Kathleen Comes to Arizona

Last weekend I had a wonderful time at my local Romance Writers of America conference. My chapter always does a great job with the conference, but this year was a little more fun and exciting for me as my Harlequin American editor Kathleen Scheibling attended. It's always enjoyable for us authors to get to spend some quality time with our editors as well as a little social interacting :)

I picked her up at the airport on Friday (yes, I scrambled on Thursday to get the car washed). I was so paranoid about forgetting where I parked my car in the HUGE parking garage, I actually typed the info into my cell phone (two years ago when I picked up two editors at the airport, I DID forget where I parked and we wandered for 45 minutes ).

Saturday we sat together at lunch. That afternoon, we had our Harlequin panel workshop and it went well, I think. I did purchase a cd of the workshop as a souvenir!!

That's Kathleen on the far right, me next to her, Linda Style on my other side and Carrie Weaver on the far left. Both Linda and Carrie are Super Romance authors and members of my RWA chapter. That evening, we took Kathleen to the Westin Kierland Resort for dinner. I'd never been there before but I will definitely go back again one day. The place was gorgeous and the food amazingly good.

I ended the "editor intensive" weekend by having breakfast with Kathleen Sunday morning. And, yes, I did pitch a new series idea :)

This wasn't the first time I've met my editor, but it was certainly one of the best times I had with her. My only regret was that she didn't have an extra day to see the sights as she'd never been to Arizona before.

Cathy Mc

Blast From the Past Food in Brody's Crossing

Three weeks ago I finished the next book in my Brody's Crossing series, tentatively titled Texan in Her Heart. It's the story of a lost sister, Amanda Allen Crawford, who travels home to Texas and the Rocking C, and ends up finding more than she'd ever imagined. Not only does she fall in love (of course!) but she discovers a sense of community in the town where her mother lived for twenty years, her brothers were born and her father is buried. If you've read the other Brody's Crossing books, you'll recognize Troy Crawford from Temporarily Texan and Cal Crawford from An Honorable Texan as Amanda's big (and clueless) brothers. As always, my small town atmosphere is enhanced by my new community of Mineola, TX, where springtime is absolutely IN BLOOM! Here's the arbor leading to our front door.

And, since I missed posting the recipes for this month on the 4th due to wireless Internet issues, I'd like to also mention that she discovers Brody's Crossing is a place to eat. Big time. I didn't realize until after I'd finished the book that someone (usually the hero, Leo Casale) was always feeding her. You'd think she was a stray kitten! He takes her to Dewey's Steakhouse and Saloon and fixes her an authentic Italian dinner (thank you, Virginia Kantra, for the Bolognese sauce suggestion) at his condo. She dines with "the lunch ladies" at the cafe. They have a "blast from the past" going-away party for her at the Rocking C.

I thought I'd share some of the recipes the lunch ladies fix for the party. These might be familiar to you if you are "of a certain age."

• Velveeta Cheese/Rotel Tomato dip (in a Crock Pot, of course!)


• Macaroni Salad


• Meatballs with Chili Barbecue Sauce


• Sausage Pinwheels


• Peach Jello Salad


• Refrigerator Oatmeal Fudge Cookies
  

You probably have some of these recipes in your cookbooks, on recipe cards or bookmarked
online. If not, I'm going to share the ones I really love. Some of these are standards you
can easily look up. Some are so simple you don't really need a recipe!

Virginia Chancellor's Macaroni Salad

• 1 pkg elbow macaroni, cooked until soft (do not overcook!
• 1 large green pepper or more, to taste, cored and diced into small pieces
• 1 pkg Velveeta Cheese, cubed into 1/2 inch squares
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Miracle Whip
  
• Combine the first four ingredients in a large bowl. Add enough Miracle Whip to moisten
  everything but not so much that it becomes soggy. Refrigerate for several hours before
  serving so the flavors will blend. The Velveeta may get a little soft, but that's okay. The
  perfect macaroni salad for a hot Texas afternoon. Sometimes I even eat it for breakfast the next day!

Victoria Chancellor's Easy Meatballs

• 1 lb lean ground beef (I use 90% to 93% lean)
• 1 egg, slightly beaten
• 3 slices of bread, shredded or processed into crumbs, or saltine cracker crumbs
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Onion and garlic, minced fine, optional
• For Swedish meatballs, add 1/2 teaspoon of ground nutmeg and omit garlic
• Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with aluminum foil and use non-stick spray.
  Mix all ingredients. Roll into small meatballs, about an inch or a little more in diameter, and
  place on cookie sheet. Bake for 20 -25 minutes until brown. For the best looking meatballs,
  turn halfway through cooking, but if you forget, that's okay. No frying! (Note: To increase
  recipe, just use the same proportions of 1 egg per 1 lb ground beef, and add enough crumbs to
  make them stick together.)

Chili-Barbecue Sauce for Meatballs

• 1 jar Heinz Chili Sauce and 1 jar sweet (not vinegary) barbecue sauce. I like K.C. Masterpiece.
  
  
• Mix together, heat, and add meatballs. Great in a Crock Pot. Will keep for days (refrigerated) if you have any left after the party!

Peach Jello Salad

My mother and then my mother-in-law loved this Jello salad straight from the 1960s or 1970s. If served as a salad, put it on a lettuce leaf for a nice presentation.

• 2 small packages Peach flavored Jello
• 1 large (8 ounce) package cream cheese
• 2 small jars apricot baby food or about 4 ounces of frozen peaches, blended
• 1 large can crushed pineapple (Do not use FRESH pineapple!)
• 1 large container Cool Whip
• 
  You will need a 9 x 13 casserole dish or two 8 x 8 dishes. Drain pineapple and save juice,
  then add water to equal 2 cups. Bring water and Jello to a boil. Beat in cream cheese. Cool.
  Add fruit (baby food or peaches, pineapple) and allow to congeal slightly in refrigerator. Stir in Cool Whip. Refrigerate until firm. Serves a lot of people as either a salad or a dessert.

