Oh, the illusion of privacy. When my husband and I bought our house twenty years ago, it felt remarkably secluded, considering that it’s located in the middle of a housing development.
There’s a steep, roughly two-story-high slope behind the house, leveled into tiers that allow for gardening. At the top, large bushes screen the house behind and above us. Around the sides, rampaging pepper trees blocked the view of our other neighbors.
Our homeowners’ association maintains all the slopes in the development. Some are in public view, but even private ones like ours have to be carefully tended to avoid over watering that could cause slope collapse, bringing houses from the street behind us tumbling down. Yes, that happens in Southern California. And you thought we only had to worry about earthquakes and brush fires!
Recently, the sprinkler system on the slopes needed replacing. Also, much of the vegetation had become overgrown. So, after consulting with the homeowners, the development’s gardeners went to work.
Down came the pepper trees, along with most of the bushes. Suddenly, we could see our neighbors’ decks and balconies, and they could see us.
Removing so much shrubbery revealed that there are other eyes upon us as well.
The other day, around noon, my husband and I were out working in our vegetable garden when we spotted movement in a neighbor’s Asian fruit tree. The branches shook, and down came a raccoon. Giving us a disdainful glance, it waddled under the mesh fence dividing the properties, ran along the top of our slope, and climbed into another neighbor’s yard, where a tempting fig tree awaited.
Soon afterward, a squirrel came out near the first fruit tree, probably picking up what the raccoon had shaken down. Suddenly a lot of things made sense: the leaves eaten off my eggplants (squirrels love those). The gallon milk jug, pierced by a needle and filled with water, that I’d left overnight to deep-soak a tomato plant and found in the morning empty, crumpled and twisted (I’m guessing the raccoon discovered that it could squeeze the jug to shoot the water out faster, giving it a nice drink).
I grabbed the pepper shaker and gave my garden a liberal sprinkling to discourage the squirrels, and I’ve temporarily given up on the whole milk-jug watering scheme, although I may employ it during very hot days this summer. But once the tomatoes come in, I have no doubt beady eyes will be watching and waiting.
As for our human neighbors, the new plants around the property will grow tall after a while. Then I look forward to regaining the illusion of privacy.
Friday, 30 April 2010
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
Cue the Mist
Long before I started reading romance novels, I was a sucker for a romantic scene.
One of my favorites? When Richard Gere's character takes Julia Robert's character on a surprise date in Pretty Woman. He doesn't tell her where they're going, only that it's something that requires nice attire. She puts on a gorgeous gown, he shows up in a tux...and jets (literally) her off to San Francisco to see her very first opera.
Sigh.
But as neat as that scene was, I love the subtle scenes, too--where a look conveys everything you need to know about the depth of love between two characters.
So tell me, what's a movie scene that got you all starry-eyed? And what's one gesture that would make your heart pound or your eyes mist in real life?
~Laura
One of my favorites? When Richard Gere's character takes Julia Robert's character on a surprise date in Pretty Woman. He doesn't tell her where they're going, only that it's something that requires nice attire. She puts on a gorgeous gown, he shows up in a tux...and jets (literally) her off to San Francisco to see her very first opera.
Sigh.
But as neat as that scene was, I love the subtle scenes, too--where a look conveys everything you need to know about the depth of love between two characters.
So tell me, what's a movie scene that got you all starry-eyed? And what's one gesture that would make your heart pound or your eyes mist in real life?
~Laura
Every Woman Is A Heroine!
A woman asks little of love: only that she be able to feel like a heroine- Mignon McLaughlin
A dear friend of mine sent me this quote and I knew instantly this was a quote that described me and the reasons why I write. Romance, love and of course happy endings.
Now on to harder stuff; Blogging! To me this is a terrifying new concept. I know many of you savvy women blog like it’s second nature. To me it’s a whole a new world. As an author I have spent the last six years writing books so intensely that I have fallen behind the times. My mother has spoken to me about blogging, and as all children do, we just don’t listen. Shame on me. I have to admit I’m a little embarrassed.
Once you learn about blogging, you find out who blogs. Then who blogs well. For instance I have this amazing friend Kate who does my hair. If you look at my pictures, she is the magician behind the scenes, truly the only reason my hair looks good. Kate has two young children. She runs a beauty salon and also blogs. If you want a great laugh, I highly recommend following it!
http://apps.facebook.com/blognetworks/blog/domestic_goddess_and_co._smug_marrieds_and_2_little_chicks?ref=mf
My question now is, how do all of you have time? I’m absolutely amazed at the sheer genius so many women exude on their blogs. I just recently watched the movie, Julie and Julia. If you haven’t seen it, you’re missing an uplifting, moving and empowering show. It spoke to me as a writer in so many ways. First of all it gave me the courage to blog. The character of Julie who wants to be a writer and get published was utterly relatable. I have been there and let me tell you, it’s hard and it hurts. Julie portrayed how cathartic it is to write through a blog even if just one person hears your voice and that person happens to be you.
Then there’s Julia Childs! At Harlequin we need to write real life characters, not stereotypes or caricatures. Who would ever believe that a human being would be as fabulous as Julia Childs. Seriously, who says, “I love eating.” And she means it and isn’t ashamed of it at all.
On top of that, she makes fabulous comments like, “I love getting out of bed at six in the morning to go to school.” What a gift for her to love life that intensely. Of course the crux of the movie that utterly thrilled me as an author was when they offered to buy her book. Even better, she’s got paid! To do what we love is the greatest gift of all.
I know I am one of those lucky souls who gets to do my passion, but of course it’s not always easy. Bumps and jumps come along the way. Last week I had the privilege of being contacted by a local TV news anchor. He asked to interview my mother and me for his blog. As he spoke to me, he thought the story was big enough to go on the news that night. So mom and I scrambled to get our hair done, I bought a new suit, put my make-up on, all to find out there had been a murder in the city and our story got cut.
It made me think of Julie and the beouf bourguinonne she prepared for the Christian Science monitor and how they didn’t come because it was raining. She continued to persevere and so did I. Fortunately the TV anchor still thought our story was interesting and put us on his blog. Here is the link to our story.
http://oursouthvalley.com/?s=south+jordan+author
So to all you who read this, thank you for being interested in what I have to say. It’s a whole different kettle of fish to write fiction and definitely a lot easier. My hope is that all of you who read this blog will know your dreams can come true. Life throws curves, road blocks and walls, but if you persevere, anything can happen. Especially love!
Ciao,
Dominique Burton
A dear friend of mine sent me this quote and I knew instantly this was a quote that described me and the reasons why I write. Romance, love and of course happy endings.
Now on to harder stuff; Blogging! To me this is a terrifying new concept. I know many of you savvy women blog like it’s second nature. To me it’s a whole a new world. As an author I have spent the last six years writing books so intensely that I have fallen behind the times. My mother has spoken to me about blogging, and as all children do, we just don’t listen. Shame on me. I have to admit I’m a little embarrassed.
