Monday, June 19, 2017

August 2017

PnPAuthor Magazine

Peter & Pattimari Cacciolfi; owners of magazine


Marie Cheine, Fl.

Charles Ray's Column

Speaking Engagements and Book Sales – A Logical Pairing

I’ve written about this before, but a recent activity made me think it’s worth repeating. As a writer, you want your books to be read—preferably by people who’ve purchased a copy. In addition to the usual advertising and promotion on social media and other online venues, if you engage in any form of public appearances or speaking, you have another possible platform for sales.

I was invited recently to travel to Reading, PA to speak to the World Affairs Council of Greater Reading on the need for stronger American diplomacy. I just happen to have written two books on American diplomacy, In the Line of Fire: American Diplomats in the Trenches and Ethical Dilemmas and the Practice of Diplomacy, so I decided to take a few copies of each with me, on the off chance some of the attendees might be interested. I was modest—as it turned out, far too modest—so I only took ten copies of each book. At the end of my presentation, when the announcement was made that I had books for sale, since lunch was over and we’d ended the question and answer session, I expected everyone to bolt for the door. Instead, I looked up and saw half of the one hundred or so people lined up waiting to purchase a copy.

The twenty books, each autographed by yours truly, were gone in ten minutes, and I spent another ten minutes giving out my name cards with a link to my Amazon Author page, for some thirty disappointed people.

Twenty books sold in ten minutes is probably not a record, but I’m not a best-selling author, and except for one person in the audience who had heard me speak a year ago in Chautauqua, NY, was completely unknown to the people attending that luncheon speech. But, they wanted my book. They wanted my autograph. And, a day after I got back home in Washington, DC, I even got an email from one attendee who had some additional questions and wanted my opinion of which of my fiction books he should consider buying.

So, here’s my advice; if you’re going somewhere to speak to a group, throw ten or fifteen copies of your books in a box and put them in the trunk of your car. You just might be surprised at what happens.

 Carro's Say~

Recently I was at a social and noticed something that brought my attention to how people are so interested in talking about themselves - they don't listen or respond when someone makes a comment or shares a story. Even when they responded it was to bring the subject to their own story that was similar to the one telling the story. Of course, it is okay to share their own story, however, wouldn't you think they'd give the speaker acknowledgment of their story first? I would. 

Dr. Willie White's religious Thoughts

J. House Relationship Advice

In our relationships we always need to realize that truth, respect and communication is most important.

Johnny's Junction

Peter's Corner

Suzanne's Column

Vinita's Column

Vee Bee's Beauty Comments

Simply beauty is looking natural - using colors that match you as a person


Motherhood is a precious role we play so always remember your child is watching you - always!

Pattimari's Thoughts
This reading Ape does Author spotlighting, click on the above address and visit him; he's the best