I'll share the Oatmeal Fudge Refrigerator Cookie and sausage pinwheel recipes later. Writing
about all this food has made me hungry! Happy reading ... and cooking.

Clueless

I'm at a total loss this morning about what to blog about. Several things have gone through my mind, but nothing seems to stick or last much longer than one or two sentences. It must be spring fever. Or maybe it's just my brain taking a nap after meeting a string of deadlines. So instead of trying to make sense of much of any one thing, I'm going to list some of those things that have danced through my mind.

Did you know that April begins on the same day each year as July, and in Leap year it's the same as January?

The HAR covers have been fantastic! As fantastic as the stories inside!

Signs in my office:

• Nobody is born published
• PASSION: A powerful force that cannot be stopped
• SOMEDAY MY COWBOY WILL COME (given to me a week ago by one of the members in our local writers' group)

I spent a wonderful morning plotting with three friends and wish we could get together more often, if only for the company.

It seems as if April Fool's Day was only a couple of days ago, yet the month is already more than half gone.

Thank goodness Tax Day is done for another year!

If I could do this a week from today, I could blog about the local Renaissance Fair, which I love attending.

People who can't think of blog topics shouldn't be blogging. :)

Have a wonderful rest of the weekend!

Spring Cleaning Philosophy

Yep, it's that time of year again. You've heard all the "definitions" of spring cleaning:heavy duty, top-to-bottom cleaning--carpets, windows inside and out, blinds, draperies, sorting through closets, basements, attics and garages--all this in addition to the traditional chores of dusting, scrubbing toilets, showers and kitchens. Most of us understand and appreciate that the meaning of this yearly event is associated with "spring" due to warmer weather and the idea that spring signals renewal and rebirth.

The older I become the less interested I am in rebirth and renewal--at least when it comes to my home. One afternoon while I was searching the Internet for cleaning "shortcuts" I came across the following spring-cleaning philosophies.

Spring Cleaning Philosophy #1

from YOU Magazine www.allaboutnews.com

Spring is here and it's time to give your home a deep cleaning. There are two roads you can go down. The first one is paved with loathing and complaints. Needless to say, it is not a very fun road to travel. Chores seem to take longer to complete, and by the end of the day, your back hurts worse than ever.

The second road is one that involves taking a slightly different look at the task at hand. Spring is a very symbolic time of year. From the beginning, it's always been associated with starting anew. If you think of spring cleaning in somewhat the same way, your attitude in terms of doing it may actually change for the better.

Think of how good it will feel to not only have a very clean home, but also one that's organized and clutter-free. At the same time, think about how much easier it's going to be to perform any subsequent cleaning throughout the remainder of the year. It may actually result in a renewed love of the space in which you live. Believe it or not, a good spring cleaning can be as cathartic

and invigorating as a move into a new home.

Spring Cleaning Philosophy # 2

www.frontiernet.net

I don't do windows because--I love birds and don't want one to run into a clean window and get hurt.

I don't wax floors because--I am terrified a guest will slip and get hurt then I'll feel terrible (plus they might sue me).

I don't mind the dust bunnies because--They are very good company, I have named most of them, and they agree with everything I say.

I don't disturb cobwebs because--I want every creature to have a home of their own.

I don't spring clean because--I love all the seasons and don't want the others to get jealous.

I don't put things away because--My husband will never be able to find them again.

I don't do gourmet meals because--When I entertain I don't want my guests to stress out over what to make when they invite me over for dinner.

I don't iron because--I choose to believe them when they say "permanent press."

I don't stress much on anything because--"A Type" personalities die young and I want to stick around and become a wrinkled up crusty ol' woman!"

Remember--A clean house is a sign of a broken computer.

Okay, I admit that spring-cleaning philosophy #2 sounds really appealing! So...what kind of spring-cleaning philosophy do you subscribe to?

Marin

Dexter:Honorable Cowboy

Book #2 The Codys: First Family of Rodeo

www.marinthomas.com

Tax Day and Other Deadlines

Anybody out there working on taxes today?

It seems appropriate, as this is Tax Day here in the states, to talk about how we all deal differently with deadlines. In addition to the deadline to file taxes and deadlines at work, I've also been working toward a deadline for the revisions on my second book.

I don't deal well with deadlines. I admit it. They stress me out. Always have. Yet many years ago in school, (and no, I won't specify exactly how many years) I found my own way to deal with them. Given that I'm a nervous wreck until said deadline is met, I just meet them early. Like setting your alarm clock a few minutes ahead, I set the calendar a week or two ahead in my mind so I think things are due before they really are. Not that I avoid the stress, I just experience it earlier as opposed to later. I finished my term papers half way through the term. Not to say I didn't rewrite them three times before turning them in. I had nightmares about sitting in class and realizing I didn't have my assignment. We filed our taxes by the first of March because I couldn't take worrying about them. Currently, I'm working diligently to complete my revisions so I can let the manuscript breathe a week then proof it before sending.


Not to say that I've never missed a deadline, but not many. Don't say it. I completely realize this is a neurotic sickness.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, and possibly the sane end, I've had friends, co-workers, and even a critique partner that appear to drift leisurely along, then thrive on that last rush of adrenaline to meet deadlines with thirty seconds to spare. And they do it well. Their stress seems to last a much shorter time than mine.

What worries me these days is that I've got so many things going on in my life, things that demand my attention, that there aren't enough hours in the day. At times I have trouble keeping track of everything. My life has become a juggling act. The day job. Writing. An elderly mom living with us who needs more and more of my attention. This is the woman who taught me to balance my bank statement to the penny. Now I have to help her balance her's. Her doctor appointments. I'm delighted that my boys are both married and mostly self-sufficient, but they still rely on me for certain things. And then there are the grandkids and other family issues I won't bore you with.

