Things that cheer my heart

Greetings all you fellow Covid-19 social distancers!!

I’ve been busy making masks for healthcare workers and my family, hubby has had a 14 day quarantine by his work because we took a trip to Florida to do some work on the 5th wheel my son and his wife are living in. We left on March 14th and at that time Disneyworld, Kennedy Space Center and the beaches were still open. On the 15th my son messaged me that the park was closing, so I checked and Kennedy was closed, and thanks to the lusty, drunken spring breakers the beaches were closed. So…we spent the time in Winter Garden, Florida being with our kids, eating too many sweets and working on the trailer. Chuck and Aaron installed a new hot water heater, a valve on the furnace, and ripped up the ugly carpet and installed a beautiful rich wood laminate flooring-much to my daughter-in-laws happiness.

It was quite the trip home in a world very different from when we left Arizona. More people were wearing masks, and keeping their distance. No easy stops at local restaurants, and the highways were mostly populated by big rigs. It’s a big change that will hang on after the virus has been controlled. My hubby has always said that one day the Earth will sneeze and reset itself. Maybe it just did.

So now to give you something wonderful and happy to view, I want to introduce you to some remarkable folks. I have started following two families on YouTube who have adopted children of a different race. They are on YouTube and Instagram and I LOVE them!!

I come from a adoption heritage – my father was adopted, my daughter was adopted by my hubby, my daughter adopted her son who is a different race and is on the autism spectrum, and I know several people who are adopters and/or are adopted. It is a heritage of which I am extremely proud.

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The first one is Sadie and Jarvis Sampson who adopted Ezra. These are so fun to watch and the love in this wee family is beautiful and precious. It filled my heart the first time I watched this and saw the love they share.

The next one is this beautiful single woman, Kimberly Holden and her two beautiful children. I found them when I saw this video title and had to watch it. This family is a blessing to me and I encourage everyone to watch them.

There you go and I hope you will love and enjoy watching them like I am. Upcoming is a blog about the Florida trip with lots of photos. Check back soon!!

Stay home and stay safe-love to all.

Cheers!

-N

It’s Official!

01 February 2020, Tucson AZ

NUANCE VOICING is open, live and ready to give a voice to your business.

Do you need versatile voice talent for a radio or television commercial, the smooth sound for your narration project or audio book, a professional, welcoming voice greeting callers to your business phone line?

Let me give your project the unique perspective my voice skill can offer.

Click on the link below and go to my website to hear a demo sample.

http://www.nuancevoicing.com

 

 

 

Cheers!
-N

Check out this book

The Southern Ghost Hunter Series 5th Anniversary Special Edition will be a blast for readers who follow the series. It is such a wealth of information on Verity, her boyfriend Ellis, her pet skunk Lucy, and pert ghost Frankie along with the other ghostly and non-ghostly residents of Sugarland TN.

I was a bit surprised at how much my own imagined pictures of Verity’s family home and property matched what was shown in the drawings. This just proves how well Angie Fox is at descriptions. I loved the deleted scenes, but could understand why she left them out and this also shows her gift as a writer.

If you haven’t read any of the books in this series this is a perfect place to start. If you have read them you will love the gift of extra details and character development from Angie Fox. Click the link below.

Cheers!

-N

 

No judgment here

I have lost three close friends to AIDS. I loved them.

I am a believer in Jesus and his example showed that there is no judgment only a true heart. I couldn’t say, as a believer, that I approve of a homosexual lifestyle. These friends knew this, but this never kept me from being a true, loyal friend. I accepted this was who they were, and I never turned my back on them or any gay friend because of their lifestyle.

If they asked why I felt the way I did, where my perspective came from, I was honest in response. They were still in my heart.

So…there is no judgement here should someone want to come out to me. A no judgement zone-just a loving heart who will listen, hand out hugs, and walk along.

Cheers!

-N

 

 

A modern Christmas Carol.

 

Any story that uses my most favorite holiday story Dickens, A Christmas Carol is bound to be good.

This wonderful story uses this theme of past, present and future to weave a story of redemption (sort of.) Verity is her longsuffering self where Ellis’ mother is concerned, but she reaches her breaking point when she is insulted for the last time.

This leads to the discovery (with the help of few family ghosts) of the anamosity and apathy in his family, and why his mother is the witch she is. Frankie stirs things up, a friend who gave Verity her pet skunk Lucy shows up but in not so fleshly form.

It’s fast, funny, and gives readers a great holiday treat.

 

I received this as an advanced reading company for an unbiased review.

 

Cheers!