Amber Says Goodbye
By Marjorie Hembroff

Twelve-year-old, Amber Fieldale stood beside Mrs. Hobbs, Gran’s housekeeper and companion, in the family pew. Amber was an orphan and had lived with Gran since her parents’ had been killed in a car crash. Gran had been Amber’s legal guardian since she was six years old.
Ambers legs felt like jelly and she sat down with a thud. A shudder went through her, as her attention went from the black clad people to the oak coffin covered with white daisies and roses.
Mrs. Hobbs gave Amber’s hand an encouraging squeeze and smiled.
Amber turned her head to look out the window and into the surrounding hills. Her thoughts drifted to the night before. She had been standing beside Aunt Anne, Gran’s daughter, in the funeral parlor, as everyone had gathered to say their goodbyes in private. The coffin was open with Gran propped up against a white satin pillow surrounded by green satin. Gran looked at peace and like she would pop up any second to say something. Amber had shivered and bolted outside when Aunt Anne had asked her to kiss Gran one last time. The stars had twinkled in the dark sky but one star had been brighter that the others. Was Gran looking down and watching over her? Goosebumps formed on Amber’s arms as she folded them over her chest and wished she had grabbed her coat.
The click of Aunt Anne’s heels on the wooden floor, as she walked down the aisle, brought Amber’s mind back to the present for a minute. Amber and Gran hadn’t seen Aunt Anne that often due to her busy schedule. Every few months there had been a whirlwind visit that had exhausted Gran. In-between visits there had been phone calls and an occasional letter.
Aunt Anne was dabbing her eyes with a rumpled handkerchief. Her back was stiff and erect when she passed Amber. Aunt Anne was dressed in a dark grey pin stripped suit with a black hat and a black veil concealing her dark brown eyes.
Amber’s gaze wandered to where Uncle Mathew, her mother’s younger brother, and his family sat. She had always looked forward to his visits. He was a kind, gentle man and told stories about the scrapes her mother and he had got into when they were kids. Uncle Mathew lived a quarter mile away and Amber played with her cousins frequently.
Amber’s thoughts drifted once more to the night before when she had tossed and turned all night. She had drifted from one dream to another. She smiled when she remembered the dream where she’d danced in the meadow with Gran.
Gran had been ill for several weeks and had been rushed to the hospital. On Amber’s last visit Gran had squeezed her hand before she drifted off to sleep. That night Gran had passed away and the following days were a blur.
Amber felt bewildered and gazed around the room as the minister’s voice droned on and on. Her thoughts drifted to happier days with Mrs. Hobbes and Gran. The little white cottage, in the village of Willow, felt empty now even though friends, relatives and neighbours stopped in every day to give their condolences.
Amber glanced across the aisle when she heard the tap, tap of Great Aunt Jo’s cane on the wooden floor. She was Gran’s younger sister and lived in the city. Ambe gripped the seat of her pew so tightly that her knuckles were white. Great Aunt Jo wore an old fashioned black dress and her black veil covered her face giving her a mysterious look. She hadn’t visited for a long time but wrote twice a year. Great Aunt Jo dabbed her eyes with a crumpled, lace edged hankie. She had criticised Amber for not crying and had said it wasn’t natural.
Amber had sobbed silently into her pillow last night. It had just been Mrs. Hobbs, Gran and her most of the time. When Great Aunt Jo had visited she had left in a huff and Amber felt relieved when she left because peace had been restored.
Amber’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the organ and shuffling feet as everyone stood up for the final hymn, How Great Thou Art, one of Gran’s favorites.
Amber stiffened as her uncles and cousins shouldered the coffin and marched down the aisle towards the door. In a few minutes she followed her family down the aisle behind the coffin. Outside the coffin was placed in the black hearse and everyone drifted to waiting vehicles.
Black threatening clouds formed overhead as Amber watched the coffin being lowered in the ground. She clinched her hands until her fingernails dug into her palms. She hung her head and shivered watching in disbelief. What now? Her life had been turned upside down in a few short days. Amber followed the others as they dumped clumps of earth and roses on the coffin. Tears filled her eyes as she stumbled along. Oh Gran, don’t leave me. Everyone had turned to leave as rain splattered on the ground leaving circles in the dust. Amber stumbled and almost fell forward as tears blurred her vision but someone grabbed her arm preventing her from falling.
Great Aunt Jo gripped her cane with her gnarled hands and gave Amber a stern look from under her veil. “Don’t make a public spectacle of yourself.”
Tears poured down Amber’s checks as she looked up at Great Aunt Jo. She should talk. Great Aunt Jo had been sniffling and dabbing her eyes all the way through the service. Now she was smiling and talking to everyone as if nothing had happened. How could she?
Then a gentle hand touched Amber’s shoulder and she looked up to see Uncle Mathew standing beside her with a gentle twinkle in his blue eyes. “Let’s go to the house. Tomorrow is a fresh day.” He put his arm around Amber’s shoulders as they walked towards the car.
The End.

