Flowers are in full bloom. The sheep are waiting for completion of the lion and the lamb.
So, I’m trying to come up with an interesting series of posts. As I squint my eyes and scrunch my brow, I take a bite of apple pie. Gee whizz, I think, I need something that should relate to my books. Maybe the Johnny Vic series? Or should it be John Victor’s adventures. After all “The SEED” was nominated by a professor to be a required reading choice for Green Mountain College freshmen. I take another bite of apple pie and I’m reminded that Horace Greeley loved apples. And Johnny Vic ate an unusual meal with Horace G, including a pudding that wasn’t really a pudding at all (as we know it to be). And he ate a wonderful meal with the Pilgrims at the very first Thanksgiving celebration. So, maybe I should write about the food favorites of famous people of history? What do you think? In the meantime, feast your eyes on this:
I couldn’t resist this shot last fall.Knobby treesfalling leavesred, yellow, goldtrulyasight to behold!
Just got a call from my brother, the “real” Johnny Vic. Treasure hunter John Victor is getting ready for a summer stint at his latest gold mine in Alaska. Word has it my nephew, Scott, a Vermonter, is gearing up to join him. In the meantime, John reminded me that awhile ago he had a chance to talk with Todd Palin, the husband of Sarah Palin. He also gave Piper Palin one of my Johnny Vic books. Hmm. I’m wondering if she read it. Who else has them? Well, Gloria Vanderbilt, Senator Betty Little and Pulitzer Prize winner Ron Powers. They all had been guests on the daily radio talk show I hosted for about nine years, called COFFEE BREAK. I guess I’m an incorrigible name dropper. Speaking of dropping things . . . thought I’d drop in a photo of our outdoor sanctuary for prayer and healing, called the House of Angels. It has a massive 20-foot cross on the top of a cliff in a natural amphitheater setting. Visit my website, www.annrichduncan.com and click the “About Don” button to see more. Speaking of name dropping, the biggest and best name to drop into any conversation? Jesus!
It’s time for John Victor to take on the feds . . . all the way up to the White House. My feisty hero gets wind of a devious plot that’ll allow the prez to initiate martial law. And he’ll stop it, too . . . if he can just get himself unburied. After all, he’s south of Tucson, east of Williston, and three feet below the ground. Buried alive! Not familiar with John Victor? Check him out at www.annrichduncan.com where you can get a sneak peek of his first adventure, “The SEED”.
Speaking of sneak peeks. How’s this for a beautiful image? A west wind captures a leaf and pins it to a tree at www.christshouseofangels.org.
Living at a place called the House of Angels, you might think we’re used to healings and miracles. Well, they do seem to happen here that’s for sure. You may have seen my post during the holidays when I witnessed the healing of my shingles . . . and now, it looks like He has blessed us again. Our little Lucy, the runt of the litter that we took in about 18 years ago, (which makes her, what? 100+?) seemed to be on death’s door all last year. I mean, there was blood coming out of her nose. She lost so much weight she was down to 3.12 pounds. And her beautiful kitty eyes? They were blood red. Doctor Scott was gently trying to prepare me for the worst. Her heart was bad. And the meds (we tried several antibiotics) for the sinus/respiratory problem made her sick. She might not make it thru the summer, he said. But right now? Her fur is softer and fuller than ever. Her eyes are clear. Her nose is clear. What caused the turnaround? It was daily applications of Echinacea/Goldenseal plus several servings of raw hamburger. I boil about a cup of water with a sprinkling of sea salt, then pour a few tablespoons into a little cup and add enough Echinacea powder from a capsule to make the water green. Then I gently wipe her eyes and soak her cheeks with a gauze pad dipped in it. Each little cup of the mixture lasts for a few days (I never dip the used pad back into it!!). I bet she weighs four pounds by now. And with each treatment I pray. (Last mentioned, but certainly not the least in importance.) TYG!
So it’s like this: If you erupt with shingles you should get the meds within three days, or they may not be able to stop the advance of this horrrrifffffically painful virus. Of course, I had it for five days before I knew what it was. Ouch. Emergency physician and the ophthalmologist both said the meds they gave me may not stop it from blinding me. Huh? Well, they didn’t know I had angels and prayers on my side!! A guest speaker, a prophet no less (she reminded me of Tess on Touched by An Angel), well, she pulled me out of my seat in church and bellowed, “Not today. Not today! The Lord God says you are not going to die or give in to your illness today!” Well, less than a minute before she locked eyeballs with me I had given up (the pain was just tooooooo much) and was thinking about my bottle of pain killers. So, she had all the women pray for me. And one said, “Hug that cross your husband erected.” At that moment, I felt little flutters on my eyelid. All I could think of was angel wings circling around my eye.
