Falling Doors?

A funny thing happened yesterday.  To the best of my memory, this is how it played out…

My oldest daughter (OD) woke up and came downstairs to find me pondering the living room arrangement.  She stopped halfway down, gave me that raised-eyebrow-look before continuing on.  She paused in the entry, then came around and plopped down into the wing-back.  We talked amiably as she wiped away the lingering fog of sleep.  After a few minutes, she stood up, turned to walk away, then suddenly turned back with that same raised-eyebrow-look-turned-glare.  And it happened.

She said, "Tell me you had the yard man come in and move that wardrobe out of the entry into the living room."

Me.  "No.  I moved it.  Veezer helped me.  It wasn't a big deal."

OD.  "You can't do these things, Mom!"

Me.  "It's okay, really.  I unloaded everything, slid it into place with furniture movers, and then reloaded it.  Easy peasy.  Really."

OD.  "No!”  Her hands are on her hips at this point.  “What if the doors fell open while you were moving it and it sucked you into Narnia?  Huh? What would I do then?  You'd be in the other-world of Narnia and no one would know it.  And I couldn't save you from that!"

And then she turned and stomped away, grumping over her shoulder, “never mind it could’ve killed you had it fallen over.”

Life in literary-world is amazing...Narnia?   :D

A Mother's Love

Today is Mother’s Day, May 12, 2013.  I find myself reflecting once again on who I am, where I come from, what I’m made of.  I can hardly go there without thinking on my mother Norma Jean and Grannie.  Both have many years past now and pulled that earthy blanket up to their chins to wish us all a good night.  I miss them, the buggars!

Anyway, first off, I have to say this about memories.  Doc M, Sister, and I have three very different sets of memories.  It would seem we weren’t sisters at all with how different they are.  But with Doc M a bit older, I understand her perspective should be different.  But Sister and I?  We’re Irish Twins, for cryin’ out loud!  You’d think we could agree on one memory, right?  Probably not.  I finally came to grips with this when someone explained to me that memories are filtered through our emotions.  Ahha!  That explains it. We are polar opposites when it comes to our emotions, she and I.  But still, it doesn’t keep us from asking each other from time to time, “Where did you come from?”  Hahaha!

I think there are two memories we can all agree on.  One, Norma Jean was a serious romance-book-aholic!  I can’t remember a night of my life in her house that she didn’t go to bed with one.  And many a night was there that we found her with a paperback tented over her breasts, glasses askew and her snores reaching to high heavens.  Little did I know back then that it would be one of my favored memories of her. 

Why, you ask?  Because I was the bane of her existence when it came to reading.  I hated it!  Jack London’s Call of the Wild, Beverly Cleary’s Ramona the Pest, Wilson Rawls’ Where the Red Fern Grows?  Hated all of them.  Oh the books Norma Jean presented to me, every single one of which I slung right back at her.  Ack!  I couldn’t even get past chapters one.  In fact, the only author I would have anything to do with until I was twelve years old was Don Freeman.  Oh how I loved (still do) his stories, especially Dandelion.  But that’s it.  No other books.  None.  Zero.  That is, until… (You know it!) that lovely little red and white covered Harlequin showed up on my lap.  Frankly, I think she dropped it there in disgust at me and said something like, “This is the last straw.  I don’t know what else to give you to read, child.”

Amazingly, I read chapter one.  Then two.  And three and four and …all the way to the end.  And then I asked for another.  And another.  And another.  And then she gave me my very own subscription to Harlequin Romance.   It was a brand new world for me and I knew who I was then.  I was a romance junkie.  My engine had been jumpstarted and there was an endless supply of stories in my soul.

From there on out when we would travel to my grandparents I would imagine stories to write.   Sadly I couldn’t read in the car or else I’d throw up everywhere.  So I would think about the stories I’d read and make up my own.  They were simple stories, boy meets girl, they fall in love, you know the drill.  But they were stories that entertained me just the same.  And that was the beginning of my lifelong passion for love and romance and telling stories.  With that, I learned to love to read because reading was the vehicle for receiving the love.  This was the greatest love my momma loved me with, she taught me to enjoy reading by helping me find what I loved to read.  Bless her heart.  She should get special Mamma Rewards in heaven for that, don’t you think?  Lord knows I tried her patience!

