DINNER AT SEVEN - a romance novel - an excerpt

 DINNER AT SEVEN - a romance novel 

an excerpt - page 99 - 101

It is eleven a.m. Breakfast is over. David and I are both unusually quiet and thoughtful. Tomorrow David will be off to Montreal for a week. Now that we have finally reached an honest understanding, I will miss him while he is away. "It will feel like a year, David," I murmur into his ear. "I am at home in your arms and for an entire week I will feel homeless."

"Marsha, darling, no matter where I am or who I am with, my heart will always be with you. Please remember this always and you will never feel alone again."

The dreaded moment arrives and, as I say good-bye to David, he makes a promise to me that he will call me every evening while he is in Montreal. "I love you, Marsha."

"And I love you, David." It is with reluctance that I leave his apartment and drive home in order to change for my aunt's luncheon.

I arrive back at my apartment. I decide that, instead of brooding about our impending separation, I will bury myself in my work. There are a tremendous number of things to organize. Now that I have leased my office I have a frightening amount of shopping to do for office furniture and fixtures; frightening because money will be tight as a drum for a while and there is so little time.

Working for Derek will not leave me a lot of free time for the running around that will have to be done.  I will have to find a versatile assistant who will be willing to work hard for little pay.

I have all these thoughts racing around in my head.  I spend the next hour going over and over again my bank records; credit references and, of course, my agency will need a name.  I want a name that will inspire confidence in the advertising campaign I intend to launch on my own behalf. Because my financial situation is more than a little shaky, I think maybe I should call the agency Marsha's Madness.

After a while I glance at my watch and I'm surprised to discover that it is one o'clock already. I will have to hurry with my shower and dress if I am going to meet Aunt Iris at two.

I inwardly curse the heavy traffic. Glancing at my watch I realize that I will be a little late arriving at Frederick's. Finally, upon reaching my destination, I park my car and quickly inspect my make-up in the rear view mirror.

I had dressed hurriedly for this luncheon and, although I realize my make-up is not as perfect as I would like it to be, I decide that my appearance isn't that important.  After all, I think with a chuckle, the silly old codger will be wrapped up in Aunt Iris and she in him. Neither of them will care what I look like.

With confidence I enter the restaurant. It isn't difficult to spot my aunt and I have to smile when I view the gentleman with her. I can only see his back but at least this one has some hair. I can't count the number of men I've been previously introduced to who had thinning hair or no hair at all.

Even from this distance I can see that Aunt Iris is smartly dressed, as always. This time she is wearing a pale blue silk dress which is further softened by a barely yellow chiffon scarf at her neck. They are seated at a table not far from the entrance.

As I approach their table, Aunt Iris spots me and waves. I raise my hand in return and, as I do so, the gentleman turns in my direction with a smile that quickly fades.

"No!" I scream inwardly. My hand still in mid-air I turn and, blinded by tears, I tear, sobbing, out of the restaurant. I can't get to my car fast enough. With shaking hands I turn the ignition. Then I see him standing in the parking lot. David! My David! My David is my aunt's lover? No! No! No!

DINNER AT SEVEN - a romance novel  is available on all Amazon sites in both Kindle and Paperback formats.

You will find it, along with all my books, on my Amazon author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Or you can find it directly at https://www.amazon.ca/Dinner-At-Seven-romance-novel/dp/1508636184/ref=sr_1_1?crid=K70U5P73RES0&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.whMpDnM7iy6tCInxT1aC8A.yBlgbXHex9q9uDAsTMBXFP5eSImxJS5X2iqyiH7Rv2w&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+dinner+at+seven&qid=1768666314&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+dinner+at+seven%2Cstripbooks%2C117&sr=1-1

Moose Road, a Canadian Tragedy - an excerpt

 An excerpt from Moose Road, a Canadian Tragedy

Chapter 10:  Pg 78 - 80

"ALICE MacDONALD"

My name is Alice. I am the wife of Robert MacDonald. My marriage to Rob automatically changed my surname. I used to be a Murphy. Now that I am Mrs. MacDonald I sometimes wonder what happened to Alice Murphy. I think she still exists somewhere deep down inside of me but for the most part she remains hidden. She has her reasons for hiding but most of the time she is not into sharing what her justification might be. Alice Murphy has been hiding for a very long time.

