Monday, November 11, 2013

Monday Morning...

It's Monday again. Hallelujah!

I plan to get a lot of things done this week like
Clean out the garage: check
Send texts of love to far off friends: check
Laundry: check
Educate the offspring: check
Write a novel:.....

See what had happened was Nano is having their annual write-a-thon and I signed up. Why? Because the wheels have stopped turning and I feel myself rusting up again. So I'll write a novel in a month tentatively titled Stan.

I can do this.

Monday, October 21, 2013


I'm in a happy/sad kinda place right now. Lots of great things are happening, but just as many not great things are happening also. For example...

My first book, Push, was reviewed on the blog Reading For Sanity. (Happy!)

One of my closest friends moved to Georgia. (Sad.)

I entered my books in a self-published writers contest which I didn't win, but it's okay because they sent reviews of my books, and the reviews will be published in Writer's Digest. (Happy!). The reviews were great, though there wasn't much love for the covers, and I could use a good editor (yes, I could), but (Happy!).

The second of my closest friends is moving back to Washington at the end of this week. (Sad.)

I'm teaching the Gospel Doctrine class in my church. (The jury is still out on that one.)

I still have many stories swirling around in my head, and I still love writing. (Happy!), but I'm running low on motivation with the last of my closest friends moving to Utah in about two weeks. (Sad a lot.)

Man, this post is bummin' me out. Here's a picture of some kittens:

Did I say kittens? I meant a big dam bridge and four random kids. Just kidding, they're mine. The kids, not the bridge.

Monday, August 26, 2013

Horror in a Nutshell...

This morning while I was indisposed, I heard an incredible racket coming from the living room. Our two dogs were wrestling as they constantly do, but one of them was shrieking. All of a sudden I heard my girls screaming and crying. Stuck as I was all I could do was ask (as loud as I could) what was going on. My oldest, Eenie, finally ran in and told me that one of the dogs, Luna, had her muzzle caught in her brother, Apollo's collar, and it was strangling him! She couldn't get free because they somehow managed to get the collar twisted. She then ran from the room, and I followed as quickly as possible.

By the time I reached the living room it was all over. I am thankful that though my children were scared, they had the presence of mind to act. Meenie ran to the kitchen for scissors and managed to cut the collar from Apollo's neck. They said he wasn't moving, his mouth was white and his eyes were open and unblinking. Meenie picked him up, which I think gave him just the jolt he needed to start breathing again. He was in shock and it took a few minutes for him to recover, but it took longer for my kids to calm down, so we kneeled down and said a prayer of gratitude that he was okay, and that the kids had just enough calm to know what to do.

My poor babies are traumatized, and I don't know how to help that, short of bunches of hugs and kisses and reminders that they did the right things to save their puppy. I think we're cursed when it comes to pets.

Family Fun Fest: The Sequel Part II...

Thank you for returning to the party.

Now where was I? Oh yes! Friday in Little Rock.

After our trip to the Museum of Discovery we hiked to a place called Heifer Village. This place provides livestock, water, nets and life training for third world countries. It is awesome. We did a scavenger hunt through the displays and learned about all of the awesome things The Heifer Project is doing to teach self sufficiency in others. Here is the link: Go check it out.

We trounced all around River Market in downtown Little Rock until the kids ran out of steam. They worked really hard this week.

We left Little Rock Friday evening after Josh got off of work and headed to Hot Springs. We stopped at the Mid-America Science museum...

...where we spent an hour or two. They had a "cave" exhibit where we crawled through long dark holes and traversed rope bridges. I realized I'm a little bit claustrophobic, and I had to work to keep myself calm. It was an experience that I don't think I'll repeat any time soon. Or ever. This museum wasn't quite as activity filled, but it was a nice visit. 
After that we found ourselves in Hot Springs where the springs are, indeed, hot. We visited one of the bathhouses, strolled through the national park (which happens to be in the middle of the city), and taste tested some of the water. It was hot.
There are fountains all over the city where people come with jugs of all kinds that they fill with the water. We met a couple from Arlington (they lived just down the road from us) who were filling jugs. The water must be good. That guy was buff!

And then we were ready to go home, so we did. With the A.C. cranked up as high as it would go. Hallelujah!


Family Fun Fest: The Sequel...

Okay people, I hope you've set aside a little time because this is going to be involved, but worth it!

Mr. D. had to go to Little Rock for the third time this year on a business trip, and he would be gone the whole week. Well, that's just not cool, so we hatched a plan to drive up to meet him in the middle of the week. No biggie because Little Rock is only about a six hour drive. We drive further to camp in Texas.

The kids and I drove him to the airport on Sunday evening then filled the next two days with fluff and tomfoolery (and an awesome visit with my sister. Hi Kari!) Anyway, we loaded up the van on Wednesday morning, had lunch with said sister then headed out onto the open road with a thoughtful bag o' treats provided for us by our home teacher ('s wife) because that's just how (s)he rolls.

You'll note it is called a "road trip survival bag." That's called foreshadowing. Also, how did she know?
Everything was moving along smoothly when Eenie noticed the air wasn't feeling quite so cool, and that's when we realized the air conditioner had died. Just as we were leaving Dallas, less than one hour into our six hour drive. So we did the only thing we could do in that situation; we turned the rolled down the windows, and turned the music up. It was lots of fun. We sang at the top of our lungs (we had to if we wanted to be heard), we talked (loudly) and we laughed. Also, I told my offspring that this was how we rolled all the time when I was a kid. Life lessons man.
Anyway, we rolled into a gas station with about an hour left to our destination for gas, and a cold refreshing beverage which this station could not provide because the cooler was acting more as a cooker. It was most unpleasant to open that cooler with anticipations of a cool rush of air only to be met by a hot burst of disappointment. Also the fountain drinks left something to be desired, but we were beggars man! Put that gun away!
We crawled back into our toasty ride clutching our non-descript foam cups and I started the van. However, four hours of wind assaulting my eardrums had left me rather deaf. I panicked when I turned the key and couldn't hear the engine come to life. It's an eight year old car thus it no longer purrs, but more groans and I couldn't hear the groan. I started it again, but it was still as quiet. Thinking on it now, there were other hints that told me it was running, but my brain was rather cooked by then. Don't judge.
We made it to Little Rock without further incident, and because of the wonder of cell phones, Mr. D. had found a mechanic to check out the van. They kept the shop open for us. It was awesome.
We left the van at Christian Bros. and went to dinner. Mr. D. likes to go to places that are unique to Little Rock. That's how we ended up a Damgoode Pies. They make Damgoode pizza, and have...
Moe refused to speak the name.

