Yes....with superstition...or good luck charms. . .or what ever is going to get you to have a GREAT 2013!
So it just might be another day to you, but it marks the start of a new year, a new chance to give things a fresh start. **knocking on wood** I have a pretty good life, and yes, I knocked on wood when I typed that. AND yes, I am very superstitious.
As a matter of fact, I wrote an entire novel based around superstition in my Grandberry Falls novel, Never Tell Your Dreams. The full title was going to be Never Tell Your Dreams Before Breakfast, but that was entirely too long for the cover.
Regardless, I could go on and on about all the superstitious things I do but I'll save that for another day. I do want to talk about what my guys and I do to ring in the new year that gives us that little extra push for a GREAT year!
First off, on New Year's Eve, we eat oranges. Lots of oranges! AND we don't throw away the peel. Then we clean the entire house, top to bottom, base boards, ceiling fans and all. I also start preparing the New Year's day meal of pork medallions, sauerkraut, round cornbread, round cookies. (Be sure the food is round!)
And I load my wallet and my husband's wallet with TWENTY SEVEN one dollar bills. As we all are roaming around getting ready for a New Year's midnight, we only think and speak positive things. My guys and I are NOT allowed to talk negatively about anyone or anything or rehash any bad situation that happened in our life in the past years (and we have a LOT we could keep discussing. . . sigh. . .).
At midnight we make sure all the windows in the house are open and we stand at the door and throw the orange peels into the house.
Now...why do I make sure me and my guys do this?
1) Chinese gold is a symbol of wealth and throwing around gold in the new year is a way to bring wealth into the new year. Orange peels are a symbol of Chinese gold and since I don't have gold, we stand at the front door and throw orange peels into the house. We are throwing money into our house.
2) Isn't it cold at midnight in the dead of winter in Kentucky? Hell yes...but in with the old, out with the new! The house is all cleaned and ready to rid itself of all the negative energy that has come into our house. YES...I HAVE HAD A NEGATIVE VISITOR IN 2012 THAT NEEDS TO BE SWEPT OUT! So, we open our windows and as the new year rolls on the clock, all that negative energy (which if you invite negative people and bad people into your house, you should do this!) goes out with the old year and new positive energy comes in the the new year.
3) Cleaning the house? Well, I keep a clean house anyways, but again, it all goes back to getting rid of the negative. I don't have time for negative, so when we invited a bad soul into our house, it has haunted me for MONTHS! I couldn't wait for the new year to sweep that energy out of my house.
4) Stuff your wallet with 27 one dollar bills and 49 coins of any denomination! This helps me head into the new year feeling full of prosperity and wealth and it help attract those same things in the new year.
5) Why round food? The circle of luck is never ending. So eat those good luck foods on New Year's day.
You may say it's all hogwash and I won't say it isn't, but it sure does make me feel better on January 1st knowing I didn't just sit around drinking the new year in without trying to make my life better :)
What about you? Do you follow any whacky superstitious traditions? What about superstition on New Years??
BE SURE TO CHECK BACK ON THE TWELVE DAYS OF GIVEAWAYS TO SEE IF YOU WON AND EMAIL ME (you can find my contact information at the above tab). I will not be tracking anyone down....I have to start peeling those oranges!
Twelve Days of Giveaways DAY Fourteen with LK Gardner-Griffie!
I'm very excited to end our TWELVE days of Christmas (okay. . . more like FOURTEEN DAYS!) with author LK Gardner-Griffie! Be sure to leave a comment for a free ecopy of Misfit McCabe! The winner will be announced at the end of the blog on Friday!
A Gift Remembered
Anyone who knows me knows that I’m always up for a celebration—whether it be a step forward, overcoming a hurdle, or simply a glorious day. There’s enough in this life that is ugly and hurtful, so I want to make sure I’m searching for the bright side of things. Which also makes the holiday season special for me because there is so much to celebrate and it puts my focus back on the things that are important—friends, family, and giving to others.
Several years ago, I was given a gift I will never forget. At the time, I taught in a preschool and loved every minute. I tended to work best with the kids who had “behavior problems” so I had more than my share of the difficult kids. Kelly started late in the year. Her mom had made some wrong choices with her life, and wound up in prison, so grandma and grandpa took in the girls. Kelly was a tough little kid. She didn’t want to show emotions and she’d seen far more than a child should at the age of five. But one of the many things I loved about her was that she was her own person and she stood up for herself and her younger sister.
As Christmas approached, there was the usual frenzy of ornament making, glitter shaking, and preparing for the Christmas program. I knew Kelly would be off for the usual break time, but apparently someone forgot to tell her. The school stayed open during the break time for those parents who worked full time and weren’t able to take the time off, so I was still working, and happened to be in the office when she barreled in, grandma in her wake, even though she was “off” from school.
Apparently she wanted to give me a gift, and wouldn’t let grandma rest until she brought it in. As her grandma told me, she had no idea what Kelly had brought because she had picked it out and wrapped it herself. She thrust a package in my hands, paper wrapped ‘round and ‘round and tape here and there. She gave me a fierce hug, said “Merry Christmas” and then dashed out, not wanting to wait for me to open her gift.
Inside was a stuffed dog, plain canvas, dressed in an engineer outfit. There were a few dirt smudges, and the dog had been well-played with. Tears welled in my eyes, as they do every time I think about her gift, and as they are as I write this. This truly was a gift from her heart. The child who had trouble expressing love for others had given me something obviously special to her. As much as I love sparkly, shiny, blingy type things, this somewhat battered stuffed toy means more to me than any other. Because it reminds me of what the true spirit of Christmas is—gifts from the heart.