Once you learn about blogging, you find out who blogs. Then who blogs well. For instance I have this amazing friend Kate who does my hair. If you look at my pictures, she is the magician behind the scenes, truly the only reason my hair looks good. Kate has two young children. She runs a beauty salon and also blogs. If you want a great laugh, I highly recommend following it!
http://apps.facebook.com/blognetworks/blog/domestic_goddess_and_co._smug_marrieds_and_2_little_chicks?ref=mf
My question now is, how do all of you have time? I’m absolutely amazed at the sheer genius so many women exude on their blogs. I just recently watched the movie, Julie and Julia. If you haven’t seen it, you’re missing an uplifting, moving and empowering show. It spoke to me as a writer in so many ways. First of all it gave me the courage to blog. The character of Julie who wants to be a writer and get published was utterly relatable. I have been there and let me tell you, it’s hard and it hurts. Julie portrayed how cathartic it is to write through a blog even if just one person hears your voice and that person happens to be you.
Then there’s Julia Childs! At Harlequin we need to write real life characters, not stereotypes or caricatures. Who would ever believe that a human being would be as fabulous as Julia Childs. Seriously, who says, “I love eating.” And she means it and isn’t ashamed of it at all.
On top of that, she makes fabulous comments like, “I love getting out of bed at six in the morning to go to school.” What a gift for her to love life that intensely. Of course the crux of the movie that utterly thrilled me as an author was when they offered to buy her book. Even better, she’s got paid! To do what we love is the greatest gift of all.
I know I am one of those lucky souls who gets to do my passion, but of course it’s not always easy. Bumps and jumps come along the way. Last week I had the privilege of being contacted by a local TV news anchor. He asked to interview my mother and me for his blog. As he spoke to me, he thought the story was big enough to go on the news that night. So mom and I scrambled to get our hair done, I bought a new suit, put my make-up on, all to find out there had been a murder in the city and our story got cut.
It made me think of Julie and the beouf bourguinonne she prepared for the Christian Science monitor and how they didn’t come because it was raining. She continued to persevere and so did I. Fortunately the TV anchor still thought our story was interesting and put us on his blog. Here is the link to our story.
http://oursouthvalley.com/?s=south+jordan+author
So to all you who read this, thank you for being interested in what I have to say. It’s a whole different kettle of fish to write fiction and definitely a lot easier. My hope is that all of you who read this blog will know your dreams can come true. Life throws curves, road blocks and walls, but if you persevere, anything can happen. Especially love!
Ciao,
Dominique Burton
Monday, 26 April 2010
Cooking from Memory
Victoria Chancellor's post a few days ago made me think of this funny little recipe book I have from 1973: Community Church Women Present—A COLLECTION OF FAVORITE RECIPES. It was put together as a fund raiser for the local church and cost all of a dollar-fifty. At the time, I’m sure it was a pretty penny to pay for these homey recipes. Now, this chance to travel back in time, food-wise, is invaluable.
The cookbook—bound at the top with a two-hole clip and covered with vinyl wallpaper—begins with a story written by Rafe Gibbs in 1953. I’ve never heard of the author. The piece has no title. I have no idea why it’s included since it doesn’t have a thing to do with cooking or food. It’s a summary of the life of one Dick Ferrell, one time blacksmith and up-and-coming prize-fighter. He left the fight circuit in 1914 to become a preacher, ministering to the lumberjacks in Northern Idaho for forty years. Someone must have liked it enough to type it up and insert it in the front of the book. I could probably find out why, but I’ve always been content to let the mystery lie. Don’t you think some things are better left that way, rather than be sullied by some prosaic explanation?
A variety of recipes follow this charming yarn. Some are my favorites: Chocolate Peppermint Creams, Three-Bean Salad, Dilly Casserole Bread. Others, I seldom use or have never even tried: Tater-Tot Casserole, Cucumber-Cream Salad, Celery Casserole Delight. There are at least five versions of meat loaf (including my mother’s which is baked with barbeque sauce and still my ‘gold standard’). Some of these dishes I remember from community potluck dinners or a meal at a school-friend’s home. I suspect a lot of them are still being made, passed down the generations, like mom’s meatloaf. The comfort food of our childhood.
Back at Christmas-time, when I was searching for the sugar cookie recipe that I always use, this recipe in particular caught my eye:
A Happy Home Recipe
4 cups love
2 cups loyalty
3 cups forgiveness
1 cup friendship
5 spoons hope
2 spoons tenderness
4 quarts faith
1 barrel laughter
Take love and loyalty, mix it together with faith. Blend in tenderness and forgiveness. Add friendship and hope, sprinkle abundantly with laughter. Bake it with sunshine. Serve daily with generous helpings
No one gets credit for this recipe, not like the others by Cheryl Gerdts or Grace Rule or Diane Lowry or other church ladies. Sandwiched between Amber Skillet Dinner and Golden Shrimp Puff, it is just another recipe. A good one, though. Worth whipping up and serving around on a regular basis. Comfort food of another kind, but just as nourishing.
Oh, and those sugar cookies? Here’s that recipe:
Best Ever Sugar Cookies by Finetta Smith
1 cup powdered sugar
1 cup white sugar
1 cup butter
1 cup vegetable oil
2 eggs, beaten
1 tsp vanilla
4 ½ cups flour
1 tsp cream of tartar
1 tsp baking soda
Cream together butter and sugars. Beat in eggs, oil and vanilla. Sift flour together with baking soda and cream of tartar; stir into mixture until well blended. Refrigerate for one hour, then roll dough into balls and dip in cinnamon sugar. Flatten with a glass. Bake at 350 until lightly golden-brown. [Or you can use a cookie press. I load the press up, make a pan of cookies, then put the still-partially-filled press in a zip-lock and stick it back in the refrigerator until I want another fresh batch of cookies.]
Try them and let me know how they taste.
The Thrill of Discovery and Survival
I love the feeling of discovering a new author, a new series, a new TV show or new band. It's a little like falling in love -- the initial excitement, the all-consuming need to be with them all the time.I'd say most, if not all, of us here have been excited about reading since we could make out words. There is nothing quite like discovering a new author, book or series that keeps us up reading way past when we should be calling it a night and getting some sleep. I've felt that way about the Harry Potter books, the Twilight books, Diana Gabaldon's Outlander books, Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games series, J.R. Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood. Now I can add Susan Beth Pfeffer's The Last Survivors series. I hadn't heard of this young adult series until I recently saw the third book, This World We Live In, at the bookstore on the recent releases shelf. The premise is that a giant asteroid hits the moon and knocks it closer to Earth, causing catastrophic climate change and lots of death. The first story, Life As We Knew It, is set in rural Pennsylvania and follows how a teenage girl's family copes with the aftermath of the collision. The second, The Dead and Gone, takes place during the same period, but it illustrates how a teenage boy and his siblings survive in New York City. I'm almost finished with the second book, so I'll be starting This World We Live In, in which the two families somehow cross paths.
