Barbara Ellen Brink

Barbara's Thin Line Between Truth & Fiction

Novelist

Dreaming in Gold, Silver & Bronze

By 1 Comment

With the summer Olympics warming up in London, we are reminded of what makes a great athlete: perseverance, focus, stamina, hard work, blood, sweat and tears.

Okay, there may be a few more things leading up to the big event, like:

1. Parents willing to cart their kid around to every sport event, tryout, and contest. 2. Sponsors to pay for all those sweatbands, tennis balls, skating lessons and frilly outfits (or tiny, body-hugging swimsuits)

3. A coach who knows how to train and mold a young person into a powerful machine.

4. And last but not least, a team of worthy shoemaker elves to keep them in footwear.

Some athletes are naturals. Not to say they don’t have to work and sweat and persevere, but no matter how hard the next guy works, it will never be good enough to beat the natural. Unless he breaks something. Obviously that was the thought process in the figure skating competition back in 1994 when Tonya Harding had her ex-hubby plan an attack on Nancy Kerrigan to bash her knee so she wouldn’t qualify for the Olympics. But thankfully, most people try to rise above such poor, white trash, mentality.

Every Olympic season we not only get to watch the greatest athletes in the world run, jump, skate, ski, swim, and sometimes fall, but we also get a full and equally dramatic life story. The media loves a horrific, grief-filled saga to fill in the time between races or matches or whatever. The sadder, the better. If an athlete’s entire family was blown up in a Himalayan disco bombing while on a pilgrimage to save the nearly extinct squirrel-faced snapping turtle, that would be optimum broadcasting. Especially if they can get the athlete on camera right when the president calls to inform him of his loss and award his parents posthumously with the Save a whale, harpoon a harpy Humanitarian Award.

Personally, I think the Olympics are becoming a bit too inclusive. I mean really, there are well-trained, buff, muscular, fast, strong, nimble, powerful athletes…and then there are people sweeping ice with a broom and calling it Curling. Do they need to be in shape? Lift weights? Run miles? Have a strict diet regime? Nope. Are they athletes? I guess it depends on how you define athlete.

In 1908 they actually had Motor boating as an Olympic competition. I’m surprised they don’t bring that back. There are plenty of people who know how to find the best fishing spots and some are even pretty fast about it. Of course, if the ability to steer a boat with one hand and hold a beer with the other were a sport there would be a whole lot more qualifiers.

I know when most people think of a Hollywood movie that depicts an Olympic hopeful, they remember the movie, Chariots of Fire. It was truly inspirational. But for me another movie comes to mind, a movie that depicts a team of underdogs and a has-been, overweight, coach. Cool Runnings with John Candy is hilarious and inspirational, and actually based on a true story, though probably loosely. But who wouldn’t want to watch a team of Jamaican bobsledders beat the better, stronger, faster, more experienced competitor with a never say die attitude and a whole lot of humor?

 

Barbara

Barbara Ellen Brink

Barbara lives in MN, and is the author of Entangled, Crushed, Split Sense (2011 Grace Award Winner), Alias Black Raven, and Running Home.

Photo purchased at Fotolia.com

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It

Rescue Me!

By 1 Comment

This topic has been on my mind ever since I went to the store and found myself stuck in neutral in an aisle with around four billion (give or take) choices of skincare products.

If you have a nose and find it itching often, it isn’t hard to choose unscented over floral, ocean breeze, sport, powder fresh, or citrusy. Although, I am very intrigued by the smell of “sport.” Would that be sweat with a lemon tang, the smell of a soccer ball, or the odor of da’feet?

Anyway…besides all the scented selections, you have to decide on how moist you want your skin to be. I know some people, myself included, really don’t like the word moist. I don’t know why. It just sort of creeps me out. So, I would like to use the word, rescued. How rescued do you want your skin to be?

The brand that starts with a V has a line of lotions that begins with “regular” and ends somewhere around “intensive.”

Years ago they only had one product. It was just called – lotion. Now they have a whole selection of different color bottles, and different degrees of rescue.

Repairing moisture boasts that it boosts moisture levels by 300 percent. I don’t know how you measure that, but at my age “repair” sounds good so I threw it in the cart.

There is also a lotion “with benefits.” (not those kind) Aloe Fresh says it sooths your skin with aloe and cucumber. Well, sometimes my skin feels pretty tense and unhappy with the years I’ve put on it, so I tossed one of them in the cart too.

