Monday Musings: Memories September 2025
Can you believe that it is already September? I must be getting old because I keep thinking how has the year flown by so fast? I even found myself in somewhat of an existential crisis a couple of weeks back as it really hit me how my life has also been one of those blink and not only are you old but your kids are old, too, kind of moments. How did that happen??? I spent a good two days mulling that over in my mind. Came to no good conclusions because when I was younger it seemed like time just dragged on and on and on . . .and then suddenly it . . . poof, has passed.
Suffice it to say I’ve been taking trips down memory lane here lately. I’ve decided to try to reboot my blog just to get in the habit of writing consistently again. At least one Monday a month (hopefully the first Monday but no promises) I plan to write a blog, keep track of my life and thoughts.
Right now, I’m in the process of rebooting my writing career. I have books written but editing is another thing. I need large chunks of time to edit because I write skeletal drafts and large chunks of time are not available at the moment. But I’m steadily moving forward and hopefully by the end of the year I’ll have a couple of stories ready to publish, including the beginning of a new series (teaser!).
In the meantime, part of my trip down memory lane was my 1967 Ford Mustang. My first car. Let me tell you about her. (Pictured above, I know I have better pictures but…where did I put them?)
My Mustang wasn’t just transportation—it was personality on wheels. I still get a little stab in my heart just thinking about it.
She was originally a rare Playboy pink, but by the time she made it to me, the used car dealer had painted her yellow. (I guess they figured in small town Texas, a yellow car would sell better.)
She was just about perfect, except for one thing: she had an automatic transmission. I’ve always preferred standard. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of shifting gears yourself, winding it up in first and popping it into second when you’re feeling a little wild and wanting to run the quarter. (Yes, I may be a girl, but I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy—especially behind the wheel. Or with horses. Or motorcycles.)
When the yellow paint started to chip, I wanted to repaint her back to that original pink. By that time I was married and my husband refused to have a pink car in the driveway. (Let’s just say he didn’t last as long as my love for that Mustang.)
One day, I’d love to find another ‘67 and restore it properly—paint and all. Yes, pink. Definitely pink.
Because some first loves never really leave you.
I hope you enjoyed my trip down memory lane, be sure to come back next month and see how else the muse has struck me!