 | |  | |  |
Columns ...
Full Circle
This column is about starting over; the trails and the joys. It's about not cooking if I don't want to —
and about not having anybody to cook for. There is a difference and it's a double-edged sword. It's
about learning who I am, what I want ... and where I want to go. I suppose in time I'll know.
and about not having anybody to cook for. There is a difference and it's a double-edged sword. It's
about learning who I am, what I want ... and where I want to go. I suppose in time I'll know.
| Farm Tales |
| This column is specifically geared to the rural community of the United States. It speaks a language that rural readers understand and appreciate, and has been proven to be a welcome addition to any publication that is distributed all or in part, to a rural audience. |
After Thoughts
This column deals with general life issues and is predominantly humorous, although sometimes
thought-provoking and touching. It deals with observations, raising children, and true life
experiences.
thought-provoking and touching. It deals with observations, raising children, and true life
experiences.
| Awards and Accomplishments WOW! Women on Writing Spring 2007 Flash Fiction Contest 2nd Place |
| 2005 True Life Stories Contest 1st Place |
| 2007 Dream Quest One Winter Contest 2nd Place |
| Toowrite.Com Near miss ... thanks for all the support! |
| Father's Day 2007 Essay Contest 2nd Place |
| Sunpenny Publishing Commendation ... only USA short story entry recognized |
| To purchase this CD, and benefit from classic country music composed and performed by a man who knows a thing or two about growing up country, or to learn more about Bobby, visit CD Baby. I wouldn't steer you wrong ... |
| Best Little Nursery in Texas |
All Contents cjmouser.com Copyright 2001 All Rights Reserved
... give thanks to guitarist John Morgan for allowing me to use his instrumental guitar music for
some of my Youtube videos. Some how, some way, it seems that our two genres go together like
apple pie and vanilla ice cream, as you will see in videos such as "The Force" accompanied by
John's "Dance of the stars." Please visit Youtube and watch the videos ... also please visit John's
Web site at the link below his photo.
some of my Youtube videos. Some how, some way, it seems that our two genres go together like
apple pie and vanilla ice cream, as you will see in videos such as "The Force" accompanied by
John's "Dance of the stars." Please visit Youtube and watch the videos ... also please visit John's
Web site at the link below his photo.
| SPECIAL THANKS ... |
| A young family escapes certain starvation in early 20th Century dust bowl Kansas to migrate to Florida. Appearing at first to be a lush paradise, their new home ultimately challenges the transplants, and tests them physically and emotionally in ways that they could never have anticipated. |
| AVAILABLE NOW |
A collection of ghost tales based on actual experiences in areas along Interstate 10. These tales begin in Florida and end in California, and are for anybody to read. From haunted dolls to haunted houses, haunted families and even ghostly cattle, these tales are sure to make you stop and think, and maybe .... check the closet before turning out the light. |
| Peggy Alexander, George Bennett, Joann Brown, Robert Boatman, L. Bradley, Gene Campbell, Steve Carmack, Lynn Camp, Carole Connelly, Jim Doubler, Carole Ervin, Thomas Edwards, Dianne Follis, Wenjea Fischer, Tom Fortin, SL Frisbee, Gerrit and Patria, Paul Giroux, V. Graham, Gordon Green, Kathy Grant, DR Greysun, Margaret Hodges, KE House, Judith Hinkle, Lorne Hancock, Judy Hook, Larry Jennings, Kris Johnston, Cynthia Krahl, Jim Kelly, Donna Knarr, Lee Lott, Judy Maynard, James and Linda Mulkey, George Putnam, Jim Pritchard, Diane Pogue, Jennifer Rucker, Tamera Russell, John Shaffer, Rita Shaefer, Elaine Sedlock, Laura Schmid, Katara Simmons, Romona Washington, Don Williamson, Robert Williams, Jr, Rich Zlattner, David Youngquist If you're not on this list and need to be .... please let me know. |
I'd also like to ...
| AVAILABLE NOW |
| Click below to visit publisher's Web site |
| SPECIAL THANKS TO STUART BRANDT ... For introducing me by way of a gift CD to Solly Burton. This kid can play a mandolin and assorted other instruments like nobody's business. If you like bluegrass music please don't hesitate to purchase a copy of this CD, you will not be disappointed. |
| CLICK BELOW TO ORDER AN AUTOGRAPHED COPY OF SALVATION HOME THROUGH PAYPAL (please include inscription request in notes area) |
| CLICK BELOW TO ORDER AN AUTOGRAPHED COPY OF GHOSTS OF I-10 THROUGH PAYPAL (please include inscription request in notes area) |
I've only been the proud owner of a Boxer for about 4 months. I've always avoided owning breed dogs as over time I had
heard that pure-bred dogs usually have specific health issues, which translates into cost for the owner, and honestly any
time I ever saw a Boxer in public, I thought Pit Bull.
