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Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Simply Measures Shows Our Twitter Reach with the John 3:16 Marketing Network

  • Free Twitter Follower Report
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  • Twitter Account for John316Network
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  • 10/14/2013 - 10/21/2013 - Daily
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Twitter Follower Report
On average, your audience has 1.2x as many followers as users they are following.
You
7,023
Audience (Avg)
19,792
Followers
Tweets
On average, your audience tweets 8.6 times per day.
You
7,495
Audience (Avg)
11,895
(Lifetime)
Klout Score
74% of your total followers are above the Worldwide Klout Score of 40.
You
55.7
Audience (Avg)
45.9
AUDIENCE SUMMARY
AUDIENCE SUMMARY
On average, your audience is followed by 19,792 people and follows 17,118 people.
7,023
Followers
57% of your audience has greater than 2,500 followers.
Your audience is included in other Twitter users' lists an average of 209 times. The top 1% has been listed an average of 3,556 times.
7,023
Followers in this Report
Top Keywords in Audience Profiles
To customize the keywords in this chart, download to Excel and edit the yellow cells.
Keywords
author
writer
christian
book
social media
life
books
wife
Total Keyword Matches
2,554
1,184
665
1,194
174
603
598
404
Percent of Audience
36.4%
16.9%
9.5%
17.0%
2.5%
8.6%
8.5%
5.8%
# ProfilesAudience Profile Analysis: Top Keywords2,5541,1846651,194174603598404authorwriterchristianbooksocial medialifebookswife05001.0K1.5K2.0K2.5K3.0K
85.7
Average Klout Score
Highest Klout Score
45.9
Lowest Klout Score
10.0
Worldwide Average Klout Score
% Of User BaseAudience Distribution by Time Zone (Relative to GMT)AudienceAudience With Klout Scores Above Worldwide AverageGMT-11:00GMT-10:00GMT-09:00GMT-08:00GMT-07:00GMT-06:00GMT-05:00GMT-04:30GMT-04:00GMT-03:30GMT-03:00GMT-02:00GMT-01:00GMTGMT+01:00GMT+02:00GMT+03:00GMT+03:30GMT+04:00GMT+04:30GMT+05:00GMT+05:30GMT+05:45GMT+06:00GMT+06:30GMT+07:00GMT+08:00GMT+09:00GMT+09:30GMT+10:00GMT+11:00GMT+12:00GMT+13:000%5%10%15%20%25%30%35%
Your Most Influential Followers
Top Influencers Sorted By:
Followers
Username
Followers
Following
Followers-to-Following
Tweets
Listed
Klout Score
Topics
alispagnola
1,301,157
1,142,497
1.1
12,155
2,635
81.2
energy, hotels, tattoos, typos, football
media55
1,159,024
109,787
10.6
76,322
784
53.9
social media, marketing, authors, writing, internet marketing
Machavelli7
794,833
797,351
1.0
1,098
1,568
69.5
writing, philosophy, atheism, music, authors
FadheL_Bn_TheeB
783,728
628,110
1.2
1,705
444
73.8
kuwait, #tfb
AppSame
783,605
108,044
7.3
16,805
333
64.6
ajcampos01
768,558
773,021
1.0
20,721
4,457
63.5
brazil, social media, entrepreneurship, marketing, business class
I500I
759,481
835,497
0.9
50,439
959
70.6
MySOdotCom
602,506
396,955
1.5
108,008
11,438
80.3
social media, writing, marketing, business, authors
zuandoemkta
599,796
626,191
1.0
23,537
3,237
61.1
music, social networks, roll call, #followfriday, eminem
LollyDaskal
591,883
571,870
1.0
96,028
10,241
12.2
writing, social media, authors, business, marketing
RoyalChyness
580,232
221,333
2.6
212,025
2,169
61.3
michael jackson, mj, roll call, health, freedom
IMakeDemGoCrazy
561,935
509,919
1.1
403
272
66.9
pregnancy, tattoos, politics, music video, iphone
Top_DC
558,143
581,907
1.0
16,006
2,632
60.1
social networks, brazil, marketing, social media, eminem
Spruke
547,817
441,047
1.2
20,104
1,028
67.2
magic, taxes, politics, bacardi, photography
DrJeffersnBoggs
513,385
513,584
1.0
15,740
8,178
68.7
social media, health, music, marketing, california
drjoyce_knudsen
507,828
128,275
4.0
36,404
2,689
74.4
writing, authors, marketing, business, social media
NesterTweets
506,741
556,321
0.9
119,173
6,875
59.8
writing, cloud computing, authors, brazil, #followfriday
paul_steele
501,408
246,280
2.0
190,017
9,349
79.0
photography, travel and tourism, social media, blogging, writing
FixedOpsGenius
490,964
351,980
1.4
74,584
6,464
80.5
social media, writing, authors, business, entrepreneurship
LeadToday
485,408
446,504
1.1
66,019
7,317
71.4
marketing, social media, business, entrepreneurship, b2b
Audience Follower Distribution1007738311,3203,9990 to 100100 to 500500 to 1,0001,000 to 2,500> 2,50005001.0K1.5K2.0K2.5K3.0K3.5K4.0K4.5K
Top Klout Topics1,434959704638497466400383316311writingauthorsreligion andspiritualitybooksbloggingsocial mediafacebookchristianityamazonpolitics
Klout ScoreUsersAudience Klout Score Distribution10141822263034384246505458626670747882869094980100200300
FollowersAudience by # Followers591.9K599.8K602.5K759.5K768.6K783.6K783.7K794.8K1.2M1.3MLollyDaskalzuandoemktaMySOdotComI500Iajcampos01AppSameFadheL_Bn_TheeBMachavelli7media55alispagnola
Audience Distribution by Date of Last Tweet66%20%6%2%3%2%1%%Last 24 hours24 hours-1 week1-2 weeks2-4 weeks1-3 months3-6 months6-12 months> One year0.0%10.0%20.0%30.0%40.0%50.0%60.0%70.0%
Top Time Zones: Total Audience1%2%2%3%4%8%9%15%18%31%GMT+10:00GMT+02:00GMT-10:00GMT+01:00GMT-04:00GMT-07:00GMTGMT-08:00GMT-06:00GMT-05:00
Top Time Zones: All Influencers2%2%2%4%4%8%9%16%18%31%GMT+10:00GMT+02:00GMT-10:00GMT+01:00GMT-04:00GMT-07:00GMTGMT-08:00GMT-06:00GMT-05:00