Physically I have changed a lot over the years. Long ago when I was young I used to be considered by most to be a pretty girl. I had a healthy body and a healthy, curious mind. More than thirty years ago I pledged my marriage vows and I became a MacDonald. Yes, I have changed physically but I have also changed in many other ways that are perhaps less obvious to an observer. Maybe it is marriage that has changed me; maybe it is life itself.

Today I have many names. I am known as Alice MacDonald or Mrs. MacDonald or Rob's wife or Marty's mother or Eunice's daughter-in-law. I answer to all these names and more. I am all the roles I play.

I don't imagine I will ever be just Alice again. Sometimes I wonder if I ever was. The older I get the less often I take the time to remember her even though I do know that it is good to remember; good for the soul.

I remember our first meeting. I was a young girl, only twenty-one, when I first met Rob. I was waitressing at the cafe in Mansey and Rob was a regular customer coming in as he did from the farm every Friday evening. Each week he would come to the restaurant where he would meet up with some of his beer-bellied buddies.

I knew Rob was a dairy farmer and far from rich but at the same time I came to know him as a man who knew how to be generous. He was one of the best tippers in the restaurant; sometimes the only one. And Rob, unlike most of his male friends, did not boast a beer belly.

Locals are cheap buggers in my opinion but Robert, well, Rob was different. I don't believe he was just putting on an act to make himself look good to me. I don't think he was generous and kind just because he wanted to date me. But even if that was the case and he was trying to impress me, I am happy to say that he was successful in his effort. He made a very good impression on me.

And I am willing to admit that he did try very hard to please me. Gifts of flowers and candy often came my way. Rob was very successful in his attempt to win me over. He impressed me enough so that when he got down on one knee, presented me with the lovely diamond cluster engagement ring and asked for my hand in marriage, I wasted no time in saying yes.

I can't say that I was ever madly in love with Robert but I respected him. I did and I do still care about him.

I wasn't too thrilled about moving into his mother's house. Just like any young bride, I would have preferred a house of my own but there was no way around this predicament. Neither Rob nor I had the money for a down payment in order to buy a place of our own.

When Robert proposed marriage to me, his plan was to continue working on the family farm.  For this reason we needed to live nearby. It is sad but true that there were no affordable house rentals in the area. No, we had no choice but to move into the house of Robert's mother.

Yes, I knew the situation when I accepted Rob's proposal. I can't say that the knowledge didn't disappoint me but I could not let this disappointment stand in the way of my marriage.

I desperately wanted to get away from my own family, particularly my father. My father was a man who held a bottle of good Canadian Rye whiskey a lot longer and a lot more often than he ever held a steady job.

Yes, I would have preferred a home of my own. What woman wouldn't? But I have to admit that the house of Rob's mother, Eunice, was a beautiful old place.

I was born and raised in the Town of Mansey. I lived with my parents and two brothers in a tiny two bedroom grey shingle-sided bungalow. My parents slept in one bedroom; my two brothers shared the other bedroom. Being the only girl, I had no room of my own. I slept on the pull-out couch in the living-room. Other than the blanket over my body, I never had any privacy whatsoever.

I hated it when my daddy was into his beer and whiskey. He would leave the kitchen and come into the living-room where I was trying to sleep. Natter, natter, natter; he would ramble on and on about what a hard life he was forced to lead. He would moan and groan about how nobody understood his problems. My father often kept me awake into the late hours of the night while my mother and brothers enjoyed a peaceful sleep in their rooms.

Daddy never did anything to hurt me. No, he never got out of line if you know what I mean. Daddy wasn't what anyone would call a bad man but, to be frank, he was a drunk. Too many nights he kept me sleepless while he whiskey-talked a blue streak into the late night hours.

I carried anger always. I should have been given the other bedroom. And why wasn't I given a bedroom? My brothers could have slept on the pull-out couch. A girl needs her privacy. Why didn't my mother know that? Why didn't it occur to my father?