Have you ever received a gift from the heart? Tell me about it!!
LK Gardner-Griffie is a two-time teen choice award winning author for her Misfit McCabe series. Daughter to a rocket scientist and an artist, LK combines the traits of both into a quirky yet pragmatic writer. In addition to writing, LK holds down a full-time job with an international transportation company as a process and efficiency expert, and somewhere along the line was abducted by the Zombie Survival Crew and made Commander of the Purple Brigade. Her leisure time is spent with her husband sharing a love of music, singing, and college baseball. She writes into the night with the help of her three long-haired miniature dachshunds.
And in the spirit of giving - I have a story, Tim's Shiner, available on both Wattpad and Figment which will be part of a short story collection called Diary of a Misfit, a companion book to the Misfit McCabe series and available early 2013. I'd love for you to check it out.
Links
Website
Blog
Book Site
Twitter
Facebook
Goodreads
Google+
Wattpad
Figment
Amazon Author Page
Misfit McCabe Trailer
Nowhere Feels Like Home Trailer
Several years ago, I was given a gift I will never forget. At the time, I taught in a preschool and loved every minute. I tended to work best with the kids who had “behavior problems” so I had more than my share of the difficult kids. Kelly started late in the year. Her mom had made some wrong choices with her life, and wound up in prison, so grandma and grandpa took in the girls. Kelly was a tough little kid. She didn’t want to show emotions and she’d seen far more than a child should at the age of five. But one of the many things I loved about her was that she was her own person and she stood up for herself and her younger sister.
As Christmas approached, there was the usual frenzy of ornament making, glitter shaking, and preparing for the Christmas program. I knew Kelly would be off for the usual break time, but apparently someone forgot to tell her. The school stayed open during the break time for those parents who worked full time and weren’t able to take the time off, so I was still working, and happened to be in the office when she barreled in, grandma in her wake, even though she was “off” from school.
Apparently she wanted to give me a gift, and wouldn’t let grandma rest until she brought it in. As her grandma told me, she had no idea what Kelly had brought because she had picked it out and wrapped it herself. She thrust a package in my hands, paper wrapped ‘round and ‘round and tape here and there. She gave me a fierce hug, said “Merry Christmas” and then dashed out, not wanting to wait for me to open her gift.
Inside was a stuffed dog, plain canvas, dressed in an engineer outfit. There were a few dirt smudges, and the dog had been well-played with. Tears welled in my eyes, as they do every time I think about her gift, and as they are as I write this. This truly was a gift from her heart. The child who had trouble expressing love for others had given me something obviously special to her. As much as I love sparkly, shiny, blingy type things, this somewhat battered stuffed toy means more to me than any other. Because it reminds me of what the true spirit of Christmas is—gifts from the heart.
Have you ever received a gift from the heart? Tell me about it!!
LK Gardner-Griffie is a two-time teen choice award winning author for her Misfit McCabe series. Daughter to a rocket scientist and an artist, LK combines the traits of both into a quirky yet pragmatic writer. In addition to writing, LK holds down a full-time job with an international transportation company as a process and efficiency expert, and somewhere along the line was abducted by the Zombie Survival Crew and made Commander of the Purple Brigade. Her leisure time is spent with her husband sharing a love of music, singing, and college baseball. She writes into the night with the help of her three long-haired miniature dachshunds.
And in the spirit of giving - I have a story, Tim's Shiner, available on both Wattpad and Figment which will be part of a short story collection called Diary of a Misfit, a companion book to the Misfit McCabe series and available early 2013. I'd love for you to check it out.
Links
Website
Blog
Book Site
Goodreads
Google+
Wattpad
Figment
Amazon Author Page
Misfit McCabe Trailer
Nowhere Feels Like Home Trailer
Twelve Days of Giveaways Day THIRTEEN with Karen Cantwell!
Happy Christmas EVE and to the Thirteenth day of TWELVE Days of giveaways! Yes. . .thirteen! And I'm excited to have author Karen Cantwell take us into Christmas Day with her rendition of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas! Be sure to leave a comment to be eligible to win an ebook copy of Karen's new novel, Saturday Night Cleaver! The winner will be posted at the end of tomorrow's blog post!
'Tis the Night Before
Christmas
A Barbara Marr spin on
a classic
'Tis the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
every creature is stirring, even the mouse (trapped in the corner by our cats
Indiana Jones and Mildred Pierce).
The stockings are hung from the banister (our chimney mantle
fell during the last earthquake...) with care, in hopes that Barb and Howard
St. Nicholas, soon will be there.
The children simply will not go to their beds,
Six-year-old Amber is howling that she's been misled;
"You told me Santa was real!" she sings her sad
song.
"But Callie just told me it's been you all along!"
"Callie!" I scream while the mouse-chasing cats clatter,
"What?" teen Callie whines. "She watches
TeenNick, I didn't think it would matter."
I throw up my hands in a flash of exasperation,
And ponder the legalities of placing a teenager on probation.
Eleven-year-old Bethany
shrugs and chimes in,
"I knew Santa was a sham," she says with a grin.
"When I was only three," she guffaws, "it was
clear.
Come on! Who believes in flying reindeer?"
I take a deep breath, gather my thoughts very quick,
And point Bethany and Callie upstairs threatening a swift
kick.
Then calming Amber down with a kiss and embrace,
Set her on my lap, and make my motherly case:
"See, Santa is real if we believe in our hearts,
And that's something that can't be measured on scales or
charts.