My second memory I think the three of us can agree on is one of Grannie.  Grannie was a gardener and a fisherwoman.  She could grow something in concrete and catch a fish out of the toilet, yes she could!  Granted, she was a lot of other things too, but those two were constants.  Anyway, it seemed that flowers were the preferred expression of love between the women in our family, and in my perspective it was by Grannie’s leadership that it became that way.  When a holiday arrived, flowers were given.  And Mother’s Day was a full bouquet of love.  I remember the joy Norma Jean would have over surprising Grannie with an heirloom rose bush or some other coveted bloom.  It seemed there was a rhythm to their exchanges, a time proven love for each other through these flowers.  Sadly, I left home and didn’t grow into that role with them, but I remember it.  And I’ve tried to resurrect it in my own family.  I have hydrangeas my girls gave me for Mother’s Day a few years back adorning the back side of my house like they did Grannie’s.  And maybe this year I’ll get those Knock Out Rose bushes I asked for for under the dining room windowsill.  But one thing’s for sure.  Every time I look at the flowers in my yard, I remember the love between the women I came from.  And I will give thanks for the love they gave to me. 

Happy Mother’s day y’all.

I hope the day blooms lots of love for you, too!

Batcat to the Rescue!

I've been kinda absent in the past few months...absent from blogging but present everywhere else, it seems.  And in that absence I posted a few incidents on social networking sights that a few folks have requested again.  So, I'll try to post them here in the next few days/weeks just for fun and for getting back in the swing of things.  Enjoy!  :D

From February 17th...

For all my grumbling about Chali2Na and his consistent begging for me to let him outside throughout most days, I’m very thankful this morning for his persistence. From the first time I brought him home with me, he’s been extremely aware of our property…he tells me things…things like when a package arrives on the porch and the delivery man doesn't knock or ring the bell. (That one freaked me out the first time it happened.) He also lets me know when my little one doesn't get off the bus. I usually have to calm him down on that one.

But this morning? The little buggar would NOT give in. I had already fed him, there are no bus schedules or deliveries on Sunday mornings, and it’s too cold for him to go outside...I’d already tried pushing him out four times! But what to do when he won’t give up and keeps meowing and pressing his little clawwed-paws against me to get my attention? Okay already! Ack!

So I go to let him outside, again! But what does my little rescuer take me to? A fire in the kitchen! Yep. Earlier, I had turned on the front burner of the black glass-top stove to heat a pot of water, placed the water on the back burner and didn't notice the dark green oven mitt sitting on the front burner that I had turned on. Gads! And there it was right in front of me, up in flames! Mr. Chali2Na sat smug in the middle of the room waiting for me to jump to it.

Oh the smell was awful! Bleck! Of course, I quickly put the fire out (thanking Norma Jean for teaching me these skills as a child). And then Chali decided it wasn’t too cold to go outside afterall. Buggar!

Strangely, the rest of the family slept through the entire episode…..I was soooo tempted to yell FIRE! and wake 'em all up! Hahaha….imagine the mayhem….hahaha! Nah, I decided on another quiet cup of coffee instead.  See? Sometimes I keep my circus to myself! :D

How 'bout you?  Ever been rescued by a rescue cat?  

Under the Influence of Love

I’m on my way home from a little hiatus in the clouds brought on by a dance that the local dentist initiated.  Don’t get me wrong, she’s a keeper, the dentist.  But, whoa doggies!  Did that little spin around the chair ever cause me some down time! 

So what’s a girl to do when she’s left drug-dizzy and immobile for two weeks?  She’s left to take a little help from her friends, yesiree.  So I took a nudge from all my TV lovin’ friends and set out to watch some shows from the past few years.  Why?  Because I think the last time I watched TV as a form of entertainment (and not for the weather ripping through town) was about the time I had my first kid.  I just haven’t had a minute to spare for such things since then.  So I aimed to catch up a little and see what I’ve missed.  I didn’t get very far.  Once I caught up with the latest episodes of Eureka on Netflix with the mini-Nerdette, the next place I landed was where I stayed. 