Cocoa Radiance evens skin tone and leaves it smooth & supple. Definitely need some of that.

Men’s Cooling Hydration. Packaged just for men, it has a “cool,” dark blue, manly container that men should find more appealing than cucumber. Now if they just combined it with sport scent I’m sure it would be a best seller. Men love the smell of locker rooms at half-time. But I don’t, so I passed.

Trying to rescue my skin is turning out to be quite an investment. If I’d known in my twenties what I know now I would have started a rehydration savings account.

Barbara

Barbara Ellen Brink

Barbara lives in MN, and is the author of Entangled, Crushed, Split Sense (2011 Grace Award Winner), Alias Black Raven, and Running Home.

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It

Lights, Wipers, and Smart Glasses

By Leave a Comment

I was driving home from Nebraska the other night when suddenly the skies grew dark and rain began to pour down. I flipped on the wipers and continued on my way, hoping to avoid an incident of hail damage to my fairly new car. There was no hail, but the rain grew heavier and heavier and pretty soon visibility shortened considerably.

Traffic that had been traveling at the brisk pace of 70mph or so, quickly slowed to under 40mph. Still determined to reach home within my normal six-hour time frame, I pressed on. But as the weather grew wilder, fellow drivers grew stupider.

Apparently, they didn’t have on their smart glasses like I did, because as I tried to pass in the “passing lane” (the left lane, for those unfamiliar with the term) other drivers began to hug the center line and even embrace it in a full straddle as though their car might at any minute be swept from the highway and thrown into the sea.

Point of fact: As many of you know, Minnesota is no where near the coast.

Other drivers refused to leave the passing lane and move to the “slow lane” (right lane reserved for those going slower than other traffic and/or under the speed limit), even though they were blocking traffic and potentially in a position to be rear-ended due to lack of visibility, and the fact that many failed to put their lights on.

In the past I’ve actually been in worse weather on my motorcycle. Not something I’d like to relive, but I did survive. Hands down it was much wetter and more uncomfortable than riding in an air-conditioned vehicle with radio, cell phone, and seat warmers at hand. Even riding motorcycles with 60 mile an hour gusts nearly blowing us over, we managed to stay in our own lane. So I kind of, sort of, expected the same from big, heavy, rain-protected cars that aren’t blown about quite so easily.

Finding that many drivers who were not adhering to customary rules of driving etiquette, and afraid that they would at any second stop abruptly in front of me, I decided to get off and sit for a while. I pulled off on an exit with a McDonald’s and sat in the parking lot watching dozens of cars pass through the fast food drive-through like squirrels stocking up for winter–or Noah stocking up for the flood.

Before I left, an ambulance showed up for someone. I wasn’t sure if the stress of driving in the storm caught up with them or a chicken McNugget was somehow the culprit, but when I continued on toward home I passed another McDonald’s and there was another ambulance with lights flashing.

So now we know. Avoid the big M when traveling. And if you can’t drive in the rain… move to Nevada. It’s closer to the ocean.

Barbara

Barbara Ellen Brink, Novelist

Author of: Entangled, Crushed, Split Sense, Running Home & Alias Black Raven

 Graphic purchased © blas – Fotolia.com
Email, RSS Follow
Pin It

Peek at Split Sense

By Leave a Comment

Click the cover to purchase Split Sense for $3.99 for your Kindle.

(Taken from Chapter 1)

1995

Darla stumbled through the busy lunch crowd on the Nicollet Mall. Sweat dripped from under her bangs and trickled down the sides of her face. She tugged at the hem of her top, a flaming orange knit; the thin fabric stretched insufficiently over her pregnant belly. The baggy denim skirt she wore restricted movement, wrapping around her legs at every step. She stopped to catch her breath, sucking air like an out -of -shape marathon runner, and glanced back.

Her gaze pinpointed on a man in the shadow of the bank building. No. . .she wouldn’t let him take her. . .the babies. . .

“You can’t have them!” she screamed.