Anything is only true, if it's true for you,
So don't listen to your sisters. They're full of doo
doo."
"Now what do you say, we rescue that poor little mouse,
Then get you to bed, before Santa flies right past our
house."
She smiles and sniffles and rubs her nose with her sleeve,
"That sounds real good, can we call him Steve?"
And thus is the drama in the Marr house Christmas Eve,
I hope yours goes better, doesn't cause you to grieve.
May your holiday be joyous and wondrous and bright.
Merry Christmas to all and to all, a good night!
______
Karen Cantwell
is the author of the hilarious Barbara
Marr Murder Mystery Series and other Barbara
Marr short stories and holiday tales.
Her most recent release is Saturday Night Cleaver.
Twelve Days of Giveaways DAY TWELVE with Talli Roland!
Please give a big ole WELCOME to author Talli Roland! I absolutely love her books and HUMOR! You will too!! The Holidays brings a lot of stress and NON exercise. But while with the family or if you are a writer (who doesn't take off for the holidays), it's important to stay fit and not put on those extra POUNDS!! Be sure to leave a comment to win an ebook copy of her award winning short story MISTLETOE IN MANHATTAN! The winner will be announced at the end of tomorrow's guest post!
How to Keep Fit During the Holiday Season… Without Leaving Your Desk
The festive season is a challenging time for sedentary writers. Not only do we have deadlines to meet, but there is plenty of yummy food around to eat! To combat the threat of an ever-expanding butt, I’ve developed a handy set of exercises for writers. No need to embrace the great outdoors – or even get off your chair. Now, you too can have the svelte frame of a commuter, without the commute. Are you ready? Here we go!
The five-fingered salute. Every so often, lift your fingers from the keyboard and make a fist. Open and close your digits several times in quick succession. This is even better when performed near a window in proximity of passers-by to encourage social interaction.
March like you mean it. The ideal exercise to release any frustration when your characters just don’t behave. Sitting on a chair, lift one knee in the air and bring your foot down firmly on the ground, then do the same with your other knee. Repeat for five minutes – or as long as your downstairs neighbours will allow. When you’re finished, you won’t care anymore about your characters’ misdemeanors. You’ll only care about impending repairs needed to the floorboards.
The burning butt-clench. Designed to encourage circulation after long periods of sitting, this exercise has the added benefit of making anyone around you question your need for the loo. Sitting comfortably, lift one buttock off the chair, and clench the cheek that’s touching the surface. Hold for twenty seconds, then repeat with the other butt cheek. You should feel a burning desire never to do this exercise again.
The navel gaze. Tilt your head slowly downwards until your chin touches your chest. Hold for thirty minutes – or until you drift off. This position allows observers to believe you’re engaged in deep thought, while elongating your neck muscles. Repeat until observers get bored and depart.
So there you have it! My tried and true methods to maintaining your pre-holiday shape while keeping your manuscript moving ahead during the festive season.
The five-fingered salute. Every so often, lift your fingers from the keyboard and make a fist. Open and close your digits several times in quick succession. This is even better when performed near a window in proximity of passers-by to encourage social interaction.
March like you mean it. The ideal exercise to release any frustration when your characters just don’t behave. Sitting on a chair, lift one knee in the air and bring your foot down firmly on the ground, then do the same with your other knee. Repeat for five minutes – or as long as your downstairs neighbours will allow. When you’re finished, you won’t care anymore about your characters’ misdemeanors. You’ll only care about impending repairs needed to the floorboards.
The burning butt-clench. Designed to encourage circulation after long periods of sitting, this exercise has the added benefit of making anyone around you question your need for the loo. Sitting comfortably, lift one buttock off the chair, and clench the cheek that’s touching the surface. Hold for twenty seconds, then repeat with the other butt cheek. You should feel a burning desire never to do this exercise again.
The navel gaze. Tilt your head slowly downwards until your chin touches your chest. Hold for thirty minutes – or until you drift off. This position allows observers to believe you’re engaged in deep thought, while elongating your neck muscles. Repeat until observers get bored and depart.
So there you have it! My tried and true methods to maintaining your pre-holiday shape while keeping your manuscript moving ahead during the festive season.
Talli Roland writes fun, romantic fiction. Born and raised in Canada, Talli now lives in London, where she savours the great cultural life (coffee and wine). Despite training as a journalist, Talli soon found she preferred making up her own stories – complete with happy endings. Twice shortlisted for the UK’s Festival of Romance, Talli's novels have also been chosen as Amazon Customer Favourites and top books of the year by industry review websites. She’s a bestseller in Britain and the United States. To learn more about Talli, visit herAmazon Author Page, go to her website, follow her on Twitter, or check out her blog.
Twelve Days of Giveaways DAY ELEVEN with Stacey Joy Netzel
I'm soooo excited to feature AUTHOR STACEY JOY NETZEL on my Twelve Days of Giveaways!! This is a special blog where Stacey is paying it forward for the holidays!!! Be sure to leave a comment for you free ecopy of MISTLETOE MATCH-UP!! Be sure to go out and buy your copy or gift a copy of MISTLETOE MAGIC! The winner will be announced at the end of tomorrow's blog post!
**********************************************************************
My new author tradition is to pick one of my Christmas books and
donate 100% of my December royalties from that book to someone or
somewhere that could use the help. Last year I donated $300.00 from sales of Dragonfly
Dreams, and this year I'll be donating much more.
