Special Guest Author Cyber-Bistro

Dear blog readers, I have the GREAT Honor today to be featured on the Cyber-Bistro.
Please enjoy the story by clicking this link. I promise it is safe!

http://cavemanreflections.blogspot.com/2012/02/saving-savannah-series-author-stacey.html

Stacey Rudge

There Must Be Some Mistake OFFICER...

I left a couple of minutes early for work this morning to return some library books that were due today.
If you know me at all, I tend to be an EXTREME DO-GOODER. The LAST thing I want is a soiled reputation at our beautiful NEW Library.
The brand spankin new parking lot has cute little spaces designated for "Carpool" or "Fuel Efficient"
vehicles. Being that I didn't see any "HUGE 1987 Bronco" spaces available, I stopped right up front and left the engine running while I ran up to the fancy book return. Not your every-day book drop, the new one scans items on a conveyor belt similar to a bank depository. Nuthin' country about that!
Afterwards, I ran back to my truck and as soon as I'm about to put it in DRIVE...
A REAL POLICEMAN (not a library cop) smacks my windshield and tells me to STOP!! He begins to question me:
"What are you doing? Who are you with? Did you just come out of the library? Where did you return the books? Did you see anyone else? Is this vehicle registered to you? Would you mind turning off the car and waiting right here ma'am?"
I'm like.... great, here we go; coincidentally I AM on probation, so I'm a wee bit nervous, gulp. (nothing related to books)
While I'm DETAINED the building is searched and secured and I slowly slide my hand over to retrieve my phone and text my husband. HEY! I watch Investigate Discovery, people go missing every day!
I am so scared that I text something like
"Cips have mu librate" which I hope will be a clue when I disappear! Yikes!
The cop comes back and somehow the BURGLAR ALARM was set off and guess who happens to be
running away from the library??? He asked my name and my answer sounded like a Porky Pig Cartoon...
"bede bedee beddee" because who knows which name the library has! (ok long story)
So I was "free to go" and I went to work and sat at my desk for two hours shaking like a leaf.
ME??? Jack the Library? I wouldn't even consider bending a page.
I really hope this little "incident" doesn't appear on my permanent Extreme Do-Gooder Record.

How I Remember Grandma

My grandma is so amazing; I love to just look at her. I can practically memorize her features; each time I close my eyes I take in a little bit more of her. The color of her skin is as creamy and pale as the coconut sherbet at Baskin Robbins. Her dark, graying full head of hair is happiest fresh from the salon, rolled and teased to perfection. Her pick and a tall can of Aqua-Net hairspray is always close by. She smells of Este Lauder perfume and often has a fresh dusting of powder a little too visible on her chin. Most evenings she sports a dress covering similar to an apron, but this one goes over her head, ties on both sides and has a deep pocket in the front. At some point in time it was bright turquoise. Her shoes are typically chosen for comfort and resemble matronly, hospital-issue Easy Spirit loafers.

The quality I love most about my grandma is her busy spirit. Convincing that woman to sit down would quite possibly be the Eighth Wonder of the World. She jets and darts from chore to task never missing a beat.

Although my Granny (praying angel in the Saving Savannah Series) remains in hospice out of state, she continues to be my light and my inspiration. Her deep devotion to the Lord continues to shine through each memory as I continue to put pen to paper . . . in her honor.

I love you always~

Skinny Thursday

What I know is . . .Thursday tends to be an extremely significant day when it comes to DIETING.
It's the day when all the salad I made for "the week" begins to wilt, fast-food coupons come in the mail. Suddenly, it becomes a crap shoot whether I'll allow the boys to order pizza or make a puny batch of boiled chicken.
I'm sure none of you can relate to hugely important topic of weight loss. (No pun intended)
Me? It''s been a life-long battle I'm currently losing. Someone I love suggested instead of staying miserable,
 I Do Something About It-
Instead of running to the pantry and inhaling a six-pack of Pop-Tarts in retaliation, I put my sneakers on, went for a walk,read my daily devotion and sat down at the computer to work on my book series.
These are the three simple things I know hold the key to balance in my life.
Guess what? I FEEL BETTER. So, if I KNOW this....then????
Someone else invited me and a girlfriend to attend a new Overeaters Anonymous group.
While I'm sure we'll never go, I love what she said, and I quote...
"SUGAR IS MY HEROIN."
 Well, if that's true lady, then watch out Little Debbie, my longtime Dealer -
I'm calling the Police!

The Journey to Peace is a Tricky One

It's 1997. My Tibetan Buddhist name is Sama Sarika. Sama means Peace; how appropriate that my Monk, Sarika, chose the name for me - a young woman desperate for peace at any cost. In the past year, I've taken a very important step in my journey, I've completed the first Seven Precepts of Engaged Buddhism. Afterwards, I was awarded a beautiful Lotus Leaf from Sri-Lanka, blessed when chosen special for me.
Tonight, I'm going to see The Dalai Lama (fourteenth) who is visiting Los Angeles! I spent weeks choosing the right outfit, my nails are perfect, my hair recently high-lighted (shocker, yes I color my hair).
I'm bringing my hardback copy of The Art of Happiness just in case there's time for a book signing.

I look in the mirror before I leave my Hollywood Bungalow and wonder....if this is it? Will this be night I find Peace and Happiness? Surely all the sacrifice and meditation will pay off this evening - Won't it?

Fast forward to 2012, His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama is visiting San Diego for the first time.
This time, I have no need to attend.
I no longer have to prepare physically to "go see" my GOD for He is right here with me in my heart.
He meets me every morning in my fuzzy pink socks and Angry Bird nightgown and accepts me just the way I am. He is omnipotent and doesn't need to fly in to visit me or anyone else. His name is Jesus Christ and he has been THE ONE who finally delivered Peace and Happiness to my life.

The Island of Squandered Blessings

I'm ashamed to admit how many times I've been given an opportunity, only to lose interest and wander off onto something else entirely. It's not that I'm ungrateful mind you, I just get distracted by something newer, shinier, sparkly even. "Ohhhh... glitter...aahhh and just like that, I've squandered another blessing.
Yesterday in the face of all things lovely, I chose instead to solidify my God-given purpose and recommit to finishing my first book Saving Savannah. I was so tempted to dive headfirst into another spectacular venture while worthwhile, untimely.
I imagined an Island of Squandered Blessings that I literally needed thigh-high wader-boots to trudge through and just-like-that I GOT IT!
My desire to please God starts with a continued alignment to today's blessing, only then will I be available for his next purpose in my life.
All that shiny stuff out there glistening I see for what it is today; a mirage on the Island of Squandered Blessings.

Butterball Hot-line

Today daughters everywhere are picking up the phone and calling their Mothers. Not just to say "Hello," mind you, but to ask questions about their Turkey Dinner. No matter how many times we have made a green bean casserole, there is a certain level of assurance that you just can't find on the back of a can of Campbell's Soup. I must have called my Mom five or six times to ask questions I most likely already knew the answer to. It just sounded better coming from her. Why, my husband even called his mom to find out how to make her delicious deviled eggs. Even though I was waving a bottle of Paprika in his face, he still wanted his Mama to tell him "what that red stuff is" you sprinkle on the top.
The precious moms that decorate the heavens are called upon via butter-soaked recipe cards and worn-thin cookbooks passed down for such a time as this. Sisters and Aunts step in to fill the gap when part of a recipe-puzzle goes missing. No matter how grown we are we still need that special voice to walk us through Turkey Dinner.
So thank you to all of the Operators on the Butterball Hot-line . . . . we couldn't have pulled off dinner without you.