It’s a little place in Kentucky where there’s a bad-ass Deputy US Marshall named Raylan Givens.  I think I fell in love with him on the spot.  Now Netflix can’t exchange DVDs with me fast enough.  I’m a TV addict.  Yes I am.  And I've got forty two episodes to go. 

So what do you do when someone says, "Relax.  This won't hurt a bit."?  Ever fall in love while under the influence?

T’ain’t No Gifting Going On

Every once in a while I get surprised with a gift.  You know the ones…I’m in the middle of sticking a meatloaf in the oven when the doorbell rings and the delivery guy from the florist is running from my house after having left a gorgeous bouquet on the porch.  Or I show up for lunch with a friend and she has a little somethin’ somethin’ waiting at my place.  We all love a little extra special love, right?  I know I do.

But here’s the thing.  Every time this happens, I can’t help but look at myself and think, “Wow, Lesia!  When’s the last time you gifted anyone?”  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a selfish sort.  For instance, Christmas gifting is one of my favorite things to do.  But random gifting?  It never ever occurs to me!  It’s like it’s just not in my wiring or something.  Birthdays?  Uh….hmm.  You have one, right?  Of course you do!  Will I think of it?  Not unless there’s a timer in my phone to alert me.  That’s just sad, right?  Okay, so I even forget my own wedding anniversary.  There!  It’s that bad!  And….I’m truly embarrassed to say….I do have gifts for my sisters somewhere around here.  I just never think to get them in the mail.  That’s serious, right?

Now self-ruminating made me wonder….what makes a gifter gift?  And this landed me on a book by Gary Chapman, The 5 Love Languages.  Fascinating stuff in that series, but it did present an answer I could wrap my thoughts around.  Gifters gift because that’s how they show they love you.  Huh!  Who knew? 

So what are the other love languages you ask?  According to Mr. Chapman they are:  Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Acts of Service, and Touch.  While I’m not exactly sure what my language is, I know for certain it t’ain’t no gifitn’ thang!  (Okay, so maybe it has something to do with words….I’ve truly missed writing for y’all on a regular basis!)

How ‘bout you?  I’m curious…do you gift or do you ruminate?  :D

A Mix-It-Up Under the Tree

The time has come where the Southern Girls of Okay Listen Here are mostly published and moving in various directions, multitasking like no other time before.  It’s been an incredible journey together, learning and growing, laughing and thrilling together in the written word.  Being the newest voice under the tree, I had to go back and look at what all has happened over the years.  And le’me tellya, Cher!  What wonderful times have been had underneath this tree!  Stories of Precious Angel and Oldest Friend, Book Reviews and talk of cereal, fabulous Friday Recipes, tales of the High Seas and Pirates and Gators, and Barn Tales and Ghost Stories, too!  And then along came my voice of wacky to throw into the mix this past year.  We’ve laughed a lot and made new friends along the way.  Yes.  It has been wonderful!  

But now with Alicia Hunter Pace (aka Jean Hovey and Stephanie Jones) and Katherine Bone published and touring other blogs and manning websites and such…not to mention writing more stories to entertain us all… well, it’s time to heed the changing season and mix it up a bit here on the bench.  

Starting this week, we’re going to post blogs on a need basis rather than every day of the week, Monday thru Friday.  In other words, when we need to step under the tree and say something (of great importance, no doubt!), we’ll blog and let you know by way of our usual social groups, Facebook and such.  We don’t want you to miss one beat of what’s going on with us in the world, be it publishing or our day-to-day happenings. 

So followers, thank you for reading our words, encouraging us, laughing together with us and supporting us on our journey into the world of books.  We are each so very thankful for your support and interaction.  Watch and be ready though!  I know there will be more stories to share very soon!  In the meantime, please find Alicia Pace Hunter and Katherine Bone at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Crimson Romance  You are just going to LOVE their books!   And if you want to help, “Like” their titles at such places as Amazon, Goodreads, and Pinterest to spread the word.  Shout it out and let the world know there are a few Southern writers new to the publishing world having their say!    

Happy reading, y’all!  See you soon, right here under the tulip tree…..

