Anny's Points of View

Good Tidings...

2009-12-15T00:05:00.000-05:00

At this time of year, it's always wonderful when we read or hear of a true "feel good" story. On Saturday morning in a Philidelphia diner a mystery couple set of a hours long string of various customers paying for the meals of other customers. It wasn't planned. It wasn't organized. It was simply spontaneous generosity. For the details, click on Paying Forward

Tomorrow the house hunk and I will be married 42 years. Perhaps that's why this clip touched me so deeply. The couple in the clip are married twenty years longer than me. And the gentleman turned 90 in February. They seem to be having so much fun! I hope if I'm married that long that the hunk and I will also be able to have the odd spontaneous urge to do something fun. For a wonderful pick-me-up, check out the Piano Players

If you can watch that video without smiling... well, I'm STILL smiling!
Thanks to Sandra Cox for bringing it to my attention!

anny

Tagggggged!

2009-12-14T00:05:00.002-05:00

My critique partner, Cindy, tagged me with this meme. I'm still considering who I might tag, so I'll reserve my three choices for a couple days. In the meantime...

1. What’s the last thing you wrote? What’s the first thing you wrote that you still have?
Last thing: Last thing I finished was Larkspur, a free read that is part of the Flowers of Camelot series for Ellora’s Cave. First thing: Is a "jumpstart" set on the planet Lycos. And that is all it is as this point.

2. Write poetry?
No.

3. Angsty poetry?
DEFINITELY not.

4. Favorite genre of writing?
Romance. Mostly paranormals though not by design.

5. Most annoying character you’ve ever created?
I have no idea. Perhaps Nigel, Morgana's son in Daffodil.

6. Best plot you’ve ever created?
It's probably a toss up between Love Never-Ending and one of my current wips that I'm simply calling Vampire for the moment.

7. Coolest plot twist you’ve ever created?
Huh. I have no idea. Perhaps the ending of Prisoner of the Heart.

8. How often do you get writer’s block?
Not often. Mostly when I don't write, it's because life is interfering.

9. Write fan fiction?
No. Fan fiction was well past my time.

10. Do you type or write by hand?
Way back in the beginning I wrote by hand. Now I seldom do that except when I'm trying to work out a very short difficult piece.

11. Do you save everything you write?
Mostly.

12. Do you ever go back to an idea after you’ve abandoned it?
Frequently.

13. What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever written?
Love Never-Ending. Although the three wips I'm working on now are also quite intriguing.

14. What’s everyone else’s favorite story that you’ve written?
I have no idea. The one that sold the best was Kama Sutra Lovers.

15. Ever written romance or angsty teen drama?
Romance is what I write. Angsty teen drama? Not in this lifetime.

16. What’s your favorite setting for your characters?
Whatever's in my head mostly, though I spent the most time on Mystic Valley.

17. How many writing projects are you working on right now?
Three, mostly. Although I have worked on as many as five at one time.

18. Have you ever won an award for your writing?
Actually, in October at RomantiCon I won an award for Love Never-Ending for creative worldbuilding.

19. What are your five favorite words?
Love, Faith, Hope, Generosity, and Trust.

20. What character have you created that is most like yourself?
Delilah Jericho.

21. Where do you get ideas for your characters?
I have no idea. Generally, they just appear in my head, wanting to get out.

22. Do you ever write based on your dreams?
No. I think I once had a dream that persuaded me to change a book. That is a very rare occurance.

23. Do you favor happy endings?
Always. Personally, I don't like reading books without happy endings.

24. Are you concerned with spelling and grammar as you write?
Absolutely. That doesn't mean I catch all of them.

25. Does music help you write?
No. Mostly it just gives me a headache.

26. Quote something you’ve written. Whatever pops into your head.
From Prisoner of the Heart~~

He stood and helped her to her feet before stepping out of the tub. Kissing between strokes and pats, they made a sketchy business of drying off before moving into the bedroom. She halted next to the bed, taking in the lit candles and flowers. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful. The candles are just background.”

anny

Reindeer Cookie Party

2009-12-13T00:06:00.004-05:00

When mothers work outside the home, they have to fit in the "fun" stuff where and how they can. My daughter also has a long commute which means a late arrival at home. So yesterday when she announced that she and the girls were going to make no-bake reindeer cookies, I was quite interested in the proceedings.
As it turned out, so was Poppy (the house hunk). He found the "makings" fascinating, too. Anyway, Mama and the girls and Poppy had quite a bit of fun decorating the reindeer cookies. I think they were very inventive besides.

Requirements:
Nutter Butter cookies, frosting (to make the face pieces stick), an assortment of items (m&m's, pretzels, jelly beans, chex mix, etc.

Allow your imagination to run wild.

anny

Snowman in the Mail

2009-12-12T09:49:00.004-05:00

This delightful snowman arrived in the mail yesterday from my precious aunt and uncle in Arizona. The girls were so excited as they helped me open the box and free the snowman from his bed of confetti.

It contains a lovely collection of all sorts of goodies...cookies, candies, citrus fruit. Yummmmy! Thank you, Aunt Jo Anne and Uncle Glenn!

I seldom post reviews for my books, but the new review for Prisoner of the Heart has one of the best lines I've ever received in a review... "Warning: You might want to have a hanky or two nearby, just in case. I usually don’t get real emotional on stories like this, but this actually left me with a lump in my throat."~~Tony B., Dark Diva Reviews

Click on the Dark Diva Reviews to read the entire review!