Friday, October 11, 2013

A Taste of Friday with Krystal Kuehn and 10 Keys to Happy and Loving Relationships


Today we welcome Krystal Kuehn to the blog.
 
 
The 10 Keys to Happy & Loving Relationships By Krystal Kuehn, MA, LPC, LLP, NCC
 
Krystal Kuehn, MA, LPC, LLP, NCC is a psychotherapist, best-selling author, teacher, musician and songwriter. Krystal specializes in helping people live their best life now, reach their full potential, overcome barriers, heal from their past, & develop a happiness lifestyle.  For more information go to: www.Christian-Kindle-Books.com
Published by Maximum Potential, LLC
Date of Publication: 3-30-2012

 
Key #1: Love is Esteem for Self and Others - Why Loving Others Begins with Loving Ourselves
 
There is overwhelming evidence that the higher the level of self-esteem, the more likely one will be to treat others with respect, kindness, and generosity. ~Nathaniel Branden

You may have heard it said that you can’t love others if you don’t love yourself. Having self-love means you care about and like yourself in a healthy and balanced way. It means you have self-respect and believe you are worthy of love.

When self-love is lacking in a person’s life, it usually indicates that they have a low self-esteem. They do not “esteem” or value themselves as highly as they ought to. They might not really believe they are loveable. And the more they dislike themselves, the more hindered they become in receiving love from others. As a result, they are unable to love others as deeply as they would like to.

It is important to note that what appears as excessive self-love in some people is also indicative of a poor self-esteem. These individuals come across as arrogant and boastful. However, they yearn for admiration in hopes that it will satisfy their desperate longing for genuine love.

Loving and esteeming others fully begins with loving and esteeming yourself in an appropriate and healthy way.

When you.....
  • Allow for mistakes and forgive your flaws
  • Are patient and understanding with yourself
  • Are not self-deprecating or self-exalting
  • Are satisfied with your best effort
  • Believe in yourself and don’t give up
  • Acknowledge your good qualities and strengths and accept your weaknesses
  • Learn to like and appreciate who you are

Then, you will be much better able to do so for others. Love, respect, and appreciation will transfer to all other areas and relationships in your life.

The way you esteem yourself will be directly related to the way you esteem others. That is why a positive self-esteem is an important part of our experience of love. Self-esteem can be built and improved as you acknowledge and receive love in your life and as you love yourself and others as best as you can. In its own miraculous way love increases in our lives as we give it away. The more we give, the more we have to give. So you can start right where you are no matter how little you may feel you have to give. There is so much more love for you to experience.

Reflection:

Explain what esteeming yourself means to you and how you think it relates to loving others.

How can a low self-esteem make it difficult to receive love and to love others?

Review the list of examples of loving and esteeming yourself. How do they apply to you?

Is self-love lacking or excessive in your life? How can you bring it into balance?

Think about the way you feel about yourself. In what ways is it helping or hindering you from loving others?

Empowering Thoughts & Affirmations
Everyone wants to be loved.  Everyone is worthy of love.
 