This year's book is MISTLETOE MAGIC. It's Book
2 in my Romancing Wisconsin series, and since my heroine runs
a no-kill animal shelter, the recipient of my Dec. royalties is a local
Wisconsin shelter; Happily Ever
After Animal Sanctuary, Inc.
EXCERPT:
Janelle skipped down the stone steps of the main lodge Tuesday
morning, Duke and Daisy on her heels. She paused to give each of the Huskies a
warm greeting before continuing into the barn with a light step. She had a big
day ahead of her. Regular chores, stalls to get ready for two new horses
arriving after lunch, a meeting with the bank to see if her loan application
had been approved, and then the present wrapping party at the school that
night.
The thought of seeing Mark Riley again had secured a permanent
smile on her face. She shouldn’t let herself look forward to the evening in his
company so much, but a frown simply couldn’t be summoned. Even the animals
sensed something was up. Her whistled Christmas carols while serving their
breakfast perked lots of ears.
Including George and Jasper, the dark bays who pulled the parade
wagon, there were six horses and one pony currently occupying the twenty-stall
structure. The other stalls housed three llamas, one goat with four kids, a
buffalo, two sheep and a skunk. A smaller shed out back housed twenty-three
cats, not counting strays, with a separate section for chickens and rabbits.
She’d adopted the two huskies this past spring after Maggie passed
away, and they had free reign of the property all day while enjoying the
shelter of the lodge at night.
Janelle finished cleaning all the enclosures and readied the
stalls for the newcomers before noon, which allowed for a short break to sit
with the skunk, Rose. Someone had a sense of humor. The striped animal had come
to her a few days ago and would leave by the end of the week to go to a lady in
Milwaukee who ran an exotic pet rehab/rescue from her home. His previous owners
had bought and de-scented him before ever checking if Wisconsin law allowed
skunks for pets—which it didn’t.
In the nine years she’d worked with her friend Maggie in the
animal rescue business, Janelle had never dealt with a tame skunk, but
information on the internet told her she needed to show the little fella lots
of love. If she’d needed to keep him longer than a week, she would’ve set him
up inside the lodge with her, but for now, the stall would have to do.
Apparently, skunks were like mischievous two-year-old toddlers, and she’d have
to childproof the entire lodge before bringing him inside.
The curious, friendly little creature was nothing like she thought
a skunk would be. Yesterday she’d removed her old winter coat only to have the
little guy drag it into the pet carrier she’d provided for his den. He’d tugged
and pushed until the material was stuffed inside just so, and this morning he’d
been snuggled up so nice and cozy, she didn’t have the heart to reclaim the
jacket.
After about an hour of playtime, the critter was tuckered out and
crawled up to cuddle against her neck for a nap. His soft fur tickled her skin.
“If I had more time to spend with you, I’d keep you here little
guy,” she murmured. “But things will be better for you where you’re going.
You’ll get all the love you need.”
Her stomach reminded her she’d missed lunch just as the dogs
started barking. Janelle set the skunk in his makeshift den and smiled at his
sleepy blinks. Once she stepped outside, the dogs quieted. Her grandpa parked
his truck and horse trailer next to the large double doors of the barn. Looked
like she’d have to wait on lunch.
Janelle waved when her grandpa got out and fed Duke treats from
his pockets. Daisy hung back at a safe distance. Butch tossed a couple treats
her way while Janelle stepped up to the passenger side of the truck and opened
the door. “Hi, Grandma.”
Judy Walsh climbed down from her seat. “Are you all ready for
us?”
Janelle nodded. “Yep. You look like you’re feeling much better
than you were on Saturday.”
“I am, thank you. Though I hear I missed quite the show from a
certain young man.”
Janelle grinned. “It was definitely entertaining.”
“And you’re seeing him again tonight?”
“Grandpa.” She scowled at Butch across the truck bed. “You don’t
leave nothing out, do you?”
“Yer grandma demanded details, Janey. You know what that’s like.”
They all laughed. Indeed she did. Judy pulled her into a tight
hug. “It’s about time you start dating again.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Grandma.”
“I’m not, don’t worry. However, any brother of Eric Riley’s—”
“Grandma,” Janelle cut in with a warning tone.
A loud commotion sounded from inside the trailer. Powerful hooves
struck repeatedly against the back doors. Janelle faced the trailer with raised
eyebrows. “Whoa.”
Judy wrapped an arm around Janelle’s waist. They walked over to
join Butch by the barn entrance. “That would be Zara. She’s going to be a
handful, so you’ll need to be very careful.”
“I can hear that.” Janelle didn’t mind the challenge. She was just
thankful her grandmother had decided to drop the subject of her upcoming
non-date.
They worked for the next half hour getting the new horses into
their stalls and settled—or as settled as the little black mare, Zara, would
get. Thank God for reinforced stalls. Janelle fought tears more than once at
the sight of the two horses’ malnourished bodies, every rib visible even
through their thick winter coats. While the chestnut thoroughbred was calm,
listless even, the black mare had a spirit that refused to be broken. The scars
and more recent welts on her shoulders and hindquarters told the story of how
her previous owner had tried to break her. Janelle set her jaw, thinking how
just once she’d like to get that person alone for five minutes.
After her grandparents left, she spent the rest of the afternoon
with the horses, hoping to get them somewhat used to their new home before she
had to leave for the evening. The chestnut perked up a little and ate the small
amount of grain she poured in the feedbox, but the black mare stayed at the
rear of the stall with her ears pinned back against her head.
“It’s okay, Zara, we’ve got plenty of time,” Janelle said softly.