Two years ago today, my first Christmas story, Winter Hearts was released! Wow, it doesn't seem like that long ago. It's the first of my stories about the angel/shifter Jericho family and like all my stories naturally ends in a Happily Ever After!
Last year on this date, my second holiday story, Magnolia was released. It's the fourth story in the Flowers of Camelot series and reunites all the families from the previous books for a merry Yule celebration...and a lot of Happily Ever Afters!

Time sure has zipped by.

anny

The Long Road Home

2009-12-11T00:05:00.000-05:00

Christmas 1989. “Please come if you can. Uncle Charles has terminal cancer and probably won’t be with us next Christmas.”

For many years in my family, holidays (Christmas and Thanksgiving) have been alternated with the in-laws. This year was not a our family Christmas, but the family was trying to get together anyway. It wasn’t a great year for us. My husband was on disability because of an accident at work. I was on unemployment because my company, Waldenbooks, had moved their warehouse operation from New York to Tennessee. The boys, recently graduated from high school, were out of work, since they had also been employed there. Jobs were scarce with 700 unemployed warehouse workers suddenly in the job market. I was attending school as a dislocated worker, hoping to obtain the skills for a new job.

“Please come.” Our car was shot. There was barely enough for a gift for each of the kids. Friends had provided Christmas dinner components for us. The trip from New York to Indiana was out of the question. Reluctantly, I called my parents with the news.

The kids asked us if we could talk for a few minutes. “Suppose we give up our present money…would we have enough gas money to get there?” one of them asked.

My younger son offered to change the oil and do a quick check up on the car. The older one pointed out that we could take turns driving. The car had very little heat…but my older daughter suggested that we could take extra blankets. Slowly, one objection at a time, they showed us that we could make the trip. I called my parents in LaPorte, Indiana and suggested that they make some extra beds.

We traveled to LaPorte, stopping only for restrooms and coffee. Our car was a tight squeeze for five small people. We had six large people. The kids said that was a good thing as we all stayed warmer that way. Meals were sandwiches eaten in the car. In Ohio, we ran into snow. The car heater didn’t work well enough to defrost the windows so they began to freeze over. There were frequent stops to clear them, but we made it. After eighteen hours on the road we arrived in LaPorte. There was close to a foot of snow on the ground.

It was a great Christmas, rendered more poignant because of Uncle Charles’ illness. There were more family members there than at anytime before or since. Two came from Guam. Others came from all over the United States. Close to 70 people sat down for Christmas dinner. Afterwards there were games, carols, and visiting.

A couple of days later the trip home was longer as there was more snow to contend with. In Pennsylvania, the snow was so heavy that it melted on the headlights, creating a sheet of ice that coated them. We stopped frequently to clear them just so we had light. Cars were sliding off the road. It was night. Plows couldn’t keep up with the storm. The rest areas were closed. We had no money to stay anywhere so we kept moving. Twenty-six hours later, we arrived safely home.

Anyone who has traveled with teenagers knows that it’s impossible to travel far without petty squabbles and picking. However, our entire trip, bad weather, extremely uncomfortable conditions, with limited money, there wasn’t a cross word from anyone.

A miracle. Several, in fact.

Help Wanted: Christmas Bicycle Mechanic

2009-12-10T00:05:00.000-05:00

Christmas 1979. That was the year we stretched the budget to get the kids’ bicycles. At our house, Santa always brings a stuffed animal. It was my feeling that Santa bringing tons of presents sets up kids for unrealistic expectations. No matter how the year went, a stuffed animal was always doable. And after that, whatever Mom and Dad can come up with is great.

My kids had a realistic idea of our money situation from the time we sat them down and let them pay the bills with real money. My house hunk had his check cashed at the bank in $1 bills. Then we sat down with the kids and let them count out the money for each bill. We did that for six weeks. If there was any money left over after the bills we let them do the grocery shopping with a calculator and count out the money for the food.

After that when we said there was no money, they understood that reality. To this day, they’re all very good managers. This particular Christmas was important to us as a family as the previous Christmas had been very, very bad. We didn’t have a lot of money, but there was a bit more than usual so we decided that we could afford to buy bicycles.

Of course when your kids are pre-teen age, hiding bicycles is a pretty tricky proposition. Finally, we simply made the garage off-limits. Late Christmas Eve the house hunk and I were out there trying to assemble three bicycles. The store would have assembled them, but that cost money that we couldn’t afford. One needed training wheels. Things did not go well.

Around 2 AM, the door opened and my second son trotted out there with his hands in his pockets. First of all, I was startled that he was still dressed. And then of course I demanded to know why he was awake.

“Well,” he said, “I thought I would see how long it took you to put them together. But it’s late. I’m tired. And I would like to ride my bike tomorrow. So I gave up. Do you want me to put them together?”

His father handed him the wrenches. “If you think you can do better than we are, go for it.” Thirty minutes later all three bikes were assembled and parked by the tree.

My son was nine years old that Christmas. Until he left for the Navy, it was always his responsibility to assemble all the gifts marked “Some Assembly Required.”