Don't get me wrong. I am not willing to give any of this up. My family is the center of my life. Writing is a lifelong dream. And the day job, well it funds it all and I'm too young to retire. Being the white cream in the center of the Oreo is not new to me. But lately I'm slipping. When I'm working on one thing, my brain is spinning, thinking about three others.

Help me out. Surely everyone has to juggle at times. What works for you?

The Joy of a (nearly) empty Nest?

Two days ago, I farewelled my middle child who was embarking on the greatest adventure of her life—moving to live and work in London. If I said I hadn’t been eagerly awaiting this day, I’d be lying. From the time each of my children turned 18, I’ve been looking forward to having an empty nest.

I couldn’t understand parents who were mourning this new state of freedom in their lives. Didn’t they love not having to pick up, clean up, nag at, plead with their adult child?

But, many of you will protest, “My child went off to college at 18.” Unfortunately, in Australia, we don’t have this happy tradition. Very few city dwelling kids leave to attend college in another city altogether. This is partly due to the geography of this continent—the same size as the contiguous United States—and partly to the demographics—we have a population of only 21 million. And 85% of that measly 21 million people live in the most densely populated 1% of the continent, clinging to the eastern coastline.

Here endeth the school lesson, but I’m sure you can see from these figures, Tertiary education for the majority of Aussie kids isn’t all that far from home. More’s the pity. L

All efforts to move my children out of home have fallen on deaf ears, exacerbated by their father who’d be only too happy for them to stay forever, along with assorted spouses they might gather along the way, and resultant children of their own!

It took me several years to realize I’d made a huge blunder in announcing that there’d be no boomerang children in our household. Once they left, that was it! The locks were being changed, all their cr*p was going with them, or to the tip if they left it behind, and I’d be happy to see them on a weekly basis.

The problem was, they knew I was serious, so they refused to move out. None of them wanted to waste “dead money” on rent and I had to agree with them.

Consequently, our home, although large, was filling daily with their possessions, the worst offender being daughter #1. Her stuff not only crammed her own bedroom but spilled out into the playroom and bathroom adjoining it. It flowed down the stairs and into my study, the family room, the unused formal dining room and the spare room which unofficially became her study in an effort to curb her need to mark her territory. I was at my wits end tripping over all this rubbish while her father seemed to revel in how “homey” our house was.

Finally, in desperation, I went condo hunting for her, found the perfect location, and ensured it was large enough to accommodate all her stuff.

I signed the contract (we have the same name) called her up and said, “Congratulations, you’re now the proud owner of your own home. When are you moving out?”

After she recovered from the shock (and realised I wasn’t kidding), she promptly put in tenants. It wasn’t until a year ago that she finally made the move into her own home (aged 27). What a joyous day that was! It took several weeks to completely move all her rubbish (er, possessions) to her new home, including 3 huge moving boxes full of shoes! Imelda Marcus had nothing on her.

And last week, I was eagerly counting the hours until #2’s plane soared into the skies, leaving me with only one more child to dispose of –er, make that—encourage to soar with the eagles (cough).

That was, until she was saying goodbye to our Lab, and it suddenly struck me, she might never see Freddie again.

This was it. Final! She’d said she was leaving forever and until that moment, I’d been happy with her decision, excited for her, delighted that her lovely Dutch boyfriend would be meeting up with her in London to help her find a flat.

Suddenly overcome with emotion, I wanted to plead with her to stay, just a little longer. Surely at 24, she was too young to be leaving home forever?

As I watched her plane disappear into the clouds, I felt as if a family member had died, I was so bereft. Back home, the house was silent, yet only hours earlier had been filled with her happy chatter, her excitement at seeing her boyfriend after so many months apart, what she’d do in London, the places she’d visit in Europe during her holidays.

Even Freddie’s joyful, waggy-tailed greeting at our return from the airport couldn’t lift my spirits. I hugged our son rather enthusiastically when he arrived home from work that evening. He looked startled. I couldn’t voice why I’d done, it, I was still too choked up.

I suppose I’ll eventually get used to my middle child not being here, but in the meantime, it’s made me realise that maybe empty nests aren’t so great after all?

How do you feel about empty nests? Do you have one? Are you looking forward to having one? How did you cope?

CC

April showers...

I love them because I love writing when it’s raining. I also love how the rain has been turning the grass and trees so green again. Of course that makes me want to go outside and play, which I'm going to be doing at the end of the month when I attend the Romantic Times convention in Columbus, OH. This will be my first time attending the convention, and I’m really excited about meeting up with my writer friends that I don’t see nearly enough. I’m also excited because I’ve heard many readers attend the convention, too. I love meeting readers at book signings, so I’m really looking forward to, hopefully, meeting more!

I’m also a little nervous about attending the convention – for the usual reasons: Will my daughters get themselves up for school? Will my family eat while I’m away? Will anyone remember to feed the cat and the dog? I’m also nervous about going because I’ve heard the convention can get a little crazy. It sounds fun but exhausting too!

Has anyone – writer or reader – attended the convention before? Please share your experiences to calm my nerves!

Thanks & Happy Reading!
Lisa Childs

PS: Please remember my hunky hockey player's book is available this month!

Give it to Me Straight... by Megan

Today is a busy day for me. Work as usual, then I'm meeting with the manager of the hotel where my RWA chapter is holding a workshop this month (Margie Lawson comes to St. Louis!), which I'm coordinating. Then my favorite part of the day: MORWA's critique group meeting.

When other writers say they don't like the concept of critique groups or partners, I'm baffled. No feedback? I shudder to think about it. How do you know if you're getting the story to the reader with emotion but not melodrama, or if the humor works, or if what's so clear in your head is clear on the page?

