Sally Beauchamp's Blog

A couple of weeks ago we had a fluke 84-degree day up here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan which stirred the gypsy blood of all motorcyclists, myself included, though I don’t know how to ride. Both my hubby and I had gotten some pretty depressing financial news so hubby disrobed his mistress--the purple Sportster--from her winter cloak and took off for a scoot. I was sitting on the retaining wall that surrounds our front porch, allowing the sun’s heat to penetrate through my jeans, as he left. I knew he had to be wound up as tight as Aaron Rodgers was when he threw that astounding Hail Mary Pass to beat the Lions last season, because hubby didn’t put on his helmet or leathers. Under normal circumstances my husband looks like Darth Vader when he rides. Black leather from head to toe, a helmet with a darkened visor that allows only sprigs of white hair to peek out the back of his neck, makes one wonder what’s beneath that hot garb. No pun intended! As the thunder of his Harley faded up the road, I sat there with an envious smile on my face. I imagined how great it must feel to speed up the road, pipes roaring, and the throttled rolled back, wishing I could do the same, but fearing I might never return.It made me think of my failure in the Motorcycle Safety Class I took three years ago. I had gotten some pretty bad work related news then also, so I was really looking forward to that weekend course which would teach me how to ride. That Friday night when my hubby and I showed up for class, I was pumped and a little fearful. I explained to the teacher I had never ridden a motorcycle before, or had experience with shifting, as I had only driven automatics. He assured me I had come to the right place. That evening we went through all the safety stuff, and the proper way to start the bike, proper clothing, etc. and when I left I was really looking forward to the next morning when I could finally get a chance to ride a motorcycle.The class met at a local school parking lot. It was a chilly May morning, but sunny. We got to pick our Suzuki 250 and I choose the most beat-up one. I didn’t want to be responsible for putting a dent or two in one of the new bikes. I guess I was already anticipating the worst. Hubby and I were separated into your basic groups I am quite familiar with in the world of academia—smart people in one group, average in the other, and then there’s the, “What the Hell Are We Supposed to do with This Dumb Ass Group?” Guess which category I fell into and guess out of the 12 students how many were placed in that subset? You got it! One!! I alone was in the third category. To this educator, it drove the point home in a BIG way why grouping by IQ scores in the general ed. classroom is not such a great idea.Step one was to start the bike the way we learned in our class the night before. I was beaming from ear to ear, as I straddled that red, banged-up Suzuki. You would have thought I was riding a custom painted, chromed out to the hilt, Dyna Glide! My cup runneth over with confidence. I had that 3 step start thing memorized to a tee, and I was finally going to ride a motorcycle. After starting the beast, we were all asked to put the bike in neutral and walk it down the course of the parking lot. Our female assistant demonstrated, and it looked like a piece of cake. The objective was for the rider to get used to the feel of the motor between his/her legs. (I know where every woman’s mind is going now, but trust me the two are not at all alike).I walked that machine, across the parking lot like I was crossing a very narrow train trestle, with the train engine light coming at me, and roaring rapids 50 feet below, as I clutched a jet powered walker. After doing this 3 or 4 times, it was time to rock and roll. We were told to kick that machine into first gear and start riding around the parking lot in a big loop. Half way around, you were supposed to shift it up to second. We were told that riding a motorcycle was not like driving a car, you had to look in the direction you were going, not straight ahead. And most importantly of all, when you needed to slow down or stop, you were to let up on the clutch with your left hand, but never, never ever, grab and squeeze the front brake. Horrible, evil, bad things would happen if you forgot this canon. Again Vanna White demonstrated and made it look super simple. How I envied her.We all lined up and waited for our signal to go. When the teacher pointed at me, I was giddy with excitement. I kicked it into first and took off. I was riding a motorcycle! I was so proud and so nervous I could feel the sweat soaking my hair. When I got to the curve, I tried to look where I wanted to go, but ended up missing it by a wide margin. I quickly realized I needed to do something fast, because if I didn’t, I was going to be crossing the grassy knoll and sail out to the concrete sea. Oh the horror! I let go of the clutch. The bike stalled. I was alive! The teacher came over and helped me get back to the rest of the class, who were all waiting for the “slow” kid to get her act together. Let it suffice to say, the remainder of the first two-hour session did not go well. I stalled the bike several more times and then committed the unpardonable sin of dumping the bike, not once, but twice, as I tried to round curves and cones, shift from first, second, and third and then back again and stay alive. When I parked my bike at the end of class, and removed my helmet, it looked like someone had dumped a bucket of water over my head, but I was extremely proud that I had ridden a motorcycle. That’s when I got the nod from the teacher and my heart sank. He took me and hubby over to a private spot and told me he thought it best if I didn’t return latter on that day, for class number 3. He told me he hated to see me struggle out there and the third class was much more difficult.As his words began to sink into the limited amount of gray matter stored between my ears, I realized I was being kicked out of class! Complete and utter despair—not to mention humiliation—scooped me up like a roaring tsunami and chucked me out to a black, uncharted sea. I had never gotten kicked out of anything, much less a class! This could not be happening. This was what I had been waiting for all year long and now I was being told not to come back. No way this was fair! Where was the justice? (For some of my teacher friends does this sound like a student you might know?) I squared back my shoulders and walked back to “the cage” I’d come in and tried valiantly to keep my composure. Hubby was extremely quiet as he knew with the merest provocation, the dam would break and his wife would turn into a puddle of salty tears and snot.We drove to my mother’s house to pick up our son, where my mother flaunted her happiness that I had flunked out of the motorcycle safety class. “After all,” she said, “you have a son to raise and you can’t risk getting killed on one of those things.” This motherly lecture did not help. The rest of the day and the next was spent in a lavish self-pity party, because I had to send hubby off to finish the class latter on that afternoon and the next morning. He got his endorsement of course and as I noted earlier in this writing, rides whenever he damn well pleases.That fall, when a new school year began, I at least got to tell my students that their teacher had not only flunked a class, but was kicked out of it! They could identify.So I sit and watch my hubby fly up the road, and take note of the easy smile on his face as the wind peels away all that weighs him down. Someday it will be my turn. Until then, I write about my “fantasy” biker life-style and hopefully entertain those that do ride. May is Motorcycle Awareness month, so pay attention and always look twice, because once is never enough! For those of you who are lucky enough to ride, here's to the wind in your face.