That year Santa brought the kids stuffed Safari animals—lions, tigers, and such. Up until a few years ago, they still had them. And then they decided to donate them to a kid’s program. As I recall, that was the sum total of Christmas gifts that year, except for the perennial favorite… new underwear. To this day, that’s a family in-joke. Every Christmas the kids receive new underwear. Now of course, it’s pretty fancy stuff.

The Christmas Mouse

2009-12-09T00:05:00.005-05:00

It was two days before Christmas and Herald, the Christmas Mouse was too tired to move. When humans started the Christmas Shopping Season, they didn't think about how hazardous all those busy shoppers were for the mice. Why, a mouse could barely scurry across the wide hallways in the mall without someone stepping on his tail--or worse! It was up to Herald to take care of all the tiny mouselets while their harried parents shopped.

Some of the mouse children didn't want to stay in the nursery. Some pulled on Herald's tail because they wanted to shop with their Mamas. There were fifteen children from the Snow family and they all wanted something to eat! Little Angela Tree sucked her paws and bawled for her Mama.

Herald ran from child to child, wiping whiskers, offering cheese crumbs and toys, and refereeing arguments between the two oldest boys in the Star family, Twinkle and Shiny. Herald desperately wanted a few minutes of quiet.

Then he heard a beautiful sound drift through the nursery door. It was the sound of someone singing. One by one the mouse children grew silent. As the singing grew louder, the mouselets all gathered on the rug in the center of the room and they sat down in small groups, listening carefully to the music. Soon Herald realized that some of them were humming the melody.

In the still, quiet nursery, Herald crept to the door and peeked out into the corridor. A young human woman sat on a bench in the center of the mall, singing all alone. People were smiling and stopping to listen. Cranky children who had been crying, grew quiet and leaned against their weary parents as the young woman continued to sing. Slowly, peace fell over the mall to the strains of a Christmas song. Then Herald recognized the music. She was singing the Christmas Lullaby--Silent Night.

Herald turned to look at the mouse children and saw that they were all asleep. Twinkle Star was even snoring!

Softly, Herald crept out to the young woman and stood near her foot with his whiskers twitching and his beady little eyes shining, listening to the beautiful song. And then, wonder of wonders, she bent and offered him a perch on her fingers. It seemed to him that she even perhaps invited him to sing with her.

Suddenly, Herald wasn't so tired. He opened his tiny mouth and began to sing. And as he sang with all his heart, the Christmas Spirit swelled within him so much that when the song was finished, he roared out, "Merry Christmas Everybody!"

We Wish You a Merry Christmas

2009-12-08T00:05:00.002-05:00

Over the last two or three years, I've posted some stories about the Christmases from other times in my life. This December I will no doubt intersperse some of them again with my other blog posts. This one is one of my favorite memories. Please enjoy.

Christmas 1959. I was ten years old. Our family lived in Globe, Arizona, but we had traveled by automobile to Gary, Indiana. It was before the days of interstate highways and my parents drove many hours, late into the nights, to arrive by Christmas. My younger brothers and I occupied ourselves by discussing and boasting about the snowmen we were going to build when we arrived “up North.”

We arrived safely (our first miracle) in the cold pre-dawn hours. It was a cold, damp, windy morning with nary a snowflake in sight. Dad stopped at a gas station so that we could freshen up. The restrooms were unheated, providing us with an excellent reason to speed through our clean-up. With our faces washed and our hair combed, so that we were presentable, we piled back into the car and traveled the few blocks to my Aunt Betty and Uncle John’s house.

There, as we shivered under a barely lightened sky, my Dad was struck by an inspiration. He gathered us in a tight group on the small front stoop—and at 6:00 AM—we began bellowing out the strains of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

Now it stands to reason that SOMEBODY would want to shut us up, but nobody came. Dad led us into a second verse, urging us to sing louder.

Still no reaction.

The wind whipped up, cutting through our light coats. Lips turned blue and strands of hair blew across our eyes as he led us through a third teeth-chattering verse.

Nobody came. Mom rang the doorbell as he launched into the first verse again. Uncle John flung the door open and demanded, “Who is it!” before he recognized us and invited us in.

Later there were a few chuckles when he described his mad dash from room to room searching for the radio that someone had left on.

During our visit, my brothers and I waited in vain for snow, knowing we only had a few days to spend there. At last, our hopes for snow dashed, we headed home. Oh, we had a great time milling around with our cousins, roaming in small packs from room to room, but in some small secret place within, a little snow would have been perfect.

After a long boring trip, suffering from holiday letdown, we arrived home safely (another miracle). Dad parked in front of our small house. We sat in the car staring out the foggy windows in amazement at our snow-covered yard. The cactus plants in the corners had spiky snow beards. There wasn’t enough snow to build a snowman, but we had a great snowball fight before we unpacked the car.

A miracle.

Anny

Baking Cookies

2009-12-07T00:05:00.000-05:00

One of the traditional activities at the holiday time is baking cookies. At our house cookie baking has fallen by the wayside as our children grew up and left home. After all, who in the world is going to eat those cookies? Between restricted diets and a need to cut back on those cookie calories, baking just wasn't very cost effective.

And then the grandkids came to visit for a while. Like many multi-generational families, ours is a melding of responsibilities and privileges. Grandparents can contribute some things that parents aren't equipped to handle. Experience, a sense of perspective, a model for parent/child relationships, even a neutral ear when needed.