Two things happened to change my opinion: I visited my sister, who does Boxer rescues, and met dog after dog who were
sweet and even-tempered and loving, and the lady I work with had a Boxer about 6 years old that her son had stuck her
with, and that she was looking for a home for.
So, one thing led to another and I brought home a 65-pound female named “Petal” who had a gunslinger's gaze and a
head the size of a half-grown pumpkin. She was as skittish as a 3 month-old colt and about as heavy. The first thing she
did upon arrival at her new home, was loom over Frog, our Heinz 57 brindle mutt, threateningly, and establish her
dominance, which he is used to as he wouldn't say boo to a goose on a good day. The first thing WE did was change her
name to Phoebe, as Petal was the least petal-like creature that I had ever met.
heard that pure-bred dogs usually have specific health issues, which translates into cost for the owner, and honestly any
time I ever saw a Boxer in public, I thought Pit Bull.
Two things happened to change my opinion: I visited my sister, who does Boxer rescues, and met dog after dog who were
sweet and even-tempered and loving, and the lady I work with had a Boxer about 6 years old that her son had stuck her
with, and that she was looking for a home for.
So, one thing led to another and I brought home a 65-pound female named “Petal” who had a gunslinger's gaze and a
head the size of a half-grown pumpkin. She was as skittish as a 3 month-old colt and about as heavy. The first thing she
did upon arrival at her new home, was loom over Frog, our Heinz 57 brindle mutt, threateningly, and establish her
dominance, which he is used to as he wouldn't say boo to a goose on a good day. The first thing WE did was change her
name to Phoebe, as Petal was the least petal-like creature that I had ever met.
I'd been told that Phoebe was missing a few teeth, and when I found
the courage to stick my fingers in her mouth, I found that she had
only one lower canine tooth and a good set of chompers in the
back.She had been living in a back yard, exclusively, and according
to the previous owner's mother, had stretches where she wasn't fed,
or given water, and never had any attention. It took her a good while
to relax ... for the first two weeks she stood patiently by the back
door, waiting to be let out as she could not quite grasp the fact that
she now lived indoors, even though I rushed out and bought her a
thick smushy bed, and red bowl to go in the kitchen floor next to
Frog's.
She had been in major scraps with other dogs, which left her with
assorted scars around her face and a bad attitude toward other
canines her size. Someone cropped her ears when she was a pup
and I sincerely doubt they knew what they were doing as they are too
short and still sensitive 5 plus years later. She has deplorable
manners. She steps on our bare feet with her 4-pronged hooves, and
waits until we sit down to eat and then crawls under the table and
unleashes the most horrific streams of noxious flatulence known to
mankind, and then has the audacity to look offended when we chase
her out of the room.
the courage to stick my fingers in her mouth, I found that she had
only one lower canine tooth and a good set of chompers in the
back.She had been living in a back yard, exclusively, and according
to the previous owner's mother, had stretches where she wasn't fed,
or given water, and never had any attention. It took her a good while
to relax ... for the first two weeks she stood patiently by the back
door, waiting to be let out as she could not quite grasp the fact that
she now lived indoors, even though I rushed out and bought her a
thick smushy bed, and red bowl to go in the kitchen floor next to
Frog's.
She had been in major scraps with other dogs, which left her with
assorted scars around her face and a bad attitude toward other
canines her size. Someone cropped her ears when she was a pup
and I sincerely doubt they knew what they were doing as they are too
short and still sensitive 5 plus years later. She has deplorable
manners. She steps on our bare feet with her 4-pronged hooves, and
waits until we sit down to eat and then crawls under the table and
unleashes the most horrific streams of noxious flatulence known to
mankind, and then has the audacity to look offended when we chase
her out of the room.
She drools, and she slobbers, and might carry around bits of kibble in the folds of her maw for days before dropping
these soggy, unrecognizable blobs of dark brown gop unceremoniously in the middle of Pet-Smart, or our laps. She
snorts and she snores worse than my ex-husband, which is saying a lot. When she's feeling particularly affectionate she
will put her face as near ours as possible and then in a move reminiscent of a manatee exhaling upon surfacing for air,
jettison dog spit directly into our eyes or mouth, prompting us to welcome her as though we're preparing for a spray tan—
with eyes and mouths tightly shut.
Because of her appearance, she effectively clears sidewalks and aisles of all other forms of life. While walking her
around Town Lake I get looks of pure unadulterated hatred from poodle and wiener dog walkers as they abandon paths
and cut across the grass. Having never had any real attention, she doesn't know how to accept same gracefully, and even
people who are brave enough to approach her are instantly punished by being encased in goo that looks like it came from
an alien seed pod.