-N

Getting Holiday Motivated

It’s three weeks until Thanksgiving and about six weeks until Christmas.

My daughter and grandson live in Phoenix. My son and daughter in law live in Orlando. Hallmark channel is not helping.

I love the scenes of family gatherings depicted in these programs but they also make me miss having my kids with me. My daughter is a very manageable distance and I will be spending Thanksgiving with her. She and my grandson will be with us for a few days at Christmas.  Lots of cooking, laughing, pampering, and fun will happen.

I am grateful for that time with them.

I hope and pray that one day my son will be in the place in life and job he can spend some holiday time with us. He and his wife are so much fun, and our times together are fantastic.

So I sit, looking through cookbooks,  trying new recipes, thinking of decorating and having my babies with me.

It will be okay and the love will pass easily between us this season.

Cheers!

-N

 

 

For Your All Hallows Eve – A Haunting

Michael
By Nancy Vaughn

This story began when I found the grave of Michael, a little boy I used to babysit who died in a tragic car accident. I was a freshman in high school and I was stunned at the loss. Michael was the sweetest and kindest little guy there ever was. He always seemed to need something, but I never understood what it was. There was always a sweet sadness about him. His parents were divorced and had moved on with their lives. Michael and his sisters lived with their mother. His mother was a beautiful woman who worked hard and tried to take really good care of them. She also enjoyed going out to meet men, and there were plenty of them in at the Air Force base in Tucson and the Army fort in Sierra Vista. On her way back from taking her boyfriend back to Ft. Huachuca she lost control and the car flipped and crashed. His sisters and his mother survived but he was thrown from the car and killed instantly. It was 1970.

In 1983 my husband, my two children and I moved into a trailer space in a park that was next to a cemetery. I have to admit to a fascination with cemeteries inherited from my mother’s side of the family. We always were visiting old graveyards on road trips. So after we moved there I used to wander through the one near my house looking at the names and dates. It was an older cemetery with green grass and huge trees and dozens of beautiful statues. I remember when I discovered the part of the cemetery designated for the children. It had a peaceful, comforting feeling and a beautiful statue of a child angel was centered in the middle of the resting places of the lost children. Most of the graves had flowers and tokens laid on them. I used to take flowers from some of them and put them on the graves that had none. That was when I found Michael. His grave rarely had flowers. I began to go see him as often as I could. I also started taking my own flowers to him.

We had gotten this cat, a beautiful silver/grey cat with brilliant green eyes that we named Betsy. She and I never liked each other. I couldn’t figure it out. Betsy and I tormented each other regularly. I don’t know why but we just didn’t get along. One night after going to bed my husband and I heard a low growling sound like a cat squaring off with another cat. Betsy was in the living room at her usual post on the back of a chair. Her cries got louder and then I heard the footsteps. The steps were walking toward our bedroom door. It was a mobile home so footsteps were easily heard. The steps came to our door and stopped, then they walked back down the hall toward the other end of the house. Then I heard the cat again. This began a pattern that went on for weeks. Betsy was even weirder to everyone than before. She tended to sit, looking suspiciously at everything. She never wanted to be around people as it was, but now she was even more reserved.

I talked to my husband about it and he had no explanation for the sounds and the way the cat was behaving. He always did a better job of handling her than I ever did and he is a die-hard sceptic.

Then things got more interesting. Everyone was in bed when the footsteps started. We lay there listening to them and they came to a stop outside our door. Chuck got up and opened the bedroom door expecting to see one of our kids, maybe sleepwalking, but no one was there. I could tell he was bothered. We lay back down trying to fall asleep when there was a loud bang in the bathroom. It sounded like someone big had fallen in the tub. We sat bolt upright and he got up again and rushed to the bathroom. Nothing. It was dark and empty with no sign of anything that could have fallen into the tub. He came back, got into bed and we lay there thinking.
“What do you think a ghost is?” He asked quietly.
“Don’t know.”

The banging in the bathroom continued along with the cat growl and the footsteps. We quit reacting to it and I didn’t find out until much later that my daughter, who was ten at the time had heard the sounds as well. She would cover her head and talk and pray herself to sleep. She never said a word to us at the time. I had told some members of my family and a few friends about the sounds but they laughed it off. We had trouble laughing off the experiences we were having so we quit talking about it.

