What better way to wallow away the lazy-hazy days of summer than in a comfy hammock. Well, today you have an excuse to lounge all day because it’s National Hammock Day.
Today is also my 51st birthday. Yikes! That’s hard to wrap my head around. When my parents were that age, I thought they were old. I don’t feel old.
Despite the number, I’m thankful God has blessed me with better health now, than I had in my twenties and thirties.
Below are a few of my favorite quotes on aging:
Wrinkles should merely indicate where the smiles have been. ~Mark Twain
The years teach much which the days never knew. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams. ~ John Barrymore
Grow old with me! The best is yet to be. ~ Robert Browning
ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND!
An unlikely team is America’s only chance
A brilliant Ph.D. candidate, a cynical ex-SEAL, and a quirky experimental robot team up against terrorists intent on stealing America’s most powerful nuclear weapon, the Trident submarine. By all measures, they are an unlikely trio–one believes in brawn, another brains, and the third is all geek. What no one realizes is this trio has a secret weapon: the wisdom of a formidable female who died two million years ago.
The USS Hampton SSN 767 quietly floated unseen a hundred fifty-two feet below the ocean’s surface. Despite its deadly nuclear tipped arsenal of Trident missiles, its task for the past six months has been reconnaissance and surveillance. The biggest danger the crew faced was running out of olives for their pizza. That all changed one morning, four days before the end of the Hampton’s tour. Halfway through the Captain’s first morning coffee, every system on the submarine shut down. No navigation, no communication, and no defensive measures. Within minutes, the sub began a terrifying descent through the murky greys and blacks of the deep Atlantic and settled to the ocean floor five miles from Cuba and perilously close to the sub’s crush depth. When it missed its mandated contact, an emergency call went out to retired Navy intel officer, Zeke Rowe, top of his field before a botched mission left him physically crippled and psychologically shaken. Rowe quickly determined that the sub was the victim of a cybervirus secreted inside the sub’s top secret operating systems. What Rowe couldn’t figure out was who did it or how to stop it sinking every other submarine in the American fleet.
Kali Delamagente is a struggling over-the-hill grad student who entered a DARPA cybersecurity competition as a desperate last hope to fund a sophisticated artificial intelligence she called Otto. Though her presentation imploded, she caught the attention of two people: a terrorist intent on destroying America and a rapt Dr. Zeke Rowe. An anonymous blank check to finish her research is quickly followed by multiple break-ins to her lab, a hack of her computer, the disappearance of her three-legged dog, and finally the kidnapping of her only son.
By all measures, Rowe and Delamagente are an unlikely duo. Rowe believes in brawn and Delamagente brains. To save the America they both love, they find a middle ground, guided with the wisdom of a formidable female who died two million years ago.
Title and author: To Hunt a Sub by J. Murray
Release Date: August, 2016 by Structured Learning
Preview: Available on Kindle Scout
Cover by: Paper and Sage Design
Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy. She is the author/editor of over a hundred books on integrating tech into education, adjunct professor of technology in education, webmaster for four blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer, a columnist for TeachHUB, Editorial Review Board member for Journal for Computing Teachers, monthly contributor to Today’s Author and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. Her debut novel, To Hunt a Sub, launches this summer. You can find her nonfiction books at her publisher’s website, Structured Learning.
***KEEP IN MIND, ALTHOUGH I DON’T DO BOOK REVIEWS ON MY BLOG, I ALWAYS LOVE TO PROMOTE YOUR BOOKS, PHOTOGRAPHS, OR ARTWORK…JUST SHOOT ME AN EMAIL. ~ JILL
One day, many years ago, my mother told me a story about her round of golf. On this particular day, she and three other women were playing their weekly game. When they got to a par-3 hole, which means you have three shots to get the ball into the hole, each woman took their turn.
One woman hit her tee shot, the first shot, and it was a wild hook into the bushes. She proceeded to pull another ball from her bag saying, “I’m going to hit again.” The rules of golf prohibit a player from hitting again without taking a penalty, but no one in the foursome spoke up.
She teed up her ball and readied herself to hit. Good contact was made and the ball soared toward the green. To everyone’s surprise the ball went straight into the hole. The ladies cheered, “Nice shot,” while the woman jumped up and down announcing, “I got a hole in one.”