I love feedback, and no, what I receive isn't usually glowing. But because my group cares enough about good writing to help me improve my writing, they point out where they think I've gone wrong and possibly what to do about it.

My first ms written for publication (aka, my learning book, which will never see the light of day again) was set in Atlanta. Not knowing whether it sounded like the South, I sent it to a writing contest in Atlanta, the Maggies, a very prestigious contest I was in no way ready to enter. I lucked in to finding a great contest and the most honest and helpful feedback ever! The judges very politely hated the book--and rightly so. :) It was an angst novel (full of whiners). I entered the Maggies every year when I started a new story.

My critique group is terrific (and I only use the possessive because I belong to it, not because being the moderator means I own it). I love seeing the fledgling writers leap from the nest and try their wings. Some crash to the ground, but they're gently helped up by the critiquers and sent back to their nests to try again. I especially love when a person's critiques get better because her/his writing gets better too. I call it osmosis--the knowledge used to critique seeps into the writing, improving the work.

I'm not reading tonight, but I look forward to my next turn. My writing is so much better because of the input of my critique partners and this group. Every new book goes before them. My first published book, Marrying the Boss, had quite a few presentations in different forms before the one that captured the feel I wanted. I changed the beginning and the characters and the entire dynamics of the relationship before I was happy.

Some writers say they don't want others messing with their Voice. Or changing their story. Or giving them doubts about their writing. All plausible concerns. I guess I'm too, um, strong-minded as my mother calls it (since I got it from her) or stubborn as my husband labels it (since he has to deal with it daily) to let anyone change my story in ways I don't want. They can suggest, but that doesn't mean I have to accept their suggestions. My Voice is just me, and I doubt anyone else could change that. Give me insecurities about my writing? I have so many already, a few more would hardly register on my radar. But those insecurities don't extend to feedback. Give it to me straight--so I can make my writing better! My skin is thick enough.

So, which personality type are you? Do you want to hear about your flaws so you can improve them, in writing or other aspects of life? Or would you rather not have anyone messing with you, and just figure it out on your own?

BONUS: There's no wrong answer!

Megan Kelly
megankellybooks.com

Breaking News

A MOTHER’S WEDDING DAY

An April 2010 Mother’s Day Release from Harlequin American

4 STAR RATING FROM ROMANTIC TIMES

Two novellas in one book featuring authors Rebecca Winters and Dominique Burton who are the first Mother and Daughter in real-life to write for Harlequin American.

I’m proud to announce that Dominique Burton is my talented daughter!

This is her first published novel. At the moment she is under contract to Harlequin American for two more novels that are linked to A DAUGHTER’S DISCOVERY (from A MOTHER’S WEDDING DAY).

Watch for her next stories out in 2011.

As a young girl with a writer for a mom and three brothers, I lived in the imaginary world of books and movies like Anne of Greene Gables and Indiana Jones. Most of the time I was writing and acting out my own stories with Harrison Ford as my hero. Not too shabby for a seven year old!

I’m a lover of Europe who at twenty got the wild notion to buy an around-the-world plane ticket. For six months I circled the globe on my own, traveling to Singapore, Australia, living and studying in Italy, learning about ancient cultures in Egypt, floating down the Nile, watching animals on safari in Kenya, scuba diving in Tahiti and having a blast. I graduated with honors from the University of Utah with a bachelor’s degree in History.

I now live in South Jordan, Utah, with my two amazing children. If I’m not writing romances or young adult stories, I’m reading or out running. A few years ago I had the privilege of running the Boston Marathon.

Please write to me at info@dominiqueburton.com or visit my website at http://www.dominiqueburton.com/.

This is a picture of me, Rebecca (Burton) Winters, when Dominique was only two years old. The love for writing has to be in the genes. When she came quietly into the dining room in the morning with her blanket and bottle to peek on her mommy who was typing a manuscript, this is what she saw.

Just call me the proud mom.

Rebecca Winters

The Rummage Sale

Confession time. I did something last weekend I’m not proud of. I got into an argument with a woman over four wooden hangers at a rummage sale.

Perhaps I should back up a bit. For the last six years, we’ve sent either one or both of our kids on the church mission trip. In order to help pay for this expense, our church holds an annual community rummage sale. Because our kids go and will benefit from the proceeds, the kids, my husband and I have to help out.

For the last six years, I’ve helped in one way or another. I’ve sorted clothes. I’ve baked dozens of cookies and worked the snack table. I’ve checked people out. Between y’all and me, I will admit that I Do Not Like The Rummage Sale. I don’t like how all the dusty things that have lived in people’s attics and basements-but now are in our church’s gymnasium-never fail to make me sick. I really don’t like sorting through other people’s donated items and discovering that they owned things I didn’t want to know about.

Example: Three years ago, my daughter found a uh, jock strap in the shape of a Flamingo. Her discovery of that, and the subsequent conversation we had about it was something I could have lived without. Really.

But I digress. Anyway, last weekend, I worked the snack table on Friday night and arrived back at church at 7:30 the following morning. The snack table wasn’t too busy, but the check out table was. So I volunteered to bag for a high school junior named Jen. I’ll admit it. Jen can add in her head way better than me. I had no problem letting her be in charge. She rang up sales, I bagged. Things were moving along.

Until the hanger lady came. She plopped four wooden hangers in front of Jen. She glared. And she pretty much told Jen that those hangers were not worth one dollar.

Philosophically, I get this. Of course people come to rummage sales for good deals. And, well, it never hurts to try and get a better deal. But people had been badgering poor Jen all morning. Some had even switched around price stickers. One lady swore up and down that her tricycle really had been priced at fifty cents.