Grandchildren observe the way their parents treat their parents. Does Mom show respect for Grandmom? Do they get along well? Do they express love and affection?

Often, the way that grandparents contribute is by sharing their knowledge and experience in such areas as crafts, cooking, car repair...whatever way the grandparent and grandchild can spend time together.

And so last evening, the girls and I baked gingerbread cookies. There were lessons to be learned. Mixing the dough, reading the recipe, cleaning the table, sprinkling the flour and rolling out the dough. They cut out cookies, discovering for themselves that the cutters needed to be floured so they didn't stick. When the cookies stretched out of shape as they moved them from the table to the baking pan, they found out why I insisted the dough needed to be cold.

When we cut and baked a dozen both girls decided it would be best if we put the dough back in the refrigerator until after school today. When they get home from school, we'll roll and cut and bake the rest.

As her older sister put the bowl back in the fridge, the little one turned to me with a solemn expression and said, "Patience is good, Nanna. We'll just have to be patient."

Perhaps that's as good a lesson as any to learn at the holiday time.

anny

Snow Day

2009-12-06T01:16:00.002-05:00

View from our balcony.

Yesterday morning we woke to a snowstorm. It was the kind of snow that is wet, heavy, and comes down in huge quarter-sized flakes. I had to go out to Target to pick up my blood pressure medicine so I pulled on warm clothes and off we went.

As I journeyed to the store and back and then spent the day watching it snow, I pondered on the difference the snow made in my personal attitude about Christmas. Oh, I know Christmas is not dependent on whether or not it snows, but in some indefinable way, it changed my perspective much like the snow scene at the end of that old Bing Crosby movie, Holiday Inn. When the actors fling open the doors at the end of their performance to share the snow falling outdoors, there's a sense of "rightness" in the scene.

In many, many locations around the world, it never snows on Christmas. And I'm sure that has nothing to do with those places having Christmas spirit. But in the north, much of the population grew up with snowy Christmases so that's our norm. When Christmas arrives in the midst of seventy degree weather, somehow it just seems wrong.

We took unashamed advantage of the snow. The girls made a snow man. We played Christmas carols and finished decorating. And dreamed like so many families that all our members would be home for Christmas.

anny

Caturday in December...

2009-12-05T01:09:00.001-05:00

Well, our first significant snow is forecast for later today. It sounds like a wonderful day to stay inside and make cookies! Have a great weekend!

anny

Disappearing Presents

2009-12-04T00:05:00.000-05:00

December is a busy month for me. Not only do I have Christmas and New Years, but our anniversary is also in December. The year we were married five years, our friends had a surprise party for us to celebrate. The party was actually early in the month--around the second or third. During the party, I happened to glance out the window and saw a For Rent sign across the street.

We'd been looking for a bigger apartment for several months. We ran across the street, talked to the couple who owned the building and arranged to move in on the 16th of December--our actual anniversary.

As you may imagine, the next two weeks were very busy. In our old apartment, the Christmas tree was already up and decorated. Presents were under the tree. And of course, we also had two little boys aged one and two.

I packed all the stuff that could be boxed up and we drove back and forth with loads of boxes in our car, but we hired a moving company for the furniture. Finally, the day of the move dawned...with an ice storm. The area of Chicago where we lived was a warren of narrow one way streets with cars parked on both sides of the street.

The movers arrived and carried the furniture down to the truck. When they were ready, we followed them to our new apartment, creeping along on ice covered streets. When they pulled up in front of our new apartment, we saw a miraculous thing. There was actually parking space in front of the building!

And then open mouthed the house hunk and I sat dumbfounded as the the moving truck slid sideways into the parking space, coming to a halt neatly at the curb! The driver hopped out, stared at the truck, shook his head and grinned at us before motioning for us to park in the space behind the truck.

Heh.

We set the tree up, unpacked the necessities, redecorated and on Christmas Day celebrated as usual. Fortunately, our little boys were young enough that they never knew the difference because we were finding those packed away presents for the next few months...

anny

Old St. Nick

2009-12-03T00:30:00.005-05:00

When my granddaughter and I decorated the tree the other night, she asked about the great number of Santa decorations I have. Well, not that many...maybe ten? They're "antique" Santas, not the jolly old elf modern day version. I started collecting them quite a while ago. When I run across an antiquey Santa, I try to acquire him.

Why Santas? I have no clue. I also collect angel ornaments for the tree, but those are very specific. They're the Seraphim Angel ornaments. I have a collection of Seraphim Angels that have been given to me over the years but many people aren't aware that there are also ornaments and tiny pins that are offered at this time of year.

It's funny what we choose to collect. What will speak to one person, will leave another cold. My grandfather had a large pencil collection. He mounted them on big old boards, arranging them in fancy patterns. My daughter collects dolphins. My friend collects frogs. Another friend collects antique tools.

Anyway, I suppose I chose the antique Santas because they looked old. The contemporary Santa jars on one. He's too bright and brash with his red suit and hat. I think it might be that he reminds me too much of the commercial aspect of Christmas. On the other hand the antique Santas hearken back to a day when Christmas was more religion centered and simpler.

It may also be because the toys the antique Santas carry are recognizable to one of my age group. More and more the toys that kids want now are electronic...definitely not something an antique Santa would be handing out!