That is until my middle sister suggested it might be Michael. She also remembered him and his story and had been his babysitter occasionally and had gone with me to see his grave. We were sitting on my back porch talking, listening to music and drinking. We both heard a loud thump and a bang on the washer which was just inside the back door.
“There your go, now you’ve heard it for yourself.” I said.
Her eyes were wide, her mouth open and she just sat there. I got up and went inside to check, as usual there was no sign of anything out of place. It was at this point she told me that on one of her visits to Michael’s grave she thought she saw something around the top of the child angel statue in the cemetery. She said she saw an angel fly up the statue and away into the sky. As we talked about it my heart warmed to the idea that perhaps sweet little Michael was reaching out to me. Maybe he needed my comfort.

I told my husband about what she said and how I felt about it and he warned me to leave that stuff alone. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it, thinking about Michael. I made my first mistake by calling out to Michael to tell him he was loved and remembered. One night after that I had fallen asleep and I’m not really sure how late it was but I felt my covers being pulled. I am not a heavy sleeper and it woke me. Sometimes when my husband rolls over it will pull the covers so I yanked them back and tried to go back to sleep. My eyes flew open as I heard the sound of laughter. It was a child’s giggling laugh, then the covers started to be tugged down. I wanted to explore this so I didn’t wake my husband. This began the fun play each night. The problem was I needed my sleep. I had two kids to get to school and myself to work. One night when I was awakened from a deep sleep by the play I said “Michael stop, I need to sleep. Please.” I heard one more giggle and then it stopped.

Chuck and I had a timeshare vacation planned for Puerto Vallarta for a week, and my kids would be staying with my parents who lived in the same trailer park. Because we had Betsy I asked my dad to stop by the house to check on her and the house. We had been broken into a few months before so I felt safer if someone was around regularly as a deterrent. Little did I know my dad’s world would be rocked by his experiences. When we returned home and everything looked fine a first glance. Then I noticed there was tape over the knob on the stereo and the cable box connector was disconnected and on the floor and every door was closed. I looked through the house to see if there was anything else out of order. We called dad to thank him for his help and he said he never wanted to do it again. I asked him to come over and tell us what happened. He insisted we come to their house, so we did.

Dad said that the first night he came by he walked around the outside of the house and it was fine. He came inside and walked through the house. When he opened the bathroom door he found that the toilet paper roll had been completely emptied on the floor. However Betsy wasn’t inside there. The door had been closed firmly. He cleaned it up, replaced the roll and then left. The next night he did the same thing. Betsy was sitting on the chair, so he went to the bathroom to find the door closed again. He opened it and flipped on the light to find the toilet paper roll was again emptied. Then the bathroom light went off. He turned it on, picked up the paper and didn’t put on another roll. He left feeling very strange. He didn’t go back the next night. The next night was one that gave him his first real scare. As he approached the house he could see that there were lights on in the house. He came close to the door and stopped. Before he opened the door he said a prayer. When he opened the door every light in the house was on. He hurried through the house turning off lights and opening closed doors and after putting food in Betsy’s bowl he left never looking back. The last night he came over the lights were on again and the doors were closed. To his horror the TV was on and so was the stereo. He once again went through the house quickly opening doors and turning out lights and turning the TV and stereo off. Just as he closed the door the stereo and TV came back on. He was scared and a bit pissed so he got electrical tape to cover the power knob on the stereo and disconnected the cablebox to the TV. He never ever came over if we were gone.

One Christmas I invited a dear friend to spend the night of Christmas Eve and spend Christmas day with us. After we were all in bed the nightly activity started. My friend was staying on the foldout couch snuggled down for the evening. I heard Betsy start her growl and then I hear my friend hush her. Then the footsteps started. I asked Chuck if he thought I should check on her but he said to wait a little while. I was asleep by the time it all stopped. The next morning I got up to start coffee and get breakfast ready. I found her sitting up, her knees pulled to her chin and looking as if she hadn’t slept. I asked her if she was ok and she said she wasn’t going to stay again that night as planned. When I asked her what happened she said that when Betsy started to growl the room became ice cold. She snuggled down trying to get warm and when she heard the footsteps she covered her head, drew up into a ball and tried to sleep. She felt someone sit on the end of the bed but she was so frightened she couldn’t look. “What is wrong with your house?” It was then that my children started telling us their experiences with child’s giggling, cold air, footsteps and Betsy’s cries. Chuck told me if it was Michael (remember he was skeptical) I should tell Michael he needs to go be with God. That God wants all children with him. I did what Chuck suggested. I would tell him we would never forget him but that his place was with God and the angels.

