Letting Go

I have a new “boy” at the barn, a nice kid in college who was raised on a farm with COWS. He is eager to learn but he just doesn’t get that HORSES are not COWS. I have patiently explained to him that horses and a mule (Daisey) wait for you to make a mistake and then they exploit it. He left the gate open the other day, taking his lunch break, and never looked back. I spent two hours chasing horses around the house, yard and barns in ninety-five degree heat. Needless to say, by the time his “lunch hour” was over, I had a few things to say to him. Suitably chastened, he apologized, walking away muttering something about having never heard “those words” before. Dripping wet with sweat and a little dizzy, I walked away muttering something about “the younger generation…” (Lord how I have become my mother!)

I thought he had learned his lesson, especially about the part of leaving gates open. Okay, so maybe he had – about gates. Stall doors are another thing entirely. I feed in the morning because young men do not watch the sunrise. They prefer to sleep in, take long lunch hours and then do their work in the hottest part of the day. Fine, they don’t have to worry about heat stroke or heart attacks. Nor do they have an aversion to sweating (I hate sweating). Any way, I digress.

The other day, I made it to the walking horse barn about 5:30 a.m. to feed. Because these are show horses and cannot be out on the pasture, I make sure they are fed, watered and hayed (I think that is a verb – the act of throwing hay – anyway I use it) twice a day. I walked into the barn through the office, flipped on the lights and stumbled out into the main hall. My usual routine is to walk down the row of stalls, checking on the horses and talking to them as I make my way to the stack of hay at the front.





I had made it about fifty feet when I looked up. Sundancer was loose!

A flash of yellow and a welcoming whinny were the only warnings I had before fourteen hundred pounds of horse was running to MOMMA. (I raised this horse from the time he was three months old and he really thinks I am his mother or at the least the woman who carries apples in her pockets). I ran, what else could I do. I made it to the feed room, opened the door and slammed it shut behind me.





I heard a disappointed snort by the door and I knew Sun was standing there, waiting. Now, the doors have outside latches on them which snap shut and LOCK. An escape mechanism, running a string through a hole in the wall which attaches to the latch, is very necessary in case you close the door behind you. Weeellll… the boys had removed the string (for what reason God only knows). I was trapped! I could have stayed there until someone realized I was missing (three or hour hours later) but I remembered the office door was open to the outside world. It would only be a matter of time before Sun lost interest in me and wandered up there, seeing his chance to escape to the world of roads, cars and rednecks who don’t break for animals. FREEDOM!!!!

I had to get out before the mischievous palomino found his way out of the barn. The feed room has twelve-foot walls but no ceiling, open to the rafters of the barn which are at least sixteen feet above the floor.





My only alternative was to climb. I don’t like heights and my upper body strength is nearly non-existent but I had to do something.






I turned a feed barrel (garbage can) over and started up the side of the wall, gaining toeholds where I could. Success! I made it to the top of the wall and looked down. Sun looked up at me, grinning or at least to me it looked like he was grinning. My first thought was to drop down on his broad back and then to the ground but visions of a wild ride around the barn with no reins and no way to stop him squelched that nonsense. My only option was to lift myself over, hang seven feet and then hopefully drop to the ground without shattering both ankles. Then I had to survive Sun. As I was hanging there, skinned and bleeding, I thought that surely no jury would convict me for murder. After all, there are plenty of young boys and I can always replace them. I had to let go – I had no choice. Stretching as far as I could, I managed to drop and roll, avoiding the dancing feet of Sundancer. I jumped up and chased him back into his stall.





Then I proceeded with my morning feeding, a little weak from blood loss, but otherwise okay. The new boy, well, he got another lesson in verbage.

Have you ever been in a situation where you were left hanging, either literally or figuratively? It’s a hard choice to let go, knowing that what waits at the bottom could be shattered ankles or, in our case as writers, shattered dreams. But sometimes, you just have to let go and see where that fall takes you. Tell me about your experience at “letting go.”

What I've Learned about Marriage

I've been married to The Guy for twenty-two years. Happily. I'm not saying I haven't thrown some hissy fits for valid reasons. I can even remember how I felt and some of what we said to each other. Oddly enough, I don't much remember what brought on those fits so he must have reformed or it wasn't that bad to begin with.

I have to say that, as husband training goes, I've done well and he's been accepting—to a point. I have accepted what I cannot change.

This is what I've learned about my marriage:

• If I don't tell him what I want, someone is going to be disappointed (me) and someone is going to be mad (him). He is not a good guesser. In truth, do I want him to sit around and think, "Now what can I pull out of my oh, so very romantic soul to please the love of my life, Jean?" I do not, I tell you. I wouldn't have that kind of man. If you want that kind of man, train him up and enjoy it.
  
