California Dreamin' or The Love of Muscle Cars and Chop Rods

I should be writing. Well, I am writing, but my husband and I took a detour tonight to go visit some eye candy of the motor vehicle kind. What an event. I'm sure, while I'm pounding away at the words, hubster will be back drooling and counting his pennies. That man deserves a hobby and a nice older vehicle, and we've had several. We still have the pickup he used to ride to school in some 60 years ago. Not that it runs.

But boy do these bad boys run. Beautiful as stock cars. Beautiful chopped and made into works of art, certainly not cars. The love of muscle cars and custom rods is as American as Apple Pie.

I am actually at a loss for words. So I'll let the pictures do the talking.

Sharon is working on Book 3 in the SEAL Brotherhood, a fast-paced Amazon Best-Selling series. Marliss Melton, famous for her SEAL Team 12 stories, said, "Sharon reads like rich chocolate."

On The Road Again

What was supposed to be a romantic weekend in Monterey with my husband has turned into something else. I've done a lot of adjusting these days. And gracefully. He came down with a bug, and, rather than expose me and others to it, decided to stay home.

I'm here to hear my friend, Tina Folsom, speak to the Monterey RWA chapter today. And, as luck would have it, we are going to be able to spend a little more time together, which I love doing with this prolific and creative writer who has inspired me greatly.

I was on my way last night to Moss Landing, and got lost, which is where all the real adventures lie, don't they? Between rows of brussels sprouts and lettuce, dodging the big trucks and farm workers finishing out a week of toil in the fields, I felt lucky to be alive and able to watch, life just go on. Don't know what excites me so much about brussels sprouts, but those beautiful plants did it for me. Row after row of perfectly formed, dark leafy green goodness, appearing to lack the aphids my plants often have. I sometimes wonder if it is worth it to even grow them in my garden. I've invested in scores of ladybug tubs, and though voracious eaters, I'm still stuck with those stubborn aphids. I refuse to spray.

Had dinner at Haute Enchilada, which was a really fun place, and managed to have an abstinent seafood dinner with local vegetables done to perfection. I picked out a dark corner, got out my laptop and worked on some social networking things.

I'm trying to finish my next SEAL book, Fallen SEAL Legacy, and I'm still about 20k from the end. I have about 40k words I won't be using, but can use on other books. Not since my first book have I had to re-write so many chapters, but I've strengthened the story, and some things just take longer. I'm relaxing into that.

And what has happened? You can guess, if you know me well. Another story has come over me, and I'm taking notes so I don't forget key points when I get ready to write it, which won't be now until next year. It is another contemporary series, but with older H/H, and involves a heroine on a road trip after the death of her husband. No, this is not in any way biographical. My husband is, thankfully, very much alive. But I got to "feeling" this story as I listened to a lot of Pat Metheney, some new music by Lyle Mays and other things on the Sirrius Satellite network, which is the best thing about my new car.

Road trips give me time to think. So, while there was that momentary "aw shucks" when my husband told me he wouldn't be going, I knew I'd make something productive and fun out of it. Have laptop will travel. I write well on the road, unlike lots of other writers. I don't like everything in its place. I like variety, and get inspired by new places. And then I come home, for what I hope will be a home stretch where I can really polish up and finish this puppy.

These are pictures and a little of the feel of this area. No, there are no pictures of the looming power plant. Makes the growing brussels sprouts, art galleries and eclectic places like The Whole Enchilada or Haute Enchilada even more special. After all, we don't live in a vaccuum. And I'm very grateful for the electricity which allows me to write, and to have readers find me.

I can't imagine a life of standing by the side of the road hawking my books to bicyclists or horse and buggy goers. Life would indeed be different. I won't have time to stop by again on my way to the meeting. I'm sure today will be just as filled with great memories.

Hope you are enjoying your weekend, wherever you are.

T is for Tomales

Tomales, California is a great little coastal town, about 50 miles north of San Francisco, in Marin County. We used to take long drives through the countryside when my husband and I were first married, so I've driven these winding roads through forests, grasslands and over craggy outcroppings with stunning ocean views many times over the years.

It's been over 30 years since I started the trip this way. Though I've been a Sonoma County resident for almost 42 years, I've been doing it backwards, not from South to North. Saturday it was like driving on them for the very first time. A different perspective.

Took my breath away.

Before children, a group of us young marrieds would gather together at Marshall or Nick's Cove, and eat oysters (and yes, drink a little bit of vino) until we could barely walk. You could spend $20 on food and drink and not break the bank. Saturday's lunch, for instance, without all the extras, came to just under $100. The cottages they rent are spectacular, and would not have been available to us starving students, but are on my TBD list for later in the year. Things have indeed changed.

But not the stunning scenery, or the beautiful little town.

I grew up in Silicon Valley when Los Altos was dusted with apricot orchards. Moving to Sonoma County felt like stepping back in time about 50 years. I've read stories about Jack London haunting these places, and how he used to steal oysters by moonlight. Robert Louis Stevenson and his new bride honeymooned in parts of the Valley of the Moon. Even Sir Richard Burton made a trek through these parts in 1860, the year before he returned to England to marry Isobel, in his search for the spirit of the west. Among other places, he visited Brigham Young in Salt Lake City and his 17 wives.

The remnants of bawdy roadhouses are now upscale motels and bakery/espresso cafes, perfect for a long meandering afternoon of caffeine, conversation and reading.

I'm a great fan of just getting in the car and getting lost some place. Discovering something new. In this case, re-discovering why it is I live in Northern California, and why it feeds my writer's soul.