Small towns rock.

One week ago today my peace was briefly rattled when I learned a creeper’s been stalking me. I’d felt “vulnerable” and “watched” for a few months and ignored evidence, my gut, and our animals.

(Subscribers, I’ve embedded several videos, and I don’t think you’ll be able to view them unless you go out to the web for this post. One is a tour of the stalker issue, another is an exploration of emotional impact, and one is of donkey noses {donkey noses!!!}).

Now I have neighbors texting to check on me when they see the deputy cruising our dirt road checking on me who is in turn texting our handyman to check on me, then stopping to check in with me personally and remarking to us how good for me it is that he hears all the shots firing as those same neighbors target practice with the loudest guns they own. I have a husband who spent his week investigating, installing cameras, setting up security, giving me back my peace and *sleep*, and who I know would do anything to protect me, physically and emotionally. He even emptied my gun and did dry run practice where I had to unholster, whirl/draw, and shoot repeatedly as he rushed me from close range. Neither of us enjoyed it, but it helped.

With my trusty Judge on my hip and my big horse to let me know if something’s out there.

Lots of checking, lots of encouragement, prayers, and advice, lots of good folks ready to discourage people traipsing over their properties to come see me. I’ve had ups and downs, but knowledge is power and leads to action and resolve, and strangely I feel safer today than I did before this creeper made the mistake of opening our door and coming in our house.

Thanks, Nowheresville, peeps.

Meanwhile this week, I turned Bombshell into my content editor, I am back on track, and Nowheresville life is good. But I still prefer drama in novels over in my real life.

Love y’all.

p.s. recent funnies:

Rat snake running from dogs. Yuck!

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