I can allow the power of love to work in my life.  I can accept myself and others as worthy of love.
 
I choose to appreciate my inner strengths and value who I am.

Love is an expression and assertion of self-esteem. ~Ayn Rand
 
You really have to look inside yourself and find your own inner strength, and say, “I’m proud of what I am and who I am, and I’m just going to be myself.” ~Mariah Carey
 
You must love yourself before you love another. By accepting yourself and fully being what you are, your simple presence can make others happy. ~unknown

 

 
 

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

John 3:16 Road Map to the Google Universe

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Friday, October 4, 2013

A Taste of Friday with Lisa Lickel and Meow Mayhem


Lisa J Lickel

January, 2013, Whimsical Publications
Mystery

 
Lisa Lickel is a multi-published Wisconsin author, avid book reviewer and blogger, a freelance editor, and writing mentor. Find her at LisaLickel.com.

 

Chapter One

The alarm next to my ear shrieked me awake at two forty-eight a.m. I scrambled upstairs to my home office to catch the urgent summons. My messenger service board light sputtered an angry red, signaling an incoming call for one of my clients—ID code, the mayor’s office. I frowned. In the middle of the night? This had to be a crank call. I hoped it wasn’t one of those angry at the world verbal abusers. I was tired and not in the mood to be professionally pleasant. I held the headpiece next to my ear and answered. “Office of the mayor.”
“Mm—get—call—mmm—”
I couldn’t make anything out through the crackling static and so I boosted the gain. I tried to turn the outside antenna with the automatic control, but another burst of static rocketed me out of the chair. I whipped off my earpiece. “Oww!”
I sat down again slowly. The light blinked balefully now. I checked the caller ID. Chicago. Summersby Building. “Hello? Can I help you?” I flicked a switch up and down. All I heard now was a soft buzz. Then a distinct click. At least the recorder had been on. I yawned. Summersby Building was probably a construction company doing work for one of the new businesses coming to Apple Grove. That’s why I was here, too, invited on behalf of the mayor’s new community growth incentive. I yawned again and hung my earpiece on a hook. Maybe some cleaning crew accidentally hit redial. I went back to bed.
The next evening, after my third attempt to reach my friend Donald, the mayor of Apple Grove, Illinois, I ran my fingers across the rows of red and yellow and green blinking lights of my servers. I usually found them cheerful. Comforting. But sometimes my system of eight blinking bubbles reminded me of all I hated about Christmas. In the gloomy twilight of early fall, they felt sinister.
When I moved here two months ago, April Fool’s Day, to be exact, the phone and cable companies had wondered
about how I could make McTeague’s Messenger Service work with my three servers. I showed them Donald’s letter of reference and the preliminary approval of the exception to the zoning ordinance in this quiet little neighborhood.
Usually, I took messages. This evening, I needed to give one. One that I dreaded. I took a deep breath, plugged in my headset, and dialed.
“Apple Grove Police. Officer Ripple. How can I help you?”
      “Hello, hello? I need to report a kidnapping.”
      “Kidnapping? Name?”
      “Ivy Preston.”
      “Right. High Vee? Could you spell that, please?”
      “I-V-Y. Preston.”
      “And where are you now, ma’am? Can you see any weapons? Do you know the name of your kidnappers?”
      “Oh, no, Officer. It’s not me. It’s the mayor.”
      “Mayor? Got that. First name?”
      “Donald.”
      “Donald Mayor. And is he a relative? Is there a note?”
      “No…you’ve got it all mixed up. I’m calling about somebody kidnapping Mayor Donald Conklin.”
      “You think someone’s going to kidnap the mayor? That’s a pretty serious charge.”
      “Not going to. I think they already did.”
“We’ll send someone over to talk to you. What’s your address?”
 “Three-twelve Marigold.”
        “Ah, yes. The Pagner house. And you have some sort of evidence?”
 “Well, I received the strangest message last night and now he won’t answer his private number. I’m worried.”
“Message?”
“I’m the new messenger service in town. McTeague’s. Donald invited me.”
 “Okay. Sit tight. I’m sending Officer Dow over to you to take your statement.”
 “Thank you.” I hung up and wondered what kind of a statement I was expected to give. I had the recording, but unless one knew the context, it could mean anything. Maybe I should call someone. How did I know I could trust the police here? You saw it all the time on TV. Sometimes, the bad guys aren’t who you thought. My mental contact list was pretty slim. My neighbors, who I didn’t know all well. Mom, who lived a couple of hours away.
A knock on the door saved me from a slide into self-pity. I let in Officer Ann Dow. And smiled politely at the little wisp of a blond who looked like the east wind would carry her away if she hadn’t been anchored by her sturdy shoes and even sturdier holstered shiny black weapon. “Thank you for coming.” I wasn’t huge, but I looked down a couple of inches on her.
“So, tell me about this alleged kidnapping.” The officer got out her pad and pen. She shushed her shoulder mic.
“I believe the mayor is missing.”
She didn’t say anything at first. “And you believe that because…?”
“I received this strange message late last night. On my business line. You know, I’m hired to reroute phone, fax, and electronic mail service from the mayor’s office while he’s out?”
“I’m not privy to the mayor’s office practices,” she said, straight-faced.
I ignored her implication and instead led her to my office, explaining she could hear for herself. “This message came in, cued for the mayor’s office, but it was all staticky and garbled. I couldn’t make anything out, except ‘get’ and ‘call.’”
She listened. “Get what? And you think it came from the mayor?”
“I don’t know for sure. The caller ID said Summersby Building in Chicago. I just thought you should check it out.”
Officer Dow tapped her pen on her pad. She shook her head and returned to the kitchen, me following like a lost puppy. “I’ll make a report,” she said, reaching for the door. “Maybe you should notify the FCC. If you get threatening calls, you should call the telephone company. We’ll talk to Mrs. Bader-Conklin, who’s been in the office all week covering for her husband. If that’s all, I’ll let you get back to…what you were doing.”
      “Thank you. But—”
      Click. She shut my door.
And I thought Apple Grove seemed like such a nice town.
I let out a sigh of pure exasperation and tapped my size seven-and-a-half sandal on the tile floor. Last night’s message…I just couldn’t get it out of my head. I get mistaken numbers, of course, but I had a funny feeling. And that was a new one—Donald’s wife had been in the office? Why did he need me? Calling the police wasn’t the best first move. But what else could I have done?
      Donald, or the city I guess, hired me to take messages this week while he went to court another incubator business to start up in Apple Grove. He was nice like that, paving the way for other people to trust my business, just like he did.
      Maybe I should have been mad at him instead of concerned. With my ringless fingers, I tucked a loose spiral of my dishy-blah hair back into its sloppy bun. Donald would never have ignored me this long. And he’d want to talk about the next CAT convention coming up. That was Cat Association Titlists—the group where we met years and years ago. We both had silver Egyptian Maus.
      I have never been a whimsical person, and this was a big deal in my life, but I’ll get to that later. Let’s just say his request, that I move McTeague’s—that’s me, Ivy Amanda McTeague Preston—Message Service to Apple Grove happened to fall at a good time. Pun intended.
      If the police thought Donald was perfectly safe, I should just wait until tomorrow and then see if Mrs. Bader-Conklin had some notion about what was going on. I could go visit her at the office and ask, casual-like, if she’d heard from him. And offer to leave his messages.