Oh, daddy probably knew that the boys wouldn't let him rant and rave the way he did with me. He knew my brothers would just tell him to shut up and go sleep it off. Daddy probably knew that I was the only one in the family stupid enough to put up with his unrelenting verbal diarrhea.

It was unfair! Totally unfair! But that was my life before my marriage to Robert.

Moose Road - a Canadian Tragedy is found exclusively on all Amazon sites in Kindle, Paperback and Audiobook formats.

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You will find Moose Road, a Canadian Tragedy, along with all my other books on my Amazon Author's Page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

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REAWAKENING - an excerpt

 Chapter 9, Page 73 - 74

A Different Kind of Love

Jim was just about ready to leave for work the following morning when his wall screen lit up.

"Another batch of Newolds is scheduled to arrive this afternoon, Jim." Marion's crisp,no nonsense voice informed him.

Caught off guard, Jim could only hope his supervisor was not reading his thoughts. They were not complimentary.

"Okay, Marion," he responded and, just like that, she was gone and the wall screen became dark again.

He left his personal space, stepped onto the travel platform and arrived just outside the main entrance of the Reawakening Centre. He used his pass and in no time at all he was in his work area prepared to do whatever needed to be done to get yet another lot of Newolds settled into their new environment.  Breaking the good posture rule, he slumped in the chair behind his neat and organized desk and awaited the delivery of the new data files.

At last an efficient Midescent stepped off the travel platform and handed the records over to him. Jim knew it was important to appear alert at all times but especially when at his desk in his work space.  He dismissed the Clerical and made greater effort to straighten himself up in his chair. It was impossible to know when The Powers would decide to keep him or anyone under observation.

He scanned the files pertaining to the new arrivals and noted there were nine Newolds to be put through initial inspection that day. With a sigh, he realized that this meant he would soon have sixteen Newolds to monitor, study, and guide.  Sixteen was considered to be a very heavy, demanding work load.  Jim flirted with the flickering thought that he simply did not want to do the job. He knew exactly what he wanted. His greatest desire was to focus his attention on one Nufem Newold.  He wanted to devote all his time and energy to Linda.  But, of course, Jim knew that was out of the question.

One did not live on Notsew without knowing that it was the obligation of each and every citizen to justify his existence.  In Jim's case this meant that it was his duty to apply analytical thought to situations as they arose, especially those which seemed in any way unusual or troublesome.  It was the job of every Analytical Prime to devise new and better methods of dealing with the Newolds. It was also their responsibility to do everything in their power to create a smooth transition of the Newolds to the Midescent phase.

These were some of the thoughts Jim was processing when, out of the blue, with sudden clarity he exclaimed aloud to the empty space.  "Why, that's it! I believe I've found a way to postpone Linda's indoctrination!"

He was startled by his curious and abnormal verbal outburst.  He trusted no one had heard him. His eyes darted in all directions while he hoped no one was paying any attention to him.  Jim knew he was walking on dangerous ground. He was putting his own stable position on Notsew into jeopardy. He also knew that if he didn't start doing a better job of censoring his own behaviour he may soon find his head on the proverbial chopping block.

REAWAKENING is found exclusively on all Amazon sites in Kindle, Paperback, and audiobook formats.  

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https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

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Sara, a Canadian Saga - an excerpt

 Pgs. 122 - 125

There weren't a lot of restaurants in Summerside and, although Roy knew his prospects were good, his wallet had not yet grown fat. Again they sat across from each other in the Chinese restaurant.

They had finished eating.  Sara started to slide out from the booth in preparation to leave when Roy said, "Wait, Sara. Sit here with me a minute longer."

Curious, she did as he asked then watched as he reached into his pocket and withdrew something.  She noticed the sheepish grin on his face and, never knowing what he was going to do next to embarrass her, she asked, "What tricks are you up to this time, Roy Gordon?"

"No tricks.  I want ya to have this, Sara," he said, handing her a little box.

She held it in her hand, opened the box and exclaimed, "Oh, Roy! It's lovely!"

"It belonged to my mother," he explained. "I want you to wear it, Sara."

"Does this mean we are officially engaged?" she asked as he slipped the ring onto her finger. "Oh, Roy! It fits perfectly.  Why, it's beautiful!"