~~~~~
So here’s the deal:
·
Mistletoe Magic is just
$2.99 and 100% of my December royalties for this book goes
to HEA Charity: Amazon, BN,
Apple,
ARe,
Kobo,
SW
Grab your copies today, or gift the books to a
friend.
Better yet - do both and enjoy!
Christmas is a season of
giving; What's your favorite charity?
Stacey Joy Netzel
Website and Blog: http://www.StaceyJoyNetzel.com
Facebook: Facebook.com/StaceyJoyNetzel
Twitter: http://twitter.com/StaceyJoyNetzel
Award-winning author Stacey Joy Netzel fell
in love with books at a young age, so for her the graduation to writing them
was natural. An avid reader and fan of movies with a happily ever after, she is
thrilled to call herself a full-time writer after 20 years as a travel agent.
She writes romantic suspense, contemporary romance, and the occasional
paranormal romance short story. Colorado is one of her favorite settings for
her books, followed closely by Wisconsin and Italy.
She lives in her native Wisconsin with her
husband and three children, a couple horses and some barn cats. In her limited
free time she enjoys gardening, canning, and visiting her parents in
Northeastern Wisconsin (Up North) at the family cabin on the lake.
Twelve Days of Giveaways DAY TEN with Barbara Silkstone!
Happy Friday! Today I'm excited to have mystery writer, Barbara Silkstone on our TENTH day of giveaways! Not only is she a great women's sleuth, she's funny! Be sure to leave a comment to be eligible to win a free ebook copy of her novel, London Broil!
The winner will be announced at the end of tomorrow's blog.
Marbles in
the Medicine Chest
My second
ex-husband or “Double-X” came equipped with a best friend, Andrew. They were two
peas in a pod. Frick & Frack. Joined at the hip. Andrew owned a chain of
jewelry stores but never spent any time there. He and Double-X would water-ski
eighteen hours a day using my house as a mini Club Med. Double-X and I had been
married less than a year. I was still sensitive to his tender male ego and
worried about making him feel less than manly by forcing him to live in my house on the bay. His friends descended
on Friday and left on Sunday night. I reluctantly welcomed the gypsy troop of
wandering water-skiers, but there was something slightly off with Andrew. At
first I couldn’t put my finger on it.
After a particularly
grueling day of sun and fun, Andrew, the jewelry store mogul, announced he had
become a house painter. He placed ads, ordered business cards, and even bought
himself painters’ jumpsuits for his skinny little body. And soon he had customers.
I was intrigued.
It
was the Sunday before Christmas. Double X, Andrew, and the gypsies were getting
ready to water-ski. I sat next to Andrew on my dock. “Why did you start
painting houses?” I asked. The skinny little toad looked me right in the eye
and said, “People leave me alone in their homes all day while I paint. I like
going through their drawers and closets. I find the most interesting things.”
I shuddered.
Andrew made my skin crawl.
Now his new profession made sense. It always rankled me
whenever Andrew used the potty at my house, he would always wander into the
master bathroom. I’d gently suggest he use the guest bath or the powder room.
It soon became a contest between us. He’d stand as if heading for the bathroom,
and I’d dash to body-block my bedroom door.
Double-X
looked like a storm cloud had settled on his face when I told him what I’d
learned about Andrew’s Paint & Snoop
business. “Andrew’s just joking. He paints walls because he likes the exercise,”
Double X said. I could see this chat was not going to lead to any great
reformation.
I took a
firm stance, “I don’t want Andrew to use our master bedroom bath. He’s snooping
in my private girl stuff. He’s looking
in our medicine chest.”
Double-X
puffed up to twice his size. “Andrew would
never snoop. He would never look
in our medicine chest. You’re paranoid.”
“We’ll see.”
The next
Saturday while Andrew and Double-X were out and about setting up for a water-ski
event to be held at the house, I swung into action. I purchased two bags of
glass marbles…kids’ marbles. I cleared out the medicine chest, and oh so
carefully filled one shelf with both bags of marbles. Shelving marbles is very
challenging work. The technique takes great eye-hand coordination, a skill I
lack. It took me two hours of rabid concentration along with an invention made
of cardboard and two teaspoons. After countless tries, fueled by my desire to
prove Andrew was snooping, I finally loaded the medicine chest with both bags
of marbles.
I placed a
baby monitor on the bathroom counter behind a decorative plant. The speaker end
of the monitor sat on a patio coffee table in the middle of the gypsies’ drinks.
No one noticed it as they sat and sipped, après-ski.
The time
came for Andrew to prowl. He got up and headed to my master bedroom. I faked a
blocking move so he wouldn’t get suspicious, but let him gain access to my
bathroom.
Turning up
the volume on the baby monitor receiver, I sat down with the guests, grinning
like the Cheshire Cat. The sound of piddle, then a flush, called the gypsies to
attention. They looked high, they looked low, and they looked at their drinks.
They scratched their heads. Double-X frowned.
Just as all
eyes zeroed in on the baby monitor speaker, one hundred glass marbles hit the
granite bathroom counter with a confirming clatter.
Never
underestimate a Woman Sleuth. J
Barbara Silkstone is the best-selling author of The Fractured Fairy Tales series that currently includes: The Secret Diary of Alice in Wonderland, Age
42 and Three-Quarters; Wendy and the
Lost Boys; Zo White and the Seven Morphs, and London Broil. Coming soon: Cold
Case Morphs.
For further
giggles and a touch of true fiction try: The
Adventures of a Love Investigator, 527 Naked Men and One Woman.