Ghost in the Attic
Bess sat on the wooden bench, in front of the metal tool shed, while Mr. Mars cleaned the lawnmower. “Do you think there are ghosts?”

Mr. Mars wiped his greasy hands on a rag. “Haven’t seen any.”

Bess laid her book to one side. “I heard noises in the attic. Megan and I are afraid to go up there.”

 Mr. Mars chuckled. “Shall we look?”

They went in the back door, of the red brick apartment building, and up the back stairs. Bess followed Mr. Mars up the creaky uncarpeted stairs until they reached the attic door. There was a loud creak when he pushed the wooden door open and strolled into the dimly lit cluttered room.
“This room gives me the creeps,” Bess wrapped her arms around her chest as she peered into the shadowy corners “I’ve got goose bumps.”
The air was filled with the sound of shuffling feet and the constant rattling of the shutters when Mr. Mars crossed the room to pull the cord on the overhead light. The bare bulb bathed the room in a golden light but didn’t reach the corners. “It’s time everything was cleaned out. Most of it is junk anyway. Will have to fix the windows and shutters. Could be the source of your noises.”

 “Want help. It’s boring Megan is grounded and can’t even have company, “ Bess said as she looked around. “We always hear creaking and little footsteps.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Mars stroked his goatee. “Two will get the job done faster. Possibly find the source of your ghost.”
 “Our apartment is one floor below and often hear noises at night,” Bess said, as she pulled out a box of old newspapers.
“Time for a bonfire,” Mr. Mars looked through another box of old magazines and books.
Bess rummaged through the books. “Can I keep them? Don’t throw them out. Here is an old copy of Grimes Fairy Tales.”
“Of course, you can have them,” Mr. Mars said, as he opened another box. “Why it’s full of old toys. Wonder who stashed these? There is a teddy bear on top.”
“They could be donated to someone. I’ll add the teddy bear to my collection” Bess said. “Hey look at these albums.”
“Often wondered where those disappeared to,” Mr. Mars said. “The wife almost turned the apartment upside down searching for them.”
Bess knelt in front of the box of toys and pulled out two dusty teddy bears “Just need cleaning and cuddling.”

 “Shall we continue?” Mr. Mars said. “No sign of your ghost though. Possibly tree branches scraping the windows. Was it windy when you heard the noise?”
“No, not always.” Bess set the books, teddies and albums to one side.
 “A slight breeze makes those old shutters bang,” Mr. Mars pointed towards the ceiling. “Look there.”
“Look at what?” Bess asked as she looked upward.
“Follow me. I think that’s the source of your ghost,” Mr. Mars strode across the rough plank floor towards the window.
Bess looked up at the ceiling as a beam of sunlight peaked through. “What has that got to do with the noises?”
 “See that nest in the exposed beams,” Mr. Mars said, pointing. “The window is broken and the wind makes the shutters bang and creak. Critters can get in.”
“Why yes,” Bess answered. “Is it a bird’s nest?”
“Don’t think so,” Mr. Mars said. “I will set up the step ladder and we’ll have a look.”
 “Can I look first,” Bess asked when the ladder was ready.
“You bet,” Mr. Mars said, as he steadied the ladder.

“How cute,” Bess said as she looked at the baby squirrels nestled together. “They wouldn’t make that much noise would they?”
“They run around at night and sleep during the day. Will get someone to fix the roof and window,” Mr. Mars said, as Bess climbed down.
 “What will happen to the squirrels?” Bess asked as she sorted through a box of magazine clippings. “There are a lot of old recipes and pictures in this box. What do you want to do with them?”
“Will have to ask the wife,” Mr. Mars said. “Most will go into a bonfire. It’s a fire hazard up here. The squirrels will be relocated.”
They worked silently each lost in their own thoughts and soon had piles for donation, bonfire and keeping.
 “Help push those old dressers against the wall. Someone might be able to use this old furniture. The wife donates items to needy folk,” Mr. Mars said, as he leaned an old oak mirror against the wall.
“Can I have the mirror and corner bookcase?” My shelves are overflowing,” Bess asked.
 “Of course. You’ll need a place for those old books.” Mr. Mars said. “You have been a big help. Been putting this job off for months now. Glad it’s done.”