• If I want to see a Woody Allen movie, I'd best make other arrangements because he's not going. Ever.
  
• It takes less energy for me to remove the sticky notes that he puts on the floor lamp by his chair than it does to yell at him to stop it. Besides, he isn't going to stop it. Nor is he going to throw away the blister pack that held whatever treasure he has procured for himself. Furthermore, he doesn't care if there are blister packs and sticky notes all over the place. I do. So I remove them.
  
• He once had an altercation with J.C. Penny's and will not shop there. He would like for me to support him in this. I must do this since, to my knowledge, this is the only altercation he has ever had with the world at large. I'm glad it was J.C. Penny's and not somewhere I like to shop.
  
• He has his list of household chores. 1. Clean the liter box. 2. Take the garbage to the street. 3. Keep the refrigerator stocked with soft drinks (which he does not drink.) 4. Pay the bills and keep the household accounts. 5. Keep our vehicles clean and gassed. 6. Pay the yardman. He does these things like clockwork. He will do almost anything else except cook, but I have to ask. He will walk past a basket of folded clean laundry that is sitting by the stairs 43 times and never see it.
  
• " Do we have any butter?" means "Will you get me some butter?" It is not productive to say, "Of course, we don't have any butter! When have we ever had butter? And if we did have some, it would be upstairs in your sock drawer!"
  
• If I want to see Barry Manilow in concert (and I have), I'd best make other arrangements because he's not going. Ever.
  
• I do not pack for him. I have friends who pack for their husbands. Not me. I am not going to be held responsible when he hasn't got the exact pair of socks he wants. Luckily, he likes to be in control and has no wish for me to pack for him.
  
• When we go to the movies, we are going to leave long before we need to. I've accepted it.
  
• When we get in the car to go somewhere, he is going to have to go back in for something. Probably.
  
• If I want to eat at Cracker Barrel, I'd best make other arrangements because he's not going. Ever.
  
• No matter how long he's been waiting for me to get ready to go somewhere, I end up waiting on him because he's thought of one more thing he has to do.
  
• He is always, always, without fail, going to say to me. "Go to conference. Go to Moonlight and Magnolias. I don't care if you didn't cook dinner. You have a job too. What do I need to do to make this work for you?"
  

What have you learned about relationships?

Recipe Friday--Sushi in a Bowl

If you were expecting What are You Reading? we hope that it's a pleasant surprise that you've found Recipe Friday. We are bored with What Are You Reading? That is to say, we are bored with posting what we're reading. If you want to tell us what you're reading, we are delighted to hear it.

Let me say that I announced early on in my sushi eating career that I was not learning to make sushi. I learned my lesson over the fajitas and the chicken tikki masala. Okay, I didn't learn my lesson over one, or the other wouldn't have happened, but what's important is I can produce a better product than what can be had in the local restaurants. The result: cooking—yes; going out for fajitas and chicken tikki masala—no. And I can't blame it on The Guy. Even I don't want to eat theirs.

Anyway. I digress. That's my hobby.

I wasn't going to let it happen to me over sushi. After all, I didn't have the little mat or access to sushi grade raw fish. And there was no way, I was going to stand there and chop, roll, and hope stuff didn't fall apart. I've held to that. However, a few hot summers ago, I ran across a recipe for Sushi in a Bowl. (That recipe has only a nodding acquaintance with what I am about to give you.) It's not sushi, so much as a salad with some of the elements of sushi. It's easy and won't cost you trips to the Japanese restaurant.

Apparently Precious Angel thinks it's good for breakfast. Two summers ago, before he could drive, I picked him up one morning at 8 a.m. after football weight training, which had started at 6 a.m. "Do you want to go to the grocery store with me?" I asked. "Or do you want to go home to rest until you have to be back for practice at 10?"

"Home, please" he said. "I just really need a shower, some food, and a nap."

This made me a little sad. This is the first time I can ever remember him turning down a trip to the grocery store. That child loved the grocery store. The man-child, not so much. Which, come to think of it, I'm glad about. I don't want him, as an adult man, to love the grocery store. That's just weird.

Anyway, I threw him out at my house and went about my business. I hadn't given much thought to what he would eat. There was cereal, fruit, English muffins, and he can scramble an egg. However, when I returned, there was a trail of rice, wasabi, and smoked salmon from the sink to the refrigerator. And the orange juice was gone.

I prefer it for lunch or a light dinner.

Enjoy!