Whatever the reason, each year I enjoy hauling the old St. Nick's out and hanging them on the tree where they serve as a reminder of a simpler, gentler past.

anny

Christmas Spirit

2009-12-02T00:05:00.000-05:00

And I confess that I don't. Have the Christmas Spirit, that is. I've been sitting here, trying to decide what the problem is. The house is decorated. The tree is up. Ornaments abound. Christmas specials on TV and Christmas movies are all around us. So why no spirit?

Funny how easily we lose the spirit of Christmas. Does that mean we never had it to begin with? Or does that mean we don't really know what it is?

For some reason, depression, discouragement, loneliness and a general oh-woe-is-me attitude creeps in between Thanksgiving and the beginning of December. Perhaps it's the thundering reality that Christmas is around the corner and there is much to do. Perhaps its the lack of funds or the uncertainty of the new year. Whatever the reason, it occurred to me that I needed to sit back and think about what I believe in.

The first thing that struck me square between the eyes was the way that commercialism has robbed us of Christmas spirit. Particularly this year, many, many people are out of work, some with no homes, many with no prospects in the new year of better things to come. In these bad economic times, the expectations placed on us to buy, buy, buy are weighing us down. The realization that many of us may have to depend on depleted food banks for our Christmas dinners and the kindness of family or strangers to provide our children with a small gift can be most humiliating.

Have you ever noticed that it's easier to give than receive? There's something very humbling about being on the receiving line. It's even more traumatic when you're not there because of anything you've done...when circumstances beyond your control have taken over your life. Black Friday sales can't help you when there is nothing in your pocket to begin with.

Tied to that spirit thief, Commercialism, is his best buddy, Poverty. This year more than ever, Poverty has arrived uninvited for a long term stay. Poverty leaches all the joy and anticipation from the season with the worry and anxiety he sprinkles over everyone. It's tough to be excited about Christmas when you don't know how you're going to make the car payment or pay the electric bill.

Fortunately, we have Love around here. No, we can't live on the sustenance that Love provides alone, but where Love lives there is also Hope and Faith. They brought the most important cousin, Memories. She's the one who keeps the flame of Christmas burning.

Without all the wonderful memories to buoy us up, keeping our heads above water, Christmas would be meaningless. This afternoon as my granddaughter and I decorated the tree, we unwrapped and discussed the ornaments. Every ornament had its own story to tell.

This one was from the first Christmas when my children all lived in their own places.

That one was a gift from a dear friend now gone.

Oh! And this one was made by your Aunt Ti-ti when she was in fifth grade.

Look at this one with a picture of your Uncle T on it. He was wearing his cub scout uniform.

See this ornament? Your Poppy and I had that on the tree the first year we were married. Forty two years now...

Perhaps--perhaps I have a little Christmas Spirit after all. Perhaps I just needed to be reminded that home and hearth, family and friends are really the important things at Christmas. Those are the things that make us incredibly rich. For worse than the poverty of goods is the poverty of spirit. I suppose like Scrooge, I was waiting for someone to kick me in the butt and remind me how wealthy I really am. I have a roof over my head, food on the table, clothes on my back and my family is safe and sound. What more could I ask?

Blessings abound. What about you? What are the blessings you have that will remind you of the Christmas Spirit?

anny

Christmas and the Grinch

2009-12-01T10:34:00.003-05:00

Yep, it's that time of year. Last night we watched The Grinch on TV. My younger granddaughter had never seen it, so she was enthralled. When they had their own place they had cable TV and therefore such a wide selection of viewing material that they seldom watched their "local" stations.

Here, at Nanna's house, we have six possible stations to watch. So the Grinch certainly won out over football. After the Grinch, the Shrek Christmas special was on. Not so sure that one will be a classic...

The tree is "up" with lights on it, but no decorations so far. I suppose that means the count down to Christmas has begun. When my kids were little, the tree didn't go up until the second of December. Why? Because my son's birthday is the first of December and he felt like he didn't get a birthday because of the Christmas brou-haha.

Happy Birthday, Tony!!! May you be blessed with many more!

Today he's thirty-nine so I imagine he's outgrown that particular feeling. It's funny how traditions hang on, though. We have quite a few in our family. Rudolph, our reindeer is always displayed even if we don't have the tree up. Our nativity set is always set out. And a wreath is hung on the door. Now that we live in an apartment with a sheltered door, we hang one that I made many, many years ago when we lived in our first home.

All families have some holiday traditions regardless of what holiday they celebrate. What is your favorite family tradition?

anny

Cleaning

2009-11-30T00:05:00.000-05:00

Most people start the holiday season with shopping or decorating. At our home we started with cleaning and rearranging furniture. There were a number of valid reasons for the rearranging and cleaning, but I admit it was not what I planned when I crawled out of bed yesterday.

It all started with the Christmas tree, of course. Apartment dwellers all have the same problem. Where to put the tree? Then if they have limited space to begin with, something must be moved...relocated to another room...thrown out...you get the drift?

My daughter spent eight hours in a car on what should have been a five hour trip. She had plenty of time to work out the rearrangements in her mind. Now the execution was a tad different. We started the day with a LOT of measuring. Part of the rearranging was the moving of hundreds of books when we moved the bookcases.