***

My next hint that something was wrong was that Donald’s secretary, Marion Green, was not at her usual post. If the mayor’s office was open for business, Marion at least should be here, even if she supposedly had the week off. Donald joked that she was the one who really ran the town. The stern-looking black-haired woman who infringed on Marion’s space made me wait fifteen minutes. Donald usually came out of his office when he heard my voice. The light was on; I could see it shining under his door. I suppose Margaret—Mrs. Bader-Conklin—could have been making an urgent call.
I heard a distinct sneeze from inside the office. Then the tap of high heels.
Why had I waited so long before getting concerned enough about Donald to call the police? Final registration for CAT was in two days. Donald never missed. He hadn’t registered yet—I checked. And he told me before he left town that it was the one thing he looked forward to all summer. He could take his cat, Tut, out of his wife’s hair for awhile, and since she claimed she was allergic to animals, she didn’t insist on coming along. He never said anything negative, but I got the impression the vacation was a three-way blessing between him, his wife, and Tut.
A woman opened the door to the mayor’s office. I recognized her from a photo that Donald had showed me—Margaret. She studied me over half-glasses perched on a razor-thin nose; Joan Crawford eyebrows raised toward her curled-under bangs. I shivered.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Preston. Please.” She gestured to me to follow her. And then she invited me to sit in the ugly straight-back chair on the opposite side of Donald’s desk instead of the comfy one in front of the computer. Donald had never done that.
I warily started a conversation. “I hope Marion isn’t sick.”
“I gave Mrs. Green the week off. My personal assistant is with me.” The wife of the mayor of Apple Grove leaned back in her husband’s leather chair. “Now, what can I do for you, Miss…Preston?”
I swallowed hard. “Uh, well, Don—the mayor asked me to take messages as he was going to be out of the office all week. I wondered…if you’ve heard from him?” Dang, I tried hard not to squeak with nerves at the end. I couldn’t help it, yet instinct told me that I must not show fear. I hoped she wouldn’t get the wrong impression.
“May I know the nature of your business with the mayor?”
No wonder Donald needed an annual break from this woman. Did she act like such an iceberg at home, too? Margaret sneezed again and took out a dainty lace handkerchief. “Something in the air,” she muttered, sniffling. “You must have a cat or a dog at home. I’m allergic.”
“Oh?” I said, stopping before I mentioned I already knew that. Wrong impressions and all.
“I recall Donald speaking of you,” she said. “From that little group he goes to, right? So, did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Bring the messages you’ve been supposedly taking.”
“Sorry.” I handed over eight yellow and green carbons. I kept the pink copies locked in a safe for three months, per contractual agreement. “Mrs. Lendler wants her neighbor’s box elder tree cut down as a public menace because of the bugs—”
“Thank you. I can read. Was there anything else?”
“So, am I still on the job for the rest of the week? And Don—the mayor—will be back on Saturday? He’s all right?”
“Of course he’s all right. Why wouldn’t he be? Letty can handle business.”
Letty must be the battleaxe up front. Margaret stood and I had to follow suit. She was taller than me. I supposed if I had on heels instead of tennies, I could have looked at her nose instead of her chin. She had three black hairs sprouting under her makeup. I pressed my lips tight to hold in the grin while she turned to open the door to her office.
“How’s Tut these days?” I asked, testing her out on a whim.
“Tut? Oh—fine, just fine.”
Mmhmm. “Mem’s just fine, too.”
“Mem? Memo? I don’t underst—” She looked over my shoulder. “Oh, ah, good to know. Excuse me while I, ah….”
I followed her line of sight to see Letty in the doorway, frowning, while her left hand came to rest on her folded elbow. We locked brown-eyed stares. Her irises had weird little gold flecks in them. She blinked first. She went back to her desk.
“I’ll be glad to care for Tut,” I said, a bit giddy with my victory in the stare down, “since you’re allergic and all, while the mayor’s away. Our cats get along swell.”
She bit the corner of her lip, just for an instant, but enough to give me the feeling that something was amiss.
“Tut’s all right, isn’t he? Or is he with Donald?”
She frowned when I said Donald. Oops. “I mean, the mayor.”
She pushed forward, forcing me to move to the door. “Of course. If you’ll excuse me, we have a great deal of work. Good-bye, now. Take care.”
I nodded to Letty on my way out. I got turned around in the maze of staircases and hallways and ended up leaving city hall by the back door. In my muse, I had to dodge a dark-colored delivery van squealing right up to the back door before I found the walk that went around to the side parking lot where I had left my car. What on earth would Mrs. Bader-Conklin do in her husband’s office?