Silkstone’s writing has been described as “perfectly paced
and pitched – shades of Janet Evanovich and Carl Hiaasen – without seeming
remotely derivative. Fast moving action that shoots from the hip with
bullet-proof characterization.”
Barbara Silkstone loves to hear from her
readers.
You can write to her at: barbara_silkstone@yahoo.com
Blog: Barbara
Silkstone http://bit.ly/M2Cs7Q
Barbara Silkstone’s Amazon Author’s page
Twelve Days of Giveaways DAY NINE with Cheryl Shireman!
Please welcome Cheryl Shireman to the NINE DAY! Be sure to leave a comment to be eligible to win an ecopy of Cheryl's novel, COPPER MOON! The winner will be announced at the end of tomorrow's blog.
Christmas Tree Sap
We crunch through the gas station parking lot,
circling the various spruce and pine trees that they have trucked in to sell.
It is Saturday morning and everyone in Northern Indiana seems to be intent on
buying a tree on that particular day. My Dad is a long-distance truck driver.
If we don’t buy a tree today, I know we won’t shop again until next weekend
because he has a load ready to take to Shreveport. I am optimistic. We will
find a tree today and it will be perfect!
We weave through the trees, looking for our tree.
My dad smokes a Lucky Strike and wears his “funk cap,” a black hat made of fake
leather and fake fur. It can be worn with the flaps pulled down over your ears,
or with the flaps snapped up over the top of the hat. On this day, like most
days, the flaps are up. For the rest of my life, when I see a hat of this type,
I will think of it as a funk cap. I have no idea where that particular nickname
came from, and it will not be until 2012 that I realize these hats are called
trapper hats.
My mom wears the lightest of coats, unzipped, but
pulled together to ward off the cold morning chill. She wears a pair of
inexpensive vinyl slip on shoes she bought from G.L. Perry, no socks. To this
day, I have never seen my mother wear socks. Or gloves. She always seems cold.
Bursting with holiday excitement, I bounce from
tree to tree. “How about this one? This one looks good! Look at this one!” I am
intent on taking a tree home, certain that we must buy a tree today. If we wait
until next Saturday, all of the good ones will be taken. Or, worse yet, all of
the trees will be gone! It is a recurring theme in my life.
My parents ignore me, probably knowing I just want
a tree - any tree! I have very little discernment and am filled with a sense of
urgency. My dad suggests driving to another gas station that might be selling
trees. I immediately begin praising the closest tree. “This one is beautiful!
It’s perfect! Look at this one!”
My dad pulls it away from the other trees for a
better look. “It’s not bad,” he concedes.
My mother walks around the tree. “There’s a big
hole in the back.”
“We could put the bad side toward the wall,” I
offer. We always put the bad side toward the wall; so really, the tree only has
to look good on one side.
My mom shakes her head. “No.” She always has final
say on the trees. Which is probably a good thing. One year me and my dad went
by ourselves to get the tree and came home with a tree only Charlie Brown could
love.
We briefly look at a couple more trees and then my
dad says the dreaded words, “Let’s go someplace else.”
Despondent, I move back toward the car, certain
that we are making a huge mistake. I glance over my shoulder, silently
apologizing to the trees that we will not take home. I wonder what happens to
the trees that do not find their way into a house. I think about asking my dad,
but keep quiet, deciding I’d rather not know. Before we pull out of the gas
station I am hopeful again. We are onto another group of trees. Surely, we will
find a tree today.
We decide on a chubby little tree at the next gas
station. Riding home in the car, I am already imagining draping silver icicles over
the branches.
My mom retrieves the metal Christmas tree holder
out of the garage. My father trims some of the lower branches on the tree so
there will be room for presents. He wrestles the tree into the metal holder, twisting
the screws into the trunk to secure the tree. Invariably, every year, he will
adjust the tree several times as my mother tells him, “It’s still crooked.”
Eventually they will realize the trunk of the tree is crooked and settle for a
slightly titled tree. He fills the tree holder with water and we all stand back
to look at the tree, only slightly disheartened. It seems so much bigger in the
house. It almost touches a chair on one side and blocks half of the television
screen, depending on where you are sitting. It also blocks the only window in
the living room.
Soon, we accept reality. It won’t be in the living
room that long, and once we get the decorations on, you won’t even notice the
lean. We spend the next hour putting lights and decorations on the tree. The
lights are the big bulbs that used to be on trees years ago. We won’t plug them
in until we are all done decorating because they get so hot they can burn your
arm if you brush up against them. We use an assortment of ornaments; mostly
glass ones that we have had for years. Almost every year one is dropped and
broken. The remaining ornaments are a bit worse for wear, many of them
scratched and faded from years of use.
I jump the gun and start draping the silver icicles
on the tips of the branches before all of the ornaments are on the tree. It is
a greedy move, but like I said, the icicles are my favorite part. I scoop the
icicles that fall onto the floor, careful to use every one. My dad puts the
star on top and then plugs in the lights. We stand back, the three of us, this
little family, and survey the results. The tree is beautiful. A little crooked,
donning tacky silver icicles and scratched ornaments, but truly beautiful.
Day by day, the presents will slowly appear under
the tree, each adding a bit more joy. On Christmas morning I will wake extra
early and rush out to the living room to find more presents from Santa. We will
spend Christmas morning opening gifts next to the crooked little tree and it
will be a perfect morning. So full of love and joy that you couldn’t squeeze in
one more ounce.
When I have kids, we will continue the tradition, all
of us decorating the tree together, all of us gathering around the tree to open
presents.