 “Won’t Megan be surprised when she learns the source of our ghost,” Bess said, as she headed down the narrow stairs.
The End



Wednesday, May 17, 2017


PnPAuthor Magizine

July issue, 2017


Owners of PnPAuthor Magazine; Peter & Pattimari Cacciolfi

Jane Wells

Joyce’s Corner


I love attending writer’s conferences and learning new things about the craft I have devoted so much time to in the last few years. I recently attended the Dallas DFW Conference where I met different agents, listened to agent panels and successful writers from all over the United States. I went into talk which was titled “Put Your Readers on an Emotional Roller Coaster.”
Emotions are powerful. They can make people do or not do almost anything at any given moment. I can get so wrapped up in what is happening on the page that I find myself crying out of grief or sadness or my heart pumping because I’m so mad. I couldn’t stop typing if I wanted to. I may have made up this character on the page but she is making me FEEL what is happening to her.
The session was presented by Kelsey Macke, and she was a superb speaker as well as a talented, successful writer. She suggested that we take a piece of paper and think about our Work In Progress. She wanted us to imagine the main Protagonist only. Next we were to imagine putting her on the edge of a cliff. She or he is holding a box. Anything or anyone can be inside the box.
Then we think of five incidents for our protagonist and the box on the edge of a cliff.  Remember what is inside the box. What does she feel about what is inside—hate, love, protection. Any emotion. Anything can be inside the box. Let your imagination take hold.
We have exactly two minutes to write whatever we want to fit. I suggest that you try these exercises. You’ll be surprised what insights you can gain. Of course, she timed us, but you’ll have to set your kitchen timer or microwave—anything that will make you stick to the two minutes.
Don’t overthink the situation. The exercise is to express the emotions that your character is feeling at the time. Will she jump? Be pushed over? Throw the box over? Whatever your intention is in order for your character to feel what is happening to her, Make her FEEL HER CIRCUMSTANCES. Maybe she will react physically or not, but she has to FEEL something while she is doing it. Maybe it is her feelings that make her do what she does. She doesn’t have to do anything with the box or she can. She’s under your control but her emotions are her own.
Have your piece of paper and pencil ready. They are:
1.      Someone or something is running hard toward you. It’s going to hit you. What does she feel? How will she react?
2.      Your character is facing her most horrific moment with the antagonist. What is it? How does she feel about what is happening?
3.      Something is falling from the sky. What is it? What does it have to do with her? How will she feel?
4.      Someone is running toward her. Who is it? What does she feel?
5.      The box is beginning to open. What is in it? What does she feel? What does she feel?
You want your reader to be every bit as invested in your characters as you are. If you think about all of your favorite books, you realize that each one tore at your heart in different ways. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck is one of my favorite books. Every time I read it, I get angry, become saddened, feel protective, and frustrated. Those are just some of the things I feel, but whatever you do, make your readers fall in love with your characters so much that they feel sad when they come to the end of the book. What a ride you gave them!
Joyce, what an incredible presentation; thank you, Peter


Where Ideas Come From -Wagons West: Daniel’s Journey – Western stories for young readers

I’m frequently asked where I get the ideas for the books I write, particularly because I write in several different genres. Outlaw Publishing, an indie publishing imprint from Texas, recently published my book, Wagons West: Daniel’s Journey, the story of a ten-year-old boy’s wagon train trip to Oregon with his family.

Before the inevitable questions fly, I thought I’d outline the genesis of this book, which I sincerely hope will morph into a series.