I don't know why, but I've always been fascinated by survival stories -- Robinson Crusoe, Julie of the Wolves, The Swiss Family Robinson, The Hunger Games, Defiance (the WWII movie with Daniel Craig), The Day After Tomorrow. I'm interested in how people will survive if they're stripped down to their very base nature -- the need for food and water. Watching the news after big events like hurricanes and earthquakes gives us a glimpse that it doesn't take long for man to get back to that basic instinct for survival. All the niceties of civilized society go out the window when you're hungry and thirsty. But in spite of that, it's inspiring to see the triumph of the human spirit -- those stories of people surviving in earthquake rubble for more than a week, against all odds. The ones who are mauled by a bear or cougar and manage to drag themselves miles to a road. Man will do a lot to survive.
Do you like survival stories. If so, what are some of your favorites?
Saturday, 24 April 2010
A Week Of Firsts
Ever have one of those days? One of those weeks?
Usually, when someone asks that question, there’s a negative connotation. But I’ve had a series of those days that folded themselves into one of those weeks…in the best of all possible ways. Starting with the release of my debut book for Harlequin American Romance last Tuesday. Walking into a book store and seeing The Officer’s Girl on the shelf was so exciting I grabbed the first sales clerk I saw and said, “This, this is my book!”
Poor woman. She obviously didn’t understand. It took another couple of tries before she realized I meant I’d written the book. Once she did, the joy spread until the next thing I knew, a voice came over the speaker announcing “an author” was in the building, and if anyone wanted to, they could come on over to the Romance section. And it was super when the clerk asked me to sign the copies of The Officer's Girl they had in stock.
I also participated in my first official book signing this week. And boy, what a book signing it was! Every new author should have nearly 300 eager fans show up and a staff to hand out tickets so attendees wouldn’t have to stand on line for hours. You probably already guessed not all those people were there to see me. And, much as I’d love to insist they were, you’d be right. The book signing kicked off the annual Washington Romance Writers’ Retreat. Held at Turn The Page Book Store Cafe in Boonsboro, MD, the other signers included the amazing Nora Roberts, Charlaine Harris, and Roxanne St. Claire.
For me, it was still a blast. Chatting with the attendees and being part of this event was such a fabulous experience, I’m eager to do it again. And, since I just completed my second Harlequin American Romance, maybe I'll be able to next year when Catch of a Lifetime is released.
Here's a photo of some of the crowd at Turn The Page.
Waiting for Babies
On Thursday on my blog, The Writer Side of Life, I posted a link to a great site created by Doug and Sheila Carrick, residents of Hornby Island off Canada’s west coast, and I thought I’d also share it here. Several years ago they set up a web cam above the nest of a pair of bald eagles on their property. This year the eagles have produced two eggs, and they are expected to hatch this weekend! Thanks to the Carricks, we get a bird’s eye view of the birth of these little eaglets.
Click here to visit the Hornby Island Eagle Cam and witness the birth of two baby bald eagles.
For more information about Doug and Sheila and the eagles, visit their website, The Eagles of Hornby Island.
To get an idea of what to expect, here's a photo of Hope, the first of last year's two babies. Aw!
Click here to visit the Hornby Island Eagle Cam and witness the birth of two baby bald eagles.
For more information about Doug and Sheila and the eagles, visit their website, The Eagles of Hornby Island.
To get an idea of what to expect, here's a photo of Hope, the first of last year's two babies. Aw!
Happy bird watching!
Until next time,
Lee
Firefighter Daddy (July 2010)
Friday, 23 April 2010
Kathleen Comes to Arizona
Last weekend I had a wonderful time at my local Romance Writers of America conference. My chapter always does a great job with the conference, but this year was a little more fun and exciting for me as my Harlequin American editor Kathleen Scheibling attended. It's always enjoyable for us authors to get to spend some quality time with our editors as well as a little social interacting :)
I picked her up at the airport on Friday (yes, I scrambled on Thursday to get the car washed). I was so paranoid about forgetting where I parked my car in the HUGE parking garage, I actually typed the info into my cell phone (two years ago when I picked up two editors at the airport, I DID forget where I parked and we wandered for 45 minutes ).
Saturday we sat together at lunch. That afternoon, we had our Harlequin panel workshop and it went well, I think. I did purchase a cd of the workshop as a souvenir!!
That's Kathleen on the far right, me next to her, Linda Style on my other side and Carrie Weaver on the far left. Both Linda and Carrie are Super Romance authors and members of my RWA chapter. That evening, we took Kathleen to the Westin Kierland Resort for dinner. I'd never been there before but I will definitely go back again one day. The place was gorgeous and the food amazingly good.
I ended the "editor intensive" weekend by having breakfast with Kathleen Sunday morning. And, yes, I did pitch a new series idea :)
This wasn't the first time I've met my editor, but it was certainly one of the best times I had with her. My only regret was that she didn't have an extra day to see the sights as she'd never been to Arizona before.
Cathy Mc
I picked her up at the airport on Friday (yes, I scrambled on Thursday to get the car washed). I was so paranoid about forgetting where I parked my car in the HUGE parking garage, I actually typed the info into my cell phone (two years ago when I picked up two editors at the airport, I DID forget where I parked and we wandered for 45 minutes ).
Saturday we sat together at lunch. That afternoon, we had our Harlequin panel workshop and it went well, I think. I did purchase a cd of the workshop as a souvenir!!
That's Kathleen on the far right, me next to her, Linda Style on my other side and Carrie Weaver on the far left. Both Linda and Carrie are Super Romance authors and members of my RWA chapter. That evening, we took Kathleen to the Westin Kierland Resort for dinner. I'd never been there before but I will definitely go back again one day. The place was gorgeous and the food amazingly good.I ended the "editor intensive" weekend by having breakfast with Kathleen Sunday morning. And, yes, I did pitch a new series idea :)
This wasn't the first time I've met my editor, but it was certainly one of the best times I had with her. My only regret was that she didn't have an extra day to see the sights as she'd never been to Arizona before.
Cathy Mc
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
Blast From the Past Food in Brody's Crossing
Three weeks ago I finished the next book in my Brody's Crossing series, tentatively titled Texan in Her Heart. It's the story of a lost sister, Amanda Allen Crawford, who travels home to Texas and the Rocking C, and ends up finding more than she'd ever imagined. Not only does she fall in love (of course!) but she discovers a sense of community in the town where her mother lived for twenty years, her brothers were born and her father is buried. If you've read the other Brody's Crossing books, you'll recognize Troy Crawford from Temporarily Texan and Cal Crawford from An Honorable Texan as Amanda's big (and clueless) brothers. As always, my small town atmosphere is enhanced by my new community of Mineola, TX, where springtime is absolutely IN BLOOM! Here's the arbor leading to our front door.And, since I missed posting the recipes for this month on the 4th due to wireless Internet issues, I'd like to also mention that she discovers Brody's Crossing is a place to eat. Big time. I didn't realize until after I'd finished the book that someone (usually the hero, Leo Casale) was always feeding her. You'd think she was a stray kitten! He takes her to Dewey's Steakhouse and Saloon and fixes her an authentic Italian dinner (thank you, Virginia Kantra, for the Bolognese sauce suggestion) at his condo. She dines with "the lunch ladies" at the cafe. They have a "blast from the past" going-away party for her at the Rocking C.