Now, as I write this, my children are all grown
and married. My husband and I live in an empty nest. This cold December morning
I am working from our family room in the basement. I can see a Christmas tree.
It is not a “real” tree. I gave up real Christmas trees very soon after I was
first married. I hated the sap. I hated the pine needles that always got stuck
in my socks. But, most of all, I hated the sight of that Christmas tree lying
next to the road on trash day. It seemed so cold - just discarding the tree
like that after it had served us so well. So, I switched to artificial trees.
From where I write (while The Christmas Story
plays on the television), I can see the Red Tree. It is decorated with red and
white ornaments and assorted Rudolph-themed figures. Upstairs, on the main
floor, there is a twelve-foot Gold and White tree. In the dining room is the
Green Tree. The Blue Tree is on the second floor. All of the trees are full
sized (or bigger!). A small tree is on my kitchen counter, another small tree
sits next to our living room fireplace.
If you are counting, that is six Christmas trees.
My husband shakes his head in disgust, certain I am a Christmas tree hoarder. I
might be.
I’m not quite sure why, but I love Christmas
trees. Just walking through the Christmas section of a store can bring tears to
my eyes. More than once, my husband has commented, “You’re such a sap.”
A couple of weeks ago I took my three-year-old
granddaughter Christmas shopping. We bought Christmas presents for her parents.
We also bought one more thing. Her first Christmas tree. She picked it out
herself and chose pink ornaments to decorate it. It is a little taller than her
and she loves it. I have a picture of her hugging the tree. Priceless.
Together, we decorated her tree. So, now I have seven trees in my house. When
she gets older, I will give the tree to her to take to her college dorm or
apartment. I hope she will remember decorating it with me. I hope she will keep
those memories in a special place where they will never fade. A place where
Christmas is always only a few days away, presents are waiting to be opened,
and family is near.
Do you have a Christmas tree tradition?
Website http://cherylshireman.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/cherylshireman
Cheryl is currently working on the Cooper Moon
series of novels (there is a Christmas tree scene in the second book of the
series!).
Cooper Moon: The Calling link - http://www.amazon.com/Cooper-Moon-The-Calling-Volume/dp/1478153652
Twelve Days of Giveaways DAY EIGHT with Claude Bouchard!
This is a real TREAT today! Claude Bouchard has written an amazing cookbook with a GREAT title....but don't let it fool you! Be sure to leave a comment to win your free ebook copy of SOMETHING'S COOKING!
About
the origin of Something’s Cooking: It
started as a joke during an online chat with a group of writer friends as we
were discussing the popularity of romance, erotica and cookbooks on some Amazon
top lists. The discussion ended but the thought lingered so I figured,
"Why not?" I proceeded to select ten recipes I'd made countless times
before and, under the pseudonyms, Réal E. Hotte and Dasha Sugah, wrote ten
corresponding faux-erotica short stories. It should be noted that each story
contains explicit cooking activities which may suggest erotica but never once
does anyone actually ‘get it on’. What follows is the final short story and
recipe from Something’s Cooking. Bon
appétit!
The tall hunk walked into Monica's tiny
bakery, unknowingly about to cause her heart to skip as it had so many times
since he had started showing up at her fledgling business three weeks earlier.
Left speechless by his astonishing
attractiveness as of his first visit, Monica had quickly ordered one of her
assistants to cater to his needs. Such events had subsequently occurred time
and again as this Adonis shamelessly ventured forth day after day to be served
by one then another of Monica's young, attractive assistants, all of whom
jumped at the chance to interact with this living legend of manhood.
Her business, being one of servicing the
needs of those desiring baked goods, had quickly led her to having staff on
hand to serve those seeking a warm, hot breakfast bun or croissant, then
leaving for the better portion of the day during which she could handle her
small kitchen solo, baking the fabulous desserts for the dinner pleasures of
her late afternoon customers.
"Hello?" The rich, baritone
call came as she busied herself, preparing sweet fare for her well-to-do
clientele in the coming hours. She was alone. None of her staff was around to
help her...
"Yes, can I help you?" Monica
replied, rushing out of the kitchen to find herself face to face with Adonis
and exclaiming. "Oh my God, it’s you!"
"Do I know you?" the
delectable creature inquired.
"I want to know you... I'm
sorry," Monica stammered. "I meant, I want, uh, how can I help
you?"
"I want something rich and creamy
to pleasure myself," replied Adonis in a confident tone. "Can you
satisfy me?"
"Squeeeee!" Monica exclaimed
before getting a grip on herself and clearing her throat. "I'll do
whatever I can to satisfy your needs."
"Excellent," Adonis replied,
taking in her tight, lithe form with a seductive smile. "Show me what you
can do."
Wordlessly, she led him into the
kitchen, guiding him to a comfortable chair by her main work station.
"You just relax, big boy," she
purred, "And I'll show you exactly what I can do..."
As he watched her, she proceeded to melt
her butter and stir it up, somewhat vigorously, with Graham cracker crumbs and
sugar. He licked his lips as she laid the mixture in a pan, pressing it firmly
before sliding it into her hot oven.
"Ohh, baby," he murmured.
"Sshhhh," she replied with a
teasing smile. "You ain't seen nothing yet."
He watched her, fascinated, as she
pulled a large bowl towards her across the counter. Awed by her technique, he
gazed upon her as she further softened the already warmed cream cheese then,
with the mixer, started slowly blending it with flour and salt.
"What's your name, woman?" he
demanded hoarsely.