She didn't hesitate to accept the ring. That evening Roy and Sara set a wedding date six short months down the road.

The following day, being Sunday, found them settling back into their old routine. Roy played the cornet in the band and Sara attended both the morning and evening Salvation Army meetings. Their routine was broken that evening though. For the first time Roy didn't say his usual good-night to Sara on her front verandah.

Sara had forewarned him about Rebecca's temper so it was a nervous Roy who followed Sara into her house that night.  They found Rebecca sitting in the parlour talking with her boarders.

"I'm home," Sara interrupted. "I've brought someone with me. Can  you come out into the kitchen, mama? she asked.  She didn't want to introduce Roy to the two nosy, old men.

Rebecca was not surprised. She had been expecting this ever since Sara had told her that Roy had asked her to marry him. She followed Sara out into the kitchen and found herself staring at a fidgety, good-looking young man.

"Roy," Sara said, taking Roy by the hand and pulling him forward, "I would like to introduce you to my mother, Rebecca Thompson.  Mama, this is Roy Gordon.

"Evenin', Mrs. Thompson," he said.

"Evening, Roy," she replied.

"Mrs. Thompson," Roy started, "I asked your daughter to be my wife and ......" The well-rehearsed words were trapped in his mouth.  Fear tied his tongue in knots.

"I've accepted, mama," Sara announced jumping to Roy's rescue."

"Well, now, so we're going to have a wedding then, are we? Then we'd better start making some plans."

Sara thought her mother sounded genuinely  pleased.

"When's it going to be?" Rebecca asked. "You'll have to give Corinne enough time to make your gown, Sara, and I'll get on to my friends at the Women's Institute about the wedding supper. You'll get married in the Presbyterian Church where you were properly christened, Sara, so I will talk to the reverend and .....

"We plan to get married in the Salvation Army, mama," Sara interrupted.

"It's like that, is it?" Rebecca was visibly disappointed.

"Roy and I are both senior soldiers in the Army now, mama," Sara explained. "It wouldn't seem right to get married in some other church."

"Wouldn't seem right?" Rebecca snapped. "Wouldn't seem right? Seems to me a mother has some rights when it comes to planning her own daughter's wedding. You will expect me to pay for it, I dare say!"

"Mama," Sara retorted, "we wouldn't think of letting you pay the expense. Would we, Roy?"

Roy, who hadn't given the slightest thought to the expense of a wedding up until now didn't say anything.

"Roy!" Sara insisted, "Would we, Roy?"

"Course we wouldn't, Mrs. Thompson," he answered as he wondered why they wouldn't. He wondered how they would. Didn't the bride's family usually arrange all that stuff?"

He was afraid to look at Sara. He could feel the weight of her disapproval on his inexperienced shoulders.  He was even more afraid to look at his future mother-in-law who was now hunched over the kitchen table, head buried in her arms, crying. More than anything in the world at that moment he wanted to be anywhere else. If there was anything he couldn't stand, it was the forlorn sight and sound of female tears.

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Sara, a Canadian Saga is found exclusively on all Amazon sites in

kindle, paperback, and audiobook formats

for your reading pleasure.

https://www.amazon.ca/Sara-Canadian-Saga-Audrey-Austin/dp/1492848697/ref=sr_1_1?crid=IDXJLAVPFYB5&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.MP4KMXSq6XywuTpYeSmjnw.vT2HTWpLJcvDZkHoDCuGnf8GSXdIeLaCuejFe1XKq1Y&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+Sara+a+Canadian+Saga&qid=1768319721&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+sara+a+canadian+saga%2Cstripbooks%2C107&sr=1-1

Visit my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Boxing Day

 Happy Boxing Day! Boxing Day, long ago, meant it was a day to give gifts to those less fortunate, to the needy, to servants, or employees as we would call them today.

But Boxing Day has not been recognized in this way throughout my long life time. And today, in my opinion, it's nothing more than a day to try to get a good deal on goods from the big box stores.

This major change in the meaning of one day of the year, in my view, is a reflection of how the western society has changed to a more selfish one, as opposed to being centred in self and open to giving.