By the time the hanger lady came, I had had enough. In my mind, those cedar hangers were very nice. They were certainly worth a quarter each. So as Jen was looking at hanger lady in wonder, I stepped in and said no. “They’re a dollar.”

She looked me over. “Fifty cents.”

To my right, I knew Jen was ready to give in. After all, there were lots of people behind hanger lady, and well, no one wants to pack up things that don’t sell. But perversely, I was tired of giving in. “No, they’re one dollar,” I said. Forcefully.
“Then I don’t want them.” And then she shoved those hangers at me.

Oh!! That really burned me up.

“Fine,” I said. “But just so you know, this church rummage sale is so these kids can go help people in Georgia.” Yes, I said Georgia like it was Uganda. No, it really wasn’t a fair thing to push the whole church aspect in the hanger lady’s face.

But for a split second, she looked a little worried. I started to get a little excited. I’m a huge wimp...but maybe, just maybe…she was a little afraid of me?

Maybe she was about to back down?

Uh, no. All she did was walk away, leaving me holding the hangers.

Yes, I lost the hanger sale. No, Jen was not impressed. But for a little bit, I felt triumphant.

There actually is a happy ending to my little episode. Hanger lady’s friend came back an hour later and bought those hangers. “They really were a good deal,” she explained. “Even at a quarter each.”

And the best news of all? After six years, my rummage sale days are now over. My daughter will be graduating next year, so this mission trip will be her last. Next year, some other Mom can bake cookies and argue. I plan to sleep in that day.
Of course, I have a sneaking suspicion there will be a tiny little part of me that will be sad about that.
Anyone else have a rummage sale story?

Shelley Galloway

MARCH WINNER!!!

CONGRATULATIONS Linda s! You’re the March winner. To receive your free autographed books please contact Laura Bradford, Roxann Delaney and Laura Altom through their Web sites.

To enter the contest simply leave a blog comment and your name will go into the drawing. Easy and painless. And FREE BOOKS.

So check back often and be sure to leave a comment. Good luck!

Food Issues

My husband is not on a diet. He is dealing with food issues sensibly by following a plan set up by a nutritionist. This involves weighing and measuring ridiculously small amounts of food for a full-size man.

On the plus, or maybe I should say minus, side, I’m eating less myself. While I’m not measuring and tracking units of protein vs. carbs, this program discourages fixing fancy combinations of food. They’re too hard to measure. And plain food tends to be less tempting (except for ice cream).

I have food issues in my books, too.

In real life, people socialize over food. Heroes and heroines, too, go out to dinner, cook together, celebrate holidays (such as Thanksgiving), take lunch breaks from work, etc. It’s all too easy as a writer to have them constantly fussing about with coffee cups, bites of omelet, or whatever, during their conversations.

Usually by chapter five or so, my ongoing outline gets studded with reminders to AVOID FOOD.

You’d be surprised how difficult this is. Almost as hard as avoiding food in real life.

I doubt Congress worries about this. Please don’t tell them. They might start fining authors of characters who overeat.

Or – worst case scenario – take away my ice cream.

Step by Step

When I was a little girl I had two dreams for my life--to be a writer and to be a mom. And while I'm proud of myself for accomplishing the first, I'm even more thrilled to be living the second each and every day.

From the moment each of my girls were born, I was a devoted mom--giving them as much of my time and attention as humanly possible. Each stage they hit, I fell more and more in love with them.

The baby stage was nothing short of amazing as I watched them accomplish all the special milestones--smiling, sitting, crawling, walking, talking, etc.

The toddler stage was wonderful (really) as I watched them explore and learn and become mini versions of the adults they would be.

The early school stage (with the exception of the first day and the accompanying tears--on my part) was memorable as well...with homemade Christmas presents, Mother's Day teas, helping with class parties, etc.

And now, as they're getting older (fifth grade and high school freshmen), I find myself getting teary-eyed as I watch them taking the first real steps towards the young women they will become. Young women I'm so very proud to call my daughters.

I bring this up because the past few months have brought so many changes their way, changes they've done amazing things with like:

Despite a move halfway across the country and a major change in their overall school environment, both girls are thriving. My oldest is hitting high honor roll each quarter with a full load of after school activities. My youngest just landed herself in some sort of gifted and talented program at her school and is involved in chorus and orchestra.

My oldest is pursuing her dream of becoming an actress by getting involved in everything theater/show/production related she can find--performing just this past weekend in her high school's production of Beauty and the Beast (she brought me to tears more than a few times as I watched, proudly, from my seat in the auditorium). The picture above shows her with some of her friends from the cast (she's the one on the far right).

My youngest got involved in basketball this winter and just earned a special award for Most Improved on her team. When presenting her the award, the coach mentioned everything from her ability in the sport to her "always smiling face." And the smile she had when he handed her the award? Absolutely priceless.

Step by step they're growing up. Step by step they're needing me less and less. It's a process I love and dread all at the same time. There's a very real part of me that wants nothing more than to put bricks on both of their heads to keep them from growing another inch...a part of me that wants to hug them so tightly they can't ever leave But there's also the part of me that knows there will come a day, in the not-too-distant future, when I have to let go and trust that they'll be okay.

Because they will be. I see it in their poise and their confidence, their kindness and their gentle ways.

I see these things each and every day. Even when the view is a little misty.

~Laura

Springing Up All Over

Do you love flowers? I do. This time of the year is bliss, especially after such a long, snowy winter. The bloom in Philadelphia has begun: daffodils, tulips, crocus, hyacinth. Even the trees are getting into the act as the cherry blossoms begin to cast a cotton-candy-pink haze over the neighborhood. Soon there will be little wind-blown eddies of delicate petals all over the sidewalk, drifting out into the street.