Afterwards we found ourselves here:

Hence the "big dam" everything. To be fair, it is a big dam bridge.

The next day we were on foot as the van was in the shop (see above). I didn't want to be stuck in the hotel all day, and I figured if we left early enough we could see some sights before it got too hot. The kids and I asked for directions to the nearest Kohl's (Moe's sneakers had been left in the van) and we waltzed outside. The shuttle driver rushed outside as our trajectory became clear to him and insisted he let us drive him to the Kohl's "then you can walk back if you want," he said. "And here's my number when you change your mind." Well hah! to him. We didn't change our minds. Which might have been a mistake (foreshadowing again).

Our driver, Mack, who moonlights as a D.J. by the name of "King Mack" dropped us off at Kohl's where we picked out a pair of red shoes that happened to be two rights. After looking through all the boxes it was discovered that someone out there has a pair of red lefts. We found another pair we liked, which had both sides then grabbed some socks, and the best purchase I made this entire trip, nay, ever.

This little gem saved my life. I carried it every day until we got home. Best. Forty. Dollars. EVER.

We walked all over Little Rock. Up hills, down hills, stopped at a couple of stores, and made it back in one piece. We even danced across the street like they did in West Side Story, our very own musical. Then once the van was repaired, Mack took us back to the shop where we picked up the van. We had wheels again!

Reader Digest entry - Meal progression for Thursday:

We were eating our way through the livestock of Little Rock.

The next day, being Friday, the kids and I toured down town Little Rock. We went to the Discovery Museum where I rotated a wheel in futility hoping to knock down a glass after 1,000,000 million rotations only to realize I wasn't as close as I thought I was. That's forty five minutes I'll never get back.

We also smashed pennies, made die-cut boxes, molded plastic spoons, performed newscasts and changed a tire or two on a golf cart. The Museum of Discovery in Little Rock is AWESOME!

And for whatever reason, stupid Youtube or stupid Blogspot won't download any of the awesome videos I made.


Friday, August 16, 2013

A Case of Mistaken Identity...

Have you ever been somewhere like, say, for example, the grocery store, and run into someone you know you should know, but you can't quite remember how or where you know them? And then they say hello and you say "hey, (insert name here it doesn't matter what because it will be wrong anyway)" or even "hey, Syljulannmarimmmmmm." I feel like that happens to me a lot. Partly because my brain has been siphoned off to four children. The other two parts would be my advanced age, and the fact that I am my mother's daughter. The chips are stacked against me.

Anyway, I was at the store today, and a woman whose name I do remember called me out in the aisle. It was lovely to see her. We chatted for a few minutes, clogging the aisles so the other shoppers had to weave around us and sidle past. It was divine. We made plans to see each other and then went on our way.

I continued through my shopping excursion until I reached the end, and then as happens, carted my groceries to the van where the bag boy and I loaded the boot (as my English friends call it. And because that's what she calls it, I can't remember what we call it in America.) Anyway, we're loading groceries and this very tiny woman walks up and says hello. I don't know about you, but I don't have many miniature acquaintances, but I had just spent the afternoon with one of them this week so she was on my mind. Also, the woman who approached me looked strikingly similar to my mini-friend, but I knew this woman wasn't her. I just couldn't remember who she was. I'm going to assuage my embarrassment by claiming she couldn't remember my name either. Anyway, I addressed her by a name that wasn't hers, but she either didn't hear me or chose to ignore my gross whatever you would call that.

I confided to the bagger that I couldn't remember how I knew her as she climbed into her ginormous truck, but it was then that I figured out who she was. Why did the truck clear things up? I don't know. Also, I only remember her last name.

I served a mission for my church many moons ago. I spent eighteen months in the Eastern Washington/Panhandle of Idaho region, and we covered a lot of ground and met a lot of people. As a consequence sometimes I couldn't remember people's names or even where I had met them (was it Pullman? Post Falls?).

One time I ran into a man who looked familiar, but I couldn't remember where I'd met him. I foolishly told him I couldn't remember him, and he said he was one of the "three Nephites." (Ask your Mormon friends). I was shocked, I mean he could have been for all I knew, but a few days later I finally remembered my companion and I had been to his house for dinner. Twice.

Fast forward a little over fifteen years, several more cities and hundreds of new faces to today. It's a wonder I remember anyone's name, including my own. So in the word's of Elder Boyd K. Packer:

"You ask, “Do I remember you?”
Of course, you’re much the same.
Now don’t go getting all upset
If I can’t recall your name."
Ensign, May 2013

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Oooohhhhh! Mommy Said A Wordy Dird....

It's not something that I like to admit, but I have a somewhat dirty mouth. I try to disguise it with substitutions like "shipwreak!" or "flippin'heck!" or "whatthefig!", and "motherofpearl!"

Other times I make a concerted effort to steer away from these vain oblations with "johnbrown," or "greatgooglymoogly," and then other times I just use the potty words under my breath because I feel that if it's hard to hear it doesn't count. I don't go on like a drunken sailor, but it happens, so you would think my kids wouldn't be so shocked when they hear the occasional slip up.

However, they react as if the world has come to an end when one of those sentence enhancers reach their ears, which I suppose I'm glad for. When they catch a bit of this corrupt communication, I hear about it immediately. Something along the lines of "Mom! Language!"

So the other day we were rolling around with my friend and her son when she made the comment that her sister thinks her son may have a touch of Autism (he doesn't), but couldn't remember the word her sister had used. Well these days there's only one well known branch (or however you call it). So armed with that knowledge and the symptoms she cited, I made an educational guess of Asperger's Syndrome, and I gave my friend the word she was looking for. At which point my youngest most keen of hearing daughter yelled "Mom! Language!"