Summer is sizzling here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and today is my first meeting with my editor-in-chief since mid-May. It’s 82 degrees with a warm breeze, and low humidity.  We are scooping up a spicy taco dip loaded with meat, beans, fresh lettuce, and sprinkled with cheese. We are also imbibing on a delicious cranberry, vodka drink, and chocolates. As I’ve said a perfect summer day.However, we are working. We are updating the website and promoting, The Word of a Liar, which you will notice, has a more modern look.  When doing book signings, readers consistently commented about how much they liked the poster I was displaying, which was different from the book cover. After considerable consideration, I decided to use the poster design for the book cover as well.  I also changed the back cover.  Lisa Cerasoli, another author, suggested I put reviews on the back, so now some of you who have left an Amazon review, will be immortalized on the back cover.  (By the way, thanks so much for those reviews.) Jayde Peterson was the student graphic designer who fabricated the poster and the new cover.  She graduated in May and I am hoping she will continue her education in the art field.  I owe her, and her instructor, Rebecca Frates, a world of thanks.My Goodreads Giveaway ended at the end of June. 944 people signed up for the Giveaway and there were 25 winners, 6 of which were from Canada.  So now, I can consider myself an international author!I will be doing a book signing in Saukville, WI, on Saturday, August 20. I’m really excited as I will be meeting my biker friend, James Scott’s family and catching up with him.  If you’re in the Milwaukee Area that weekend, come to Saukville for their annual motorcycle Poker Run!I apologize for taking so long to blog, but change has occurred in the Beauchamp Family as well, and it has left me reeling. My son Ross graduated in May and is beginning his adult life. Just when I thought I had the Special Ed. School environment conquered, we moved into the unexplored territory of Medicaid Services which is turning out to be another fight to the death situation. My husband’s job of fifteen years was cut down to part-time in May, and a month later I was laid-off from my teaching position of 21 years. I’ve been working this the summer which is something I haven’t done in 19 years. I know you all feel sorry for me. Now, I am the new “Ted Bundy” and am working in a shoe store. (By the way, I always hated Ted Bundy and Married With Children.) Cleaning out my classroom, filling out job applications, and sending out resumes has taken up most of my time and my poor roses are wondering where their mother has gone.  I’m hoping this new chapter in Doug’s and my life will turn out well, but right now, I not seeing it.SOS message if you haven’t bought a copy of The Word of a Liar, now would be a GREAT time! And if you haven’t left a review, please do it soon! Have a good August. Wish me well in my job search.  Thanks for being a loyal reader.  Sally