Sushi in a Bowl

For the Sushi Mayonnaise

• ½ cup of light mayonnaise
• 2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil
• 1-2 tablespoons chopped pickled ginger
• 2 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds

For the Rice

• ¼ cup rice vinegar
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 2 cups (one cup dry) cooked and cooled rice (I use brown rice, but you can use sushi rice.)
• salt to taste

For the Rest

• Half an English cucumber, chopped
  
• 2 sheets of nori, torn into small pieces
• 6 ounces chopped smoked salmon
• 8 ounces boiled salad shrimp
• one chopped avocado that has been sprinkled with lemon juice
• wasabi and soy sauce

Combine ingredients for sushi mayonnaise and refrigerate.

Mix vinegar and sugar and toss with rice. Add salt.

Salt chopped cucumber and let drain on paper towels while you tear the nori and chop the salmon. Mix rice, cucumber, nori, salmon, and shrimp. Toss with mayonnaise and chill. Just before serving, add avocado. Serve with soy sauce and wasabi.

You can put anything in it you like. Red bell pepper and roasted asparagus is good. Little chopped up cubes of cream cheese is an idea. Not a good idea, as far as I am concerned because I don't like plain cream cheese, but I'll let you have it.

Serves four, provided a teenage boy is not involved.

State of Done

The goal was achieved!!

As many of you know from reading Pantster's blog on Monday, we are done with some things.  Most notably, we have just finished our latest work in progress.  Oh, there are just a few minor corrections to be made and one very, very, very  short scene to be added but other than that we can say it is a wrap!   We have reached the goal line!!! We  wanted to finish this project by the first of June and by golly we have made it!

I am  also done with the fabulous Heart of  Dixie Luncheon. It was especially fabulous this year to meet the wonderful and entertaining Barbara Vey and Kerreyn Sparks.  And  I  always love to work together with our chapter to make this event happen.  This year our very own Okay, Listen Here blog sisters, Katherine Bone and Cheryl Crisona, were Chair and Assistant Chair on this event, plus Pantster was on the committee, so I am very  proud and excited about how hard they worked to help create another great Reader's Luncheon--especially with all of the craziness that went on down here in Alabama with the tornadoes and subsequent damages.  Way to go Ladies!!!

 
Ok, I will go ahead and admit that I am very excited to move on to our next project.   I have held out for as long as I can and now I must ask, "Are you ready for some FOOTBALL??"  That's right, I know it is still baseball season. I know  it isn't football season in other parts of the country but in Alabama it is always football season.  Maybe one day Maven Linda can explain the actual four seasons of football to you but for now it is enough to know that I am done with going without football.  Our new story features a football coach hero and I can't wait one minute  longer to get into some football so here are some football pictures and images to get us through the long hot summer to the cool crisp days spent with the Boys of Fall!!

Marcell Dareus, the Rookie

This is the mascot of my new favorite professional football team!  The Buffalo Bills.  They drafted one of my favorite football players from the University of Alabama. They were very, very smart to take him with their first round draft pick. Smart move, Buffalo!

So I am done with the luncheon, practically done with filling the new ballot of officers to run for the open positions in RWA, done with new book, done with baseball, and done making myself live in a football free world!  Done, done, done!  I am very excited to be moving into the Free State of Done!

To celebrate all of this doneness I am going to order myself a new hat--just like the one Marcell Dareus got when he was drafted by the Buffalo Bills and I am going to wear it to watch them go back to the Super Bowl!

It always feels great to achieve a goal or to accomplish a difficult task.
How do you reward yourself when you achieve a goal or for a job well done?

What Challenges You?

We just finished the final touches on HOD's Annual Romance Readers' Luncheon. A lot of planning goes into this event every year and there are so many people involved. As luncheon coordinator, I'm always thrilled when another successful luncheon has seen its day. To pull this off, after such horrific weather and the loss of one of our dearest authors, took lots of determination this year. But we did it! HOD presented the best luncheon yet.

After such a whirlwind, what does one do with their time? Aha! The fact that there is time to spare is absolutely unheard of around here. ;)

I've actually been working on entering the Maggie's this year, a contest given by the Georgia Romance Writers. But instead of just entering one, I decided to enter four manuscripts. Ack! What grandiose goals took over my mind? I've been knee deep in luncheon business, the deadline is Friday and I've still got two entries to submit.

So, even though the luncheon is over, my life is still just as hectic these days. Apparently, I'm a glutton for punishment. I've entered contests before. Some brought me enlightenment, others disappointment and criticism. But who are we if we cannot learn and grow along the way to meeting our goals?

I've given a short craft corner on contests. Contests are tricky monsters. But when you final, as I finaled in the Romance Through the Ages contest in the Legend Award category this year, the rewards are bountiful.

So it is, with hope swelling my breast, that I submit these books to the Maggie's this week. Maybe my entries will cancel each other out. Maybe none of them will final. But if I don't try, I will never know.

Is there something you're willing to go out on a limb for these days? If so, let us know. We'd love to hear what challenges you!

