. I would have to say this was probably the real true love as they say, not so much for me, but for a little boy on the bus.
I shall begin this story with the fact I had to ride a crowded bus to and from school each day. Bus number thirteen, was driven by Hopei Alexander. He had the worse bus route you could imagine. Not only was it the longest at the time, but it was also the one that housed many kids. This bus was so crowded many students had to stand in the isle of the bus due to the over crowding.
Now before I proceed, I must explain a few things about this bus. One, the smaller children sat near the front of the bus. There was a reason for this. You see the high school kids and yes, we had plenty who road the bus, they always sat in the back of the bus. There was a reason for this. The older kids sat in the back to make out, which was done on a regular basis. There was a reason they called the Hispanic John Travolta look alike by the nickname 'Speedy'. If these older kids weren't making out, then you could guarantee they had their heads sticking out the windows yelling profanity to the world. I can't tell you how many times,
Each day the bus would gather the elementary students and bus them across town to the Jr. High where, not only did the Jr. High kids get on, but also the High School kids. Now I made sure I was quick in getting my stuff from my locker, because if you weren't on the bus fast enough you would be standing on the way home or until the bus lost some of the kids at their stops. So I always made sure I got my stuff and high tailed it to the bus.
Now once you got on the bus you would be there for a good fifteen minutes. Because as I mentioned earlier, our school was much bigger in those days which meant more students, which also meant, fifteen minutes spent waiting on the bus for the students to load up then another fifteen minutes to go through town to get home. But I always, no matter what got on the bus and found me a seat, usually with one of my younger siblings.
Well, there came a time that I didn't make it on time , in fact if I can recall, a teacher had to keep me behind to talk about a paper and all I could do was think 'great I'm standing on the bus going home'. When I finally reached the bus it was as I knew it would be standing room only.
Oh well, I just sucked it up and stood there. But suddenly I felt this little soft tap on my shoulder. I glanced down and there he was standing in a seat. A small blue eyed, blond haired boy with missing front teeth, smiling up at me as if he had found his first true love. His name was Patrick. I never learned his last name, which is a shame now, but at the time, his first name was enough. Patrick wanted me to sit with him and his sister Rebecca, who was also, blonde haired and blued eyed like her brother.
I took a seat of course, because I just didn't want to stand on that bus, but what I didn't know was that this little boy was going to want me to sit with him everyday from that day forward.
Patrick was cute and sweet and loved to talk. He would tell me about his day and how he loved recess that was his favorite time of the day. While telling me all of this, his sister rolled her eyes and would say repeatedly, "If he is bothering you tell him to shut up." He wasn't a bother, he was in first grade and obviously had his first crush and not on a teacher.
Now, every morning I got on the bus Patrick and Rebecca were not on the bus because their father went to work and he dropped them off at school. But in the afternoon, he couldn't bring them home so they rode the bus. And every afternoon, Patrick and his sister were waiting for me. I was always guaranteed a seat even if I was late because Patrick made sure I was going to sit by him no matter what.
Our relationship was friendly and since we had to sit on the bus for a good thirty minutes he would bring out his homework, which was a little reader book he had to read and insist I help him with his reading. It was no problem really. But I can hear some of you say, I wouldn't have helped him. But he was so cute and well he did save me a place on the bus every day.
Now puppy love is what I called this, harmless to the ones around you, but Patrick was getting in deep. I soon realized this when I got on the bus one day and he pulled out a honey bun from his back pack. He had brought the honey bun from home and it had sit in his back pack all day. Now at first, I thought well, he was just bringing this for a one time deal. So I opened the honey bun and we shared it. Boy was I not thinking. Every day after that, Patrick had some sort of little Debbie Snack cake for us. Sure it was smashed at times from being in his back pack all day, but like a lady we sat, read and ate. I soon learned from his sister, that he insisted his mother purchase these little cakes each week, so he and I could bond.