I thought I'd share some of the recipes the lunch ladies fix for the party. These might be familiar to you if you are "of a certain age."
- Velveeta Cheese/Rotel Tomato dip (in a Crock Pot, of course!)
- Macaroni Salad
- Meatballs with Chili Barbecue Sauce
- Sausage Pinwheels
- Peach Jello Salad
- Refrigerator Oatmeal Fudge Cookies
You probably have some of these recipes in your cookbooks, on recipe cards or bookmarked
online. If not, I'm going to share the ones I really love. Some of these are standards you
can easily look up. Some are so simple you don't really need a recipe!
Virginia Chancellor's Macaroni Salad
- 1 pkg elbow macaroni, cooked until soft (do not overcook!
- 1 large green pepper or more, to taste, cored and diced into small pieces
- 1 pkg Velveeta Cheese, cubed into 1/2 inch squares
- Salt and pepper to taste
- Miracle Whip
- Combine the first four ingredients in a large bowl. Add enough Miracle Whip to moisten
everything but not so much that it becomes soggy. Refrigerate for several hours before
serving so the flavors will blend. The Velveeta may get a little soft, but that's okay. The
perfect macaroni salad for a hot Texas afternoon. Sometimes I even eat it for breakfast the next day!
Victoria Chancellor's Easy Meatballs
- 1 lb lean ground beef (I use 90% to 93% lean)
- 1 egg, slightly beaten
- 3 slices of bread, shredded or processed into crumbs, or saltine cracker crumbs
- Salt and pepper to taste
- Onion and garlic, minced fine, optional
- For Swedish meatballs, add 1/2 teaspoon of ground nutmeg and omit garlic
- Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil and use non-stick spray.
Mix all ingredients. Roll into small meatballs, about an inch or a little more in diameter, and
place on cookie sheet. Bake for 20 -25 minutes until brown. For the best looking meatballs,
turn halfway through cooking, but if you forget, that's okay. No frying! (Note: To increase
recipe, just use the same proportions of 1 egg per 1 lb ground beef, and add enough crumbs to
make them stick together.)
Chili-Barbecue Sauce for Meatballs
- 1 jar Heinz Chili Sauce and 1 jar sweet (not vinegary) barbecue sauce. I like K.C. Masterpiece.
- Mix together, heat, and add meatballs. Great in a Crock Pot. Will keep for days (refrigerated) if you have any left after the party!
Peach Jello Salad
My mother and then my mother-in-law loved this Jello salad straight from the 1960s or 1970s. If served as a salad, put it on a lettuce leaf for a nice presentation.
- 2 small packages Peach flavored Jello
- 1 large (8 ounce) package cream cheese
- 2 small jars apricot baby food or about 4 ounces of frozen peaches, blended
- 1 large can crushed pineapple (Do not use FRESH pineapple!)
- 1 large container Cool Whip
You will need a 9 x 13 casserole dish or two 8 x 8 dishes. Drain pineapple and save juice,
then add water to equal 2 cups. Bring water and Jello to a boil. Beat in cream cheese. Cool.
Add fruit (baby food or peaches, pineapple) and allow to congeal slightly in refrigerator. Stir in Cool Whip. Refrigerate until firm. Serves a lot of people as either a salad or a dessert.
I'll share the Oatmeal Fudge Refrigerator Cookie and sausage pinwheel recipes later. Writing
about all this food has made me hungry! Happy reading ... and cooking.
Sunday, 18 April 2010
Clueless
I'm at a total loss this morning about what to blog about. Several things have gone through my mind, but nothing seems to stick or last much longer than one or two sentences. It must be spring fever. Or maybe it's just my brain taking a nap after meeting a string of deadlines. So instead of trying to make sense of much of any one thing, I'm going to list some of those things that have danced through my mind.
Did you know that April begins on the same day each year as July, and in Leap year it's the same as January?
The HAR covers have been fantastic! As fantastic as the stories inside!
Signs in my office:
Did you know that April begins on the same day each year as July, and in Leap year it's the same as January?
The HAR covers have been fantastic! As fantastic as the stories inside!
Signs in my office:
- Nobody is born published
- PASSION: A powerful force that cannot be stopped
- SOMEDAY MY COWBOY WILL COME (given to me a week ago by one of the members in our local writers' group)
I spent a wonderful morning plotting with three friends and wish we could get together more often, if only for the company.
It seems as if April Fool's Day was only a couple of days ago, yet the month is already more than half gone.
Thank goodness Tax Day is done for another year!
If I could do this a week from today, I could blog about the local Renaissance Fair, which I love attending.
People who can't think of blog topics shouldn't be blogging. :)
Have a wonderful rest of the weekend!
Friday, 16 April 2010
Spring Cleaning Philosophy
Yep, it's that time of year again. You've heard all the "definitions" of spring cleaning:heavy duty, top-to-bottom cleaning--carpets, windows inside and out, blinds, draperies, sorting through closets, basements, attics and garages--all this in addition to the traditional chores of dusting, scrubbing toilets, showers and kitchens. Most of us understand and appreciate that the meaning of this yearly event is associated with "spring" due to warmer weather and the idea that spring signals renewal and rebirth.
The older I become the less interested I am in rebirth and renewal--at least when it comes to my home. One afternoon while I was searching the Internet for cleaning "shortcuts" I came across the following spring-cleaning philosophies.
The older I become the less interested I am in rebirth and renewal--at least when it comes to my home. One afternoon while I was searching the Internet for cleaning "shortcuts" I came across the following spring-cleaning philosophies.
Spring Cleaning Philosophy #1
from YOU Magazine www.allaboutnews.com
Spring is here and it's time to give your home a deep cleaning. There are two roads you can go down. The first one is paved with loathing and complaints. Needless to say, it is not a very fun road to travel. Chores seem to take longer to complete, and by the end of the day, your back hurts worse than ever.
The second road is one that involves taking a slightly different look at the task at hand. Spring is a very symbolic time of year. From the beginning, it's always been associated with starting anew. If you think of spring cleaning in somewhat the same way, your attitude in terms of doing it may actually change for the better.
Think of how good it will feel to not only have a very clean home, but also one that's organized and clutter-free. At the same time, think about how much easier it's going to be to perform any subsequent cleaning throughout the remainder of the year. It may actually result in a renewed love of the space in which you live. Believe it or not, a good spring cleaning can be as cathartic
and invigorating as a move into a new home.
Spring Cleaning Philosophy # 2
I don't do windows because--I love birds and don't want one to run into a clean window and get hurt.
I don't wax floors because--I am terrified a guest will slip and get hurt then I'll feel terrible (plus they might sue me).
I don't mind the dust bunnies because--They are very good company, I have named most of them, and they agree with everything I say.
I don't disturb cobwebs because--I want every creature to have a home of their own.