I recently went to the Philadelphia Flower Show. This year’s theme was 'Passport to the World' and there were some truly amazing displays. I saw a hot-air balloon completely covered in flowers. A giraffe stretched its long orange-orchid-bedecked neck over the festivities. There was an elephant, too! The scents were exquisite, sometimes almost overpowering. A convention hall full of flowers is pretty potent. The skill and artistry of the floral designers was delicious.

All this bounty of color and beauty sparked a discussion among my friends. We debated various favorite flowers. (Mine: tulips and grape hyacinth. I love how succulent they look and the vibrant colors.) Then we got talking about cut flowers. Do you send them? I used to send my husband flowers after a deal had gone well, or if I knew he’d had a particularly bad week. The secretaries in his office loved it. Now he works from home, so I can buy flowers that brighten both our days. I used to send my mother sheaves of spring flowers on May Day. Now she wants blooming plants and thinks cut flowers are a waste. I bow to her wishes; my goal is to bring color into her life, not argue about thrift.

I buy cut flowers for myself, especially in the spring. When it’s dreary, I can’t resist the cheerful colors. I like to bring flowers to hostesses, along with a bottle of wine, when we dine out. Often, I’m struck by how surprised and delighted people are to receive flowers. I wonder if flower-giving has fallen out of fashion. Still, I love to get them. Why shouldn’t I give them, too?

A young friend of mine asked me what he should get his mother for Mother’s Day. I said: flowers. He argued, saying it was lame, cliché, too impersonal, and besides, they die. A week later, I had dinner with this mother and she spent thirty minutes telling me about the flowers her son had given her—he had taken my advice after all. How she had found them waiting for her in the morning with a card. How lovely the colors were. How good they made the house smell. How some of the flowers had wilted quicker than others, so she got a different vase and rearranged the remaining blooms for a different effect. There was absolutely nothing ‘lame’ in her joy and I relayed the story to my young friend. He conceded that he had learned a lesson and thanked me.

To me, flowers show appreciation, love, affection, regret. Heartfelt, simple and just plain pretty.

What about you? Do you give flowers? How often do you get them? Is it for a special occasion or ‘just because?’ Do you prefer cut flowers or blooming plants? Bouquets or sheaves of flowers you can arrange yourself?

Thinking about love and flowers—Lisa

It Takes A Village

Did you know the word “Harlequin” can make me cry like a baby? It’s true. The day my editor called with the news that she wanted to buy my book, I started crying the minute “Harlequin” appeared on the Caller ID. The day my contract came in the mail, the day the line edits arrived via courier, the day I first saw the beautiful cover of my book, all those special “Harlequin” days earned their own, very happy tears. And, a couple of weeks ago, when a box of books arrived on my doorstep and I saw “Harlequin” on the shipping label, I cried again. This time, because inside that box, the one that seemed far too small to hold the culmination of a life-long dream, lay copies of The Officer’s Girl.

If I had known they were coming on that particular day, I’d have hired a marching band to serenade the delivery man. Cheerleaders would’ve lined the walkway leading from the street to my front door. After all, this was a momentous occasion. It deserved fanfare. This was the day my debut book for Harlequin American Romance arrived.

That evening as I cradled a copy of The Officer’s Girl to my chest, sniffed its printed pages, admired it’s beautiful cover and didn’t want to let go—ever—I couldn’t help comparing my book to a baby. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and whoever “they” might be, I think they’re right. The same is true for books. It takes a village.

A whole lot of people inhabit my village. My own personal cheering squad, my family. My critique partners, both past and present. The instructors in every one of the hundreds of classes, workshops and writing seminars I’ve attended. The speakers at conferences, the authors of three bookcases filled with books on writing. The ten thousand members of the Romance Writers of America and, in particular, those in my local chapter, STAR. The authors who’ve taken me under their wings and taught me that I was a better writer than I thought I was. The amazing Harlequin staff. And a host of others, including the book distributors and sales staff who will make sure that, come April 13th, The Officer’s Girl appears on store shelves or arrives in mail boxes.

Yes, it takes a village…and I’m grateful to every member of mine.

Who’s in your village?

Norway gives nod to romance author

My father called me on Sunday and told me to turn on the TV and check out the Norwegian women’s curling team. “They copied your bookmarks with their pants!” he said.



“How can the Norwegian women’s curling team copy a romance author’s bookmarks?” you ask.

Like this.

Thank you, Norway!

Happy reading, everyone!

Until next time,
Lee

PS: If you’d like an autographed bookmark, please email me through my website. If you'd like a pair of polka dot curling pants, visit Loudmouth.

Writing While Fuzzy Brained

Good morning from the lake house in cold, foggy, Mineola, Texas! While it is below freezing (sorry, plants I forgot to take inside) with light snow at our home in Richardson, about 90 miles away, on Saturday we had cold rain and blustery winds - until this Sunday morning.

Just about an hour ago, before dawn, it began to snow. Right now, soft flakes are drifting down on the deck, the bird feeders, the grass, and our car. We've never been here before when it snowed and it's very exciting to see. I can't wait for the sun to come up to see the lake and trees! (Sorry for the blurry image - I think my hand was shaking from the cold temperature outside.)

I've also included a photo from our absolutely gorgeous day on Friday, when we were out working in the yard and garage in our shirt sleeves. This is facing west over the lake with the rising sun reflected in the water. Mist was rising from the lake because of the warm weather. Many of the trees are budding out and blooming, although you can't see them in the photo. Much more springlike than the actual first day of spring!

One of my goals for the weekend was to get my next release almost finished. My understanding editor gave me another month after my three weeks of absolutely fuzzy-brained non-production from the middle of February to the first week in March. I had a bad sinus infection, then strep throat. I took lots of medication which left me goofy and sleepy until I finished all the doses. I then had about four days of clear, energy-filled, fired-up creativity and dedication.