How I got home, I’m not sure. I don’t think I ran into anyone on the way. I paced my tiny kitchen, three steps forward and back, as the evening wore on, deciding how much further to get involved in this business.
Judging by the officer’s response to my initial phone call, I wondered if I would ever rate any respect for my theory that the mayor needed help. I only hoped it would not be too late for Donald. I needed to find a better way to explain my dilemma to the police if I felt like I had to call again.
I could talk to someone else. Of course! Someone else. True! He’d know what to do. How could I have forgotten Truesdale Thompson, Donald’s other pet project? I grinned. True had moved to Apple Grove not long after me. Mea Cuppa, his little bookshop and fancy coffee joint, needed more prep time than my machines, so he’d only recently opened. I spent my odd hours helping him sort merchandise and stock shelves.
I drove through downtown, chased by an occasional scrap of newspaper or leaf swirling in the spring breeze riffling up from the river through alleys. I knocked on the front door of the closed shop. I didn’t think True heard me at first, as he took some time coming down from his apartment.
“Ivy. What’s wrong? Come on in. Sit down.”
A solid comfort, True. I babbled. “I don’t know where else to turn. Please, listen to me!”
“Of course I will.”
I looked around, feeling vulnerable through the huge plate glass window. Any passerby could see us clearly. “Not here.”
He seemed unfazed. “Okay. Come on up. I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors, though.”
And clearly, he wasn’t. He tossed aside a pile of towels and picture hangers and bade me sit on his recliner while he went to fix tea. I felt antsy and couldn’t sit still. There was little room to pace with the floor so covered with boxes and bubble wrap. I could barely tell the color of the carpet.
He smiled and put a steaming cup of ginger tea in my hand. “I told you it was a mess.”
I inhaled. “Thank you.”
He looked around the room and grimaced. “Let’s go in the kitchen, shall we?”
His kitchen was a different world. Neat and cozy. I could see where True felt most comfortable. We sat. I sipped while appreciating his patience. I mulled over a couple of ways to tell my tale and decided direct was best.
“Donald’s missing. I think he’s in trouble.” I stopped, and took a deep, whimpery breath. True put one of his gigantic warm hands over mine and anchored me with his calming gray stare. I had no idea what he thought, but I knew I trusted him.
“Ivy. Donald told us that he was going on a business trip. In fact, I thought you were on the job.”
“I thought that too. Until the police told me that Margaret was in the mayor’s office.”
True’s eyebrows went up with comforting incredulity. He shook his head; his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“When I called the police, he said he saw the mayor’s car leaving the parking lot. Wouldn’t he have taken his car on his trip?”
“Not if he was flying. Ivy, you called the police? Based on what?”
I twisted my mouth to the side and jiggled my foot. “Um, well. A feeling, I guess. Donald hadn’t registered for CAT yet. I knew he wanted to go, so I tried his emergency number. Three times. To remind him. He didn’t answer. Then, later, I started putting this strange garbled message—I could only make out what sounded like ‘get,’ and ‘call,’ I think, from some number in Chicago—together with Donald’s absence, and wondered if the two might be related. So, what do you think it means?”
True sat back, not saying anything. Then he got up and walked over to the sink. I admired his height and flexed back muscles, the efficient way he moved and the deliberate way he thought before speaking—so unlike my scrambling around and blurting out the first thing I thought. He was older than me—I’m almost thirty-two and single, thank you to my ex-fiancé Stanley—but I wasn’t sure how much. His wavy black hair was slightly salted at the temples, and his nose looked like it had been broken at one time and fixed, but best of all, he wasn’t married. “Donald’s business wasn’t in Chicago.” The tone of his voice made me feel that he wanted to take me seriously but was finding it difficult.
“I suppose he’s just busy,” I said. “Or out of cell range. And the other call could have been some wrong number or something. It happens.”
“What do you think might be going on?”
“I don’t know. Donald is my friend. If he’s in trouble, I want to help.”
True’s mouth twitched. “What kind of help?”
I sighed, thinking how ludicrous my actions had been. “I thought I’d just go over to city hall and visit Margaret. You know, just ask if she’d heard from Donald. So I did. But Margaret wasn’t talking. Marion wasn’t even there.”
“She might not spend all day in the office if Donald was out,” True reminded me.
I took another deep breath. “But there was someone else there. Someone I didn’t know sitting at Marion’s desk.”