I don't spring clean because--I love all the seasons and don't want the others to get jealous.
I don't put things away because--My husband will never be able to find them again.
I don't do gourmet meals because--When I entertain I don't want my guests to stress out over what to make when they invite me over for dinner.
I don't iron because--I choose to believe them when they say "permanent press."
I don't stress much on anything because--"A Type" personalities die young and I want to stick around and become a wrinkled up crusty ol' woman!"
Remember--A clean house is a sign of a broken computer.
Okay, I admit that spring-cleaning philosophy #2 sounds really appealing! So...what kind of spring-cleaning philosophy do you subscribe to?
Marin
Dexter:Honorable Cowboy
Book #2 The Codys: First Family of Rodeo
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
Tax Day and Other Deadlines
Anybody out there working on taxes today?
It seems appropriate, as this is Tax Day here in the states, to talk about how we all deal differently with deadlines. In addition to the deadline to file taxes and deadlines at work, I've also been working toward a deadline for the revisions on my second book.
I don't deal well with deadlines. I admit it. They stress me out. Always have. Yet many years ago in school, (and no, I won't specify exactly how many years) I found my own way to deal with them. Given that I'm a nervous wreck until said deadline is met, I just meet them early. Like setting your alarm clock a few minutes ahead, I set the calendar a week or two ahead in my mind so I think things are due before they really are. Not that I avoid the stress, I just experience it earlier as opposed to later. I finished my term papers half way through the term. Not to say I didn't rewrite them three times before turning them in. I had nightmares about sitting in class and realizing I didn't have my assignment. We filed our taxes by the first of March because I couldn't take worrying about them. Currently, I'm working diligently to complete my revisions so I can let the manuscript breathe a week then proof it before sending.
Not to say that I've never missed a deadline, but not many. Don't say it. I completely realize this is a neurotic sickness.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, and possibly the sane end, I've had friends, co-workers, and even a critique partner that appear to drift leisurely along, then thrive on that last rush of adrenaline to meet deadlines with thirty seconds to spare. And they do it well. Their stress seems to last a much shorter time than mine.
What worries me these days is that I've got so many things going on in my life, things that demand my attention, that there aren't enough hours in the day. At times I have trouble keeping track of everything. My life has become a juggling act. The day job. Writing. An elderly mom living with us who needs more and more of my attention. This is the woman who taught me to balance my bank statement to the penny. Now I have to help her balance her's. Her doctor appointments. I'm delighted that my boys are both married and mostly self-sufficient, but they still rely on me for certain things. And then there are the grandkids and other family issues I won't bore you with.
Don't get me wrong. I am not willing to give any of this up. My family is the center of my life. Writing is a lifelong dream. And the day job, well it funds it all and I'm too young to retire. Being the white cream in the center of the Oreo is not new to me. But lately I'm slipping. When I'm working on one thing, my brain is spinning, thinking about three others.
Help me out. Surely everyone has to juggle at times. What works for you?
It seems appropriate, as this is Tax Day here in the states, to talk about how we all deal differently with deadlines. In addition to the deadline to file taxes and deadlines at work, I've also been working toward a deadline for the revisions on my second book.
I don't deal well with deadlines. I admit it. They stress me out. Always have. Yet many years ago in school, (and no, I won't specify exactly how many years) I found my own way to deal with them. Given that I'm a nervous wreck until said deadline is met, I just meet them early. Like setting your alarm clock a few minutes ahead, I set the calendar a week or two ahead in my mind so I think things are due before they really are. Not that I avoid the stress, I just experience it earlier as opposed to later. I finished my term papers half way through the term. Not to say I didn't rewrite them three times before turning them in. I had nightmares about sitting in class and realizing I didn't have my assignment. We filed our taxes by the first of March because I couldn't take worrying about them. Currently, I'm working diligently to complete my revisions so I can let the manuscript breathe a week then proof it before sending.
Not to say that I've never missed a deadline, but not many. Don't say it. I completely realize this is a neurotic sickness.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, and possibly the sane end, I've had friends, co-workers, and even a critique partner that appear to drift leisurely along, then thrive on that last rush of adrenaline to meet deadlines with thirty seconds to spare. And they do it well. Their stress seems to last a much shorter time than mine.
What worries me these days is that I've got so many things going on in my life, things that demand my attention, that there aren't enough hours in the day. At times I have trouble keeping track of everything. My life has become a juggling act. The day job. Writing. An elderly mom living with us who needs more and more of my attention. This is the woman who taught me to balance my bank statement to the penny. Now I have to help her balance her's. Her doctor appointments. I'm delighted that my boys are both married and mostly self-sufficient, but they still rely on me for certain things. And then there are the grandkids and other family issues I won't bore you with.
Don't get me wrong. I am not willing to give any of this up. My family is the center of my life. Writing is a lifelong dream. And the day job, well it funds it all and I'm too young to retire. Being the white cream in the center of the Oreo is not new to me. But lately I'm slipping. When I'm working on one thing, my brain is spinning, thinking about three others.
Help me out. Surely everyone has to juggle at times. What works for you?
Saturday, 10 April 2010
The Joy of a (nearly) empty Nest?
Two days ago, I farewelled my middle child who was embarking on the greatest adventure of her life—moving to live and work in London. If I said I hadn’t been eagerly awaiting this day, I’d be lying. From the time each of my children turned 18, I’ve been looking forward to having an empty nest.
I couldn’t understand parents who were mourning this new state of freedom in their lives. Didn’t they love not having to pick up, clean up, nag at, plead with their adult child?
But, many of you will protest, “My child went off to college at 18.” Unfortunately, in Australia, we don’t have this happy tradition. Very few city dwelling kids leave to attend college in another city altogether. This is partly due to the geography of this continent—the same size as the contiguous United States—and partly to the demographics—we have a population of only 21 million. And 85% of that measly 21 million people live in the most densely populated 1% of the continent, clinging to the eastern coastline.
Here endeth the school lesson, but I’m sure you can see from these figures, Tertiary education for the majority of Aussie kids isn’t all that far from home. More’s the pity. L
All efforts to move my children out of home have fallen on deaf ears, exacerbated by their father who’d be only too happy for them to stay forever, along with assorted spouses they might gather along the way, and resultant children of their own!
It took me several years to realize I’d made a huge blunder in announcing that there’d be no boomerang children in our household. Once they left, that was it! The locks were being changed, all their cr*p was going with them, or to the tip if they left it behind, and I’d be happy to see them on a weekly basis.
The problem was, they knew I was serious, so they refused to move out. None of them wanted to waste “dead money” on rent and I had to agree with them.
Consequently, our home, although large, was filling daily with their possessions, the worst offender being daughter #1. Her stuff not only crammed her own bedroom but spilled out into the playroom and bathroom adjoining it. It flowed down the stairs and into my study, the family room, the unused formal dining room and the spare room which unofficially became her study in an effort to curb her need to mark her territory. I was at my wits end tripping over all this rubbish while her father seemed to revel in how “homey” our house was.