Now that the corporations offer several bargain shopping days prior to Christmas, Boxing Day is losing even this materialistic meaning.

Still, for many, it's a day off work and that's a good thing. However you are spending this Boxing Day, I hope you are enjoying it.

Thanks to Lisa Usakov of Elliot Lake Today for this article.

 Tucked away in the tranquil landscapes of Elliot Lake, AUDREY AUSTIN has established herself as a remarkable author, enchanting readers with her wide-ranging literary creations.

She just wrapped up her memoir, Almost Time to Leave, where she shares her journey, experiences, and the personal truths that have shaped her life.

At 83, she embodies the belief that creativity knows no bounds. With an impressive collection of 29 published books, poetry and short stories, Austin demonstrates that passion, determination, and a steadfast commitment to storytelling can lead to significant accomplishments, even in the later stages of life.

Austin is a committed retired psycho-spiritual practitioner and counsellor who focuses on supporting women. Additionally, she worked as a transcriber for the Official Examiner's Office in Toronto. Even though she’s retired, clients sometimes reach out for her advice. Her door is always open to those who wish to receive counsel.

After losing her partner Brian eight years ago, she has gracefully embraced life’s challenges. This petite woman, with her white hair, lives in a cozy apartment, where she enjoys the company of her cherished cat, Misty.

Austin was a late bloomer to writing; she began at 65; however, her literary journey began in her childhood in the lively city of Toronto. Austin may have started her life there, but her path has taken her through a tapestry of different places.

From charming small towns to far-off countries, she finally settled in Elliot Lake in April 2000, a decision she fondly calls “the best move I ever made.”

Austin’s first novel, Sara: A Canadian Saga, offers a captivating glimpse into life on Prince Edward Island during the Great Depression. “Writing has always been my dream,” she reflects. “I feel incredibly lucky to be able to follow my passion and connect with readers.”

In crafting her memoir, she delved into her family history, reaching back to her grandmother.

“I couldn’t do a lot of writing about my grandmother because I really didn’t know her that well, so I wrote what I knew.” She explained that while she also documented her parents’ stories, this part mainly served as a prelude to her own journey.

“I then wrote about my childhood and on, up until three weeks ago.”

She began her memoir during a time of good health; however, in November, an unexpected turn of events unfolded.

After a CT scan, her doctor revealed that the scan had detected an irregularity, ultimately uncovering a previously undiagnosed abdominal aortic aneurysm.

“I realized then that I had to finish the memoir, hence the title Almost Time to Leave."

Austin isn’t your typical writer who sticks to just one genre. Instead, she ventures boldly into the worlds of fiction, romance, stories for children and even science fiction, reflecting her limitless enthusiasm for storytelling.

“I feel free; I don’t follow rigid rules, in fact, I have no rules,” she shares with passion. This liberating approach allows her creativity to thrive, letting her words flow with ease. This versatility highlights her creative breadth and shows her desire to connect with a wide array of readers.

Writing her memoirs was not an easy task.

“It was difficult at times; I struggled with which memories I wanted to reveal, and I had to pause quite a few times,” she admits. This honest insight shows the complexity of her journey, reminding us that most writers encounter obstacles.

“For me, memoir writing presents a significant challenge; it is considerably more arduous than writing fiction. Unlike fiction, memoir does not afford the same liberties. Memoir strives for truth, and, as the old adage suggests, truth can, indeed, be stranger, more emotional, and more demanding of an author than fiction.

“My story encompasses numerous years, various events, a multitude of relationships, and a myriad of highs and lows.

“This is a narrative I felt compelled to write. For me, it serves as a source of healing and catharsis, and is replete with my endeavours to approach the truth.”

From touching stories of love and relationships to thought-provoking explorations of the human experience, each book she writes carries her distinct voice and perspective.

“I truly believe in the healing and inspiring power of stories,” she shares. “Writing gives me the chance to delve into the depths of human emotions.”

Drawing from her own life, she often explores themes of resilience, love, and the pursuit of dreams.

“I want to inspire others to chase their dreams, no matter how intimidating it may seem,” she states with passion.

“Writing can feel like a lonely journey, but it doesn’t have to be. I believe that sharing our stories can empower others to find their own voices.”