  A couple of weeks ago we had a fluke 84-degree day up here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan which stirred the gypsy blood of all motorcyclists, myself included, though I don’t know how to ride.  Both my hubby and I had gotten some pretty depressing financial news so hubby disrobed his mistress--the purple Sportster--from her winter cloak and took off for a scoot.  I was sitting on the retaining wall that surrounds our front porch, allowing the sun’s heat to penetrate through my jeans, as he

For those of you who know me well, you know I am a teacher and I am super fortunate to have a very envious vacation schedule--thus Good Friday began my Spring Break. I awoke early so I could go to my school, procure the sewing machines in my classroom, and then take them to another school building. I had volunteered to arrange a place for the shire of Skerjastrond to host a moot the following day. Skerjastron is part of the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism), a medieval community to which my son Ross belongs, and I’m his side kick. Ross has been involved with the SCA for a year now. When he joined it, he wanted to be a fighter, but he had to wait until he turned 18. When that glorious day arrived, way back in August, he then needed armor. I’m talkin’ the real deal, not something you can pick up at the local sporting goods store. Therefore, his belated Christmas present was a set of armor which cost 1,300 dollars.
The armor craftsman, who lives in Minnesota, was supposed to have the suit ready for our moot on March 26. Unfortunately, the craftsman assumed I lived in Madison, WI, where he would be visiting a friend, the Thursday before our event. He thought he could come over and fit Ross on that day, but we live nearly 6 hours away from Madison. I told the man to overnight express the armor so it would make it on time. Ross’s anxiety level escalated from a 10 to a 20 because of the delay. He drove me crazy worrying that the armor would not make it on time.
So Friday evening, after setting up sewing machines, running errands and trying to prepare for Easter Dinner, because Saturday was going to be devoted to the SCA, I started making tuna casserole for the hubby and Shrimp Alfredo for Ross. The two can’t eat one or the other. (I know I’m crazy for making 2 meals to accommodate their picky eating habits, but that’s how I rock and roll). As I’m preparing dinner my sister makes and impromptu visit regarding the family get together on Easter. When she leaves hubby and I get into an argument about me hosting the meal and Ross grows even more frantic. He hates when we argue, but unfortunately for Ross, his mother and father are the coexisting ying and yang. Sparks fly. Hubby and I go to our separate corners, but then I hear hubby make some snide comment from the other room. Okay, at that point my anger level has reached the, I’m Seeing Red Phase, so I pick up the half empty box of macaroni, walk into the TV room and shower my adoring husband with tiny sea shells.
Ross goes absolutely berserk. He starts yelling that I have assaulted his father and that he is going to call 911. Which is exactly what he does. I go back to the kitchen and continue with dinner, listening to Ross scream into the phone that his mother has just assaulted his father and that the police need to come and arrest me. Ross goes outside and paces in the driveway, as he waits for the cops to show up and hubby-- get this-- gets out the vacuum cleaner and begins to vacuum up the sea shells. (Frankly, I didn’t even know he knew how to turn the thing on.)
It’s not long before Policeman No. 1, comes into the house. Ross comes flying into the dining room and I come out of the kitchen. Ross points an angry finger at me and yells, “Arrest that bitch, she assaulted my father!”
The officer looks as shocked as I feel. He asks me to explain what happened, so I give him a brief synopsis. “My husband and I were arguing,” I explained. “I got angry and threw some macaroni at him, and then Ross called you.”
The cop’s response is; “Do you know that’s domestic assault? You could be arrested for that.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Since when has macaroni been considered a deadly weapon? The whole thing gets even more bizarre, because as Police No. 1 is lecturing me on how I could be arrested, Ross asks me if I’m going to be in the same jail cell as a friend of mine who has recently been accused of embezzlement.
The cop gives me a funny look and asks me how I know this person and I explain that we are friends. Now I am sure I am going to be spending the night in jail. Next, Police No. 2 shows up. Did you know you need back-up when macaroni has been thrown? Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate the men and women in law enforcement, but I can’t help but think how ridiculous this whole thing is. Police No. 2 needs to be brought up to speed, and then I get the domestic assault lecture a second time.
I make the mistake of asking Police No. 2 what was I supposed to do. He rolls his eyes like I just asked the most idiotic question and responds with, “You need to go for a walk, or a drive. Get yourself out of the situation.” Like I don’t know this already! Like I haven’t tried to do this already!
I explained to the officers that if I tried to go for a walk, Ross would follow me down the road, and if I tried to get into the car, he’d chase me. I told them to arrest me and that I’d wager as soon as we got to the end of the block, Ross would be running after us.
By now Ross was calmer and the police had had their say so they started to leave, but the sage Police No. 2 tells my husband and I that we can’t argue. It gets Ross too upset. Well, well, now there’s sound advice. Apparently the guy isn’t married and/or doesn’t know my husband. :D Police No. 1 however, did ask me if I was going to be okay and I responded with, “I don’t know.”
When the cops left, I went back to the kitchen and finished making dinner. I tried to keep the tears at bay, but was unsuccessful. I kept thinking about that biting review from Amazon, and the reviewer’s statement that I should feel blessed I had been given a child with autism. I didn’t feel blessed right then. I didn’t know what exactly I felt, but I could certainly understand how some moms come to a point where they can’t take it anymore and leave. Not saying I condone their actions, but I certainly can relate.
For the record, Ross’s armor did not show up until three days after the event. The day the armor arrived, Ross and I had returned from a meeting with the Michigan Rehab people because Ross had gotten suspended from his job, the day his uncle was in a very serious car accident.
And so it goes….