I see all of your faces right now, laughing at the very thought of a first grader, saving his little snack cake for an eighth grader, but it was harmless or at least I thought it was harmless. Christmas rolled around and I would be getting a Christmas gift from Patrick. Lip gloss. Cherry flavored to be exact. Well, that afternoon when I got home I called my grandma to let her know I needed a cheap present for a little boy. I didn't care what it was just something cheap. Well, she bought a little Hot Wheel for the boy. It wasn't a real Hot Wheel, just a knock off from the Dollar store, but still it was suppose to mimic it and well, he was in love with it.
Valentines Day isn't my favorite holiday. Everybody around me loves Valentines Day. I was never a fan of it, because I didn't get the flowers or the boxes of candy or anything like that. The girls in my class would always get things like that, but not me. But this year I thought I would be nice and give Patrick and Rebecca a Valentines Day card with a sucker.
Well, I got on the bus as I normally did and I took my seat next to them. I quickly handed Patrick and Rebecca their card and sucker. Patrick was smiling his teeth were finally coming in. I saw Rebecca smiling also. She nudged him as he dug into his back pack. Well, our relationship was about to hit a high note.
Patrick brought out a box of candy; it was a small box with those little hearts in it, a card and something inside the card that was hard and lumpy. I opened the card and what was in it; a necklace. It was fake gold, with two hearts and a rose holding them together. I was suddenly plastered with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. Boy was I not only impressed, a little embarrassed but thought perhaps this relationship had gone too far.
Rebecca told me he had saved some of his Christmas money to buy that for me. Ah young love as they say. While most girls my age would find this disgusting, I couldn't help but think how sweet.
Well, I wore that necklace quite often however I would wear something different to school but change into the heart necklace before I got on the bus. My crush affair would come to an end soon, when Patrick one day had to tell me, with tears in his eyes that he and his family were moving away. I did have a smidgen of a broken heart. Mind you I said smidgen, in truth I thought to myself, now I would be fighting for a seat on the bus for sure.
I know this is silly, but it did break my heart the day I got on the bus and there was no Patrick. No listening to him read or talks about his day or shares a honey bun. Tender moments as they say gone. Of course as they say, I moved on rather quickly, but I always thought of my Mrs. Robinson moment with Patrick.
I still have the Valentines card he gave me that was crudely scribbled with his name and I still have the necklace, it lost its luster many years ago, meaning the fake gold finally rubbed off. But I sometimes think, I wonder, after all these years. What lucky girl got to be Patrick's girlfriend or wife? Was or is he attentive to them as he was to me? She would have been lucky to have such a boy in her life especially if she knew what he was like as a first grader Romeo.
Now ladies, the next time you state you have never been a Mrs. Robinson. Think hard before you answer. Sure you may not have been like Mrs. Robinson in the Graduate, but I think if you look hard at yourself, you will see there were moments you could be classified as one. Perhaps, it was just puppy love like Patrick or something more sinister. But I think every woman can safely say, at least one time in their life they got to be a type of Mrs. Robinson.
So, Here's to you Mrs. Robinson...
Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Feathers Anyone?
I had written this story for a snow day, but it doesn't look like we are going to get any beautiful white snow this year, but I'm posting anyway.
It is said that most people recall their first memory around the age of three. So thinking back I do recall around the age of three my very first snow. Now at the time I didn't know it was snow but as you get older you look back and say, "Ah, ha!"
When I was around three, Jason and I had gotten up on bitter cold morning. Most mornings we slept in, which I think was a relief for my mother.
I really don't remember what we ate that morning, if we ate anything, but I do remember watching a little television. There really wasn't much on in the morning. I'm pretty sure we watched PBS but couldn't be for sure. In the afternoon was a whole different story. Gilligan's
Anyway, back to what I was talking about. It was a bitter cold morning and we watched a little television. I remember getting dressed and Jason, who was two at the time, was having trouble getting dressed. As a big sister (only by 15 months) I helped him with the buttons on his shirt, but the truth is; I wasn't much good at it either.
My mother made sure we were dressed properly for the day and I remember telling her we wanted to go out and play. My poor mother tried to keep us in most of the morning, but wasn't having much luck and finally gave in to us kids.