Balance

I have not had much trouble balancing my responsibilities in years—until lately. Every writer works, waits, and prays that one day she will be able to say, "I'm on deadline." But it's a double edged sword. It means that finally, finally someone has bought your book on proposal, but you have signed a contract promising to have that book finished by a certain time.

Stephanie and I are there. That certain time is January 1. I have been terrified that we won't get done. And what would happen? Well, surely our editor would call all the other editors in the known world and say, "Jean and Stephanie, writing as Alicia Hunter Pace, did not get done. Put them on THE LIST." And everyone knows what the THE LIST is. It's the roster of people who never get to publish another book. Not only that, they have had their computers, legal pads, pens, and that old dusty Smith-Corona typewriter in the attic taken away. No more writing. And that is worse than no more publishing.

So all I did was write, worry, and fret because my house was dirty and I needed to do some things to begin to get ready for Christmas. Then I realized I was doing more worrying and fretting (which is the same thing in my internal dictionary, no matter what Daniel Webster thought) than I was writing.

I don't function well when my house is not in order. It messes with me. I can't help it.

It was time to call on my old friend Logic. I got out that handy dandy plot chart that Stephanie insisted that we make. I figured out we lacked four scenes—two pretty long, one medium, and one short. They would all have a lot of dialogue because that's how we roll. Add on a little epilogue and done. Though we are not tied to a word count, I reckoned we lacked about 9 thousand words.

I have never been one to look at how many words I write in a day. Lots of writers do. They even have goals. I don't know why I don't care about that. I just write and hope for the best. But now I wondered.

So I did a little figuring. On a good unrushed day, I can write 2000-2500 words. That's after I edit the previous days writing, which I always, always do.

I finally faced what Stephanie had been trying to tell me all along: We were not in trouble. So, last Friday, I did not write. I cleaned my house, went to lunch with Oldest Friend, conned Oldest Friend into helping me finish decorating the front of my house for Christmas. That night, I took my niece to eat at Red Robin and to see Breaking Dawn. Over the weekend, The Guy and I got a tree, set it up, and got boxes out of the attic. We went to church, to lunch, a party, and played D&D. Most important, we watched our team win the SEC Championship. (Roll Tide and National Championship, here we come!)

And all the while—well maybe not during that intense game—, I played in my head what I would write today. I am ready to roll. It's going to be a great writing day.

Did you have to learn balance or does it come natural?

Living Large Underneath a Stetson

I was saddened earlier in the week to hear of Larry Hagman’s death.  The first I read of it was a short blurb on Facebook about how he claimed to be the reason for the Berlin Wall coming down.  And of course, I can’t find that article now or I’d send you there to see for yourself.  

Anyways, apparently he claimed that he caused the fall of the Berlin Wall by way of the success of the TV show Dallas that he starred in in the 1980s.  To his thinking (according to the article), the show caused the changes because the world saw how opulent and abundant life could be in the US by way of Dallas reruns.  He might’ve been on to something there.  You can’t exactly rise to a possibility you don’t know is out there.  

The article also mentioned that Mr. Hagman was a huge storyteller.  I don’t know firsthand if he was or not, but I do know he was a big man.  I know because I found myself standing next to him at an arts festival in Dallas back in the ‘80s.  Yes indeed.  I looked up to see who was there next to me, and low and behold I found myself shrinking down to Polly Pocket size as I looked up, and up, and up.  I mean he was Big!  And on top of that, he wore himself a 10 ½ gallon Stetson hat to boot!  And le’me tellya!  His smile would melt the world’s crisis down to a liquid puddle!  He was big and beautiful!  And quite a gentleman too, at least that day I saw him.

I didn’t watch much of Dallas since I was kinda surrounded by it back then.  But I did watch a lot of the younger version of Larry Hagman on I Dream of Jeannie when I was very (very!) young.  I loved that show because it made me laugh, and y’all know I do love me some laughter!  

On a different TV note, I’ve been lassoed by Southern Belle (of the Margarita Mamas variety) into watching Bayou Billionaires.  What in the Sam Hill…?  Y’all should be afraid.  Those are my crazy coonass people!  One show was all I needed to require a personal speech therapist.  Aszou kin prolly tell here, I ain’t quite recovered yit, dagnabbit!  