I was sitting in Pet-Smart one afternoon near the doggy hotel that Phoebe and I had already been banished from with dirty
looks from the attendant, contemplating automatic waterers, when a little girl about 6 years old and an older woman
came around the corner of the aisle, headed our way.
Oh, here we go, I thought, and waited for them to notice Phoebe and turn around and go back to whence they had come. I
could have moved, but hasten to admit that I am danged tired of doing that, so I sat there, a Phoebe-sized chip on my
shoulder, and defied anybody to take issue with me and my manatee-dog.
As the woman and child meandered our way, lost in a shopping daze, my nerves started jumping; they hadn't noticed
Phoebe yet, although she had certainly noticed them. Even though she's never been exposed to any, to my knowledge,
Phoebe loves children and will stare at them longingly, her nubby little tail jerking spasmodically as these same children
make wide circles around her and dash to safety. Even now she was standing like a castle guard, that little tail almost a
blur, while she waited for the child to come closer.
Oh, crap, I'm thinking. This could be bad. Phoebe is scary enough from a distance, and they're practically right on top of
her and have no idea! My hand tightened down on Phoebe's leash and I gently began to reel her in, until she was standing
between my legs, but she was still within a tongue's reach of the little girl.
Then, almost in slow motion, the little girl's head turned and her eyes went as big around as salad plates. She let out a
sound that was something like, “weeeeee!” and her knees buckled and down she went. Oh, my god, she's fainted! I
thought. I closed my eyes, wondering if a person could get arrested just for scaring a kid, and trying to calculate if I had
enough money in my savings account for bail. I was starting to swoon myself and wondered if I would get any credit from
the cops if I fainted, too.
Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a giggle and opened one eye to look down. The little girl was hanging around
Phoebe's neck and Phoebe was licking her face fit to beat the band, her little tail just whirling in perfect circles.
“He looks just like Gilligan!” the little girl cried, while her grandmother gazed down at her smiling.
“We have a boxer at home,” the woman explained, and I was so overcome with gratitude I almost cried. Okay my eyes
actually did mist up a tiny bit. It's amazing how powerful acceptance of someone you love can be, when you're
accustomed to being shunned. “They're the best dogs in the world, aren't they?” she asked.
“Well! Yes! They! Are!” I replied a little too loudly, and sat forward watching the little girl and Phoebe writhe around on the
floor together, as there is no love quite as expressive as Boxer love, even though it might be somewhat painful and/or
disgusting at times, but the little girl was as at home with Phoebe as a goat on a mountain top.
The doggy hotel attendant was watching and I made sure my next words were loud enough for her to hear ...
“They're the BEST DOGS IN THE WORLD, AND IT'S NICE TO MEET SOMEONE ELSE WHO KNOWS THAT, EVEN IF THEY DON'T
WORK WITH DOGS FOR ... A LIVING!”
That shamed her good and proper, as she went as red as Snow White's deadly apple and then turned her head, her nose
in the air.
I know it sounds stupid, but it was like a hundred-pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders, as I am a very social
person and after 4 months of being treated like a leper it was starting to wear on my bubbly personality.
So I did what any normal thinking person would do when they have developed an unbudging love for a creature that takes
some experience to get to know. I went on line and joined a Boxer meet up group, where there are actual crowds of
people who have that experience, and the same unbudging love for the often unlovable breed of dog, known as the Boxer.
these soggy, unrecognizable blobs of dark brown gop unceremoniously in the middle of Pet-Smart, or our laps. She
snorts and she snores worse than my ex-husband, which is saying a lot. When she's feeling particularly affectionate she
will put her face as near ours as possible and then in a move reminiscent of a manatee exhaling upon surfacing for air,
jettison dog spit directly into our eyes or mouth, prompting us to welcome her as though we're preparing for a spray tan—
with eyes and mouths tightly shut.
Because of her appearance, she effectively clears sidewalks and aisles of all other forms of life. While walking her
around Town Lake I get looks of pure unadulterated hatred from poodle and wiener dog walkers as they abandon paths
and cut across the grass. Having never had any real attention, she doesn't know how to accept same gracefully, and even
people who are brave enough to approach her are instantly punished by being encased in goo that looks like it came from
an alien seed pod.
I was sitting in Pet-Smart one afternoon near the doggy hotel that Phoebe and I had already been banished from with dirty
looks from the attendant, contemplating automatic waterers, when a little girl about 6 years old and an older woman
came around the corner of the aisle, headed our way.
Oh, here we go, I thought, and waited for them to notice Phoebe and turn around and go back to whence they had come. I
could have moved, but hasten to admit that I am danged tired of doing that, so I sat there, a Phoebe-sized chip on my
shoulder, and defied anybody to take issue with me and my manatee-dog.