Well usually when they call me out I know darn well why, but I was confused by her outburst. So I asked, "What did I say?" But she declined to answer, so I had to review my previous commentary in search of the offending comment. Finding nothing, I continued with my conversation.

As happens when discussing a particular topic I said the offending word again. Again I was called out on my foul language. "What did I say?" I asked once again, but then it occurred to me what she might be thinking, and as I turned to face my youngest daughter with an explanation she finally decided to tell me what I said wrong.

"Donkey burgers, Mom! Say donkey burgers."

"Asperger's Adi," I laughingly explained. "Asp-ergers."

She remains unconvinced.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Davidson Family Fun Fest...

I love family time. I love family fun time with my family specifically, and my most favorite family fun time activity is camping. That's right, camping is our preferred family activity, and we do it quite a bit.

As a matter of fact, we just returned from another successful family fun fest not three hours ago. How do I measure success, you ask? Well, we left with six and we came back with six, and it's even the same six, and no one got gored, stung, bit, broken, or lost (though that last one was close). So in the spirit of archiving Family Fun Time, I thought I would share my favorite things about camping.

The Top 10 Things I love about camping.

1. Tents - I enjoy putting them up, taking them down, and I love sleeping in them. Especially when it's late at night, and the coyotes are out chewing up whatever it is they've caught that night. I love the crunching and tearing noise that accompany their evening meals. I also enjoy the subtle grunting noise of the armadillos that come rooting around the tent. It reminds of the fact that there is but a thin wall of canvas between me and all that wonderful wilderness.

2. Bathrooms - To be fair, I could be camping without flushing toilets, so I shouldn't complain. However my favorite part of camping bathrooms is that no matter where we camp, we always manage to be as far away from the bathrooms as possible. This makes my two to three nightly pee breaks so much more convenient. I love waiting until my bladder is ready to pop before I will leave the tent (because there are armadillos out there).

I love scrounging around in the dark for a flashlight, keys to the van (because it's too late to walk), my flops and my glasses and then stumbling around a minefield of bodies hoping not to step on anyone's face as I feel for the tent door. I love running to the van because I caught a glimpse of a pair of shiny eyes, and I'm afraid they're gonna get me then breaking the placid silence when I start my car. I love walking into the park bathroom uncertain of what creatures will be waiting there to greet me. Then I perform the routine in reverse, only now I can't get to sleep because I finally understand I am sleeping with animals in search of Oreos and they know we have some. And I always have to go multiple times, because I can't cut my fluid intake or I'll dehydrate in God's vast wilderness, Texas.

3. Air Mattresses - I love my air mattress which goes into the tent nice and fully inflated, but somehow always manages to be half an inch tall the next morning, while my husband's stays firm and fabulous. I also love the smelly sleeping bag that leaves me either too hot or too cold, but also puts another inch between me and that armadillo, so I'll crawl inside it anyway.

4. Cooking - I love camp cooking, especially when some peckerwood helps themselves to my groceries, because there's a grocery store in the next town over (forty five minutes away) so it's no big deal. I also enjoy the fact that even though we place all of our foodstuff in Ziplock bags there's always something that gets waterlogged and gross, and for some reason it's always the cheese.

5. Swimming - I love swimming in whatever swimming hole is in the park. Sometimes there are sandy beaches, and sometimes the sandy beach is four feet long and three feet wide. Sometimes the water is so clear you can see all the way to the bottom. Other times the water is black. Sometimes there are fun little minnow, and sometimes there are alligators (side note: if there are alligators then we don't swim no matter how much the children beg.)

6. Fishing - Well in theory I love fishing. I've only ever caught one teeny tiny fish, but I keep hoping.

7. Hiking - I love hiking with four kids and two dogs in the blazing heat. It seems like a good idea until it becomes apparent that it was not.

8. Dairy Queen - Every time we go camping we stop on the way out and the way back. It isn't a camping trip if we haven't gone to Dairy Queen.

9. Bugs - They are everywhere. In the van, in the tent, in the bathrooms, on the trails, hanging out over the water, up my nose, in my ears. EV-E-RY-WHERE.

10. Going home - I love packing the car up to go home, shoving garbage bags of dirty clothes into the back of the van, stewing in our stink the whole way home then falling out of the van to kiss the sweet concrete of our driveway before taking a nice hot shower in civilization, which I appreciate so much more when I get home.

We went to Cap Rock Canyon this weekend, which is near the panhandle of Texas. Even though it's been pretty hot the temperature there was very pleasant and a cool breeze made up the difference. It was very tranquil out there. Also, there are bison. Lots and lots of bison. Since people tend to get stupid around wildlife, the park made sure to post warnings everywhere. EV-E-RY-WHERE.

If you still miss the warning, you shouldn't be allowed to drive. Or breed. However, as I stated before, people tend to get stupid. Here is one example:
And here we are also being stupid:

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Survey Says...

Question: When is a slap to the forehead a proper response to an annoying question?
Answer: If anyone has one, I'd really love to hear it.

As a writer I find that editing is a process. One pass isn't enough to catch all of the mistakes that will inevitably occur. Two passes won't cover it either, but I have found that as the writer I can't edit it enough to catch everything. It requires a set of fresh eyes to see what I am missing. Also, maybe reading it out loud.

I type up these posts and read them through several times for any errors, but more often than not, I won't catch one or two (or three or four) mistakes until I post... the post. Thankfully, I will catch the mistake sooner rather than later, but since no one reads this blog it's really a moot point.

However, I refuse to post mistake filled drivel! Only properly edited drivel will do, so when someone asks me "do you read things before you post them?" I want to reach out and smack him...Uh, I mean the random person who asks. I know people just want to help, but if you want to be helpful why don't you offer a second set of eyes, Random Person Who In No Way Represents Anyone I Know!

Now that I have that off my chest...

Well What Do YOU Do In the Summertime...?