Finally, in desperation, I went condo hunting for her, found the perfect location, and ensured it was large enough to accommodate all her stuff.
I signed the contract (we have the same name) called her up and said, “Congratulations, you’re now the proud owner of your own home. When are you moving out?”
After she recovered from the shock (and realised I wasn’t kidding), she promptly put in tenants. It wasn’t until a year ago that she finally made the move into her own home (aged 27). What a joyous day that was! It took several weeks to completely move all her rubbish (er, possessions) to her new home, including 3 huge moving boxes full of shoes! Imelda Marcus had nothing on her.
And last week, I was eagerly counting the hours until #2’s plane soared into the skies, leaving me with only one more child to dispose of –er, make that—encourage to soar with the eagles (cough).
That was, until she was saying goodbye to our Lab, and it suddenly struck me, she might never see Freddie again.
This was it. Final! She’d said she was leaving forever and until that moment, I’d been happy with her decision, excited for her, delighted that her lovely Dutch boyfriend would be meeting up with her in London to help her find a flat.
Suddenly overcome with emotion, I wanted to plead with her to stay, just a little longer. Surely at 24, she was too young to be leaving home forever?
As I watched her plane disappear into the clouds, I felt as if a family member had died, I was so bereft. Back home, the house was silent, yet only hours earlier had been filled with her happy chatter, her excitement at seeing her boyfriend after so many months apart, what she’d do in London, the places she’d visit in Europe during her holidays.
Even Freddie’s joyful, waggy-tailed greeting at our return from the airport couldn’t lift my spirits. I hugged our son rather enthusiastically when he arrived home from work that evening. He looked startled. I couldn’t voice why I’d done, it, I was still too choked up.
I suppose I’ll eventually get used to my middle child not being here, but in the meantime, it’s made me realise that maybe empty nests aren’t so great after all?
How do you feel about empty nests? Do you have one? Are you looking forward to having one? How did you cope?
CC
I couldn’t understand parents who were mourning this new state of freedom in their lives. Didn’t they love not having to pick up, clean up, nag at, plead with their adult child?
But, many of you will protest, “My child went off to college at 18.” Unfortunately, in Australia, we don’t have this happy tradition. Very few city dwelling kids leave to attend college in another city altogether. This is partly due to the geography of this continent—the same size as the contiguous United States—and partly to the demographics—we have a population of only 21 million. And 85% of that measly 21 million people live in the most densely populated 1% of the continent, clinging to the eastern coastline.
Here endeth the school lesson, but I’m sure you can see from these figures, Tertiary education for the majority of Aussie kids isn’t all that far from home. More’s the pity. L
All efforts to move my children out of home have fallen on deaf ears, exacerbated by their father who’d be only too happy for them to stay forever, along with assorted spouses they might gather along the way, and resultant children of their own!
It took me several years to realize I’d made a huge blunder in announcing that there’d be no boomerang children in our household. Once they left, that was it! The locks were being changed, all their cr*p was going with them, or to the tip if they left it behind, and I’d be happy to see them on a weekly basis.
The problem was, they knew I was serious, so they refused to move out. None of them wanted to waste “dead money” on rent and I had to agree with them.
Consequently, our home, although large, was filling daily with their possessions, the worst offender being daughter #1. Her stuff not only crammed her own bedroom but spilled out into the playroom and bathroom adjoining it. It flowed down the stairs and into my study, the family room, the unused formal dining room and the spare room which unofficially became her study in an effort to curb her need to mark her territory. I was at my wits end tripping over all this rubbish while her father seemed to revel in how “homey” our house was.
Finally, in desperation, I went condo hunting for her, found the perfect location, and ensured it was large enough to accommodate all her stuff.
I signed the contract (we have the same name) called her up and said, “Congratulations, you’re now the proud owner of your own home. When are you moving out?”
After she recovered from the shock (and realised I wasn’t kidding), she promptly put in tenants. It wasn’t until a year ago that she finally made the move into her own home (aged 27). What a joyous day that was! It took several weeks to completely move all her rubbish (er, possessions) to her new home, including 3 huge moving boxes full of shoes! Imelda Marcus had nothing on her.
And last week, I was eagerly counting the hours until #2’s plane soared into the skies, leaving me with only one more child to dispose of –er, make that—encourage to soar with the eagles (cough).
That was, until she was saying goodbye to our Lab, and it suddenly struck me, she might never see Freddie again.
This was it. Final! She’d said she was leaving forever and until that moment, I’d been happy with her decision, excited for her, delighted that her lovely Dutch boyfriend would be meeting up with her in London to help her find a flat.
Suddenly overcome with emotion, I wanted to plead with her to stay, just a little longer. Surely at 24, she was too young to be leaving home forever?
As I watched her plane disappear into the clouds, I felt as if a family member had died, I was so bereft. Back home, the house was silent, yet only hours earlier had been filled with her happy chatter, her excitement at seeing her boyfriend after so many months apart, what she’d do in London, the places she’d visit in Europe during her holidays.
Even Freddie’s joyful, waggy-tailed greeting at our return from the airport couldn’t lift my spirits. I hugged our son rather enthusiastically when he arrived home from work that evening. He looked startled. I couldn’t voice why I’d done, it, I was still too choked up.
I suppose I’ll eventually get used to my middle child not being here, but in the meantime, it’s made me realise that maybe empty nests aren’t so great after all?
How do you feel about empty nests? Do you have one? Are you looking forward to having one? How did you cope?
CC
Thursday, 8 April 2010
April showers...
I love them because I love writing when it’s raining. I also love how the rain has been turning the grass and trees so green again. Of course that makes me want to go outside and play, which I'm going to be doing at the end of the month when I attend the Romantic Times convention in Columbus, OH. This will be my first time attending the convention, and I’m really excited about meeting up with my writer friends that I don’t see nearly enough. I’m also excited because I’ve heard many readers attend the convention, too. I love meeting readers at book signings, so I’m really looking forward to, hopefully, meeting more!
I’m also a little nervous about attending the convention – for the usual reasons: Will my daughters get themselves up for school? Will my family eat while I’m away? Will anyone remember to feed the cat and the dog? I’m also nervous about going because I’ve heard the convention can get a little crazy. It sounds fun but exhausting too!
Has anyone – writer or reader – attended the convention before? Please share your experiences to calm my nerves!
Thanks & Happy Reading!
Lisa Childs
PS: Please remember my hunky hockey player's book is available this month!
I’m also a little nervous about attending the convention – for the usual reasons: Will my daughters get themselves up for school? Will my family eat while I’m away? Will anyone remember to feed the cat and the dog? I’m also nervous about going because I’ve heard the convention can get a little crazy. It sounds fun but exhausting too!
Has anyone – writer or reader – attended the convention before? Please share your experiences to calm my nerves!
Thanks & Happy Reading!
Lisa Childs
PS: Please remember my hunky hockey player's book is available this month!