“Ivy, you wouldn’t know many people here anyway, remember? We just moved.”
I liked the “we” part of his comment. “Right. But did you know that Margaret’s allergic to cats? I thought she just hated them.”
“That’s one of the reasons Donald was so interested in that new company. Happy Hearts Bioengineering? They’re working to produce a hypoallergenic breed of animal.”
“I thought he was…well, maybe I hadn’t been paying attention. I thought he was going after a pet food company. Fel-feli—”
“Feli-Mix. He told me they signed an ‘intent to build’ contract based on getting the zoning approval.”
“Oh. Good.” I scratched my ear. Isis wandered in from a dark hallway to curl around True’s ankles. True’s Mau smoke female was daintier in looks than disposition. My Mem had been at the receiving end of her ferocity since they’d been introduced two years ago at a convention. Poor Mem had only tried to be polite.
True nudged me back to the present topic at hand. “What did Margaret say?”
“She wouldn’t talk to me.” I saw him wipe a hand over his face. “I didn’t think I was nosy. So I asked her if I was supposed to continue taking messages. She said her assistant could handle it.”
“Oh?”
“Then I asked Margaret about Tut. You know. I was concerned. She said he was fine. I asked if I could take care of him while Donald was gone. She didn’t answer me. Not really.” I looked toward the lopsided drape that hung over the kitchen sink.
“But you’re still worried.”
“Yes, about both of them. I wish now I hadn’t called the police first.”
“What exactly did you say to them?”
My lip protruded again. “That I wanted to report a…a kidnapping.” My voice had dropped to a too-low whisper on the last word. I sounded perfectly ridiculous and I knew it.
“Based on a message you couldn’t understand? And after the police officer stopped laughing?”
“He didn’t laugh at all! He sent a lady cop to check on me.”
“And?”
“She said she’d report it.”
True uncrossed his arms and got up from the table. He gently removed the mug from my hands and raised me to my feet. I liked the feel of those hands. I liked the confidence he exuded even more. “Ivy, I can tell you’re concerned about this. Why don’t you let me go talk to Margaret tomorrow, see what I think. Okay? I’m not dismissing you, but I have to think about this.”
I nodded. “I know it sounds wild, True. I need to do something, but I’m not sure what.”
True walked me to the door and down the steps. The moccasins he wore silenced his path across the floor of the shop. “You drove. You want me to take you home?”
I appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I’m all right.” I caught my reflection in the window of the door. Shoulder-length corkscrew hair in all directions, eyes wide—I looked like a nutcase. No wonder he had been concerned I couldn’t drive. I stopped and turned. The top of my head came to his shoulder, giving me a good view of his throat. His turtleneck shirt hid most of the scar that I knew snaked around his neck and across his right shoulder. I never asked about it and I was too shy around him yet to pry, but I hoped that would change in the near future. “Thank you, True, for listening. I hope it’s just some kind of mental lapse on my part.”
“We both care about Donald. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He flashed a grin and closed the door behind me, staying at the window to watch until I sat safely in my car.
I did not expect to sleep much, so after checking my client list and the current work orders in my office, I settled on the couch with my pet Memnet nearby and popped a movie into my player.
Mau owners give their friends names popular in ancient Egypt for obvious reasons. Mem was a beautiful black-spotted registered silver male running past middle age. We garnered tons of compliments for his personality and outstanding looks, and he was as devoted to me as I was to him. He had been a staunch friend when Stanley decided he did not want to marry me—after we’d ordered the invitations and my dress and rented the hall.
Memnet’s scratching woke me sometime later. Cold and stiff, I came to my senses abruptly when I heard a loud crack and tinkling sound from the kitchen. Mem was not as cautious as me and streaked toward the sound, a silver shadow in the blue glow of the television screen. His screech was primeval.
My hand shook as I dialed the number of the police department with a legitimate complaint this time. After being assured they would send someone immediately, I peered into the kitchen to see the broken window panel of the door and the swinging chain. Mem sat guard, his tail twitching and ears forward, his paw resting on top of a stone with something tied to it.
“What have you got, Mem?” I crouched, wary of glass. With a low growl pulsing from his furry throat, he reluctantly let me examine the rock. I supposed it was evidence, but it was in my house. And Ripple had laughed at me earlier, after all. With one eye watching for the police car, I hurriedly untied the string and read the attached note.
“Busy-body’s don’t belong in our town.”
I hated misused apostrophes.