I waste time. It's basically what I do all year long only now it's hot.

Every morning I wake up with the hope that today will be a productive day, and every night I lay me down to sleep with the knowledge that I can't account for what I did with most of my day. Do you know how many hours of piano practice I have put in since the first of July? Roughly eight hours. That's eight hours over thirty six days. I'm almost unable to remember the notes and keys on that piano in my front room, but as much as I have neglected my musical studies, my thirteen year old has put in even less practice. I won't embarrass her more than that, but trust me, it is abysmal.

On the plus side...I'll have to work on that some more.

My running shoes refuse to be called "running" shoes at this point because I've only been taking them for walks, but you know what? I'm not as young as I used to be, and you know what else? I really feel it. My knees pop when I walk, and the thought of running makes me sweat. Also at this point in the summer, I have to get out the door by the butt crack of dawn to avoid heat stroke. Murmur, murmur, murmur.

In other news, I have found the artwork for the cover of my next book. I'm calling it "Misc. Short Stories by D.P. Davidson." Catchy, right?" I love it.

As the title suggests it is a book of short stories. This has been an interesting experience, much different than my vast previous experience in writing. There are about seven stories in the book, and I work on them all at the same time. It's quite the juggle, but since I'm failing everywhere else I have the time.

You know what else I enjoy doing? Denying my children the opportunity to see their friends. I say I enjoy it, but really I would rather tell them no then to crawl into my 200 degree van to drive them anywhere, so most of our conversations go something like this:

"Mom, can I..."


It's a short conversation, but you'd be surprised how many times I have it in any given day.

I also now understand why, as a kid when I would beg my mother to go swimming, she'd say "no, because it's too hot." It's hot! That's why I wanted to go swimming. Her reason never made any sense to me. However as an adult I realize there isn't enough water in the world to counteract the heat one must traverse through to get to the "ol' swimmin' hole" and "swimmin' holes" are outside most of the time, so you get to traverse, and then puddle in the heat.

I won't even allow the kids to call their friends because it inevitably leads to "Mom, can I?" My poor kids...It's too hot to care. Sorry.

In closing I would like to say WELCOME HOME to my sweet niece Sophia. She's been in the hospital since the day she was born in February of last year. She has fought every day to get here and her parents, sisters, aunts, cousins, uncles and grandparents are so happy to have her home. We are grateful for the love our Heavenly Father has showered upon our family in the life of this sweet spirit, and we look forward to getting to know her better.


Thursday, August 1, 2013

Dream a Little Dream of Me...

I have weird dreams. Like almost every night. So I've decided to start a dream journal just to keep track of all the tomfoolery going on in my noggin.

Last night I dreamed about the zombie apocalypse. There was a whole group of us trying to hide from the zombie hordes, and everyone felt the inexplicable need to talk at the top of their lungs. To be fair I watched World War Z a couple of weeks back, so I can see where that dream might have come from.

The night before, I dreamed I was riding a white stallion and it tripped as we were moving down a steep embankment. We landed in a water-filled ravine on top of a white colt that appeared from nowhere. It was weird.

Sometimes it seems my dreams are segues into stories that I'm writing. They fill in spaces I haven't been able to complete when I'm awake. Other times they cover things I am worried about. Those usually  manifest in the form of my teeth and the losing of them. I hate those dreams. I don't know of anyone who enjoys losing their teeth in their dreams. Or in reality for that matter, but I seem to have an especially strong desire to keep my teeth in my head.

For example one day shortly after my last baby was born, I went out for a run and tripped on a concrete booger in the middle of the road. After a futile attempt at trying to prevent the inevitable, I found myself lying facedown in the street. I knew I was hurt. I hit every bend-y part of my person on the way down and scraped up whatever was left. I even managed to slice open the inside of my lip. I got mad skills.

A neighbor saw me go down, and rushed out to help me. She asked me if I was okay, and the first thing I asked her was if my teeth were still in my head. She was unable to hear me the first time because my mouth was full of blood, but I asked her a second time if my teeth were still in my head. She seemed confused by my question, but assured me they were (though I search the ground just to be sure she wasn't trying to shelter me from the truth).

Once I was certain I still had my teeth, I picked myself off the ground and proceeded to limp home. It was only after I was certain I still had all my teeth that I succumbed to the shock and embarrassment of falling. I swear I hit the ground, so hard the earth moved. It definitely shook my brain. I fell on my face, but somehow scratched up the back of my shoulder. I am a mess.

So to make a short story long, the point of that narrative was to illustrate my discomfort at the thought of losing my teeth. Therefore dreams wherein I lose my teeth are basically horrifying.

I have also had, from time to time, recurring dreams. When they show up, I know I need to pay attention. For example:

I had a recurring dream that Mr. D. sold our house out from under me, under the guise of moving us closer to work. However, he did such a horrendous job that not only were we still just as far from his job as before (only on the other side) we also had to live in an apartment. Right or wrong whenever I had one of those dreams I woke up in a foul mood, mad that he had sold the house again. Bear in mind, my husband would not: A. Sell our house without my knowledge, or B. Cause us to live in an apartment because of his shenanigans.

It did turn out though, that when it was time to sell our house he had to do it without me (after a fashion), and we moved to a place just as far away from his work as before, just on the other side.

Prophetic dreams? That is a post for another day.


Monday, July 15, 2013


I really don't. I've never felt so old in my life. I used to be "hip" and "with it." Even if I wasn't right on top of it, I could pick it up without too much trouble, but this hashtag thing just confuses me.

What is the point? Didn't the statement made before the hashtag make clear my thoughts? Is the hashtag just a brief reconfirmation of my previous comment? When did I stop being cool?

The thing with the hashtag is, I can't be sure if I'm using it correctly, though I suspect there aren't any rules anyway. It's a "make it up as you go along" type activity.


Last weekend my children and I went camping at Caddo Lake state park. It was...wet. Really, really wet. I can't remember the last time it rained, but we experienced a gully washer on Thursday evening.

