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We live in SE Texas. Images of cowboys rounding up cattle, oil donkeys pumping crude, and Bluebonnets decorating miles of rolling hills may be the images that dance in your mind’s eye. For others they have a personal experience and a vivid memory: HOT HUMID summer days of August may come to mind.

This unrelenting summer weather hits visitors in the face when they come out of hiding due to obligations of work, meetings, or life necessities. Texans joke about this weather, “It’s great for your complexion.” “But, look at the other 10 months of the year…PERFECTION!”

It is the wrong time of year for our refrigerator ice maker to go out of commission. We had come home from a West Coast vacation where the cool Pacific Ocean allowed us to bask in its daily refreshment. Then, the Texas heat and humidity welcomed us home.

Inside our air-conditioned home, we dropped our bags and went straight into the kitchen. Our 1.5 year old refrigerator would give us the relief of ice-cold water, right? Wrong! The slowly grinding gears of the ice machine delivered nothing. We tried over and over to coax just a few ice cubes from the relief maker. Nothing.

Laying hands on the unit, prayers, and promises did nothing.

Finally, it was time to read the owner’s manual. Nothing. Even when I found the English version of the instructions. Nothing.

For days we purchased bags of ice from the market. We would make the journey into the garage freezer to collect the ice and have our refreshing beverages. Multiple times during the day, I would think and think more about my options. Warranty? Repair? Purchase?

Finally, one night I stumbled on to several YouTube.com entries. Multiple videos of fixing this problem were listed. Victory! Success! ICE!

The sweet celebration of fixing a problem shared by others online was satisfying indeed. Now, the Texas heat and humidity are at bay once again. It was a close call but refreshing ice is again waiting to be collected in our glasses for a refreshing beverage at our convenience. Voila! ICE!

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IMG_0007[1]On August 22, Wednesday from 430PM to 630PM at Houston’s First Baptist Church there will be a Meet the Author gathering in the Fellowship Hall. Many of us who have had the privilege of putting words to paper will look forward to shaking hands, meeting you, signing books, and having some fabulous fellowship. If you are close by, then I hope to see you there.

IMG_3208My family rendezvoused at a beach house on the Pacific Coast. After I climbed out of the car, I was captivated by days long ago. This wonderful journey was once common on my schedule, when I lived in the West.

This is a special treat. It brings back great memories. My plans changed with this nostalgic vacation.

Once the family was settled with luggage and rooms, I grabbed my book and stepped out on to the balcony of the second floor. Naturally, I paused for a moment to remind myself why I was there. The sight was gorgeous; but there was more.

A comfortable chair beckoned me with silence but with a promise. The ease would be much more than just what I felt. I even caught myself smiling.

Settling into the comfortable cushioned chair, my legs naturally lifted on to the equally as comforting ottoman. My book opened to my furthest progress. There was no diminishing of my smile.

While the words begged to be read. I instead lifted my eyes to watch the rolling surf. Synchronized with that sensational view was the sound.

Hearing the roar of the mighty Pacific was hypnotizing. It was instant relaxation. Nothing demanded concentration, intentional planning, or obligatory activity. Just listen and the rhythmic beating of the surf melts away all concerns.

I remember loving this amazing atmosphere. It is a wonder that I had forgotten how relaxing this phenomenon is. No wonder this is a fixation for vacationers around the fruited plains.

Need to relax? Go visit the Pacific Coast. Take a good book, drink in the sounds at God’s 24-7 free spa.

Actually, let the sounds engulf your tension-filled life. It will unknot your soul and smooth out your spirit like few experiences can. The Mighty Pacific promises to mellow you out.

56A1F9B7-8AD7-4FB0-A758-5D3D3BEE675E-1 2It is not an incurable disease. Nor is it a terminal illness. It is not even a malady deserving of immediate emergency room attention.

There is a special aisle in the pharmacy to deal with this problem. It is marked “motion sickness” on the aisle signs of your local drug store. Nausea is the technical description.

All of us who have experienced it just simply refer to it as “nasty”. When it hits, you feels most awful and the average person would consider dying. There is no rationale for this conclusion, just a desperate desire to make it end, something needs to end.

The boat is moving, tossing, turning, rocking and shifting up and down, never-ending. Then, there is the addition of diesel exhaust that adds to the stench of what is coming, what is coming up. Past meals erupt and spew over the deck.

It is one of those times that has a collective effect on other boaters, there is a definitive common reaction. People turn away. This is one of life’s experiences when sight, smell, and sound come all at once and turns every smile upside down.

For years I would find a place by the rail just to keep the deck around my feet clear of the slip and slide. Regurgitated eggs are very slippery. Re-scrambled is not a nice option.

Why? What would cause a normal human being to slip into this awful experience, on purpose even? It is for the love of fishing.

My search for a solution after countless times of the nausea blues has given Pharmaceutical companies their Christmas bonuses. But, they have also rewarded me with Scopolamine  patches. Finally, I can fish on the open seas in peace.

For 72 hours I can enjoy the scenery, pull in my catch, marvel at the bountiful and beautiful life in the salt waters, and taste the delicious harvest at home. Memories of turning green are now history. The curled up disgusted faces of fellow fisher people are a fading memory.

On the equally rocky boat ride back to port, my limit of rock fish stare blankly at me from my bucket. I smile with satisfaction while chomping on my PB&J sandwich. It is a good day to be touched by my patch rather than the blues of seasickness, all for the love of fishing.

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