For those of you who know me well, you know I am a teacher and I am super fortunate to have a very envious vacation schedule--thus Good Friday began my Spring Break.  I awoke early so I could go to my school, procure the sewing machines in my classroom, and then take them to another school building.  I had volunteered to arrange a place for the shire of Skerjastrond to host a moot the following day.  Skerjastron is part of the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism), a medieval community to which

I will be sponsoring a give away for people who review my book. It will run beginning today, March 9, until the first of June. I hope this is enough time for people to read the story. Everyone who leaves a review on Amazon, Kindle, or Goodreads, will be entered into the drawing for a free book and some very cool surprises. I will film it in real time on You Tube as I announce the winner. Don't miss this grand opportunity.

Several days ago, I got a bad review on Amazon and Goodreads about, The Word of a Liar, that really stung! The reviewer felt very strongly about the way I depicted JD in the book. She was so upset that she ended her review with, "if I had this book in paperback, I would have ripped it to pieces." Wow! That is pretty strong language. The reader obviously felt like I had just tossed the word autism in the book for I don't know....ratings???? I guess she didn't read my bio because if she had she would have seen that I too am a mother of a now young adult with autism. JD was created mostly from my personal experiences with my son, but also from the accounts of other parents, and people with autism, that I have come to know. I've also explored many the movies, books and research articles that have added to JD character development.. My son's journey through the world of autism continue as does mine and will until we leave this earth. There is NO WAY I would intentionally minimize that journey and it's potholes or its scenic turnouts. Many of the JD scenes are painfully true. For instance, the scene of the destroyed classroom was absolutely true, but it wasn't Mason Hackett coming to the rescue it was me. Me, the mom who tried her best to pick up the pieces and muddle through because she was so overwhelmed by it all.

The good thing I took away from this awful review was this--my writing must have touched a serious nerve with this particular reader, so that's a good thing. To me it shows how strong the story is. I know not everyone is going to love, The Word of a Liar, but it was nice when a week later another reader left a review and gave it 5 stars!! The other reader also wrote that she understood not all people with autism act the same, just like anyone else--hence the word, individual. I encourage all my readers to leave a review--good or bad. It helps me as an author to write better and I sooo love reading them. Of course I prefer a five star rating, but I'll also listen to the not so good opinions of my readers.