Thankfully, we were able to get our tents (we went with another family) up before the downpour began. Also we managed to score a site with an enormous pad that fit both of our rather large tents thereby saving them from washing away in the resulting flood. That is only a small exaggeration.

However, the rain ruined our chances of dinner by campfire, so we ended up in town at Wendy's in front of a faux fire. It had to do.

We also discovered our tent is not waterproof, a knowledge we came to after the rain had passed. Upon entering our canvas abode we found several puddles had formed on top of every single sleeping bag. That's okay, it was too hot for sleeping bags that night anyway.

The Wendy's was right next to a Wal-Mart so we were able to get a couple of light blankets to cover ourselves for the night. The next morning we hung our sleeping bags out to get less wet. It was all we could hope for in the swampy air.

Everything works out.

We were under the understanding that there were canoes and swimming at this park, but when we got there we were informed that, in fact, there were no canoes. As for swimming, there was no designated swimming area, so we were cautioned to take care when swimming as we could encounter glass, fishing hooks, or...alligators. That's right, alligators.

We opted not to swim there.

Instead we went to Atlanta state park to swim at the "sandy beach." We were underwhelmed by the minitude of "sandy beach." It was perhaps six feet wide and three feet from the water.

But it was sandy.

The children were excited to swim out to the buoys until they realized they could still touch the bottom. Oh well, less of a chance for drowning. As we were so close to Louisiana, we decided to cross the border for some ice cream so that was fun.

It was a lot of fun, mostly because we were with another family. Which brings me to the last in a long line of comical experience. We were told the campsite we had chosen was near the highway so there "might be some traffic noise."

Wow. That was an incredible understatement.

We could not hear ourselves speak anytime a truck roared by, and they roared by a lot. Also, there was a train.

My grampa would send us VHS copies of old cartoons when I was a kid. One time he sent us a tape of Huckleberry Hound, a blue dog in a straw hat who is slow of speech, and perpetual positivity. In one episode he was tending to a set of pranking twins. They locked him out of a room that he used a battering ram to get through. They opened the door as he came barreling through then opened a second door that led outside. He was on the second floor and as he fell he said, "lucky for me, there's a swimming pool."

As he reached the pool, one of the boys pulled the plug to the pool and as only happens in cartoons, the pool was empty by the time Huckleberry hit the ground. At which point he says, "lucky for me the pool is empty. I might have drowned."

I try to emulate ol' Huckleberry hound. This weekend gave me a lot of practice.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

How To Avoid An Unfortunate Accident...

I don't mow lawns. Not since I was about fourteen years old. See what had happened...

My mom married this wackadoo, but that's beside the point.

Anyway, he moved us to the outskirts of civilization, a tiny town in east Texas called Yantis. Go find yourselves a map, see if you can find it. I'll wait.

That was fun, right?

Anyway, I was mowing the vast lawn one afternoon when I looked waaay across the other side of the yard to see my new uncle helping my step dad to his feet. He had blood pouring down his face from a lovely gash on his forehead. I stopped the mowed, and ran over. When I asked what happened, my new uncle said, "you did this."

What the...

Well, there was a loose bolt on the underside of the mower. It fell off, hit the blade and shot across the yard where it hit that guy in the melon. I haven't touch a lawn mower since. Just recently Mr. D. has recruited the two older girls to lawn mowing.

Just recently to my knowledge. Apparently they've been doing it for a while.

At any rate, my middle daughter was tasked with mowing the lawn last Saturday. I was nervous about the whole thing, but Mr. D. had no concerns (obviously). However, half an hour later my oldest saunters into my room and announced "Meenie ran over a stump with the lawn mower."


So, Mr. D. had to purchase another blade. Bear in mind this is the first blade change on our ten year old mower. Which means he doesn't know how to remove or reinstall said blade. Thankfully, we live in the age of YouTube so there is a video for anything right at one's fingers.

After replacing the blade, Mr. D. tells me that he needs to review the video once more just to be sure he installed it correctly. "I followed the video instructions to take it off then used the reverse to put it back on," he tells me, "but I want to review the video anyway so we can avoid any unfortunate accidents." And that's how this post came to be. I truly, truly hope there is nothing more to add to this story.


Thursday, July 4, 2013

The Most Horrifying Night of My Life....

I had no intention of documenting this...ever, anywhere, but I realized the only way I can get past it is to acknowledge that it happened. So here goes.

I have been taking piano for nine months. I will never be a concert pianist, but I've always wanted to learn. As my oldest daughter has the longest fingers ever (not super relevant, but worth mentioning), she has already been taking piano, so I figured why not?

I've got nothing else to do.

Anyway, this particular piano teacher is stellar, but she also has this nauseating practice called "recitals." I have known from the first day that a recital was in my future, but I refused to think about it. I mean, it was practically forever away, and why borrow tomorrows troubles today, you know what I mean?

Unfortunately, time passes as it is wont to do, and the recital fast approached until it was here, but I was ready! I knew my pieces, I knew my posture, I knew everyone in the cultural hall where the recital was being held, but I could not avoid the nervous twitch that suddenly overcame me.

Let me be clear. I do not get embarrassed. I can think of a handful of times wherein my cheeks grew warm at some foolishness I had committed, but for the most part I cannot afford to be embarrassed. I've fallen, tripped, word vomited, been in the wrong place at the wrong time, spilled and dropped too many things, too many times to entertain embarrassment. Or so I thought.

My piano teacher set each of us up with a plan should we mess up or get lost while playing our pieces. Plan A, in the event of a missed note, was to continue without pausing. Plan B, in the event that we lost our place, was to continue playing but go back to the beginning of the piece. The idea being that if we keep playing no one else will know that a note was missed or that we lost our place.

Armed with these tools I still was a nervous ball of worry, but even though I begged to be excused from the recital (and I did, I'm not ashamed) she wouldn't cut me loose. So I steeled myself for my task. I marched myself up to that piano like I knew what I was doing, and I sat down.

The rest is a blur. Though I can tell you that I lost my place halfway through my first piece so I went back to the beginning. Then I lost my place again!