Well... Goodnight Mr. Hagman.  May you rest in peace.  And thank you for all the smiles and laughter….and for bringing that wall down, too!  :D

How about you…do you have memories of Larry Hagman on any favorite TV shows?  How about a Stetson hat…got one of those?

What is Creativity?

I often think that I am not very creative.  Well not creative in what I think of as the "normal' way.  I took piano lessons for years but really don't play that well, no natural talent.  I took art lessons for a couple of years but can only draw a clown and a cube. Well, I drew a turkey for my class last week and one of my students said, "Ms. Jones, that turkey is mixed." I asked him what he meant and he said, "That turkey looks like his daddy was a turkey and his momma was a turtle!" I looked and sure enough he was right.  My turkey had a turtle head.  Okay, so no artist talent for me either.

I have come to realize that I have what I think of as an unusual talent...I make up stories.  Since these stories were only in my head no one ever saw them I didn't think that it could be a kind of creativity.
After all, artists and musicians were creative.  Authors and song writers were creative.  I just made up stories. Then one day after writing with Jean for a while I realized that if our stories got published that we would be published authors. Authors were creative! I was being creative!  This realization gave me a new respect for the work Jean and I were doing.  It also gave me the confidence to think that I might be more creative that I thought! Today I am able to share the cover of our new book that was released this week, Simple Gone South.  Having a book for sale, now that will make a girl feel creative!

I recently went to a painting party.  I didn't really want to go but it was a  group of church friends and we were having our meeting there so I was sucked into the art. At first we made fun of my efforts.  My painting was looking pretty rough!  But I kept working and doing some of the things that the art lady told me to try then lo and behold, it started to look better! By the end of the night it actually looked good and one of the girls copied something from it. I felt creative! It was great!

My Wreath Painting

What does creativity mean to you?

Stowing Unnecessary Baggage

Driving home from work today, I was dazzled by the breeze gently stripping leaves off of the trees.  Various colors of discarded foliage whipped across my path.  This, of course, is normal during Autumn, but I was taken aback by the beauty in discarded things.

For some reason, these days I've been feeling a burr under my pirate garb to discard many things in my life, namely clothes I don't wear anymore and so forth.  (Especially after the store changed the dress code.)  You get the idea, right?  Honestly, how much stuff does a pirate need?  The answer should be, only enough to carry aboard ship whilst sailing off on a new adventure.  But is that true?  Well, that's got me pondering again about life and what I want and need.

Why is my closet so full?  Why do I stash things under my bed?  (Besides 3 novels that will never see the light of day.)  Why must I cram other things in nooks and crannies to get them out of the way?  What do I do with normal decorations while I put out Christmas decorations?  And what's up with holding onto my kids things in the hopes that my grandchildren will play with them?  (They only want to learn to rove like Captain Mimi anyway.)

I digress... but you get the picture.

But today, I realized something as those leaves made their way lyrically through the air only to land in a heap on the ground.  We cast off from shore all the time, leaving behind old homes, towns, schools, friends, and least desired... family.  Yes, we entertain the notion that the grass is always greener on the other side.  We purchase and stash, purchase and stash.  We stand in long lines just for the chance to buy things on sale, even when we don't know if what we want will still be available.  All of this made more perfectly clear as this past weekend and Black Friday/Cyber Monday shopping madness hit stride as stores opened on Thanksgiving night!

As I sit at my computer and listen to Baroque music while writing this post, it occurs to me that none of that stuff really matters.  As long as I have a crew to lead, a ship to sail, and a compass to point to what I want most, I'm content.

How do you deal with unnecessary baggage? 

Release Day! Sweet Gone South

It's surreal!

Available from:

Amazon

Crimson Romance

iTunes

RECIPE FRIDAY; BUFFALO CHICKEN CHEESE DIP

As if we haven't eaten enough. We've had it all. Turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce (two kinds) corn pudding, mashed potatos, pineapple casserole, macaroni and cheese, green beans, squash casserole. pies, pies, pies.