         I will be sponsoring a give away for people who review my book.  It will run beginning today, March 9, until the first of June. I hope this is enough time for people to read the story.  Everyone who leaves a review on Amazon, Kindle, or Goodreads, will be entered into the drawing for a free book and some very cool surprises. I will film it in real time on You Tube as I announce the winner. Don't miss this grand opportunity. Several days ago, I got a  bad review on Amazon and Goodreads

Okay my latest book signing endeavors were a financial bust, but socially they were fun.  Thursday night at Crispigna's Restaurant I only sold one book to Joe Crispigna, but his engaging stories distracted me from the disappointing sales revenue. I also got to meet Sara from the Renegade Writers Club at Bay College. She's a great young lady.  I can't wait to go and meet the rest of the writers some time at the end of March. Rene Boddy, my Escanaba mangaer sat with me and we drank wine, chatted

Okay my latest book signing endeavors were a financial bust, but socially they were fun.  Thursday night at Crispigna's Restaurant I only sold one book to Joe Crispigna, but his engaging stories distracted me from the disappointing sales revenue. I also got to meet Sara from the Renegade Writers Club at Bay College. She's a great young lady.  I can't wait to go and meet the rest of the writers some time at the end of March. Rene Boddy, my Escanaba manager sat with me and we drank wine, chatted and had a great Italian dinner.  Jodi Reed popped in for an after work visit, and we're planning to share a table at the Daily News Craft Show in April.  

On Friday, my editor-in-chief, Lori Mellon, my son Ross, and myself headed up to Marquette for the UP Dog Sled Races.  The weather was horrific and cold. -25 degrees.  My lips felt frozen in about 10 seconds.  It was the first time Ross and I saw the races. It was exciting, despite the cold and the low volume of sales--a whopping 2!  The crowd was very enthusiastic: cheering, counting down, and clanking cowbells for each musher. Washington Street had been turned into a snow-covered race track and many a hearty Yooper and visitors were cavorting in the cold.

 Sitting in Book World, I got to chat with some of them as they warmed their frozen extremities.  When things were at their bleakest, Lori and I began a discourse on how I'd never gotten skunked in the fifteen book signings I've done.  A family came in the store, all frost covered eye-glasses and red nose and checks. The husband/dad remarked that they alway bought a book there on the night of the races. In a desperate pitch for The Word of a Liar, I told them to buy mine.  They smiled, but didn't take the bait.  Later however, when I had decided to go outside and watch a few musher's take off, Lori came out of the store and told me someone was buying my book and I needed to get in there and sign it.  I flew through the door, arms opened,  surprised to see the man and his family were back.  "We couldn't let you get skunked," he said.  I hugged him profusely.  Bless his heart! I promised Andrea, his wife, she'd love the story.  

My second sale went to Kerrie, who said she'd heard about the book on Amazon.  What an angel! But the best part of the night was when a couple of good looking college guys were hangnig around, trying to get warm.  They politely asked about the book.  I told them to get it for their girlfriends or for themselves.  They smiled and began to move away.  I said, "Here, take my card. The book is free on Kindle this weekend." One of the young men took the card and said, "Does it have your phone number on it?" OMG!! What a sweet heart!  That totally made the night all worth it.

On Saturday, Rich Henrion, a former collegue and true blue biker saw me and Ross sitting in Econo looking bored and discouraged. We chatted and got caught up and then he bought a book. I told him he wouldn't be disappointed.  I know I'm right! He was my only Valentine's Day Sale!  On the bright side.... I still haven't been skunked thanks to a few good angels. 

  It's February, the month of romance, so I'm doing some promotions for, The Word of a Liar, and some more book signings.  Book signings have been a lot of fun as they give me a chance to talk about the story, something my close friends and family must be very tired of, since I've been working on that book for eight years!    I'm giving away 5 books on Good Reads until February 15 and discounting the Kindle edition to 99 cents, until February 15.  I will be doing book signings on Thursday, Feb.