Want to buy my books? You have options:

Is Amazon your favorite online bookstore? Order HERE

If you prefer Barnes & Noble, you can order HERE

Or, you can visit my CreateSpace paperback stores and shop by clicking on these links:

Entangled: https://www.createspace.com/3483348

Crushed:  https://www.createspace.com/3580992

Split Sense: https://www.createspace.com/3731423

Running Home: https://www.createspace.com/3771258

Alias Raven Black: https://www.createspace.com/3787506

Thanks,

Barbara

Barbara Ellen Brink, Novelist

Author of: Entangled, Crushed, Split Sense, Running Home & Alias Black Raven

 

 

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It

A Re-run – Get Out of Jail free Card

By Leave a Comment

It seems as though everyone tries to play a Get out of jail free card these days. If you don’t have your own card or mental illness, just watch enough reality television and you will be sure and see something that will fit your needs.

Like the man who worked for the FBI with top security clearance who managed to steal thousands of classified documents and when arrested for the crime, immediately diagnosed himself with Hoarders disease. (That would be the sickness that infects individuals with the inability to throw away a milk carton, plastic bag, or rat turd, cause someday they might need it. Or maybe they’re just saving the environment for the rest of us by sacrificing themselves on the dunghill of their own making. Not sure if we should thank them or institutionalize them.)

What was this man going to do with thousands of classified documents? Probably not sell them…right? Maybe he was out of old newspapers to line the rats nest.

I personally have never watched Hoardersor Jersey Shore or Next Top Model… I’m not bragging – just admitting my dislike of so-called reality shows. The commercials scare me enough. I once watched an episode of Survivor and started having anger management problems. I don’t think I should be allowed anywhere near an island of people that irritating. After all, Menopause is a sickness too and a pretty good card to play after taking out twelve over-tanned, bug-eating, whiny weirdos, slowly and methodically with a scope and rifle.

I think it all started with the race card that O.J.’s lawyer played and it’s just gone downhill from there. We’ve got the Post-Partum Blues card if you murder your children, the Kleptomania card if you’re a celebrity that likes to shoplift, the Addiction card for pretty much any and every form of bad behavior these days, the I lost my job card for men that go on a shooting spree at their last place of employment, the McDonalds served my McNuggets too slow card for crazy people that jump through the drive up window and beat the poor kid working there, the Girl’s Just Want to Have Fun card for the woman who disappears for months with the guy they met on the internet and everyone thinks they’re dead, the Devil Made me Do It card for people without an imagination, and my personal favorite – My Dead Mother Did It. Oh wait, that was Psycho. But it would be a great card to use if you owned a creepy motel and murdered women in the shower.

There’s a thin line between truth and fiction,

Barbara

Barbara Ellen Brink, Novelist

Author of: Entangled, Crushed, Split Sense, Running Home & Alias Black Raven

My books are a combination of mystery, suspense, and romance and are available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and at the Create Space Bookstore. You can learn more about them HERE.

 

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It

Open House Season

By 4 Comments

It’s Open House season again. You know, the season that comes after spring break and right before summer job season. Of course, I’m talking about seasons according to the high-school senior calendar.

I sort of miss Open House season. Not because I especially enjoy cleaning house and fixing appetizers for a hundred people, but because I have lots of stuff around the house that needs fixing or replacing. Everyone  knows that when you have an Open House coming up it’s your opportunity to put on a new deck, give your lawn special attention, plant brand new bushes and trees, pour fresh cement for the driveway, and have professionals come to finish that basement that has been waiting in semi darkness and cobwebs for twenty years for just the right time.

If I’d had more kids like that reality family, the Duggars, I could have gotten a lot more done. Can you imagine the wonderful additions they’re able to make to their home each year? After so many children, they probably have a beautiful guest cottage for visitors (cause you know their house is plumb full), an extra-large  swimming pool, maybe even a professionally landscaped flower garden with fountains and gnomes. If I were Mrs. Duggar, I’d push for a tennis court the next time around. Out of all those children, you’d think one of them could make it to Wimbledon.

Sadly, I only had two children, and their open houses are long past. So I’ll have to think of some other opportunity to get my to-do list done. I know from experience that sometimes I’ve been able to get my husband motivated before his family came for a visit…

Well, I’ll think of something…

I know! I’ll tell him I’m putting it up for sale!

 

Barbara

Barbara Ellen Brink

Author of: Entangled, Crushed, Split Sense, Running Home & Alias Black Raven

My books are available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and at the Create Space Bookstore. You can learn more about them HERE.

Email, RSS Follow
Pin It