I could go on. But the eating fest isn't over. It can't be until the the Thanksgiving football games are over. If you are like me, after eating all that comfort food, you like something a little spicy. If you are like me, after cooking all that comfort food you like something really easy. I recommend buying a rotisserie chicken instead of boiling your own--or maybe even use some leftover turkey. Hope you enjoy this and hope your team wins--unless they are between my team and what I want.

Roll Tide, Roll!!!!

BUFFALO CHICKEN CHEESE DIP

3 boneless skinless chicken breasts
1 jar Marzetti's blue cheese or ranch dressing   

1/4 cup buffalo wing sauce mild
1 8-oz.pkg. cream cheese softened

2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese

Tabasco sauce (optional)

Boil chicken until tender and chop finely. Mix together dressing and Buffalo sauce. Use Tabasco sauce to fire it up to your desire. Spread cream cheese in a 9x13 baking dish. Mix chicken with dressing. Then pour over chicken mixture over cream cheese evenly. Sprinkle with cheddar cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Serve with corn chips.

From all of us under the tulip tree. . .  

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving Eve

It's that time of year again, Thanksgiving.  I am not going to bore you with all the things that I am thankful for although there are lots of them!  Instead I wanted to ask about everyone's favorite Thanksgiving traditions.  In my family we have a huge meal that I like to call Carb-O-Rama.  It's cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, sweet potato casserole, homemade rolls, English peas, corn,cranberry sauce,  broccoli casserole, green beans, pinto beans and dressed eggs.  Oh, and be sure to leave room for dessert- there will be pecan pie, sweet potato pie, chocolate cake, and banana pudding.  Lord, help us all should be the prayer!

 

Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday.  It's in the fall which is my favorite season.  It is usually cool enough that I can wear cuddly clothes and there is football.  Really what's not to love!  I know a lot of people think of Thanksgiving as a holiday that just marks the beginning of the Christmas season, much like football season just means basketball season is almost here in Kentucky but that is not how I feel about it.  I love Thanksgiving. 

 

My love of Thanksgiving probably comes from all the years that my mamma's family got together at my granny's.  My uncles and aunts would come home to Alabama and bring all of my cousins.  We always had great fun!  My mother's family is still more likely to gather at Thanksgiving than at Christmas.  My mother loves to prepare a meal so that everyone has their favorite dish.  Of course, at this point that means that there is too much food, but she says that is what the holidays are all about.

 

What is your favorite thing about Thanksgiving?

 

 

 

The Goose is Getting Fat!

"Thanksgiving is coming, the goose is getting fat.  Please sir, put some money in the old man's hat.  If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do.  If you haven't got a ha'penny, then God bless you..."

Now don't laugh, my friends.  I know this is a Muppet Christmas song.  But it just appealed to me as I wrote this blog post.  Because when you think about it, it fits.  You've got the goose getting fat, a man putting out his hat and giving.  Why not flip this to Thanksgiving?  ;)

There are a lot of people in need.  Right now a local radio DJ, a fixture in our town, is sitting up on a cherry picker, enduring 48 hours of cold and the elements to help raise money or bikes for Toys for Tots, sponsored by the Marines.  These bikes will be given to needy children who live in our area this Christmas.  What a fabulous annual witness to our town!  I'm amazed every time I drive by this awesome spectacle on my way to work.  It truly is phenomenal.

So what is the greatest gift of Thanksgiving?  It's a celebration of survival.  A joyous feast of the harvest signaling we'll be well fed, spiritually and physically.  It's also a time to share that bounty with others less fortunate.

What are you thankful for?  I'm thankful for my family and friends.  For God's grace and the freedoms I enjoy.  For my debut book, and Jean and Stephanie's good fortune too!  Their Crimson Romance debut releases in 7 days!

So I leave you today with some quotes I found interesting:

"Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare.  They are consumed in twelves minutes.  Half-times take twelve minutes.  This is not coincidence."  Erma Bombeck

"The truth is the Super Bowl long ago became more than just a football game.  It's part of our culture like turkey at Thanksgiving and lights at Christmas, and like those holidays beyond their meaning, a factor in our economy."  Bob Schieffer

"There is one day that is ours.  Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American."  O. Henry

Blessings for a peaceful day of preparation and celebration!

What are your plans for Thanksgiving?  Are you cooking?  Watching football? 