Well at that point my three minute song was on it's way to eight minutes which I wasn't interested in because I was sure that I would lose my place a third time, at which point it would be the "D.P. Davidson's recital" because I'd been playing for so long, so I decided just to end it. Which I did. I just ended it. Right where I was. Just stopped. Right there.

Unfortunately I had another piece to play which, thankfully, I got through with the shred of dignity I had left. I smiled, curtsied, and then left the hall in a hurry.

I wanted to throw up. I have never been so embarrassed in my life. Please people, hear me. I wanted to hide in the trash can. I would have taken six faceplants on the concrete to that recital. The horror! But, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Or succeeds the second time.

I get to do it again next year. Yay!

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Deep Thoughts by D.P. Davidson...

How does one review her own work? Of course the author will speak favorably. What author would not? Would one be inclined to read a book if the author who wrote it said it was terrible? Yet, if the author speaks to highly of her own work it may well be seen unfavorably by others who see such comments as worrisome. I suppose tis best to let others speak in this instance.">View

Friday, June 14, 2013


My author page:

So awesome!!! I'm starting to feel like the real deal here.

I hit a minor snag last week, and as always happens I threw myself on the ground where I kicked and screamed like a spoiled child - not literally, though it is a valid concern. One day I will have the grace and dignity to navigate the rough spots with... grace and dignity.


In other news, the paperback version of my new work, Eterna, is almost ready. Momma's aren't supposed to have favorites, but I have to say this one is. I never thought I could love another book as much as my first, but I do. It's like being a parent, oddly enough.

Don't tell the other two. It could get awkward.

So in an effort to keep the grass from growing under my feet, I have begun another book. I'm so excited. As before, it isn't the one I thought I'd be working on, but who cares?!

Have a super duper day! I know I will.

Also, a small addendum:
Push, Push Back and Eterna are exclusive to Amazon for the time being. I apologize for any inconvenience.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Now...Why Did You Do That?

My tentative release date for Eterna was June 25, 2013. You will note it is currently May 25, 2012.

That puts my release date at exactly one month from now. Except...

I went ahead and published it now. That's right. Eterna is now available on Smashwords and Amazon right now. Why now, you ask?

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

It's more of a novella (not to be confused with a novela or Spanish soap opera) than a novel, but my sweet husband, Mr.D pointed out that Of Mice and Men was a rather short book as well. Of Mice and Men is a pretty good book. Hopefully you all will feel the same way about Eterna.

So go take a look, maybe read it, leave a review, you know the routine.

Here it is at Smashwords:

And again at Amazon:

While you're there, look for my other two books Push and Push Back.

Have a most fantastic Memorial Day weekend and remember why we celebrate. Freedom isn't free.

Sunday, May 12, 2013


So this was an interesting week. One of those productive/nonproductive weeks that happen every once in a while (or all the time, depending on who you are - I tend to be of the all the time variety, but I digress).

Anyway, on the nonproductive side, I spent every day at the chiropractor because my spine is drifting to the right. It's true, I saw the x-ray. It's pretty horrifying. Spine's aren't meant to travel that way. So I have to get that worked out. I thought I felt like I was walking sideways. Now I know it's true. That took a chunk of time out of every day, but I'll take it over the alternative (hint: it involves a wheelchair).

Wow, I am off in Tangentville today.

Anyway, (again) I have a piano recital next Saturday that I should be practicing for, but that is covered in the nonproductive area. I know what you're thinking - where does she get productive?

Don't rush me!

My deadline for the new book is June 25th which, for those of you without a calendar, is just over seven weeks away. The book has made it through the first edit, and I have it out to my trusted first draft readers now. I'll be embarking on the second edit this week, but the big news is...

The cover is done! And it looks amazing. I just hope the book lives up to the cover. I've also written up a first draft of the synopsis, so now I can work on cleaning that up too.

Want to see the awesome cover?

Here it is:

Amazing I know. The photograph was taken by Clara Jerome, my brother's sister in law, and the cover was created by Sadie Talbot and myself. I just want to say a heartfelt thank you to both of these women for making this amazing cover possible.

As you were.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

When Banging Your Head Against The Keyboard No Longer Helps...

I was making my daily visit to when I saw the article entitled "5 Tips For Punching Writer's Block In The Face". I have been blocked for a bit now so I decided to read the article.

Let me just be clear. While I enjoy the articles on this site, they tend to "work blue," and quite often will dabble in the other colors of the rainbow as well. Therefore one must be very careful what articles one reads. Consider yourselves warned.

Now back to the article. The first point was to know what you write, which is a good policy, but the second one really got my attention. # 2: Accept that you're going to write garbage.

That hit the spot.

As most writer know, there are stages of the writing process. It goes like this:

Stage 1: Wherein the writer decides "I am a terrible writer".
Stage 2: Writer becomes more confidant as his work progresses, and decides "I'm a pretty good writer."
Stage 3: Writer becomes even more happy with his work, seeing the story (or article, whatever the case may be) really come to life, and declares "I am a GREAT writer."

Until Stage 4: Wherein the writer returns to the scene of the crime with clearer eyes and realizes "I am a terrible writer." End scene.

It's a vicious cycle I tell you. One that was nicely summed up in a meme my friend Joy (a fellow writer) posted not too long ago.

It is amazing how one can find inspiration in the most random and unlikely places. I've been stuck in the realm of "meh" (or stage 4 if you will) trying to find my mojo so I can finish my book and meet my goal when I happen upon the push (ha!) that I need. From a comedy website, of all places.

I guess this is one instance of the mountain coming to Mohammed. I wasn't going to the right places for help, so the help came to me. Which kind of makes me a moron, but is also kind of a testimony builder.

Also, I never said I wasn't a moron. At any rate, I feel my motivation picking up so I gotta go. I've got a book to finish ya'll.

Have a fab day!

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

International Best-Selling Author...

Just kidding! It's only me, D.P. Davidson. I may not be an international best seller, but I do have an international fan. Only one, but it's a start.

At any rate, because I am an international, er, seller, I had an opportunity to send a set of my books internationally. To India. That was an experience. An ongoing experience. See, what had happened was...