The first germ of the idea came during a conversation with my daughter, Denise, when we were discussing what writing projects I might want to look at for the future. At the time, we were talking about the western/historical novels I’d written; the Buffalo Soldier series, Frontier Justice: Bass Reeves-Deputy U.S. Marshal, The Last Gunfighters, and Mountain Man. She was impressed that, in addition to telling good stories, I did extensive research to make sure the novels were historically correct, and suggested that historically-correct western stories for young readers would be a good idea. As I always do when an idea comes to mind, or is given to me, I made some notes in the journal I always carry.

For more than a year, though, I didn’t carry it any further. Then, a few months ago, I was contacted by J.C. Hulsey, president of Outlaw Publishing and host of ‘The Wild West Showdown,’ an Internet radio show. He wanted to interview me about Frontier Justice. At the end of the interview, we talked about the western genre, and he mentioned that he’d like to publish some westerns that would attract a new generation of readers. I brought up the idea of western for young readers, and he asked if I’d be interested in writing one for Outlaw Publishing. It sounded like a good idea, so I said yes. A month later, I sent him a novella, Wagons West: Daniel’s Journey, a story about ten-year-old Daniel Waterford’s wagon train trip to Oregon from his home in Iowa. A month after that it was available for sale on Amazon in paperback and Kindle versions, and hopefully will become a series following Daniel as he grows up on the western frontier.

Writing a western for young readers (and I’m hoping it will appeal to all ages) requires a bit more care than those just for adults. For one thing, profanity, violence, and sexual situations have to be handled with a lot of finesse. In order to be historically accurate, at least some violence is unavoidable, and without at least one gunfight, readers would probably not believe it. As much as possible, though, I wanted a book that parents could feel comfortable letting their pre-teens read. So, here’s how I do it.

There is in Daniel’s Journey, a couple of violent scenes; Daniel’s encounter with a pack of coyotes, and the confrontation when bandits attack the wagon train and are captured by the cavalry. I don’t go into great detail in either, just enough to let the readers know what’s going on, and then their minds can fill in the blanks. I’m not so na├»ve that I don’t know that most kids have been exposed to a lot of graphic violence on TV and through video games, so I know they know what’s going on. I never mention sex at all in the first story. I’m working on the second one now, and do mention the dance hall women, but don’t get any more specific than that. As for profanity, an occasional ‘dang’ is as far as I go. Even in my mysteries, I keep the cursing to a minimum, and then only if it seems really, really appropriate for the scene.

The main thing I focus on is historical accuracy. It’s fiction, but the things that happen, the things people wear and use, and the places are based on exhaustive research.

It’s too early to tell if these stories will catch on. One can only hope. In the meantime, I’ll just keep writing, but now you know, at least, where the idea for one of my books came from.
Charles, after 30+ years of teaching, I couldn't agree more with your fine presentation.  Our texts have been distorted with true facts  left out.  You stress research, as do I, as essential to the story, and including just enough violence, etc. is essential.  Thank you, Peter

Dr. White's Religious Corner

An Assured Hope
Isaiah 40:31; 41:10; Jeremiah 17:7

But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew [their] strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; [and] they shall walk, and not faint.
Fear thou not; for I [am] with thee: be not dismayed; for I [am] thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. Blessed [is] the man that trusteth in the LORD and whose hope the LORD is.

If the question was raised, why am I writing about hope? I like many others across these United States feel betrayed, heartbroken, angry and certainly do not trust Trump and his regime to be the President for all America.
Many of us watched his bigotry; lies, hate, and his personal assault on every nationality except White America who is rich like him; so then what to say that he will change now that he is the President; nothing. I say this because a Leopard never changes his spots.
So then what hope do we have? The answer is found in Jesus Christ as stated in our discussion scriptures. It is Him that our hope is assured, because without an unwavering faith and trust in Him we never lose. We are overcomers in Christ, but what we must do is remain strong, committed to our fight for what is right, just and fair for all Americans.
 Remember all humanity is created in the image and likeness of God our creator, and we are all linked through His Spirit. We may have lost the war but not the battle; the best is yet to come because the truth will be known as parts are coming forth as we speak.
In closing, allow me to encourage all to stay sprayed up, focus, committed, and to get involved by doing whatever we can to change things.
An assured hope is in the Lord. His truth and justice will reign.
Your comments are welcomed.
Author's contacts:
Dr., at this juncture, we can only wait for what the future holds in store for us, and hope for the best.  Peter