I have long wanted to move those bookcases out of their dark corner, but freely admit the shifting of so many books was a daunting thought. With the help of my granddaughters, we emptied the double and in places, triple booked shelves, sorted the books and reshelved them after the house hunk and the son-in-law moved the very heavy bookcases. That took most of the day.

But wait! Once they were moved, other stuff had to be moved! Rugs had to be vacuumed, rolled and shifted. Pictures had to be moved. And it all went on and on and on...

By eight o'clock everyone was ready to be finished. And we were. Then it was a matter of feeding the flock, baths or showers and off to bed. I admit I really like the new arrangements. The entire apartment has a lighter, airier feel to it. Not to mention there is now wall space for my framed covers and the few Christmas items we have that have languished in the storage boxes for the last few years.

There's just onnnnnnnnne thing. We still don't know where we're going to put the tree. Sigh.

anny

Caturday!

2009-11-28T08:04:00.003-05:00

Good morning! We're up and out to the lab for bloodwork... then a special treat at Panera's. After that, we'll finish decorating the house for Christmas. What about you?

anny

The Day After...

2009-11-27T00:05:00.000-05:00

Well. The FEAST is over. We have enough leftovers to feed us for a couple more days, at least. Aside from the cooking (which I confess I did very little of), we watched a couple movies, talked, read, and generally relaxed.

One of the movies we watched was rather thought provoking for me. Everyone from the five year old to the house hunk watched it quite attentively. It was the Disney movie, Up. It says much that it captured the attention of such a widely varied age group.

The movie was generally about the pursuit of dreams--and how those dreams might change with time. What do we do when we discover the dreams we've pursued so relentlessly aren't really what we want? What do we do about dreams that are beyond our reach? At what point to we accept the fact and move on?

This week, I reached a milestone in my life--one of those milestones where you stop and reflect on your life, what you've accomplished, what you've left undone, what you might still be able to accomplish. So this movie was very timely for me personally. It afforded me a chance to stop and assess my place in life. Where have I been? Where do I want to go from here?

For many families, Thanksgiving is a time of reflection. At dinner, we went around the circle as each member from the youngest to the oldest said something they were thankful for. In a year of lean times and upheaval, it seems we have more to be thankful for. Interesting how that works, isn't it?

Today, while many are out pursuing bargains for Christmas, I'll be back at the computer, working, thankful for the skill and talent that allows me to work at home.

anny

Turkey Vengeance

2009-11-26T00:05:00.000-05:00

Twenty five years ago we moved into a new house the day before Thanksgiving. Our furniture had been in storage for over four weeks after a move from Houston to upstate New York. At nightfall on Thanksgiving Eve what we had for the most part was beds set up in the bedrooms with bare mattresses and a LOT of boxes.

In an effort to make things easier, we bought several disposable aluminum pans to cook or bake in and a stack of paper plates. Add some sturdy plastic "silverware", plastic glasses and several rolls of paper towels and we were good to go.

Early Thanksgiving morning, there were hints that all was not going well. The first clue was the hot water in the toilets. Nice to have a warm seat, but a profligate use of hot water when we needed it for cleaning, laundry and dishwashing.

The next problem that reared its head was the frozen pipes in the kitchen area. No water--hot or cold. Never the less, we persevered. By eleven a.m. our turkey was in the oven, most of the side dishes were in the process and we were back to unpacking boxes. And boxes. And boxes...

At last the turkey was close to done. The househunk seized the pan with a couple sturdy pot holders and lifted it up (heading for the counter next to the stove) when the unthinkable happened. The pan collapsed, spilling burning turkey drippings all over his hands.

He tossed the turkey pan onto the stove top...where it promptly exploded.

We had turkey, dressing, and greasy drippings everywhere. Floor, ceiling, walls, counters and cabinets, and all over my new stove. All the things we'd cleaned so carefully and set on the counter were covered in bits of dressing and drippings.

After the initial shock and checking the house hunk's hands for damage, we embarked on the massive clean up. I vividly remember crouching on my hands and knees on the kitchen floor, vainly trying to clean the grease ingrained in the textured tiles. "I want to go home!" I wailed.

The house hunk leaned down to pat me on the shoulder. "You forget. We ARE home."

Eventually, we sat down to eat what we salvaged from the turkey and side dishes. Life moved on. Other disasters arrived to shove the memories aside. But every Thanksgiving one of the kids will get a reminiscent expression on their face and ask with a glint of humor in their eyes, "Do you remember?"

In some ways, that Thanksgiving pulled us together, preparing us for the really, really bad year we were going to endure. Triumphing over that single disaster taught us that we could deal with almost anything as long as we stuck together.

Sigh. I have to admit that since then, turkey really isn't on my menu most years.

anny

PS: Happy Birthday to my cousin Molly--who is SIXTY today. Neener, neener. I'm STILL older than you!

Voyage of the Mayflower

2009-11-25T00:05:00.001-05:00

Originally, the Mayflower set out with a companion ship the Speedwell, but the Speedwell had a leak so both ships turned back. On the second attempt, the ships reached the Atlantic Ocean but again were forced to return to Dartmouth because of the Speedwell's leak.

It would later be revealed that there was in fact nothing wrong with the Speedwell. The crew had sabotaged it in order to escape the year-long commitment of their contract.