"Shut your mouth," she
commanded with a knowing swing of her hips. "Watch and learn, big
man."
Excited and stimulated by his voyeurism,
she proceeded to slide in an egg yolk at a time, increasing the speed as she
went. Hearing his breathing accelerating as he observed her, she gradually
added cream, sugar and vanilla.
"You're killing me, doll," he
moaned.
"You want it rich and creamy,
baby?" she cooed. "Then let Monica do her thing until it's like you
want it."
He groaned as she beat the egg whites
into stiff peaks then slowly folded them into the creamy cheese mixture.
“Faster,” he begged.
“It’s much better slow,” she teased.
“Watch this.”
Raising her dripping beaters out of her
mixing bowl, she grasped it with both hands and let her rich batter ooze onto
her golden Graham crust.
"Monica, I just can’t take it anymore,"
he pleaded as he watched her glistening body working before him.
"Just a couple more hours,
sugar," she soothed. "This is going in my hot oven while I whip up a
glaze to make it nice and sweet for my man."
Ingredients
- 1 cup
Graham cracker crumbs
- 2 tbsp
melted butter
- 2 tbsp
sugar
- 16 oz cream
cheese (softened)
- 2 tbsp
flour
- 1/4 tsp
salt
- 4 egg yolks
- 1 tsp
vanilla
- 1/2 cup
sugar
- 4 egg
whites
- 1 cup 15%
cream
Makin’
it
- Mix Graham
cracker crumbs, melted butter and sugar (2 tbsp).
- Layer in
bottom of spring pan or Pyrex dish and bake at 350F for 10 minutes.
- With a
mixer, blend cream cheese, flour and salt.
- Continue
mixing while adding egg yolks, one at a time.
- Still
mixing, gradually add cream then sugar and vanilla.
- Once
mixture is smooth, beat egg whites until stiff, firm peaks form.
- Fold in egg
whites into cheese mixture.
- Pour into
Graham crust lined pan or dish and bake 1 hour at 325F.
- Remove from
oven and let cool.
Fruit Glaze
Ingredients
- 2 and 1/2
cups strawberries (can be substituted with any other berry, pineapple
chunks, kiwi, etc)
- 1/4 cup
water
- 1/2 cup
sugar
- 1 and 1/2
tbsp cornstarch
- 1/4 cup
cold water
Makin’
it
- Mash/purée
1/2 cup fruit.
- Combine
with 1/4 cup water and sugar in pot.
- Bring to a
boil on medium heat an cook 15 minutes stirring constantly.
- Mix
cornstarch with 1/4 cup cold water.
- Stir into
hot mixture and continue cooking/stirring until thickened.
- Remove from
heat and let cool.
- Mix in
remaining fruit.
- Pour and
spread glaze on cheesecake.
Refrigerate
until serving.
I was born in Montreal , Canada , where I still reside with my spouse, Joanne. I completed my studies in human resources, accounting and management at McGill University and worked in various management capacities in the fields of HR and finance for a handful of firms for what seemed like decades, because it was. I should also mention I love pizza, but who doesn't and, in my opinion, nothing rocks more than cooking on the grill.
My first stab at writing was in 1995, the result being my first novel, Vigilante. This was subsequently followed by The Consultant (1996) and Mind Games (1997), all of the same series.
Professional obligations and other creative interests led me away from writing for a number of years but I found myself busy at the keyboard in 2009 with The Homeless Killer after having finally published my first three novels. I then followed up with 6 Hours 42 Minutes in 2011, also part of the VIGILANTE Series born from Vigilante. In July 2011, I released ASYLUM, my first stand-alone novel and Discreet Activities, my sixth VIGILANTE Series crime thriller was published in January 2012. In October 2012, I penned and released Something’s Cooking, a faux-erotica parody and cookbook under the pseudonyms Réal E. Hotte and Dasha Sugah. I think I'm really starting to like this writing thing.
Besides writing, editing and promoting my work, I also spend some artistic energy with my five guitars, oil paints and watercolours. Other passions include cooking (big time with fine wine to go with it, of course), reading, traveling and working out just enough to stay fit. It should also be noted that following several years of practice, I now excel at being cat furniture for Krystalle andMidnight , or so they tell me.
My first stab at writing was in 1995, the result being my first novel, Vigilante. This was subsequently followed by The Consultant (1996) and Mind Games (1997), all of the same series.
Professional obligations and other creative interests led me away from writing for a number of years but I found myself busy at the keyboard in 2009 with The Homeless Killer after having finally published my first three novels. I then followed up with 6 Hours 42 Minutes in 2011, also part of the VIGILANTE Series born from Vigilante. In July 2011, I released ASYLUM, my first stand-alone novel and Discreet Activities, my sixth VIGILANTE Series crime thriller was published in January 2012. In October 2012, I penned and released Something’s Cooking, a faux-erotica parody and cookbook under the pseudonyms Réal E. Hotte and Dasha Sugah. I think I'm really starting to like this writing thing.
Besides writing, editing and promoting my work, I also spend some artistic energy with my five guitars, oil paints and watercolours. Other passions include cooking (big time with fine wine to go with it, of course), reading, traveling and working out just enough to stay fit. It should also be noted that following several years of practice, I now excel at being cat furniture for Krystalle and
Links
Website: http://www.claudebouchardbooks.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ceebee308
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/claude.bouchard2
Something’s Cooking on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Somethings-Cooking-ebook/dp/B009XIKXIE/ref=la_B00A8K97BU_1_1_title_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1354216069&sr=1-1
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