Katherine

Steer Clear

I do my best to not participate in Christmas on any level until after Thanksgiving. Oh, I know I have to do some stuff--like setting dates for parties and the like, but I don't even want to look at Christmas stuff until it's time.

Well. I have had to do some shopping lately and, try as I might to evade, everywhere I turn, there it is. Right in my face. Noel and Merry, Merry.

I have been reminded of things that send me screaming.

• Those round mouthed caroler figurines. 
• Blinking Christmas lights. 
• Josephs over the age of fifteen. 
• Lime green decorations. 

What Christmas paraphernalia gets under your skin?

Recipe Friday Cranberry Sauce

I am late this morning. Sorry. I was also a bad wife last night and served grilled cheese and canned soup for dinner. I even made him go to the store and pick out his own soup.

But I am making marvelous book progress. I am not going to be one of those writters who lets the rest of her life go to the devil but I am still learning to make adjustments.

I might be one of those writers who has repeated a recipe from a year or two ago. I wouldn't be surprised. It's one of my favorites and keeps forever in the 'fridge. I didn't check because I think it's worth repeating.

Cranberry Jezebel Sauce

1-Cup Water

½ Cup Sugar

½ Cup packed brown sugar

12 ounces of fresh cranberries

3 Tablespoons horseradish

1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard

Combine water, sugar, and brown sugar in a saucepan and mix well.  Bring to a boil over medium heat.  Add cranberries.  Return to a boil.  Cook for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Spoon into a bowl.  Let cool to room temperature.  Add horseradish and mustard.  Mix well. Cover and chill.

Serve with meat, on turkey sandwiches, or pour over Brie or cream cheese and serve with crackers.

I Coulda Had a Wha?

I’ve been to many readers/writers events now.  I can say I’m fairly comfortable with the process of what’s expected of me.  (Insert insurance policy for all of what I just said becoming totally and incurably false.  Just sayin’.)  And so on Saturday, it was really no hill for me to step up to the plan and execute two events in two different towns in one day.  Right?  At least that’s what I told myself.  

After the alarm snoozing off and on for over an hour, I finally get up and run for the shower hollering for someone to make coffee.  Veezer stops me in my tracks to ask why I’m in such a rush. “Because it’s your day, Sugar!” I say.  And then she assures me, after going over the detailed schedule of events for her Regional Lego Robotics Competition, that I am not needed there until the Awards Ceremony at 5pm.  Whew.  What a lovely little planning executive I have there!  And so I slow down to have some coffee to speed up again.  

By 10:30 I had enjoyed a lovely quiet morning, showered and headed out the door to take on the day with my HOD peeps, docs in hand, and an hour and a half drive towards middle Alabama in front of me.  It’s a great drive.  I usually fill the car with music and sing my heart out with no one to tell me to stop.  And so I sing, sing, sing.  Until the road narrows to one lane and then comes to a complete stop.  Construction.  Wha?  My head spins around looking for answers like an owl on its perch.  I just came down this road two days ago...there was no construction then? I need gas for the car.  And I was going to eat.   By 11:15 there’s still no movement except for the whirling of the blue lights from Mr. Copper’s car top letting everyone (namely, Me!) know they can’t take matters into their own hands and take the shoulder of the road all the way  to their destination.  Buggar.  

And that’s  how the day went.  Hurry up…slow down.  Talk faster….hush up.  Gads!  After two meetings with my peeps it finally dawned on me…  I Coulda Had a V-8!  Or at least a delegation party, which is what I should’ve done when I found out I had two events on the same day.  

But all was well…I was traveling down the road again to the other side of several mountains.  And that’s precisely when the text came in.  “We’re heading to the Awards Ceremony.  Where are you?”

An hour later I walked into the gym just in time to see the second half of awards handed out.  And which one goes to my Veezer’s team, the Robotic Predators?  First Place, Baby!  And I missed the entire Nerd-fest.  But I got the picture!  Go Predators!  Woot!  Woot!  The Robotic Predators go to State Competitions in January.  I won’t be missing that one!  I’m such a proud Nerd-Momma!  :D

 Inside my mind I can be in two places at one time.  I can do a Triple Sow Cow (Salchow) in there, too!  Can you?