In today’s digital world, Austin has embraced technology to broaden her reach. Her books are available on Amazon and Kindle, where she has cultivated a loyal readership that eagerly awaits each new release. She is self-published.

Audrey Austin’s literary journey is a celebration of creativity, resilience, and the timeless power of storytelling. As she continues to write and inspire others, her story serves as a powerful reminder that it’s never too late to pursue one’s passions and share one’s voice with the world.

In a society that often overlooks the contributions of older individuals, Austin is a beacon of inspiration, illustrating that the journey of self-discovery and creativity is a lifelong adventure, full of potential at any age.

On top of all her accomplishments, she’s also a self-taught artist, and her home is filled with a remarkable array of her own creations.

Despite her achievements, Austin remains humble. “I am grateful for the opportunity to complete this manuscript. Life is good, and life continues onward. It is my hope that the memoir will help to lead my readers one step closer to their own truth.” CP/ELT

If you are interested in purchasing any of her work, please visit her Amazon site.

https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Keeping It Simple

 Keeping It Simple - Imagine Being Whole is an exploration of the trinity 

which is Meditation, the Seven Major Chakras and Psychospiritual 

Therapy.

When I put together the pages of Keeping It 

Simple my thought was that if this book helps one person in this chaotic 

world I will feel I have accomplished a job well done. I was unprepared for 

the number of people who have come to me and told me that the reading 

of this book for them has been positively life-changing. For this I am 

happy and I am grateful.

I wrote this book 11 years ago.  I'm happy to say that it is still doing well 

on Amazon.  If your focus for the new year is self-improvement and 

personal growth, then please check it out.

https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Merry Christmas!

 

Merry Christmas to my readers.  I want to thank you for your support of my creative writing.  You are much appreciated and your purchases have inspired me to keep the ink flowing over these many years.

To you and to yours, I wish a very happy Christmas and here's to all good things coming your way in 2026.

Merry Christmas!

 

Thank you to my readers for your support throughout 2025.  I look forward to your continued support and positive reviews on Good Reads and Amazon sites in 2026.

I'm very happy to announce my latest publication which is now available in paperback exclusively on all Amazon sites.

I'm thrilled that Almost Time To Leave has received 5 stars in its first review on Amazon.

Please check it out, along with my 28 other paperback publications.   My author's page is found at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Christmas Season 2025

It is the season!  Soon it will be Christmas Day, 2025.  And what a year it has been!  I love Christmas!

As a little girl, Christmas meant eyes glued to the Eatons Christmas Catalogue, constantly changing my mind about what I wanted Santa to bring me.  Christmas meant singing Christmas Carols at Sunday School, hearing again the story of Mary and Joseph, their journey to the manger where the baby Jesus was born.  

Christmas meant a Christmas party at church with Santa's visit, and gifts, cheerful singing, and another party at Dad's workplace with more gifts from Santa.

Christmas Eve meant so much excitement we kids couldn't get to sleep in anticipation of Santa actually coming to visit our home.  We knew he was magic because we didn't even have a fireplace and we had no idea how he managed to get into our house.  And Christmas morning wanting to rush to the living room to see what Santa left under the tree for us, only to be stopped once again by Daddy who insisted we eat our breakfast first as he did every Christmas, though not any other day of the year.  His action really did add to our excitement, as was his plan.

Christmas Day meant Mommy roasting a delicious turkey with all the trimmings; visits by relatives, much  joy and happiness.

As a young mother, Christmas continued to be all about Christmas trees, Santa Claus, turkey dinners, the happiness of the kids, and visits by relatives.  No focus on church events, but always the remembrance that Christmas was the day we celebrated the birthday of Jesus.

As a grandmother, Santa continued to reign. I was becoming the observer.  The joy of the grandkids is precious and I feel blessed by the welcome to participate.

As a great-grandmother, I'm even more of an observer.  Yes, family traditions continue but now I'm the one who can sit back and enjoy all the efforts of the Moms and Dads, knowing the children are filled with the excitement and the magic of Christmas.