I sent the package through the U.S. mail, but because it was international, I had to fill out paperwork that would send it through customs. Also, the address in question went something like this: "On Morris street, behind the bungalows to the left, apartment with the red door, India." I'm serious. My reader told me to put the address on the envelope exactly the way it was written.

That was last month, March 13th.

My sweet reader (almost) received the package two days ago. I say almost because the postman put it in her hands, and then snatched it back! He said it hadn't gone through customs. So even though she had it in her hands he took it away again. I want to know how he managed to have it if it hadn't gone through customs.

My poor friend was in a panic. She emailed me to ask about the customs paperwork. She spent hours on the phone trying to speak to someone so she could get her books. She was given several different numbers until she placed a call where no one bothered to pick up. Now she's written a letter to the customs office. She wants those books, darn it! And I'm pretty inspired by her commitment.

I really hope she gets them.

In other news, I went to my first book club wherein the book the clubbers chose to read and discuss was my very own Push Back. It was so awesome! I really enjoyed hearing the feedback these lovely women had to share. They expressed attachment to the characters, and the story which made my day because I love my characters, and want to share their story.

So thank you to the Fossil Ridge ward book club for your time and kind comments. Because of you, I think I'll keep on keepin' on.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Something Awesome This Way Comes...


I entered a contest for self-published authors this week. So exciting! The grand prize is some monies which is nice, but the awesome part is the vast marketing of the winning book(s). The runners up get less monies, and less marketing, but more marketing than is currently available to me now. So, I entered.

I won't know until October, so I'll forego holding my breath, but some finger crossing and prayers won't hurt so...keep that in mind faithful fans.

Also I was perusing recently posted reviews for my new book, Push Back, when I came upon the most awesome review. I was so stoked! It was the most amazing review to date. I read it three times I was so amazed.

Here's the link in case you're interested:

In the meantime I continue to work on my next book with the goal of having it published by the end of June 2013. Watch for it!

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Today Is A Wonderful Day...

Because it's Tuesday... Right?

No wait. It's Thursday. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Anyway, two interesting bits of information.

1. I was recently added to a blog showcasing mormon books and authors, because I am mormon and an author, so I totally qualify (yay!) Anyway, if you or anyone you know would like to read my work, or any other work that generally tells a smut free story (they can be told) here's the place to go:

Go take a gander. Then tell all your friends.

2. I had a fan request a set of books who lives in India. Being the awesome fan appreciator that I am, I sent her a set. Heaven help me it cost an arm and a leg. I've sent out no less than twelve sets and all twelve together didn't cost as much as that one package to India. So, until I'm raking in the dough, Ima hafta resort to in country post. Sorry, rest of the world. You can still get it on a kindle/nook/ipad/cell phone.

Anyway, I promise there will not be such a vast span of time before my next post. Pinky promise.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

One Month Later...

Wow! Time really flies when you're doing...absolutely nothing.

Well, not nothing so much as not the things I need to be. I've pretty well scrapped success for this semester, and I'm sure one day I'll regret that, but not today.

I have made a goodly amount of progress on my third book, and have almost gotten the cover ready. Yay!

Also, I have also been given the marvelous opportunity to have my books promoted at They will be on the site by Friday afternoon. It is a vastly valuable resource, and I'm super grateful for the devoted fan from my Facebook page who suggested I check out the site. I am exccedingly grateful for my fans. All three of them. You know who are.

At any rate, this post serves more as an update, thus there is no humor intersperesed as is my usual habit. However, the day is still young. I'm sure something hilarious will happen...

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Sorry, Wrong Number. Jerk...

My sweetheart, Mr. D, passed me his cell phone yesterday with a "listen to this." I put the phone to my ear, and my eyes grew wide in horrified surprise as my ears were filled with angry profanities with the occassional word thrown in. Something about her son or job or something. It was hard to filter through the garbage.

So, my sweet husband sends this text to the offensive number: "Not sure who you left 2 messages on this number for but you have the wrong number."

To which she replies: "B*^#@$ quit playing with me. GROW THE F@#$ UP and act like a F&#;$%#$ ADULT! ILL BE UP THERE TO YOUR JOB STUPID A@$ and it ain't gone be nice! Be ready."

My husband is the nicest guy in the world as illustrated by his response: "Seriously dude...check the number...and don't call or text this number again please...we don't use that kind of language. Thank you." Note the "please" and "thank you" this person clearly did not deserve.

She proceeds to call him again and leaves another hate filled threat rant. So I ask for his phone and tell him I will write a text and then hand it back. If he objects to it in any way he didn't need to send it, but writing things down usually makes me feel better even if the letter/text/email/ post never gets sent (thus the reason why I keep a journal).

So I wrote: "For the love! What proof do you need for you to realize the poor bugger (I used another word, but I'm the lesser of the two Davidsons) you're harassing is not at this number. I tried calling you back but your phone goes straight to (user's name here) voicemail."

She called back twice. Mr.D. answered the phone and she hung up both times. She hasn't bothered him since, but here's the dealio - it never occured to her to check the number. Yes, her baby daddy could have been messing with her, but why not check the number, just to be sure. I'm thinking "please" and "thank you" with a comment concerning her lack of language skills should have been an indication she got the number wrong. That or her intended reciever suddenly devolped manners, though which was more likely?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

On the Subject of Wordy-Dirds...

I love Spongebob.

I have referenced him before as I think he has a great many wise things to say. Today I want to share with you his thoughts on "sentence enhancers."

In Bikini Bottom where Spongebob dwells, in a pineapple under the sea, one day he read that "Crabs is a..." whilst reading dumpster writing ("the voice of the people.")

It was his first introduction to such language. His ridiculous starfish friend informed him that such words were known as "sentence enhancers" and they both began enhancing their sentences from there. Later on they learn that the enhancers were really bad words, and then they were ashamed for using them.

This is where I am leading you, dear reader. "Sentence enhancers" have become less enhancers and more the norm, and it stinks. No one is ashamed of using them anymore. The only true and relevant thing my step-father ever told me, besides how to use a dictionary, was that foul language was the sign of a simple mind.