Then I got a cold. The sniffles have just about departed, depending on how much time I spend outdoors in all the pollen. I'm not coughing very much. We even went out to dinner last night at Kitchens restaurant and I could taste my food!

I thought I'd share some techniques I've been using to try to keep writing while on medication that made me less than cognizant. (For example, I stared at my computer for a full two minutes the other day and couldn't remember a major character's name! ) Ever since I started writing series for Harlequin American - first Ranger Springs and now Brody's Crossing - I've maintained a separate Word file titled "People and Places." I add to this file with each book, listing the most current hero and heroine at the top of the list with their ages in the year of publication, their status, description, family situations, etc. I then list any new characters I've introduced in that book with their physical descriptions, ages, etc. Near the bottom of the list I have various places around town where my "regulars" work and congregate, such as Clarissa's House of Style, the Cafe, Dewey's Saloon and Steakhouse, etc. I include descriptions and any relevant history of the establishment in these listings. I save this file under the folder "Brody's Crossing" in my Harlequin American folder so I can find it easily when I can't remember who the police chief is or what month and year someone got pregnant. It's so much easier than trying to remember what book I mentioned that factoid in and trying to find it by doing a text search in Word. I also created a Word file with a map of fictional Brody's Crossing so I know street names, locations of places in relation to blocks of the downtown, etc. I don't think I can upload that image, but if you'd like a copy, I'll be glad to email it to you.

The second thing I've been doing in this book, tentatively titled Texan in Her Heart, is create another word document for "What Leo knows about Amanda" based on what she's told him in conversation., This is where the fuzzy-brained condition really played out; I couldn't remember if he'd assumed something, she'd mentioned it in introspection to the reader, or they actually had a conversation. So when they talk about her mysterious (from Leo's perspective) reasons for being in Brody's Crossing, I copy and paste relevant parts of their dialogue into a file. I also note the page number where the conversation took place. Although this might change later, it probably won't be too far off because I write the book front to back. (Many authors write scenes and place them later, or write out of order when they visualize a scene farther back in the book.)

I also sometimes create a document for "Go back and add" things. These are notes to myself to check on things I'd written, or add something like a motivation or description. In other books, when I used to print out the manuscript as I went, I used Post-It notes to tell myself where things happened or where I wanted to go back and add something. In the interest of saving money and not cutting down so many trees, I've stopped printing out as I go along. I've had to learn new techniques to keep up with the story.

I hope this might help aspiring authors who are having the same fuzzy-brained moments as I sometimes have. Also, it might give readers some insight into how we keep up with characters and events in our books, especially series where it has to make sense over a longer period of time. Brody's Crossing originated in 2006 and will go on through 2011 at least, so that's five years of characters, places and descriptions to keep up with in my mind. That's a lot of details!

Have a great springtime. I hope yours is less cold and rainy than mine!

Spring Break? Really?

I’m pulling an all-nighter. With no good reason to rise and shine early, I’ve been working late. Very late. Not only has my January 2011 release been bumped up three months earlier, but I’m working on changes to a proposal. Need I say more?

There are night people and day people, night owls and early birds. I’m of the late variety. I’ve been a night owl all my life, starting within days of my birth. Getting up early is almost an effort in futility. When working for those hourly wages, I’d much rather sleep in late, work a late shift, and return home to stay up even later, winding down after a few hours. On my own, it’s late to bed, late to rise. Sometimes it’s been possible, but rare. But it’s Spring Break Week here, and there are no grandkids needing to be taken to school. Hallelujah!

There’s a problem. Come Monday morning, we’ll be back to the 7:15 a.m. alarm going off. Now I know that isn’t early for many, but for those of us who are night owls, it’s painful. And because I’ve been crawling into bed near 6 a.m. for the past few days--or nights, depending on how you look at it--getting up an hour and fifteen minutes after closing my eyes isn’t going to cut it.

So tonight I’ll try to keep going. There’s always a chance of a short nap later this afternoon…if I’m lucky. It could mean sleeping through The Mentalist
this evening, but because I’ve only just begun watching it, a miss isn’t going to hurt too much. Easier, by far, than to continue on this schedule, come Monday.

We’ve asked this before, I think, but let’s take a poll. Night Owl? Do you enjoy the quiet after the moon has risen? Or Early Bird? Rising with or before the sun?

Love-Hate Relationship with Computers

This past Sunday I was reminded once again how my goofy world revolves around my computer and the Internet. I had trouble with my PC and while the computer was being fixed--I was miserable. All I thought about was not being able to write this blog and do the other work-related things on my Sunday to-do list.

It occurred to me on Sunday that my computer had taken control of my life. I love being able to work from home, but there's a down side--access to the computer 24-7. I never leave work. When I find myself with extra time on my hands, I head to my computer to check e-mail, or I talk myself into writing another page in my wip, or I get a jump start on my research for the next day and surf the web.

Sometimes I long for the days when the Internet didn't exist--when work was in an office building thirty minutes from my home. Back then when I had time on my hands I took the dogs for a walk. Went outside and chatted with a neighbor. Or sat in my rocker on the back porch and enjoyed the sun on my face. Back then weekends were really weekends--days off work.

It's been months since hubby and I have taken a Sunday drive. I loved those drives when we spent a few hours alone away from the house. We'd talk about what was going on in our kids' lives, our jobs, and home-improvement projects we wanted to tackle. It's my fault the drives stopped--it's me who comes up with excuses about wanting to get ahead in my next book or making up the pages that didn't get written the previous week.

This past Sunday I realized that I need to do a better job balancing life and work. I need to learn to say "No" to my computer--especially on weekends.

How about you--do you have trouble balancing life and work? If not, what are some things that you do to keep your job from intruding in your day-to-day life?

Marin
Dexter: Honorable Cowboy July 2010
www.marinthomas.com

Orange Bar Stools and other Quirky Keepsakes

I’m sure most people have things that follow them through life, but who’d have thought mine would be a pair of bright orange bar stools? And as you can see, they aren't even fancy bar stools, but they are cool.