As a senior woman remembering all Christmases past, I feel emotional, but these are peaceful emotions.  I have been blessed to celebrate many Christmases, with one exception, always with loved ones, always with the presence of caring others.

Remembering the one exception, it is a happy memory.  Dudley and I were alone that Christmas.  My family all lived quite far away and I'd met few people in my new town.  I spent that quiet Christmas reading, listening to music, and I enjoyed phone calls from far-away family.  I'm grateful that I've enjoyed the blessing of that Christmas.  It was neither happy nor sad.  It was one of reflection, learning, and feeling at one with myself.

Most Christmases have been happy ones.

Some Christmases have been ones where sadness ruled.  My dear sister, Muriel, passed away several years ago on December 23rd.  Another dear sister, Eleanor, passed away on December 17th.  The Christmas following the passing of Brian was one when I was with family, but in my heart I was not really present at all.   

Some other Christmases were visited by remembrance of beloved pets who once filled my life with happiness and purpose.

But life is good and I feel gratitude for every Christmas season.  Life is difficult for too many today and sometimes I fear that the joy, the meaning, the magic of Christmas is being lost in the  Black Fridays, the Boxing Days, the shopping frenzy that does its best to steal the peace, the purpose, and the promise of Christmas.

However you spend your Christmas this year, I hope it is one that will be a blessing in your life. 

Merry Christmas to all my family and friends!  💕

If I Had My Life to Live Over - by Nadine Satire

 IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER  by Nadine Satir

If I had my life to live over I'd dare to make more mistakes next time.  I'd relax. I would limber up. I would be stiller than I have been this trip.

I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans.

I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I'd have fewer imaginary ones.

You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day.  Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it over again, I'd have more of them.

In fact,  I'd try to have something else.  Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day.  I've been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute.

If I had to do it again, I would travel lighter than I have.

If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds.

I would pick more daisies.

 TODAY LET'S ADD ANOTHER DAISY TO OUR BOUQUET

Audio Books - Thanks for Listening

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Of my 28 paperbacks available on all Amazon sites, five of them are also available at Audibles, Itunes, and Amazon as audio books.    Thanks for checking them out.  

These five titles are available in kindle, paperback, and audiobook formats.

Check out my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Almost Time to Leave

 

                                                                   

       

I spent most of this day pounding the keys on my laptop.  So far, I have 16,418 words written in my current work in progress titled Almost Time to Leave.

This past year my creative writing achievements were two books for children: one titled "One Day With Misty" and the other, "Elephant and the Bumbly Bee".

These children's books indicate that I am not ignoring creative writing which has always been my passion, but I confess to being and feeling more scattered this year.   I've been finding it difficult to dedicate myself to heads down and typing.  It has been much easier to pick up the brush and paint or to fill my hands with clay wondering what I can possibly create.

I am very aware of my scattering.   This morning I made a decision, one that I hope I will keep, and that is to return my focus to creative writing.  I really do want to get "Almost Time to Leave" completed.  I have been, off and on, working on it for about one year now and its current 16,418 words mean that I am very far from completion.

I began seriously writing creatively eighteen years ago and I now have 28 published paperbacks, 5 audio books, and many more kindle offerings.  I have always been grateful to my home town supporters who buy and read my books, and I'm also grateful to those who buy my books online from Amazon.

Many years ago a friend talked to me about the importance of being one-eyed.  In other words to be focused.  I have been much too scattered this year; attempting to do too many things, going in too many directions.  In the process, I have been ignoring many aspects of my life that have always been meaningful and important.

In order to be a writer, I need to spend time alone at home.  

I have decided that once this weekend is over, I will do just that.   Some activities will need to be put on hold.   So, if I should tell you that I will no longer be doing this, or doing that, thank you for understanding.  It's not that I haven't been enjoying all the this and that.  It's that there are just too many of them.

November is a new month.  NaNoWriMo takes place in November.

I plan to take my 16,418 words into this NaNo event with the aim of bringing the total up to at least 50,000 words.

This writer needs to be one-eyed and focused.   Wish me good luck.     