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Give it to Me Straight... by Megan
Today is a busy day for me. Work as usual, then I'm meeting with the manager of the hotel where my RWA chapter is holding a workshop this month (Margie Lawson comes to St. Louis!), which I'm coordinating. Then my favorite part of the day: MORWA's critique group meeting.
When other writers say they don't like the concept of critique groups or partners, I'm baffled. No feedback? I shudder to think about it. How do you know if you're getting the story to the reader with emotion but not melodrama, or if the humor works, or if what's so clear in your head is clear on the page?
I love feedback, and no, what I receive isn't usually glowing. But because my group cares enough about good writing to help me improve my writing, they point out where they think I've gone wrong and possibly what to do about it.
My first ms written for publication (aka, my learning book, which will never see the light of day again) was set in Atlanta. Not knowing whether it sounded like the South, I sent it to a writing contest in Atlanta, the Maggies, a very prestigious contest I was in no way ready to enter. I lucked in to finding a great contest and the most honest and helpful feedback ever! The judges very politely hated the book--and rightly so. :) It was an angst novel (full of whiners). I entered the Maggies every year when I started a new story.
My critique group is terrific (and I only use the possessive because I belong to it, not because being the moderator means I own it). I love seeing the fledgling writers leap from the nest and try their wings. Some crash to the ground, but they're gently helped up by the critiquers and sent back to their nests to try again. I especially love when a person's critiques get better because her/his writing gets better too. I call it osmosis--the knowledge used to critique seeps into the writing, improving the work.
I'm not reading tonight, but I look forward to my next turn. My writing is so much better because of the input of my critique partners and this group. Every new book goes before them. My first published book, Marrying the Boss, had quite a few presentations in different forms before the one that captured the feel I wanted. I changed the beginning and the characters and the entire dynamics of the relationship before I was happy.
Some writers say they don't want others messing with their Voice. Or changing their story. Or giving them doubts about their writing. All plausible concerns. I guess I'm too, um, strong-minded as my mother calls it (since I got it from her) or stubborn as my husband labels it (since he has to deal with it daily) to let anyone change my story in ways I don't want. They can suggest, but that doesn't mean I have to accept their suggestions. My Voice is just me, and I doubt anyone else could change that. Give me insecurities about my writing? I have so many already, a few more would hardly register on my radar. But those insecurities don't extend to feedback. Give it to me straight--so I can make my writing better! My skin is thick enough.
So, which personality type are you? Do you want to hear about your flaws so you can improve them, in writing or other aspects of life? Or would you rather not have anyone messing with you, and just figure it out on your own?
BONUS: There's no wrong answer!
Megan Kelly
megankellybooks.com
When other writers say they don't like the concept of critique groups or partners, I'm baffled. No feedback? I shudder to think about it. How do you know if you're getting the story to the reader with emotion but not melodrama, or if the humor works, or if what's so clear in your head is clear on the page?
I love feedback, and no, what I receive isn't usually glowing. But because my group cares enough about good writing to help me improve my writing, they point out where they think I've gone wrong and possibly what to do about it.
My first ms written for publication (aka, my learning book, which will never see the light of day again) was set in Atlanta. Not knowing whether it sounded like the South, I sent it to a writing contest in Atlanta, the Maggies, a very prestigious contest I was in no way ready to enter. I lucked in to finding a great contest and the most honest and helpful feedback ever! The judges very politely hated the book--and rightly so. :) It was an angst novel (full of whiners). I entered the Maggies every year when I started a new story.
My critique group is terrific (and I only use the possessive because I belong to it, not because being the moderator means I own it). I love seeing the fledgling writers leap from the nest and try their wings. Some crash to the ground, but they're gently helped up by the critiquers and sent back to their nests to try again. I especially love when a person's critiques get better because her/his writing gets better too. I call it osmosis--the knowledge used to critique seeps into the writing, improving the work.
I'm not reading tonight, but I look forward to my next turn. My writing is so much better because of the input of my critique partners and this group. Every new book goes before them. My first published book, Marrying the Boss, had quite a few presentations in different forms before the one that captured the feel I wanted. I changed the beginning and the characters and the entire dynamics of the relationship before I was happy.
Some writers say they don't want others messing with their Voice. Or changing their story. Or giving them doubts about their writing. All plausible concerns. I guess I'm too, um, strong-minded as my mother calls it (since I got it from her) or stubborn as my husband labels it (since he has to deal with it daily) to let anyone change my story in ways I don't want. They can suggest, but that doesn't mean I have to accept their suggestions. My Voice is just me, and I doubt anyone else could change that. Give me insecurities about my writing? I have so many already, a few more would hardly register on my radar. But those insecurities don't extend to feedback. Give it to me straight--so I can make my writing better! My skin is thick enough.
So, which personality type are you? Do you want to hear about your flaws so you can improve them, in writing or other aspects of life? Or would you rather not have anyone messing with you, and just figure it out on your own?
BONUS: There's no wrong answer!
Megan Kelly
megankellybooks.com
Sunday, 4 April 2010
Breaking News
A MOTHER’S WEDDING DAY
An April 2010 Mother’s Day Release from Harlequin American
An April 2010 Mother’s Day Release from Harlequin American
4 STAR RATING FROM ROMANTIC TIMES
Two novellas in one book featuring authors Rebecca Winters and Dominique Burton who are the first Mother and Daughter in real-life to write for Harlequin American.
Two novellas in one book featuring authors Rebecca Winters and Dominique Burton who are the first Mother and Daughter in real-life to write for Harlequin American.
I’m proud to announce that Dominique Burton is my talented daughter!
This is her first published novel. At the moment she is under contract to Harlequin American for two more novels that are linked to A DAUGHTER’S DISCOVERY (from A MOTHER’S WEDDING DAY).
Watch for her next stories out in 2011.
As a young girl with a writer for a mom and three brothers, I lived in the imaginary world of books and movies like Anne of Greene Gables and Indiana Jones. Most of the time I was writing and acting out my own stories with Harrison Ford as my hero. Not too shabby for a seven year old!
I’m a lover of Europe who at twenty got the wild notion to buy an around-the-world plane ticket. For six months I circled the globe on my own, traveling to Singapore, Australia, living and studying in Italy, learning about ancient cultures in Egypt, floating down the Nile, watching animals on safari in Kenya, scuba diving in Tahiti and having a blast. I graduated with honors from the University of Utah with a bachelor’s degree in History.
I now live in South Jordan, Utah, with my two amazing children. If I’m not writing romances or young adult stories, I’m reading or out running. A few years ago I had the privilege of running the Boston Marathon.
Please write to me at info@dominiqueburton.com or visit my website at http://www.dominiqueburton.com/.
This is a picture of me, Rebecca (Burton) Winters, when Dominique was only two years old. The love for writing has to be in the genes. When she came quietly into the dining room in the morning with her blanket and bottle to peek on her mommy who was typing a manuscript, this is what she saw.Just call me the proud mom.
Rebecca Winters
Saturday, 3 April 2010
The Rummage Sale
Confession time. I did something last weekend I’m not proud of. I got into an argument with a woman over four wooden hangers at a rummage sale.