Peter's Column

Magazine Column


If someone tells you that you have "Bats in your Belfry" should you be upset with that statement?  If you are the sensitive type you might.  It is said to refer to someone who has some strange habits, exhibits erratic behavior, or might simply be bordering on insanity.  Just tell them you are a poet and author and that's sometimes how one acts while in the process of creating a masterpiece.
     Bats, of the order of Chiroptera are the only mammals naturally capable of true and sustained flight.  About 70% of the species are insectivores meat eaters, most of the rest are frugivores, or fruit eaters.  A few species, such as the fish-eating bat, feed on animals other than insects, with the vampire bats being hematophagous, or feeding on blood.
     Bats live most everywhere except in areas of extreme cold.  They perform the vital ecological roles of pollinating flowers and dispersing fruit seeds.  They also consume insect pests, reducing the need for pesticides.  They are equipped with very sharp teeth allowing them to bite through the hardest armor of insects or the skin of fruit.  At 130 decibels in intensity, bat calls are some of the most intense, airborne animal sounds.  No bats are blind, contrary to popular belief; they use vision to navigate, especially for long distances when beyond their range of echolocation.  It is a fact that bats have an eyesight better than that of humans.  Their predators include bat hawks, bat falcons, snakes and spiders.  Their average life span is between 20 and 30 years.
     Bat dung, or guano, is so rich in nutrients that it is mined from caves, bagged and used by farmers to fertilize their crops.  It is interesting to note that during the US Civil War, guano was used to make gunpowder.  On the bad side, bats are natural reservoirs for a large number of zoonotic pathogens as rabies, histoplasmosis, Nipah Hendra viruses and suspected to carry ebola.  They carry fleas  and mites as well as bat bugs.
     Bats are often associated with evil spirits and other beings who haunt the darkness probably because of their nocturnal appearances after twilight, combining that with their unique many-folded faces, uncanny upside-down sleeping habits, long ears and seemingly erratic flying habits.
     In medieval times it was thought to be a creature symbolizing affection because of their habit of hanging together in closely bunched groups.  In biblical tradition the bat was demonized where it was called the cevil's bird, sometimes becoming one of the shapes of the devil himself with bat wings.  There was a time when German peasants nailed bats to doors in an effort to ward off the devil.  In South America, bats were thought of as devourers of the sun who flocked around the Aztec lord of the underworld, Mictlantecuhtli, carrying human heads in their claws.    In Africa, bats are believed to be the spirits of the dead, hovering around dead bodies until doomsday.  Women of Egypt use bat's blood on newborn female babies hopefully to prevent the growth of pubic hairs making her more attractive to her husband when she grows up.  Bats in Egypt are also considered the guardians of pure water since the sultan of the bats lives in a deep-well shaft.  In Greece and parts of Africa the bat was a symbol of vigilance.  In China, fu, the word for bat sounds the same as the word for happiness and so it stands for good luck.  Gifts are accompanied by a
     So now you have the good, the bad and the ugly of our friendly flying creatures.  Admire their flights at a distance, and don't capture them just to examine them, instead, study them on line or on video; it's a lot safer.