Friday, September 27, 2013

A Taste of Friday with Cheryl Rogers and Lost in the Woods

Swayed by her love of Nancy Drew Mysteries, Cheryl Rogers decided as a child to become a writer. Her Bible Camp Mystery series encourages youths to seek God early.


Cheryl Rogers
October 14, 2012


The boys were talking loudly as they waited for their leader, Chet Harrigan, to make his big announcement.

Without revealing details, Chet had been dropping hints for a couple weeks that they didn’t want to miss tonight’s church meeting. There was lots of excitement in the air when Chet appeared before them as they sat on folded chairs in their church hangout, The Boy’s Den. The chatter stopped quickly as the boys turned their bright eyes, filled with exuberance, on Chet. The room became silent, as they waited expectantly.
Obviously enjoying their reaction, Chet began, “Have I got your attention? Then he laughed.
“Well this is it, guys. The moment you’ve been waiting for. …  It’s been in the works for about three months now, but I’m planning our first ever Bible camp.”
Chet, a 29-year-old former gang leader, led the Boy’s Den at Living Water Community Church. It was a great group of youths from varying backgrounds, who met regularly for encouragement in their faith. Until now, most of their activities were either at the church or in town.
But Chet was planning to change all that with this outdoor adventure. And so this was, for this small group, a pretty big deal.
“We’re going to go deep in the woods far away from everything, pitch our tents and spend some time hiking and canoeing,” he told the boys. “If you’d like to go, sign up before you leave today and we’ll give you all the information.”
Excited, the boys resumed talking. Thirteen-year-old Zack immediately turned to his friend Jeff, who had been attending church with him and participating in the Boy’s Den for as long as he could remember. “Wanna go?” he asked excitedly. “I’ve been wanting to go camping for a long time and nobody has taken me.”
“Sure,” Jeff replied. “Sounds like fun. I went canoeing once and I liked it. You get to swim and eat. It’s real quiet and peaceful. That’s unless you see some alligators.”
“Alligators?” questioned Zack, almost whispering.
“Sure, the gators like to sun themselves on the fallen trees alongside the river,” he said. “They don’t bother anybody. We’re just not supposed to feed them.”
“What’s this about gators?” asked Danny, another long-time pal.
“Aw, nothing Danny,” replied Jeff. “I’m just telling Zack here a little bit about being in the woods and canoeing. There are going to be gators. They won’t bother us if we don’t bother them.”
“That’s right,” Chet reassured them. “We’ll tell you all about staying away from the gators before we head out. If one of them comes near you, I’ll let them have it!”
Chet was six foot three inches and relied upon his tall frame to keep the sometimes rowdy crowd in line. To him, a gator was just another untamed creature, except this one stretched itself out horizontally instead of vertically. And Chet knew a lot about untamed creatures, having been one many years ago.
“You tell him,” piped in Bill, son of Youth Pastor Chuck Holden. “No gator is going to mess with us.”