As the woman and child meandered our way, lost in a shopping daze, my nerves started jumping; they hadn't noticed
Phoebe yet, although she had certainly noticed them. Even though she's never been exposed to any, to my knowledge,
Phoebe loves children and will stare at them longingly, her nubby little tail jerking spasmodically as these same children
make wide circles around her and dash to safety. Even now she was standing like a castle guard, that little tail almost a
blur, while she waited for the child to come closer.
Oh, crap, I'm thinking. This could be bad. Phoebe is scary enough from a distance, and they're practically right on top of
her and have no idea! My hand tightened down on Phoebe's leash and I gently began to reel her in, until she was standing
between my legs, but she was still within a tongue's reach of the little girl.
Then, almost in slow motion, the little girl's head turned and her eyes went as big around as salad plates. She let out a
sound that was something like, “weeeeee!” and her knees buckled and down she went. Oh, my god, she's fainted! I
thought. I closed my eyes, wondering if a person could get arrested just for scaring a kid, and trying to calculate if I had
enough money in my savings account for bail. I was starting to swoon myself and wondered if I would get any credit from
the cops if I fainted, too.
Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a giggle and opened one eye to look down. The little girl was hanging around
Phoebe's neck and Phoebe was licking her face fit to beat the band, her little tail just whirling in perfect circles.
“He looks just like Gilligan!” the little girl cried, while her grandmother gazed down at her smiling.
“We have a boxer at home,” the woman explained, and I was so overcome with gratitude I almost cried. Okay my eyes
actually did mist up a tiny bit. It's amazing how powerful acceptance of someone you love can be, when you're
accustomed to being shunned. “They're the best dogs in the world, aren't they?” she asked.
“Well! Yes! They! Are!” I replied a little too loudly, and sat forward watching the little girl and Phoebe writhe around on the
floor together, as there is no love quite as expressive as Boxer love, even though it might be somewhat painful and/or
disgusting at times, but the little girl was as at home with Phoebe as a goat on a mountain top.
The doggy hotel attendant was watching and I made sure my next words were loud enough for her to hear ...
“They're the BEST DOGS IN THE WORLD, AND IT'S NICE TO MEET SOMEONE ELSE WHO KNOWS THAT, EVEN IF THEY DON'T
WORK WITH DOGS FOR ... A LIVING!”
That shamed her good and proper, as she went as red as Snow White's deadly apple and then turned her head, her nose
in the air.
I know it sounds stupid, but it was like a hundred-pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders, as I am a very social
person and after 4 months of being treated like a leper it was starting to wear on my bubbly personality.
So I did what any normal thinking person would do when they have developed an unbudging love for a creature that takes
some experience to get to know. I went on line and joined a Boxer meet up group, where there are actual crowds of
people who have that experience, and the same unbudging love for the often unlovable breed of dog, known as the Boxer.
| Phoebe |
Click below to meet ...
| (5.0 out of 5 stars) Author is terrific and the story is a great read, August 3, 2009 Patrick G (Oklahoma) I have read/reviewed several unpublished shorter works by this author and they are all terrific. This novel is not an exception to the general rule regarding the wonderful reading experience in store for someone who wants a realistic slice of life that is entertaining and uplifting family story. |
| (5.0 out of 5 stars) Great Story, August 23, 2009 Larry Jennings (Arkansas) Although this is not the kind of story I normally read,when I started reading it I just couldn't stop. Then my wife read it and she loved it too.I think anyone would enjoy this book,no matter what you usually read. |
| (5.0 out of 5 stars) A Great Read!, August 21, 2009 L. Lott (NJ USA) Right off, you need to know this reviewer was already addicted to CJ Mouser's work via her many short stories. So it was with eager anticipation I read Salvation Home, her first published novel. Let's just say I wasn't disappointed! In it we get to follow the saga of the Eddy family as they attempt to flee the vacuum that was the great dust bowl. The fact that she has the Eddy's escaping to the east and south sets this tale apart from those that followed the migration to the west and California. When most folk had bowed shoulders under the Load of Life, May Eddy willed her spine and shoulders square, and leads us on a heroic journey of triumph. By the way, May isn't the only strong character developed in this story. All along the way we're introduced to an exciting range of personalities that end up shaping her life. I think you'll enjoy meeting them!I Guess I shouldn't be surprised that CJ's first novel shares the same weakness of her short stories; it ends! Now I have no choice but to await her next work. Thanks, CJ Mouser, for the ride! |
| (5.0 out of 5 stars) An Excellent Read, August 16, 2009 Dennis R. Nebgen (Irvona, PA) This is a down to earth, down home book that keeps the readers interest in the story. A simpler time of people with simpler lives that leaves us longing for an era when the important things really mattered. You won't be disappointed. |
<script type="text/javascript"><!--google_ad_client = "pub-4486306026751750";/* CJ Mouser Home */google_ad_slot = "3300560947";google_ad_width = 300;google_ad_height = 250;//--></script><script type="text/javascript"src="http://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/show_ads.js"></script>