As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"

Update - April 8, 2013

Since moving, I have found an old file that needs my attention and with any luck, the book will be ready for beta readers and the publisher later this year. So, this morning, I revamped and included what I've learned about goats, or rather wether goats which are castorated male goats. I'll share Chapter 1. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 1
Trevor simultaneously slammed on his brakes and hit his horn. Surprise coursed through his veins at the sound of a train whistle emanating from his newly acquired truck. He had little time to wonder while keeping his vehicle from swerving out of control. He pumped the brakes again and came to a stop. The goat did little more than look at his bright red truck and continue munching on whatever it held in its mouth. A bag bounced across the street, carried by the morning breeze. Contending with a foot-footed creature for the right-of-way on a busy thoroughfare wasn't what he'd bargained for on his visit to what he expected would be a quiet adventure to Arbon, Idaho.
The goat bounded after the dancing plastic bag. He let off the pressure on his brakes allowing his truck to roll forward in the goats wake. Entertained by the unexpected distraction, Trevor watched the frolicking animal as it chased the bag and jump high in the air after it. Amused, Trevor pulled into the fast food restaurant's parking lot. The little black and white critter scampered first one way and then the other after the bag and even slipped on the pavement once while pirouetting in its pursuit. Trevor chuckled; the goat looked like he had airplane wings for ears! The animal skidded to a halt, bleated a moment and bounded toward the brightly colored picnic tables. With acrobatic ease that would make the goat's cousin, the mountain goat proud, the animal high tailed it onto the bright yellow table surface. The goat appeared to square his white neck and shoulders, much like a prize fighter returning to a bout and immediately began prancing and dancing.
A young woman, dressed in her work smock, exited the restaurant and confronted the four footed dancer. Unimpressed by the human's efforts to scare him away, the goat jumped off the yellow table and just as easily mounted the blue table top. Trevor half expected the goat to kick the previous diner's remains off the table to make room for his performance. Instead the goat snatched up the paper plate and started munching away.
The young woman approached waving her arms wildly to startle the animal. He merely stared at her, bleated and continued munching what Trevor assumed was a syrupy plate. Beaten by the uninvited patron, the frustrated young woman returned inside. Trevor watched the goat, several questions running through his mind. Who's goat wandered the streets of this small town? Did they know their goat was terrorizing what appeared to be the only fast-food establishment in town? How long would the goat occupy the table top?
Trevor mentally shook himself. This goat had nothing to do with why he was here. The only thing this interlude accomplished was a much needed break from his long drive. When he took a few minutes to relax, he had to admit he was famished. Maybe with a not breakfast, instead of a granola bar, he would manage to organize a game plan. He had little to go on other than his grandfather's journal. He had all summer to find the mine, if it really existed, and the riches the journal described. One thing at a time, and the first thing was to satisfy his hunger.
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