Perhaps I should back up a bit. For the last six years, we’ve sent either one or both of our kids on the church mission trip. In order to help pay for this expense, our church holds an annual community rummage sale. Because our kids go and will benefit from the proceeds, the kids, my husband and I have to help out.
For the last six years, I’ve helped in one way or another. I’ve sorted clothes. I’ve baked dozens of cookies and worked the snack table. I’ve checked people out. Between y’all and me, I will admit that I Do Not Like The Rummage Sale. I don’t like how all the dusty things that have lived in people’s attics and basements-but now are in our church’s gymnasium-never fail to make me sick. I really don’t like sorting through other people’s donated items and discovering that they owned things I didn’t want to know about.
Example: Three years ago, my daughter found a uh, jock strap in the shape of a Flamingo. Her discovery of that, and the subsequent conversation we had about it was something I could have lived without. Really.
But I digress. Anyway, last weekend, I worked the snack table on Friday night and arrived back at church at 7:30 the following morning. The snack table wasn’t too busy, but the check out table was. So I volunteered to bag for a high school junior named Jen. I’ll admit it. Jen can add in her head way better than me. I had no problem letting her be in charge. She rang up sales, I bagged. Things were moving along.
Until the hanger lady came. She plopped four wooden hangers in front of Jen. She glared. And she pretty much told Jen that those hangers were not worth one dollar.
Philosophically, I get this. Of course people come to rummage sales for good deals. And, well, it never hurts to try and get a better deal. But people had been badgering poor Jen all morning. Some had even switched around price stickers. One lady swore up and down that her tricycle really had been priced at fifty cents.
By the time the hanger lady came, I had had enough. In my mind, those cedar hangers were very nice. They were certainly worth a quarter each. So as Jen was looking at hanger lady in wonder, I stepped in and said no. “They’re a dollar.”
She looked me over. “Fifty cents.”
To my right, I knew Jen was ready to give in. After all, there were lots of people behind hanger lady, and well, no one wants to pack up things that don’t sell. But perversely, I was tired of giving in. “No, they’re one dollar,” I said. Forcefully.
“Then I don’t want them.” And then she shoved those hangers at me.
Oh!! That really burned me up.
“Fine,” I said. “But just so you know, this church rummage sale is so these kids can go help people in Georgia.” Yes, I said Georgia like it was Uganda. No, it really wasn’t a fair thing to push the whole church aspect in the hanger lady’s face.
But for a split second, she looked a little worried. I started to get a little excited. I’m a huge wimp...but maybe, just maybe…she was a little afraid of me?
Maybe she was about to back down?
Uh, no. All she did was walk away, leaving me holding the hangers.
Yes, I lost the hanger sale. No, Jen was not impressed. But for a little bit, I felt triumphant.
There actually is a happy ending to my little episode. Hanger lady’s friend came back an hour later and bought those hangers. “They really were a good deal,” she explained. “Even at a quarter each.”
And the best news of all? After six years, my rummage sale days are now over. My daughter will be graduating next year, so this mission trip will be her last. Next year, some other Mom can bake cookies and argue. I plan to sleep in that day.
Of course, I have a sneaking suspicion there will be a tiny little part of me that will be sad about that.
Anyone else have a rummage sale story?
Shelley Galloway
Perhaps I should back up a bit. For the last six years, we’ve sent either one or both of our kids on the church mission trip. In order to help pay for this expense, our church holds an annual community rummage sale. Because our kids go and will benefit from the proceeds, the kids, my husband and I have to help out.
For the last six years, I’ve helped in one way or another. I’ve sorted clothes. I’ve baked dozens of cookies and worked the snack table. I’ve checked people out. Between y’all and me, I will admit that I Do Not Like The Rummage Sale. I don’t like how all the dusty things that have lived in people’s attics and basements-but now are in our church’s gymnasium-never fail to make me sick. I really don’t like sorting through other people’s donated items and discovering that they owned things I didn’t want to know about.
Example: Three years ago, my daughter found a uh, jock strap in the shape of a Flamingo. Her discovery of that, and the subsequent conversation we had about it was something I could have lived without. Really.
But I digress. Anyway, last weekend, I worked the snack table on Friday night and arrived back at church at 7:30 the following morning. The snack table wasn’t too busy, but the check out table was. So I volunteered to bag for a high school junior named Jen. I’ll admit it. Jen can add in her head way better than me. I had no problem letting her be in charge. She rang up sales, I bagged. Things were moving along.
Until the hanger lady came. She plopped four wooden hangers in front of Jen. She glared. And she pretty much told Jen that those hangers were not worth one dollar.
Philosophically, I get this. Of course people come to rummage sales for good deals. And, well, it never hurts to try and get a better deal. But people had been badgering poor Jen all morning. Some had even switched around price stickers. One lady swore up and down that her tricycle really had been priced at fifty cents.
By the time the hanger lady came, I had had enough. In my mind, those cedar hangers were very nice. They were certainly worth a quarter each. So as Jen was looking at hanger lady in wonder, I stepped in and said no. “They’re a dollar.”
She looked me over. “Fifty cents.”
To my right, I knew Jen was ready to give in. After all, there were lots of people behind hanger lady, and well, no one wants to pack up things that don’t sell. But perversely, I was tired of giving in. “No, they’re one dollar,” I said. Forcefully.
“Then I don’t want them.” And then she shoved those hangers at me.
Oh!! That really burned me up.
“Fine,” I said. “But just so you know, this church rummage sale is so these kids can go help people in Georgia.” Yes, I said Georgia like it was Uganda. No, it really wasn’t a fair thing to push the whole church aspect in the hanger lady’s face.
But for a split second, she looked a little worried. I started to get a little excited. I’m a huge wimp...but maybe, just maybe…she was a little afraid of me?
Maybe she was about to back down?
Uh, no. All she did was walk away, leaving me holding the hangers.
Yes, I lost the hanger sale. No, Jen was not impressed. But for a little bit, I felt triumphant.
There actually is a happy ending to my little episode. Hanger lady’s friend came back an hour later and bought those hangers. “They really were a good deal,” she explained. “Even at a quarter each.”
And the best news of all? After six years, my rummage sale days are now over. My daughter will be graduating next year, so this mission trip will be her last. Next year, some other Mom can bake cookies and argue. I plan to sleep in that day.
Of course, I have a sneaking suspicion there will be a tiny little part of me that will be sad about that.
Anyone else have a rummage sale story?
Shelley Galloway
Thursday, 1 April 2010
MARCH WINNER!!!
CONGRATULATIONS Linda s! You’re the March winner. To receive your free autographed books please contact Laura Bradford, Roxann Delaney and Laura Altom through their Web sites.
To enter the contest simply leave a blog comment and your name will go into the drawing. Easy and painless. And FREE BOOKS.
So check back often and be sure to leave a comment. Good luck!
To enter the contest simply leave a blog comment and your name will go into the drawing. Easy and painless. And FREE BOOKS.
So check back often and be sure to leave a comment. Good luck!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)