After reorganization of the passengers and crew, the final sixty-six day voyage was made by the Mayflower alone. Some of the original company stayed behind, while others switched places with passengers on the Mayflower. With 102 passengers plus crew, each family was allotted a very confined amount of space for personal belongings. The 'tween deck of the Mayflower where the passengers lived was 8o feet long and 24 feet wide at it's widest part. And the passengers area was a large open area below decks with the deck area reserved for the crew.

The ship probably had a crew of twenty-five to thirty, along with other hired personnel; however, only the names of five are known, including John Alden. William Bradford, who penned our only account of the Mayflower voyage, wrote that John Alden "was hired for a cooper [barrel-maker], at South Hampton where the ship victuled; and being a hopefull yong man, was much desired, but left to his owne liking to go or stay when he came here; but he stayed, and maryed here."

The intended destination was an area near the Hudson River in "North Virginia". However the ship was forced far off-course by inclement weather and drifted well north of the intended Virginia settlement. As a result of the delay, the settlers did not arrive in Cape Cod till the onset of a harsh New England winter.

The settlers remained on the ship until homes were built in the spring. Disease took it's toll in the crowded conditions on ship board. Of the 102 passengers plus crew members, only 52 survived the winter.

One of the interesting stories for the John Howland descendants is the tale of how John Howland was washed overboard in a storm. Fortunately for his many descendants (including the house hunk), he was able to grasp a rope trailing in the water and the sailors pulled him back aboard.

Quite a few years ago, the house hunk and I visited the Mayflower II, an accurate replica of the original Mayflower. What struck me about the area below decks was the tiny, tiny area available to the settlers. There was no privacy. Most of the settlers slept on pallets or hammocks. And they shared their space with the supplies.

A bricked box served as a stove. The diet was limited and included salt pork, hard biscuits and dried beans. Small wonder that so many died of a combinations of scurvy, tuberculosis, and possibly pneumonia. Of the eighteen adult women who sailed on the Mayflower, only four survived to spring. Four women, helped by half a dozen teenaged girls were responsible for the care and feeding of the colony.

While we can't credit the colonists with establishing the first Thanksgiving, we can certainly honor them for the spirit and strength they exhibited when they sailed from Plymouth, England. Due to their incredible will, there are thousands of descendants today who can proudly state, "My ancestor came on the Mayflower."

For an easy website with wonderful information and pictures regarding the Mayflower and Plimoth Colony please click HERE!

anny

The First Thanksgiving

2009-11-24T00:05:00.001-05:00

Among the lies my teachers taught over the years was the story of the first Thanksgiving. Back when I was a kid, we learned all about the pilgrims, those stern, black-clad puritans who fled England, sailed on the Mayflower to America, and had a big feast for the Indians.

I think the only fact they had correct was the one about the pilgrims sailing on the Mayflower. The house hunk is descended from six of the original pilgrims, Francis Cooke, John Howland, Elizabeth Tilley, John Tilley, Joan Tilley, and George Soule. Elizabeth Tilley's parents died the first winter leaving Elizabeth, a thirteen year old orphan alone. Two years later she married John Howland.

About half of the passengers were Separatists, the other half signed up for material reasons. Of the 102 original passengers nearly half died the first winter, leaving 53 survivors...mostly men. In the fall of 1621 when the harvest was finally gathered in, William Bradford, governor of Plimoth proposed a harvest feast. It lasted three days. For a wonderful interview with the food historian at Plimoth Plantation, click on Kathleen Curtin.
Other fun facts. They didn't wear black. Black was too hard to keep clean and also was expensive so it was reserved for Sunday services. Generally, they wore colored clothing. Heavy woolen fabrics.

A few years ago we went for a weekend to Plymouth and spent some time at the Plimoth Plantation speaking with the reenactors. Each reenactor picks a specific person to represent. They remain totally in character as they talk about their lives in Plimoth and before traveling to the New World.

So we were talking to Hester Cooke (wife of the Francis Cooke listed above) She did not travel on the Mayflower, electing instead to remain in Leiden (Holland) until later, with their children. One of the other tourists in the tiny Cooke house (see the pictures above) asked her about her clothing and commented that her skirt was wrinkled. "Didn't they iron their clothes?" the tourist inquired.

I've always loved 'Hester's' reply. "But that would be vanity."

I figure if it's good enough for the pilgrims, it's good enough for me.

The houses were tiny. For that matter, the beds were tiny. The bed would be too short for me and I'm only 5'2". When I asked where the kids slept, 'Hester' pointed under the bed and said, "They sleep on pallets."

Hester and Francis had eight children. I just wonder when and where they found privacy to start them! Certainly, there was no bedroom door to shut. Actually, the entire house was only two very small rooms. And one of those was the room with the "kitchen".

The harvest feast had little that we would recognize today. No potatoes (white or sweet)--the pilgrims weren't familiar with the potato as a food at this time. Cranberries might have been added to dishes for flavoring, but certainly there wasn't any cranberry jelly. And pumpkins, though a staple in their diet, were not used for pies. Actually, it's highly unlikely they would have flour or sugar to make pies. Nor did they have ovens.

For that matter, imagine the amount of food you would need for 50 people plus the 90+ guests over a three day period. Nooooo thanks!