“Yeah, Bill is going to help me lead this expedition, guys, so he knows what he’s talking about,” Chet grinned. “How many times did you say you’ve been out in the wild?”
“A couple of times,” Bill said hesitantly. “I’m just going to do the cooking, though. Gary, he’s the assistant leader. By the way, I’m accepting assistant chefs, if any of you want to volunteer.”
“Hey man, if you want I can ask my Uncle Carlos if he can join us. He knows how to cook a pig in the ground,” Peter said. “We can probably catch a pig in the woods, y’ know.”
“Yeah, I was thinking we might see some feral pigs,” Chet said pensively.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I mean,” Peter said, “Feral pigs.”
“Now just what is a feral pig? I hope you don’t expect me to cook a feral pig when I don’t even know what it is,” Bill protested.
“Let’s not plan on a pig roast just yet,” Chet said. “Thanks for suggesting it, Peter. Unfortunately, we just might have to put off the pig for another trip.”
“You’re not kiddin’ when you say tasty. My Uncle Carlos can cook the pigs real good,” Peter continued. “Well,” he shrugged, “it’s your loss.”
“Hey Zack, maybe you and Danny want to help me with the cooking?” Bill asked pleadingly.
“I’ll think about it,” said Zack, mumbling. “I think I’d rather just eat.” He laughed a bit nervously.
“I heard that,” announced Gary. “We also have latrine duty, if you’d like to sign up for that.” He gave Zack a broad smile.
“Oh, no,” mumbled Zack. “Cooking sounds pretty good, actually.”
“What’s a latrine?” he asked Jeff in a hushed voice.
“I dunno,” Jeff shrugged.
“We’ll get the chores assigned later,” Chet said, herding them towards the door. “It’s getting late tonight. Just be sure to sign up before you leave. We can only take about ten this first time.”
“Hey, can I bring along my 3DS and some games?” Chang asked, pulling his from his pocket as he waited in the signup line.
“Wow, what a great idea!” exclaimed Zack, who stood behind him. “Be sure to bring your Mario Kart 7 game.”
Chet overheard the boys and interrupted. “As much as I know you love video games, we’re not planning to allow them,” Chet announced abruptly. “One of the reasons we’re going to the woods is to get away from all the distractions in our lives! We want to focus on God and his creation.”
“We want you to have time to build friendships, too,” added Gary with an encouraging smile.
Chang was new and his Mario Kart 7 game might be a great icebreaker, but it could interfere with serious sharing and fellowship on a trip like this.
“Maybe you could come over to my house, Zack, you and a few of the guys?” Chang asked cautiously.
“Sure, sure. Maybe we can hang out and play video games sometime. Why don’t you talk to your mom?” Zack replied.
After the last boy had signed up, Chet and Gary were alone in the room. “It’ll be two whole days and nights of that,” Chet said, a tiredness creeping over him after the long evening. “Are you sure you are up to it? I know I can’t expect to do this single-handedly.”
“I KNOW you are not going to want to carry those pup tents by yourself,” Gary said smiling. “It’ll be fun. It’ll be a chance to get away from it all for a couple days in the woods.”
“Away from it all,” retorted Chet. “I wouldn’t go that far. I think we’re taking it all with us.”
They smiled at each other. “But I’m looking forward to it,” Chet added.
“Me too,” said Gary, “I didn’t figure on those gators, though. Did you?”
“No, neither did I. Didn’t think twice about ’em,” said Chet, turning serious all of a sudden. “I’m wondering if the parents are going to go for this. Gators like kids,” he said.
“You didn’t think about them because you can fight ’em off with your bare hands,” Gary grinned.
“I used to rely on my own strength, but you know I don’t do that anymore,” Chet said somberly. “I’m going to have to trust God to keep ’em safe. It’s his deal. He’s the reason for the camp. But I’m still going to have to convince everyone I can handle this.”
He stopped, looking Gary directly in the eyes.  “Do you think I … we can?”
Gary looked at his feet, momentarily uncomfortable at the thought. “We-ell, I wouldn’t trust myself with any of this, either. I’m not much of a camper after all. But ... we’re doing this for God, like you said. He’ll take care of us, right?”
“Of course,” Chet replied matter-of-factly as they walked toward the door leading outside. “Of course, God’s got it. Let’s go home.”
Chet turned off the lights in the Boy’s Den and locked the building. He smiled at Gary, as they walked toward their cars. Deep inside, Chet knew he’d need to do some serious praying to be sure, absolutely sure, this was God’s idea, and not his own...

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Win a Copy of Food for Thought: Quick and Easy Recipes for Homescooling Families on Goodreads

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Food for Thought by Lorilyn Roberts

Food for Thought

by Lorilyn Roberts

Giveaway ends October 01, 2013.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

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