Thanks for checking out my books at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

UPDATE:  After writing this blog article, I attempted to go to NaNoWriMo to get myself registered for the 2025 event.  No one is more shocked and surprised to learn that, apparently due to some scandal in 2025, NaNoWriMo is no more.   Hmm!  So much for my plan but this is actually very interesting because it is a reminder to me that life is and always will be unpredictable. Now that NaNoWriMo is out of the picture for me, I need to be able to find myself another more predictable and reliable method to fulfill my goal of completing the manuscript.  Again, wish me luck!  Thank  you.  

I Give Thanks

 

"There is Still No Room at the Inn"

When I painted this picture just last week, in my mind I was thinking of the many refugees around our broken world, and of the many who are suffering without proper housing, food, and other basic necessities of life because of natural disaster or war.

I wasn't thinking of Canadian citizens living in Toronto or Thunder Bay or Elliot Lake.

I'm a proud Canadian living in Canada, and I am thankful that I, and also my family members, are doing okay.  That is not to say we don't sometimes have our struggles, our limitations, our problems to solve.  But we all have a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes to wear, and love to share.

Very recently, in fact just yesterday, I was introduced to chrismustlist through his many videos about homelessness and drug addiction in our beautiful province and throughout the country.

I am aware, with the outrageous cost of housing, the increasing number of souls becoming addicted to life-crushing drugs, that homelessness is on the rise.  At least, I thought I was aware, but watching the videos last evening about Sudbury, London, Thunder Bay, and Toronto shocked me.  

I've often asked how are people, especially young families, managing to live.   How tough it must be to try to get ahead when the outrageous costs of housing and groceries are so very challenging and, for too many, simply out of reach.

I've often asked how is a senior trying to live on OAS and maybe some CPP able to pay for an apartment when rent is equal to income, especially in Canada's larger centres.

Yes, my painting is about refugees.  Imagine being a Canadian citizen living in this rich country of Canada with a lifestyle no easier than that of a refugee.  Imagine a man or a woman who have worked hard their entire lives and struggled to raise a family.   Imagine these people, now in their 'golden years', being forced to sleep in a shop's doorway or in a tent throughout cold Canadian winters.  They never claimed large incomes.  They, like so many, lived pay cheque to pay cheque, never earning enough to buy a home or to accumulate any savings.  Yet, somehow they managed to get by.  And now, with the outrageous rental rates, these Canadian seniors find themselves living on the street.

Watching chrismustlist videos about the homelessness in our Canadian cities made me feel ashamed; ashamed that this has been allowed to happen.

This is Thanksgiving weekend.  I have much reason to feel gratitude.  

I have a thousand questions.  But I don't have a single answer.

In this year of 2025, have we learned nothing about empathy, caring, compassion?  Even in our small town of Elliot Lake, I'm told there are those who are homeless.  I do know that there are many seniors who struggle and who, each month, have little food on the table once they have paid their rent.  

How very sad that in this 21st century, there is still no room at the inn.

I hope, for you, that it is a very happy Thanksgiving.  There is always something to be grateful for.

As tough as it is for many in this country, I believe we are more fortunate than most countries in our broken world.   But what is this saying about our world?

No, this is not the first or only time citizens have been tested.  Yes, during the Great Depression, people suffered greatly. There was no health care, no benefits, no welfare, no help.  

Today we have health care, we have child care benefits, we have dental care, we have ODSP, we have some geared-to-income housing, and other benefits to assist families.   

All these government programmes are, I hope, helping the situation but when a soul is homeless, with no address, how can he have access to these benefits?   And even those who receive benefits are receiving a bandaid when surgery is needed.  

I've heard it said that those receiving benefits are not encouraged to work, to earn, because any dollars they may be able to bring in are deducted from their benefits.  How can anyone get ahead if this is the way things are?

The working poor usually manage somehow to get through life.  It's never easy, but it's proven that it can be done.  But when the working poor reach retirement age with no bank account, no property, they are expected to live on the small amount of OAS and CPP; expected to survive when their basic living expenses exceed their income.  These people worked hard all their lives.  How sad if their reward for their labour is walking cold city streets, living in a car or a tent, or  finding a shop's doorway to catch some sleep.

I don't have an answer.   But, surely, we can do better.

"There, but for the grace of God, go I."