I think I'll settle for my modern conveniences and the menu we're planning on. We'd hate to be without our pumpkin pie!

anny

Crossroads

2009-11-22T23:55:00.001-05:00

How much we appreciate accomplishments in ourselves or others depends on our viewpoint. A vivid demonstration of this truth was the brou-haha over Harlequin Publishing's various business decisions in the last two weeks.

Readers, by and large, were entirely unmoved by the shenanigans that gave authors so much heartburn. If they're Harlequin readers, they'll continue to be Harlequin readers with unimpaired tranquility. Their interest in the inner workings of the publishing world is nil--unless they anticipate submitting to Harlequin as an aspiring author.

The same can't be said for writers who more or less fell in two camps. Inevitably, the Harlequin writers themselves had some qualms about the changes that affected their professional futures. Many of them enter the RWA's Rita contest--a contest they are no longer eligible for because of the changes Harlequin announced. Though I do not belong to the RWA, I do appreciate their unhappiness. Among the print writers, the Rita is a prestigious contest with such winners as Nora Roberts and Tom and Sharon Curtis.

The opposite camp, if you will, is comprised of those writers who've been on the outside looking in because their publishers don't pay an advance to their writers. They have a different business model that the RWA doesn't recognize and therefore, they are not eligible for such things as the Rita. The decision isn't based on quality, but some nebulous combinations of royalty numbers and methods of reaching the public marketplace. Bluntly stated, an e-published author doesn't qualify unless they make one thousand dollars or more on the title they wish to enter...in that year. Much of it depends on timing and that is not always under the author's control.

So. Two camps forever divided were suddenly united when the RWA announced their decision. The situation is fluid at the moment while Harlequin, a huge juggernaut of a publisher, backpeddles madly. Will they change their stance in order to make their writers happy and bow down to the various author's groups such as RWA, SFWA and others? Probably.

Will any of it make a difference to the readers? No. And that ultimately is the bottom line. At a time of cutthroat competion in the romance market, the readers have the ultimate vote. If they buy, the publisher stays afloat. If they take their money elsewhere, the publisher sinks.

Readers may not realized just how critical their purchasing decisions are. Especially in this day and age of limited incomes and lost jobs, their votes with their credit cards are all the more critical. Who dreamed that romance would become so powerful and respectable that at most print houses, it's the primary seller?

For that matter, who could have foreseen the way the digital market growth has exploded? Three years ago, as I carried my digital reader around, using it as I waited for the doctor or while I was doing laundry, the average citizen had no idea what it was. And they usually pooh-poohed the idea that it would ever "catch on".

Now, when I haul out my reader, the questions are entirely different. The average citizen is quite knowledgeable about brands, how many books can be saved on the reader, how long the battery life is, and whether or not DRM will be a problem. Ready or not, the e-book world is here to stay.

While readers may not care about the internal struggles in the publishing world, their buying decisions directly affect the swiftly changing landscape in the world of books. All of us are racing toward the "back to the future" era.

anny

Sixty Years

2009-11-22T00:05:00.000-05:00

I've always wondered why people get so uptight about their birthdays. Personally, I think every birthday is a blessing. After all the alternative is not a lovely picture.

I'm sixty years old today. When I was ten, that was unimaginable. When I was twenty, the day was far off when I would turn sixty. Now I'm here and I'm wondering how I got here. What happened? I'm not ready to be sixty already. I still have a lot of things to do.

Sixty is a pretty significant number, you know? So in order to celebrate with my friends and readers, I'm having a Birthday Bash at Joyfully Reviewed from 7 PM to 10 PM EST! Drop by and say hello! If you're a writer bring an excerpt to post. If you just want to chat with the guests, then come on over and talk! If you don't belong to the loop, the link is up above...click on Joyfully Reviewed.

Earlier in the afternoon the house hunk is going to take us all out to Don Pablos for Mexican food. I always love to eat Mexican food and the restaurant is family friendly.

Until tonight...blessings on your day!

anny

Happy Weekend!

2009-11-21T00:05:00.000-05:00

Rest and relax! anny

Life Skills

2009-11-20T00:05:00.000-05:00

As you make your way through life, you acquire strange little skills and odd bits of experience that you usually never expect to use. And then the day arrives when you need that odd skill in a way you never imagined.

In this day of job shortages and down-sizing and retraining, one of the bits of advice that job coaches are sharing is to think out of the box, look at your skills with an eye toward how those skills are related to new jobs you're applying for.

In the past I worked for a small manufacturing company where I ran a drill press to drill holes in knobs, McDonald's, Friendly's, a Waldenbooks warehouse, and a county-wide school where my position was executive secretary. I also taught adult education vocational classes at that last job. Filling out a resume or a job application can be a challenge. But there are commonalities in all my past jobs.

One of the skills I have in common from every one of my employers was that I was the job trainer for new employees. Nope, that wasn't in my job description when I started, but in some strange way, training became one of my duties every time.

In each job, I also wrote and compiled a manual for the job. Hmmm. That wasn't in my job description, either. But it seems that most jobs need some type of reference manual--whether one done professionally by an outside agency, or one done in-house.

Every one of those employers needed an inventory compiled. In all but one job, I made up the forms and process as I went along. But the job was finished and the counts were accurate.

Along the way, I've picked up other oddments of information that I'll use one day. I'm convinced that nothing we learn is wasted. When the day arrives that I desperately need a skill or information, it will be ready to hand.

What is the strangest skill you have acquired in life?

anny