Moon Landing 45th Anniversary

The countdown to the forty-fifth anniversary of the Moon Landing and the release of Jessie has begun!

Forty five years ago the world watched as Buzz Aldrin, Michael Collins and Neil Armstrong blasted off from Kennedy Space Center with the moon as their goal. Would they be able to land, what would the moon be like? Four days later they did indeed land as the world watched breathless for that first step. I wonder what astronaut Michael Collins was thinking as they journeyed to the moon. Would he have the courage to leave his friends behind if they were not able to return to the command module? Aldrin and Armstrong are the ones most remembered but I think the most difficult part of the mission was Michael Collins role. His book, Carrying the Fire is on Amazon if you would like to learn more. If you have memories or thoughts about the moon landing, would love to hear from you in comments below!!

I grew up in Titusville, directly across the river from Kennedy Space Center. The space industry has always been a part of my life. As the shuttle program began to wind down, I decided to learn more about how it began. After two years of research and interviews, my new release Jessie was born.

Here are some snippets from readers:

Usually, I am not one to read books that are based in flying or space, but I am thrilled that I took the chance with this book.

Lyn does a great job of capturing not only the joy and innocence of the era, but also the darker subtext of pain and loss that came with every stride forward. The book culminates with the walk on the moon, as seen through Jessie’s eyes—and ends on the same high note of exhilaration felt by the entire nation at that moment.

I truly did love this read. The comradery shared amongst his brothers was more than amazing. I can only imagine the life in that time…being a mother working 3 jobs in a house with 4 teenage sons. I recommend this book to anyone looking for a feel-good story.

loved the positive male influences that Jessie had in his life. The respect these boys showed to their teachers, mother, and even father

If you would like to purchase Jessie, my talented cover designer, Laura Wright LaRouche of LLPIX created these awesome buy buttons.

Amazon

iBooks

Smashwords

The Hanger and the Flea

Jasmine, one of our cats, is at the vet and the other, Lily, is in Bill’s hanger with me. It’s his 12×16 foot private sanctuary. I usually don’t mess with it.

I’m sitting at a one person, plastic folding table with my wireless keyboard and mouse, as well as my precious thumb drive. We have wireless in the house, but our son-in-law who helps with our

computers has it protected. I’m going to my in-box now to see whether I can steal wireless from the house and use it in the hanger.

We’ll go back inside the house as soon as the new flea treatment dries. As it turns out Jasmine’s itchy skin is the result of her being allergic to the saliva of even one flea. Lily prowls, meowing, wanting to go HOME. Every time I look at her, I see spider-web fluff clinging to her whiskers.

Oh goody, I can access email. People have written to me! I’m not alone out here. Actually, the hanger is pleasant even though it’s full of model airplanes, parts, radios, even pictures of airplanes. It would make a great studio for painting or writing, maybe both. There’s no clear spot at any of the long worktables that surround the room—that’s why my folding table from the house is here. Bill has a sign that says, “A clean desk is the sign of a sick mind,” he believes it. There are four small windows—two in the back and two in the front with tiny blinds. I pick Lily up to let her see out the window. Naturally, she steps out of my hands and onto the sill. It’s only as wide as my little finger is long, but still, she fits her four paws onto it and crouches to sniff the fresh air coming through the screen. She can’t turn around or get up or down on her own, though. We’re going to be using the hanger once a month when the bug man cometh, so perhaps I’ll get cat window-shelves for out here.

I refused to believe we had fleas. We use the electronic insect repellers, and they work great, except for the occasional bug. The last few vets who looked for fleas on Jasmine didn’t find any, but her skingot so bad I tried a new vet, and when that vet combed, she found a flea. That’s when the pest control question came up. I hate chemicals, unless they’re saving someone’s life, but I love my cat, so pest control it is. When the bug man, as we call them in Florida, came out he walked through all the rooms intermittently shining a flashlight on his shoes and pant legs. I asked why he was doing that. He said in most houses fleas jump up. The last house, he said, had them springing up as if it were a Mexican fiesta. But he didn’t find any in our house. He searched the yard too — no fleas anywhere. But we signed up anyway, for one flea.

When I went back to get Jasmine in the afternoon, I learned that she has a bacterial infection and many allergies. In this week she’s been to the vet twice, boarded for enough hours to have to pay rent on her cage, has had a cortisone, an antibiotic, and comfortis, a once a month flea pill. This is an alternative/natural vet. I’m alternative/natural, but I suppose that sometimes you must compromise. I find that many times you have to compromise.

Except for dusting the windowsill, which was a dried ant cemetery, I didn’t change anything in the hanger, Could those have been termites, though, instead of ants? Bill’s going to have to have that shed fumigated. He’ll have to move everything off the floor—he’ll have to clean it. It was so good of him to let us use it, and now, we can use it more and more. I don’t think he’ll mind, do you?