The Meaning of Love

Romance writers – that’s what we are, what we call ourselves. I looked around the room during the luncheon last Saturday, at the readers and the writers, and a thought struck me. All these people are here because they like reading and writing romance novels. And what is at the root of all those novels? LOVE. But how do we define love? What is it? What does it mean to all of us? What causes humans to lose all sanity and all reason to find that emotion? WHAT IS LOVE?

According to Webster’s Dictionary, love, when used as a noun, is (1) strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties – a mother’s love (2) attraction based on sexual desire – affection and tenderness felt by lovers. When love is used as a verb it is defined as (1) to hold dear as in cherish (2) to feel a lover’s passion, devotion or tenderness for. But what does all that mean? How do we, as writers, convey what love is between the heroine and the hero? How do we tell the reader those thoughts so that she/he can understand the romance, the feelings, the overall need to be with that one human being which will make the characters complete? We struggle to write down those feelings and let the reader know that these two people are meant for each other, through all adversity and conflict. But what does it truly mean when they say “I love you” ?

The thought intrigued me. I think that the feelings and yearnings behind the emotion are intangible passions which are felt differently by different people. That is what makes love. Aristotle captured the true definition, for me, in one sentence: Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. The Ying and the Yang of each other. Without one the other is incomplete. The irresistible need exists in both people to be with the other, to fulfill each other and become one soul. So there you have it, my definition of love. But how do we write that? How do we convey that compulsion and explain it to our readers? It is a hard process.

In my search for the definition of love, I looked at many quotes, trying to find meaning in other people’s words. How did they define it? Here are a few which spoke to me:

When you love a man, he becomes more than a body. His physical limbs expand, and his outline recedes, vanishes. He is rich and sweet and right. He is part of the world, the atmosphere, the blue sky and the blue water. - Gwendolyn Brooks

For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul. – Judy Garland

Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. – Robert Frost

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out. – Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

And the one that I think captures the essence of love –

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. – 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

So how do you define love? What do you think makes you love one person and not another? Do you think it’s as Aristotle says, the unification of one soul split between two people? Tell me your thoughts on what defines LOVE.

Stick Me With a Fork

What do you do when you're done?

That is, done as in finished with a book or another big project. Those who know me well know that when I say out loud, "I'm done," in a certain tone, it means walking away from a person or a situation that has frustrated me beyond my bounds and I will not be turning around. But that's not the kind of done I'm talking about. That's another blog.

I am a hit-and-miss disciplined person—that is, I don't seem to muster up much discipline about some things but am like a laser beam on others. Lucky for me—and Stephanie—I'm disciplined about my work. That doesn't make me better. It makes me the person with no children and no day job. Still, it takes some effort and it takes saying no. It used to be impossible for me to ignore a ringing phone because who knew what treasure could lie on the other side? Well, now, thanks to caller ID, I do know and I will return calls—at least if it's a treasure. And there are some people I answer the phone for no matter what, Baby Girl and Precious Angel among a few others.

Okay, I'm rambling and there's a reason for it.

I’m done.

And that's what I do when I'm done. I ramble, sit around in my pajamas, and listen to music by Lobo and the Jeff Healey Band on YouTube. I call people who don't have time to talk to me and should be screening their calls like I have learned to do. I search ESPN's website for clips about my beloved Crimson Tide and yell at them when they don't say glowing things. I work crossword puzzles in super easy books that a six-year-old could do.

After some solid gold advice from a successful published author friend, we have been rewriting a book that is close to our hearts. We gave ourselves a reasonable finish deadline so we could give it a really good read through by conference at the end of June. We beat our deadline by three days and Stephanie said, "Send me the full so I can read for typos and inconsistencies." These are things I can't help with right after I'm done. I can't find them until it gets cold.

So I sent it to her. Now, it's almost noon and I'm still wearing what I slept in. My house is clean, but my bed isn't made. (This is unlike me.) I am contemplating sending Precious Angel a message on Facebook to boss him around about something. I don't know what yet. I ordered new panties online instead of going to the store to buy them. Who does that?

Me, when I'm done. Because these things keep me from doing what I want to do, which is getting on with what we were working on before we went back to what we just finished rewriting. I can't do that, because Stephanie has a big old rule about not moving on until we are completely done. Which means reading for typos and inconsistencies, and getting the pitch written, and all those other pesky little unfun things. "KEEP YOUR HEAD IN THIS PROJECT," she says. "I NEED YOUR HEAD RIGHT HERE."

Okay, Stephanie. I'm right here. See? Not thinking about Nathan and Tolly from our other project, who we left in temporal stasis, miserable and confused. Not one little bit.

Hey, maybe I'll go back though my blogs and find all the ones where I've said, "That's another blog," and make a list of future blog topics. Yeah. Or I'll order some socks online.

What do you do when you're done?