Fast forward. Three hours later, the emergency doc says, “here’s the prescription but I’m not sure it’ll save your eye.” I heard the same thing from the Ophthalmologist the next day (Monday before Thanksgiving). However, on Wednesday (the day before Thanksgiving), I got the urge to trudge up (in the rain and sleet) to the cross here at the House of Angels. My eye was swollen almost entirely closed and the lid felt like cardboard. But, after intense prayer with my face snugged against that cross, the eye suddenly felt normal. After 45 minutes in the sleet, I went home. Checked the mirror. It was normal! And my coat, scarf & hat? Totally dry!! Praise God! www.ChristsHouseofAngels.org.
We had a beautiful ceremony at our House of Angels yesterday (Easter Sunday). The House of Angels? It’s our outdoor sanctuary for prayer and healing. To see it, go to www.annrichduncan.com and click the “About Don” button at the top. It’s a very special place. In the meantime, here’s the next few pages from The SEED, my novel of suspense.
. . . in the last installment, Melvin was thrashing around because of a nightmare involving giant mosquitoes. Soooo, here we go:
Melvin dialed Ricardo’s number. He scowled. Ricardo was a squirmy fellow with a squeaky little voice, even if he was a big shot with the FDA. Melvin only put up with the man because he often came through with easy jobs that paid good money. Very good money!
The ringing stopped and Melvin waited for the beep before leaving his coded message, “The soup’s hot–time to eat.” He knew that Ricardo would be glad to hear that the enhancer had been added to the jet fuel without a hitch. Smooth as Mom’s pumpkin pie, he murmured as he hung up.
A glance at the clock told Melvin there was still plenty of time for sleep. He yawned and scratched his expansive belly with long, satisfying strokes on his way back to the couch. He hoped Ricardo’d show up with the money before he had to leave for his shift as a security guard at the Miller Building.
As he drifted off to sleep, Melvin smiled. He expected to make a big score there, too.
CHAPTER 7: Is it a bomb?
When the mail clerk dropped the battered package on his desk, FDA executive Bob Jette had a premonition. Could this be a bomb? You never know these days–especially when you work in a federal building. He quickly dismissed the idea. Heck, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about–they take precautions with packages these days . . . even here in the Food and Drug Administration.
He turned it over. There was no return address, but the postal mark was from Tennessee. He frowned. He did not know anyone from Tennessee and he hadn’t been working on any apps from there, either. He tore it open and peered inside. “Hmm. It’s a video.” The video had a handwritten message on its label. “See that this gets to . . .”
“Hell’s bells! The ink’s smeared.”
The only other part of the message that Bob could make out was the first three letters of the name of the person who sent it. He thought it said, “P-e-r.” So, who do I know with a last name that starts with p-e-r? He shrugged. Oh well . . . maybe if I move on to something else, it’ll come to me. As he sorted through the rest of his mail, a name popped into Bob’s head–‘Timothy Perkins. Of course! Commander Perkins was here last fall, looking into a matter for the Army’s R&D Unit. I bet he wants me to pass this on to his people. But, then again–why would he send it to me if he wants THEM to get it? Bob tried to recall his sessions with Lieutenant Commander Timothy Perkins. He works with General Carrey and that Colonel they call C.D., so I guess he’s honest–I know they’re good guys. Bob pursed his lips as he pictured the man they called Perkins. He’d been impressed by his sharp mind and his ability to process reams of data. He wondered if Perkins had a photographic memory.
Bob decided to watch the tape before taking any action. He stuffed it into his briefcase, thinking he’d watch it while his wife Carla was at her P-T-O meeting.
The rest of the day dragged along as Bob busied himself with the usual paperwork and confirmation calls. With each hour, he grew more impatient to see what was on the mysterious video. In Bob’s estimation, five o’clock did not come soon enough.
After they enjoyed a quiet dinner together, Bob gave Carla a peck on the cheek. He watched intently as she buttoned her jacket, noticed how her hair bounced with each movement. Moments later, he stared nervously as she nosed her car out of the driveway. It’s funny, he thought, how you notice the little things when you’re scared. Scared? Where’d that come from? It’s just a video.
. . . . that’s it for this one. Thank you for coming this far. Please let me know what you think in the comment box. To order The SEED, or any of the Johnny Vic historical adventures, go to my website: www.annrichduncan.com.