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Wreck of the Nebula Dream— a review June 10, 2013

Posted by Pamela/Pilar in Uncategorized.
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Do you remember all the obstacles faced by the survivors of the Poseidon Adventure? Did you cringe at the fate of the passengers left to die on the Titanic? Did your skin crawl when reading about the “medical experiments” performed on holocaust victims? I remember those emotions, and they all come into play when reading Veronica Scott’s space opera, the Wreck of the Nebula Dream. This book is one heck of a bargain, and it lacks the usual problems associated with Amazon Digital Services as publisher. The only down side is that something like 60% of the apostrophes are turned the wrong way.

Although not a perfect story, this one is darned close. The hero is, well, heroic, but not arrogant. The heroine is a great side kick. There are kids, a bit of fantasy and magic, and some stock characters, too. The story does take a little while to get going (in media res would have helped this author) but once the disasters start happening, one thing leads to another, and the action is constant. I really liked this novel.

While it is available in print, I read the Kindle version, and I didn’t get much sleep the night I purchased it. That is not a complaint, but I think I need a nap now….

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White Roses May 13, 2012

Posted by Pamela/Pilar in Uncategorized.
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When I was a young girl, my mother always went into our yard and plucked roses for us to wear on Mother’s Day. Until I reached my tenth birthday, she wore a red rose, as I did. But that year, she went to another bush and selected a delicate white rose with just a hint of pink. As a curious youngster, I asked her why she did not wear one of “Nanny’s roses” since our red rose bush had grown from a cutting of the ones which graced my paternal grandmother’s yard.

She gently reminded me that Grandma Blackstock had died, so she was now supposed to wear a white rose. My red one told the world, or our small church, that my mother lived.

Fast forward more than forty years, and I stood in church today, the same church, but in a much larger building with a congregation ten times larger; and after hearing our three ministers all tout the virtues of motherhood, I looked around to see if anyone was wearing a rose. Across three rows of pews, I saw two ladies wearing florist created white corsages. None of the ladies around me wore roses, of any color, and my yard does not even have a white rose bush. My jacket today was a mosaic of white roses, but I rather doubt that anyone noticed.

Maybe I should plant a white rose bush, because I can’t live through a mother’s day without remembering my wonderful mother, who wore a white rose out of respect for her mom.