I guess that means this country is filled to capacity with simpletons. I am inclined to agree.

There is a comedy website that I used to enjoy visiting. The articles are hilarious. I laugh out loud when I read them, but they are chock full of obsenities. You know what? Those words do not add to the comedy. As a matter of fact, they take away from the enjoyment. I can't go there any more. The burning sensation in my eyes is not worth the read.

It's not just the comedy site though. It's everywhere. Why, why, why?

Don't get me wrong, I am known to say "hell" or "damn" when I'm frustrated or facing a near death collision, but there are certain words that never cross my lips. I need to desist using them at all because as Spongebob said "there's no need for words like that."

However, it has become viral. I got a calendar for Christmas. A calendar my children read. I have to check it beforehand for F-bombs. A calendar! Well, not any more. I tossed it out.

Stop me if I sound like a broken record... a broken record... a broken record.

Sorry, back on task. There are plenty of amazing books, films and music out there that are amazing without the potty talk.

The point is as the morals of society continue to degenerate, that which was profane, while still there, was pushed to the outskirts. Now they've been invited in to dine at the dinner table while all other worthwhile and more decriptive words are left to shiver in the cold.

The intelligent and sophisticated has been abandoned for unthinking, slobbering word vomit. Super potty words show a lack of consideration for everyone and an abandonment of social propriety. Knowing how to behave has become a lost art.

It is annoying as all get out when my kids call me on the carpet for using a bad word, but that just shows they have more sense than me. I'll take it.

The alternative is unacceptable.

Friday, January 11, 2013

D.P. and Stevie's Near Death Experience...

My friend, Stevie, and I are not only super awesome moms but we're also students. Why? Because we decided it's much funner to juggle raising children and educating ourselves at the same time. Just to see if we can.

At any rate, she and I went to the college bookstore to pick up books for this next semester ( it's that juggling thing I mentioned earlier). After having successfully completed that mission, we began the journey home. All was well and good until I decided to take an exit off the highway as I was running my van on fumes (more juggling!).

Let me explain Texas for the uninitiated. The GPS is pretty much about worthless here in the country of Texas (no, that was not a misprint. People out here are crazy). The reason being that Texas highways are under constant construction. Constant, do you hear me. This means that people here have pretty much decided they will pull over, exit, and change lanes, wherever they freaking feel like it!

Such was the case yesterday. I was pulling off to exit, but because Texas is awesome like that, the stoplight was not working properly. Thus there was a mile long (seriously, a mile) line waiting for the light. Meaning people were stuck in that lane on the highway.

Well, some of our more assinine drivers decided that since there would be two lanes at the light, there should be two lanes on the highway, and proceeded to make their lane at the shoulder. After about five minutes of going nowhere, my friend suggested we leave the lane and head for another exit. Traffic was moving a pretty smooth clip in those other lanes so I had to be cautious and quick.

So the van in front of me moved up around the same time a space opened and I decided to take it. Except the doofus in front of me decided to do the same thing after I was in the lane. Like, he waited until I could smell his breath to move. So to avoid hitting him, I had to move to the other lane. However the other lane was already occupied. I also would like to mention that these lanes are narrow and lined with concrete walls. There is no room for error on a good day.

I slowed to avoid hitting the Volvo of Stupidity (in a perfect world, meaning one where I didn't get hurt, I would have rammed his backside twice for good measure), with enough room for the oncoming van to squeak by.

My whole life flashed before my eyes and let me tell you, that just should not happen. That mess actually takes years off your life. Trust me! I am literally a year older today. Yes, it's my birthday, but that's beside the point.

After the threat of death had passed (or right in the middle, time is a blur in near death) Stevie yells (insert sentence enhancer here)! Now there may be some people who maintain that there is never a time for such language. I am here to tell you that is absolutely not true. There are totally times when words like that are called for, nay neccessary. This was one of those times.

Once my brain had stopped pulsing in pain, she apologized for her outburst and wondered how I managed not to follow her potty mouth example. "Well," said I. "I was simply too preoccupied trying to avoid the Volvo of Doom to do much else. Otherwise I would have been right there with you. Also, I cuss all the time, so it really doesn't have as much of an impact anymore." Just kidding! Sort of.

At any rate, I am thankful to be alive as it would kind of whomp to be discovered as an author after I was dead. If I have to choose death or anonymity, I choose...I'll have to get back to you.

Read my books!

Thursday, January 10, 2013

My Birthday Gift...

Push Back is available now. You can find it here:

And here:

And in soft cover tomorrow at Amazon. com


New Book Launch in Three, Two, One...

Hello  my lovelies! Long time no see.

I have been anxiously engaged in the finishing touches for my second book, Push Back, and everything is on track to meet my January 13th release date. Now we wait...

Just in case you're wondering, there are many wonderful stories rolling through my head and I intend to write them all. It would be a crime not to as they are all very interesting. To me anyway, but since one of my critics mentioned she found it very troubling when an author thinks so highly of her own work, I will keep all of my enjoyment to myself.

For now.

Also, I must set aside my favorite activity (writing you guys, come on!) for another semester of drudgery and homework - which is kind of redundant, come to think of it. One of my classes happens to be Composition so perhaps I will be able to best my old foe, Comma. How I loathe thee, Comma. I swear Mr.D changes the rules of comma placement just to be mean. I am a (mostly) college eduated woman, you'd think I could manage such a simple punctuation mark, but no. It makes a monkey out of me everytime.

Oh well. If I was awesome at everything there would be nothing to keep me humble.

On another note, I have been asked several times this week what I am working towards in school. Well a degree, obviously! I'm trying not to be ashamed of the associate-ness of it all, but it is a degree I don't have, so I should be happy. Except it has taken me well over two years to accomplish.

On the plus side, I will be done by December, and another plus is that I am only a few classes shy of a Bachelor's degree, but I just want to be done! I won't think about it now, it makes my head hurt.

Thus ends my word vomit detour. Anyway, time grows short, and my new book is on it's way into you're hot little hands, or e-readers, whatever the case may be.