Multi-tasking Time

Make time.

Take time.

Hurry up.

Slow down.

Not enough time.

Give something up.

But what?

Life is a pleasure.

Life is a joy.

Nothing is dispensable.

More is better.

Even petting cats takes time.

Brushing teeth, conversing…

I want to do it all.

But one thing at a time.

Slowly

So I can savor it.

The Army of Worn Soles Launch Blog Tour is on the March

Excerpt nine from Army of Worn Soles

The Army of Worn Soles launch blog tour continues! Read to the end for the clue that will help you win the Grand Prize of a signed paperback copy of Army of Worn Soles plus a $50 Amazon gift card. If you collect all the clues and put them in the right order, they’ll make a sentence. Send the sentence to the author for a chance to win and autographed paperback copy of Army of Worn Soles plus a gift certificate from Amazon.

For a chance to enter the early-bird draw, enter the clue at the bottom of the post in the Comments section.

To see where the blog tour stops next, and to find the next clue, visit the author’s blog, Written Words.

Chapter 4: In the Red Army training camp

Akhtyrka, Ukraine, 1941

Finally, much too late, the cadets stumbled into their barracks and everyone collapsed, exhausted, onto their cots. Within minutes, snores filled the room.

Maurice had just closed his eyes as the opening door hit the wall hard enough to rattle it. The overhead light seared his eyes. He jumped out of bed. The un-curtained window was dark.

“Attention,” a corporal bellowed as he stepped into the dorm and stood beside the door. The senior lieutenant came into the room with a captain Maurice hadn’t seen before. He was tall and thin with cropped black hair. The peak of his officer’s hat gleamed and the red star seemed to glow. His uniform was stiff and perfectly creased, and made him look simultaneously powerful and precise. He looked as an officer should, Maurice thought, embarrassed to be standing in his underwear.

“Inspection,” the corporal yelled.

“The cadets are ready, Captain Slutsky,” the lieutenant said. Maurice struggled to remember his name.

As the lieutenant had earlier, Captain Slutsky strode the length of the room, looking carefully at each man, his folded uniform, his boots, his kit. The captain did not say a word, but looked at the lieutenant, who jotted down notes on a clipboard.

When the captain came to Maurice, he looked disappointed. The lieutenant wrote something down.

Captain Slutsky left without saying a word. The lieutenant stood by the door, scribbling on his clipboard. Two cadets sat on their cots.

“The cadet company has not been dismissed,” the corporal shouted, and the two young men sprang to their feet again. The lieutenant pointed to them. “You and you, get dressed. You will stand guard duty tonight.” The men groaned as they reached for their uniforms. “And tomorrow night.” They did not groan again.

As the remaining cadets stood at stiff attention, the lieutenant told each one what to do to bring his belongings up to officer standards. Maurice knew what the lieutenant would say to him. He had just tossed his uniform over his trunk, without ensuring everything was folded just so. His boots were scuffed at the toes and still muddy.

He hurried to smooth his pants and wipe some of the mud off his boots while the lieutenant spoke with the other cadets. When the he looked at Maurice’s uniform, Maurice knew he had failed to meet his standard.

“Fold it like you’re going to wear it to your wedding tomorrow. You are training to be an officer. Your boots should shine.” He moved on to the next cadet.

It took the cadets more than an hour to clean and fold their uniforms and tidy their cots to the lieutenant’s satisfaction. They looked completely worn out, but the lieutenant seemed comfortable.

Finally, the lights went out and the cadets collapsed onto their cots again. Maurice wondered if the lieutenant planned midnight inspections every night.

About the book:

1941: Their retreat across Ukraine wore their boots out—and they kept going.

Three months after drafting him, the Soviet Red Army throws Maurice Bury, along with millions of other under-trained men, against the juggernaut of Nazi Germany’s Operation Barbarossa, the assault on the USSR.

Army of Worn Soles tells the true story of a Canadian who had to find in himself a way to keep himself alive—and the men who followed him.

It is available in e-book form exclusively on Amazon.

About the author:

Scott Bury is a journalist, editor and novelist based in Ottawa, Canada. He has written for magazines in Canada, the US, the UK and Australia.

He is author of The Bones of the Earth, a fantasy set in the real time and place of eastern Europe of the sixth century; a children’s short story, Sam, the Strawb Part (proceeds of which are donated to an autism charity), and other stories.

Scott Bury lives in Ottawa with his lovely, supportive and long-suffering wife, two mighty sons and two pesky cats.

He can be found online at www.writtenword.ca, on his blog, Written Words, on Amazon, on Twitter @ScottTheWriter, and on Facebook.

Today’s clue: book