We heard no more laughing and other activities seemed to slow down. I hoped Michael had found peace and comfort. We went without anything happening for several weeks until a very unsettling thing happen one night. I was sleeping when I woke to the feeling of my covers being lifted off my feet. They weren’t being pulled like before but lifted. I kicked out and it stopped. This began a nightly occurrence and then one night I felt a hand grab my ankle! I kicked and cried out. This woke Chuck and stopped the contact. I began to pray every night about it. I didn’t think it was Michael anymore but my openness to contact with Michael had made me a point of contact a spirit conduit. Whenever it would happen I would say no and kick out and it would stop. I thought I could get it under control.

My first aggressive attack happened when Chuck was working an evening shift for a guy. Everyone was in bed and I had fallen asleep. It was probably around 11pm. You know that feeling when someone gets in bed but you are asleep and yet you can still sense it? This is what happened. I was dreaming he was home and getting into bed. After a few minutes I rolled onto my back and it was then I felt pressure on me. It was as if someone was pressing me into the mattress. Pressure on my shoulders and neck. I started to fight it. My eyes were open but I saw nothing. I just felt the heaviness. It was as if a 300lb offensive lineman was astride me and trying to stuff me into the mattress. As I fought it I started to call out to God and Jesus-I needed help or I would die. A sound like a low breathy moan filled the room, then the pressure lifted. I caught the glimpse of a dark shape fly out of the room through the ceiling.

One of the last attacks happened when Chuck was there. It began as the others had and my cries and fighting against the pressure woke him. He could see me pushing against something invisible that was so strong I could only lift my head an inch off the bed. He saw tears in my eyes and he sat up and yelled “Stop it! Go away!” It was gone. He held me as I finally calmed and fell asleep.

I decided we needed to bless the house. I went to a Christian bookstore and found a pamphlet with a prayer used to do battle with evil and bless the home. I also found a bottle of holy oil to use over all the doors and windows. After coming home and telling Chuck and the kids what we were going to do we spent an hour going to every inner and outer doorway and all the windows praying the blessing for the house and all living in it and calling the warrior angels from heaven to cover the house with protection. After this was done I stood outside and said goodbye to Michael and anyone else cast out and asking them to leave this place of the living and go to the place waiting for them.

I did have a couple of experiences where I would wake on occasion to see a dark shape over me but I was never touched or heard anything. After continuing to pray to cast out whatever was lingering and to prevent anything from coming inside these spirits left and have never returned.

The End
01 Dec 2014

Welcome to my VO journey

Well beautiful readers, I have started my Voice-Over (VO) journey!! 👏

As I’ve previously mentioned, years ago I was busy providing voice talent for local radio commercials. I was also active in local community theater, both of these fed a performance desire in me. Looking back on those times, and the interesting people I encountered, are some of my most fun memories. Being in that scene, in Tucson, was great for me, and a place I often went in my mind with the thought, “How can I do that again?”

Moving to the now. I saw the ad for the voice over class, and curiosity overcame, prompting me to sign up. After participating in the class, getting a positive response from the VO professional running the class I seriously considered getting the training. I felt confident I could do this. Hubby and I spent time talking about it, looking at the costs involved, and I signed on with Such A Voice for my training. 

It has been amazing, fun, challenging, enlightening, and encouraging. My VO coach is a seasoned professional who is helping me, when we meet weekly, to develop and improve my skills. She is a fun person with lots of experience and cool stories. I have three more sessions with her.

After that I will be meeting with the sound professional who will make sure my in home sound booth is up to my needs in order to produce professional VO auditions. I have an upcoming master class to hone the skills I have developed and network with other VO artist in my area. At this time I will also be meeting with my demo coach who will work with me in preparation of my custom scripts for my professional in-studio demo session. These demos will be my marketing tools.

After all of that is completed Such A Voice has more resources to help me be successful in the VO industry.

So that’s the latest, beautiful readers, of my current adventure. Watch for updates to come.

I am still busy with my two books in process and it is interesting how the script analysis part of VO complements my writing. The best of both worlds for me.

Cheers!

-N

Do you believe?

I was that little girl who utterly believed in Santa, and the magic of Christmas. To this day the feelings and joy of belief in Santa enchants me. I adore stories that validate my childish memories and build my depth of belief in the Christmas spirit.

Like many children I discovered the painful truth by accident. One morning I was looking for my father, and stumbled across him in the neighbors garage. I saw he and our neighbor were putting together one of those little play kitchens and before he could see me I ran off. You can imagine what I realized when that very toy kitchen was sitting next to our tree on Christmas morning.

I never told him what I knew, but by the next year my Santa connection sadly was over. Yet, I still wanted to believe.

This blog was prompted by me watching Hallmark Christmas in Summer movies. What can I say?