Confused, the women all looked at one another until one finally spoke. “That was your second shot, so it’s not a legitimate hole in one.”
Apparently, the woman thought she deserved a second chance. She marked her scorecard with a one and proceeded to the next hole.
What about you? Do you believe in second chances in life or in love?
Speaking of second chances, my first Love Inspired Harlequin book, that will release in March, 2017, has been officially titled, “Second Chance Romance.”
I’m a hoarder. Not stuff, but emails.
Recently, I noticed that daily emails I receive from various sites and blogs weren’t making it to my inbox. When I tried to re-subscribe to those that had gone MIA, I received a message that I was already a subscriber. A few weeks later, I stopped receiving email from friends who said they had emailed. Something was wrong.
When I searched Outlook’s help section, there were several reason explanations. The one that jumped out at me was “You’ve reached your storage capacity.”
Okay, I knew I had at least fifty folders on various topics where I’d saved emails over the years, so I began to investigate the content of each folder. When I opened the folder labeled “Writing,” I found my problem. Since late 2010, I had saved over 4000 emails from writing blogs, literary agent blogs, writers whose books I loved, so I emailed them to let them know and they responded. All were emails I had read when initially received, but I found them helpful, so I decided to save them for future reference.
As I scrolled through email after email, I realized that future hadn’t arrived and probably never would. That’s when I began the daunting task of deciding which were keepers and which had to go. In the end, I saved the emails from other writers and deleted everything else. After all, I have bookcases packed with craft books that I’ve hoarded over the years. Of course, that’s another confession for another time.
Do you hit delete after reading your emails?
P.S. One email I did receive recently was from my editor at Harlequin. The release date for my book is March, 2017. The working title is CAPTURE THE DREAM, but that will change.
“For love of country, they accepted death.” ~ President James A. Garfield
This week, I’m stepping outside of my guidelines to share a story that I hope you’ll take the time to read.
Lately, many of my lifelong friends, as well as a few blogging friends have experienced challenges in their lives. Some have faced the death of a loved one, a life-changing illness, or an incident that has left one fearful of the future.
Below, I’d like to share a story that was mailed to me by the mother of one of those dear friends. It was written by Roselyn Aronson. My hope is that you’ll find it as comforting as I did.
Mr. Tentmaker, it was nice living in this tent when it was strong and secure and the sun was shining and the air was warm.
But, Mr. Tentmaker, it’s scary now.
My tent is acting like it’s not going to hold together. The poles seem weak and they shift with the wind, a couple of the stakes have wriggled loose from the sand, and worst of all, the canvas has a rip. It no longer protects me from beating ran or stinging flies.
It’s scary in here, Mr. Tentmaker. Last week I was sent to the repair shop and some repairman tried to patch the rip in my canvas. It didn’t help much, though, because the patch pulled away from the edges and now the tear is worse.
What troubled me most, Mr. Tentmaker is that the repairmen didn’t seem to notice that I was still in the tent. They just worked on the canvas while I shivered inside. I cried out once, but no one heard me.
I guess my first real question is, “Why did you give me such a flimsy tent? I can see by looking around the campground that some of the tents are much stronger and more stable than mine. Why, Mr. Tentmaker, did you pick a tent of such poor quality for me and even more importantly, what do you intend to do about it?”
“Oh, little tent dweller,” as the Creator and Provider of tents, “I know all about you and your tent and I love you both.
I made a tent for myself once and lived in it on your campground. My tent was venerable too, and some vicious attackers ripped it to pieces while I was still in it. It was a terrible experience but you’ll be glad to know they couldn’t hurt me. In fact, the whole occurrence was as a tremendous advantage because it is this very victory over my enemy that frees me to be of present help to you.
Little tent dweller, I am now prepared to come and live in your tent with you, if you will invite me. You will learn, as we dwell together, that real security comes from my being in your tent with you. When the storms come, you can huddle in my arms and I’ll hold you. When the canvas rips, we’ll go to the repair shop together.
Someday, little tent dweller, your tent will collapse (for I’ve only designed it for temporary use). When it does, you and I will leave together. (I promise not to leave before you do.) Then, free of all that would hinder or restrict, we’ll move to our permanent home and together forever rejoice and be glad.”