Jason and I went outside to play in our yard that, by the way was unfenced. This is the early 70's and children missing; was a rarity. Not saying it didn't happen, it was just a rarity. Plus we had the neighbors around to watch us. Most of them were old and knew when we were out and sort of watched us as they say.
My mother bundled us up and sent us out, while she did things around the house. Jason and I loved going to this big Mulberry tree in the backyard. That was one of our favorite places to go. No grass grew under it, so we played in the sand with our toys. I must say toys for us, was a premium. Jason had his trucks and cars, but I had butter dishes and old worn out spoons. We could play for hours in the dirt with these few tools of pleasure, as they say.
By lunch time our grandma and grandpa Montague had came by the house with some dumplings for lunch. We normally went with them at lunch time, a treat for us kids, but today grandma had too much to do. So instead she brought us lunch and sat and ate with us talking with mama. Grandpa had already stuffed his face and was bundled up outside talking with the neighbors. I told you we had a lot of old people in the neighborhood.
I can recall hearing grandma getting onto mama for letting us kids play out in this cold and mama replying 'well you try to keep them in.' Soon grandma would be gone and Jason and I would be back out playing in the backyard under the big Mulberry tree.
We got bored and played with the family dog, Bandit. He was a Benji dog but at the time he was considered more of a mutt. He had a brother Nelson, who lived down the street with our grandma Swinney. Bandit was loads of fun and he was very protective of us kids but he also liked to run off and visit the neighborhood. Poor Bandit would be snatched up by today's standards, no leash, no collar, no shots, just a dog that slept on the front porch each day and night.
We played on the front porch for a while until something caught our attention. This little feather fell between me and Jason. Now you can imagine what we thought, where did it come from?
Another one fell to the ground we quickly went over to see it. This time it was bigger and so very dainty as we bent down to see it closer. Jason tried to pick it up but it disappeared before we could touch it.
I told Jason, I thought Mrs. Bernae, our neighbor's, chickens must be molting again. (A term you learn very early in life with chickens. For those of you who don't know, chickens lose their feathers to make room for summer feathers) However this was strange that those feathers were disappearing in front of our very own eyes. Soon, those feathers were flying around and falling to the ground and for some reason they weren't going away anymore.
We sat on the porch and watched it for a while until Jason thought it was time to go in and I had to agree. I wasn't sure what was happening but I knew it wasn't too bad but not good either.
My mother was unaware of this fact. She had been doing household chores and didn't pay one bit attention to what was going on outside.
We told her we were hungry and of course she had the television on to our favorite shows. Of course all mothers have to ask their young ones what have you been doing? Our answer was nothing, but I did tell her somebody was throwing feathers all over the place out there.
I think my mother thought I had a wild imagination then. She didn't believe me when I told her somebody is pitching feathers all over the lawn. Of course I went on about it until she finally went to the door to see what I was babbling on about.
Jason and I went over to the big window to look out while my mother stood at the door looking out.
Since the time we had went into the house, those feathers had really taken over the lawn. I was shocked at how much Mrs. Bernae's chickens were losing their feathers and wondered how they were going to stay warm for the winter.
"See, I told you somebody is pitching feathers," I told my mom, who was laughing at us. I didn't find it funny, I was really worried. If these feathers did come from those chickens they were going to be dead soon.
Those small feathers had turned into a full force storm of feathers, whirling around covering the lawn with a fresh blanket of white.
Poor Bandit sat on the porch staring as if this was nothing new. I thought Bandit should come in but my mother protested that and told me he is a dog he will live, he had enough fur on him.
My mother finally explained to me and Jason what was going on. She told us it was snowing and when the weather got just right, that's when it snows. It wasn't Mrs. Bernae's chickens losing their feathers nor was Bandit, who I kept trying to let into the house, would be swallowed up by the snow.
She tried her best to explain what snow was and I think any child at that age fears it to a point, yet wants to know more. My fears were calmed and I think Jason's was too, but Jason had something to say about this whole thing.
"Well, I don't care what it is, but if daddy thinks, I'm going out there to clean that up, he's got another thing coming!"
Books by Carla Landreth
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=carla+landreth
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