Vinita's Column

 At Present, there are so many books to read, so many dishes to make, so many exercises to lose weight, so many people to text, and so many movies to watch.  The first thing that comes to our mind is - What do we do? Yes, we have our daily routine.  We think we want to start a writing group,  No, we would rather dream of having a big dance group with different styles of dance. We may even want to volunteer.   We are living the everyday life of boredom, daily day to day routine.  We feel we need a purpose.   The first question that comes to our mind is - What do we do? We think we really don’t know. What dance do we really like? Is it North Indian Style Kathak?, Is it South Indian Style Bharatnatyam?, Or is it Ballet?  All we know is we love dancing and singing. We listen to the same song over and over again. We know we are not the greatest singer.   We feel most of all, we want to have time to read. There are so many books we have to read. We just don’t know which one to read.  We even want to finish our writing story
We feel we are not here in the present,  We really don’t know who we are. What is our true purpose in life? What is our greatest gift or talent?  For these reasons, we need a focus. If we mediate, we get to know who we are in life.  What we really need is a focus.  Meditate and we go deep into our consciousness. We wake up with some relaxation.  We see we are able to focus. We are more relaxed.  When we are calm, we are able to think more clearly.   We know then,  I will don't go into any details or have a job.  We get exercise. 

We relax by meditating, and then we focus. We are able to get deep with who we are, What we want to be doing, and how we should live our life.
Vinita, you are correct that we need a clear focus, and certainly meditation is a most relaxing and soothing exercise; a great column.  Peter
Suzanne's Column

Suzanne Newnham’s Corner

Hello to year three!

Hello and welcome to July 2017, celebrating as I go into my third year of writing Suzanne’s Corner for PnP Authors Magazine. Wow! It’s difficult to believe when Pattimari Sheets Cacciolfi invited me to join her and Peter Cacciolfi’s small band of writers and submit a monthly column (or at whatever frequency my health allowed) that I would reach this milestone. Since writing my first column there’s been only one month when everything was ‘blah’ and any thought, any energy was just about getting through and not sinking beneath pain rather than trying to compose an article. For the rest of the time writing and seeing words coming to life on my computer screen, allowing them to uplift me, and on reading the drafts hoping that my humble offerings would also be helpful to others, has kept me going.

It’s amazing moving from barely being able to put a sentence together or recognise the context of words – such was my decimated cognitive abilities due to pain and medications – to writing articles which, from lots of delightful comments I’ve received, have been useful and informative.

This past month has seen lots of highs and lows. I have been involved in meetings to discuss pain management training for primary care doctors; given talks on meditation and relaxation for chronic pain and fatigue; as well as writing for a collaborative novella, and a novel based on my mother’s story. It’s busy, but the type of busy I enjoy! In between times I’ve needed to remind myself to pace, especially when I’ve become fully involved, and the inevitable triggers causing pain and other symptoms. In addition to pacing, needing to rest so that my energy didn’t take flight. The latter sometimes lasting for days (though it used to take months, without the bonus of doing stuff I enjoy. Yes even the meetings, as a volunteer advocate for teaching about the impact of chronic pain).

Life when health is compromised is a constant juggling act. A whole new way of looking at what needs to be done, what you want to do, and learning different techniques to help you cope leads to a person who finds inner strength, tolerance, understanding and empathy. So, the next time life gets you down and you don’t know when you’ll ever feel well again just remember your inner strength, be gentle, and focus on the things that you can do, have re-learned how to do, and enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

Suzanne, your writings have been an inspiration to Pattimari and me, and I an certain, to many, if not all, of our readers.  You inspire us to go beyond and fight for our right to be good; I admire your tenacity.  Peter

Carro's Beauty Tips
The more natural you look, the more beautiful you are.