What are your memories, feelings, and  emotions that fill your heart for the upcoming season?

Share…

Cheers!

-N

An insecure 14 year old far from home

It was 1968, Clark Air Base, Angeles City, Philippines. Dad had been transferred from Misawa, Japan – not what any of us wanted.

I loved Misawa. It was beautiful, welcoming, rural and safe. I had good friends there, rode my bicycle everywhere, loved my school, and there were four seasons which I had never before experienced. I turned thirteen there, and had my first crush. Needless to say my life was wonderful and my memories, to this day, are warm. I cried when we left.

Clark Air Base: Hot, humid, very green, and frightening. Because there were a group of us who left Japan for Clark I had a few friends already. One, Victor Watson, was my safety when my dad was TDY (temporary duty) to Phan Rang, Vietnam.

We lived off base in Josefa Subdivision. Just off the main gate was the street to our house. We were at the end of the road, with a creek and railroad running behind our house. Behind those were cinderblock houses holding mutliple generations of Filipeno families. One thing we learned quickly was nothing was safe from thieves. There was a family living in our subdivision brought over from the US a teal VW bug. This vehicle was stolen from the carport and the gate was still locked with a chain and padlock! Yeah it was scary. To keep people out of our place the block wall was topped with barbed wire and broken glass set in concrete. Also large thorny agave and bouganvilla lined the inside. Deterrents that most of the others in this neighborhood had, still one never knew how effective would be. Mom and I took turns sleeping by our Christmas tree to keep our gifts safe.

A local “security” guy was paid monthly to guard the houses. Security and guarding are used loosely. My dad wasn’t sure for whom he worked. When dad was getting ready for hs first TDY he found this guy and told him “My wife is from Texas, she is tough lady and she has a gun. So if someone tries to come into our house she will shoot them.” He later said to us, “If your mother calls out ‘get my gun’ don’t say ‘what gun?'”

Early one morning my dad was outside and heard crying from the housing behind our house. He motioned a man over and asked what happened. He ascertained a child had died overnight, so dad went into our house, pulled out a pot of beans from our fridge and gave it to them, saying he was so sorry.

We had good friends in the Singletary family. Their daughter, Lynette, was my BFF. They were transferred back to the US before us and they gave us their dog “Snoopy,” a white Spitz. This was the meanest dog I have ever encountered. He would attack us – mom would use a broom to shoo him away so we could go in and out the door. My sister, Mary, has scars from that dog. Easter 1968 dad was gone, and mom said we were going on base to have dinner and see the movie The Sound of Music. When we got home, Snoopy was growling from the corner of the carport which was covered in softball sized rocks. He did his job and mom gave him a reward of a package of hotdogs.

We were never robbed.

We were at Clark during the 1968 Tet offensive. It was part of my PTSD. I’ll explain.

Clark Hospital was the place the injured from Vietnam were sent. The buses carrying these wounded humans came from the flight line. The curtains would be open and often the soldiers would wave, leaning up to look at all the Americans. Other buses from the flight line, with closed curtains, bypassed the hospital and drove to the morgue – a morgue which at one point was so full that the coffins waiting for transport were stacked outside. Yes, in the moment I typed those words my mind is vivid with memory of the stacks of silver boxes. My heart was frightened for my most beloved father who was in this place where killing was happening. I was never happy or secure when he was gone.

My mother, along with some other women from our church would go to the hospital to visit the wounded, write letters for them, and bring homemade treats. Because I was old enough to go with her she took me on her visits. There were soldiers there who were only five years older than me. Until you have sat in a room where a very young voice is crying for his mother, another has no arms, another has a face pulled together with stainless steel and buttons, or whose burned body smells of napalm, you cannot imagine what my naive, young mind worked to file in a dark corner of conciousness. I spent years never being able to enter a hospital without being nauseous at the smell. No one else could smell what I smelled. Suffice to say it took years to know what it was. It was the napalm burns. It smells, bad. No more of that now.

I have a thing for umbrellas. I love them. I have more than I need in southern Arizona. This is because of Clark. I carried a cute little pink umbrella my dad bought me in Japan everywhere I went. It was to protect myself from the Filipeno men I passed who would try to grab me and touch me when I was walking to the main gate, or a friend’s house. Unless Victor was with me my little umbrella was security. Victor was a very sweet and kind guy, who was protective of my tiny self if I needed him. It wasn’t a great place to be for me.

There is so much more to tell but my heart is done with the feelings these memories surface. So maybe another time.

Cheers!

-N