Pattimari's Thoughts

Sing me a song
listen to my words
know that you 
are in my heart

Vee Bee's SAY
I say having a friend is like having a therapist

While your child is growing up, always remember the memories you have formed

~ Phrases I Hate ~
            Maybe “hate” is a bit strong, but there are some current expressions which I find especially annoying because they are so overused. Perhaps you have your own list too. Here are four that make me grind my teeth a little.
1. “At the end of the day…” I’m sure you’ve heard this one. It seems to have flared up a couple of years ago, and now everybody’s using it, especially on CNN. All I have to hear is a political commentator start a sentence with “At the end of the day,” and my ears shut down. For one thing, the phrase is filler, intended to launch a sentence while the speaker figures out what to say next. For another, it’s wordy. If you must use this phrase, then please file it down. I’d be happy if the offender shortened it to “In the end” or even “In the final analysis…”
2. “There’s no there there.” I actually liked this for a while. I found it clever and a bit witty. But you know, after 5000 commentators used this phrase, I began to feel there’s no there there. Whatever originality once existed has gone someplace else than there.

3. “Man up,” or “Why don’t you man up?” It used to be “Why don’t you be [or act like] a man?” But times change. Newt Gingrich used this during his latest campaign for president when he said one of his rivals should “man up” about something. This phrase seems to have faded from use recently, but never fear. I expect a surge of testosterone to bring some variation of it back.
4. “It is what it is.”  - Not to be confused with “Tell it like it is.” Recently, my dentist put my nose out of joint (say, wasn’t that once an overused phrase?) when he dismissed my polite complaint concerning a bad tooth by saying “It is what it is.” I wanted to reply, “How brilliant! How perceptive and profound! Did you figure that out all by yourself, or did you learn it in dentistry school?” What exactly does this cretinous statement mean? Is a cow what it is, too?
          Dear readers, that’s all for this time. If you have any phrases or expressions you personally dislike, why don’t you man or woman up and share them with us? At the end of the day, I have to know if there’s any there there, or if it simply is what it is.   
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Johnny, as always, witty, humorous and to the point.  Now you are making me think of those profound statements which stimulate my juices.  Peter

J. House Relationships

When was the last time you told your mate how you appreciate them?

The Story Ready Ape
He does author spotlighting



Peter's short story

Father's Day

So way back in 1910 Father's Day began, but it wasn't until much later that it finally ran.  Sonora Smart Dodd thought it would be a good idea of honoring and celebrating her father while listening to a Mother's Day sermon at church in 1909.  She thought mothers were getting all the acclaim while fathers were equally deserving of a day of praise.  Sonora's dad, a Civil War vet, was left to raise 6 children when his wife died during the final birth.  She chose the day of the death of her father, 5 June, but with some bad planning it was changed.  Then way over in West Virginia, Grace Golden Clayton suggested to her church that they hold services to celebrate fathers after a deadly mine explosion in 1908.  In 1924 President Calvin Coolidge recommended that Father's Day become a national holiday, but no official action was taken.  In 1966, Lyndon Johnson, through an executive order, designated the 3rd Sunday in June as the official day to celebrate Father's Day.  However, it wasn't until 1972, during the Nixon administration,  that Father's Day was officially recognized as a national holiday. 
So on this coming Father's Day
think of some things nice to say
For even though you dislike the sound
fathers will not forever be around
They worked and toiled just for you
wanting to show their love so true
Away on the job much of the time
there was a reason and a rhyme
Think of the times and the difficult years
get over the worst and offer him cheers

It may be the last time you'll get




Buttermilk Chicken Tenders

Prep Time: 20 minutes plus marination time

Cooking Time: 12 minutes

Servings: 7

Classic southern chicken tenders are always better when made at home. This recipe is a great use of everyday ingredients and is simple to make.


  • 14 Sanderson Farms® Chicken Tenders, cut in half diagonally
  • 1 cup buttermilk
  • 1 teaspoon seasoning salt
  • 3 cups flour
  • 2 tablespoons seasoning salt
  • 1 teaspoon black pepper
  • 4 cups vegetable oil


Stay positive and happy
Work hard and don't give up hope
Be open to criticism and keep learning
Surround yourself with warm and genuine people

August 2017

PnPAuthor Magazine Peter & Pattimari Cacciolfi; owners of magazine RECENTLY JOINED PnPAUTHOR MAGAZINE Marie Ch...