In the early 60s my dad got transferred from Dallas to Fort Worth and we moved. My mom decorated our new home in the popular colors of the time. Brown, orange, and green. Her purchases involved a pair of bright orange, molded bar stools which were pretty cool for the day. Now the house has gone through multiple redecorating attempts and when we sold it and moved Mom in with us last spring, the coppertone appliances were long gone and country blue, beige, and touches of pink had obliterated every hint of the original color scheme. Except those orange bar stools that still stood proudly at the bar.

My friends and I sat in those bar stools and decorated Christmas cookies. As have my kids and grandkids. I ate breakfast there every morning and the only phone in the house was a wall phone beside the bar where I spent many hours giggling with girlfriends or flirting with my first boyfriends. We addressed Christmas cards there. The mail got tossed on the bar where we'd sit and sort through it. Grocery lists and school work and . . .

At Mom's 80th birthday a few years back, I provided a basket of paper and pens and asked everyone to write her notes. Two daughters of our friends wrote about looking forward to coming to the house because my dad made them coffee milk and they sat at the bar in the orange bar stools eating Mom’s cookies and listening to the adults chit chat, feeling all grown up drinking their 'coffee'.

Combining two homes into one last spring, we were both getting rid of lots of furniture. Mom said to put the bar stools in the garage sale. We certainly didn’t need them in our new house. But regardless, my husband and sons piled them into the truck and they spent the winter in the garage at the new house with boxes and other items waiting for hubby’s shop to be finished. Two weeks ago we started moving stuff into the shop. Shelves and the floor jack. Wood working tools and a clock tinker desk. My dad’s old workbench and you guessed it, those orange bar stools. My daddy has been gone 23 years, but last Sunday his best friend and his wife came down to visit and my husband was showing Ted the shop. I walked out to check on them and Ted was sitting in one of the bar stools smiling. He said he couldn’t wait to call his daughters and let them know that the orange bar stools made the trip and were alive and well in Waxahachie. Those orange bar stools have once again earned the status of cool.

What funny things have you hung on to? I'm not talking grandmother's Dresden china or Mom's diamond ring here? I'm talking those quirky items that just follow you through life.

Hubby & Son in Mexico last summer!!

Happy Time Change!! Ugh. LOL!! The clock might say it's noon, but I feel more like six AM!!

My friends all tease me that my life is never boring, and the past few days have certainly proven their point!! On Friday, Hubby was supposed to leave for South Africa. We've been shopping for adapters and luggage locks and specialty batteries for some oddball work thingee of his and making sure all of his medications are filled. We finally got everything ready when an hour before he was due at the airport, the phone rang. It was his doctor, telling him he had diabetes. Upon dropping him at the airport, he was still shaken. I assured him that I'll do everything I can to help him change his diet for the better--lord knows I could drop a few LBs myself!!

Tulsa traffic was insane!! Gridlock and construction and rain in all directions!! It took over an hour to make the normally fifteen minute trek. Hannah and I had just gotten home, lit a fire and settled in for a lazy Friday night when the phone rang. Bad weather in Atlanta caused Hubby's flight to be canceled. Back out into the cold rain we went to pick him up.

With Hubby home, we scrambled to find him something safe to eat. His doctor advised cutting all sugar and white flour products. I had no idea how tough that is!! I made a spinach salad with black beans and grilled chicken, but when it came time to pour on the dressing, even the low-calorie versions are loaded with sugar. I finally resorted to sending the kids out for sugar-free dressing.

I've always been a firm believer in everything happening for a reason and this time is no exception. Friday, my sweet, funny Hubby was pretty shaken up about his diagnosis. Since then, we've done lots of online research and discovered that this isn't a death sentence, but lifestyle change. I'm doing it with him, and it's hard, but we'll make it through. Had he kept to his original schedule, I think his trip would've been ruined by worry. Now, this little extra time to form a nutrition plan has made all the difference.

As a reward, fate gifted him a much simpler direct from Atlanta to Johannesburg flight, as well as a three-day weekend to spend exploring while he's there.

Last night, I fooled around in the kitchen and came up with a chicken, shrimp and brown rice gumbo that was delicious. Hubby made us a spinach omelet for breakfast. Yes, we'll miss Domino's and I-Hop, but after having been married for twenty-one years, we figure we might as well try for thirty or forty more!!

The Top Five Inventions of My Time - How About Yours?

The other day my daughter was having a Skype date with her boyfriend. The fact that she was in Australia and he was over ten thousand miles away on the other side of the world in The Netherlands, didn’t matter a whit, thanks to the wonders of modern technology ie. the Internet.
This was a far cry from the long distance dating her father and I did just thirty years ago when I donated my blood in Athens in order to be able to afford a phone call home. Oh, and I had to book that phone call 24 hours in advance!
I suppose there are people who can live without the Net—remote tribes of New Guinea, Carmelite nuns, members of the Flat Earth Society—but I’m not one of them.
Is there anything the internet can’t do? It can find you answers to all sorts of questions, keep you in touch with far-flung friends, book hotel rooms, even find you a husband. And to think, the US government wanted to keep this wonderful invention all to itself. Had it not been for its eventual application as the www we’d still be trekking to the library to research, relying on the vagaries of the postal service to keep in contact with friends, paying a fortune for travel deals etc.
That got me thinking about inventions and what I consider to be the top 5 Can’t-live-without-them inventions of the modern age.
My mother used to maintain the bobby pin was a remarkable invention. Probably. If you had enough hair to need one—or happened to like picking locks. But I need to point out that Mom was born in an age where television, walking on the moon, machines to wash dishes and clothes and even dry them, hadn’t been invented.
The Top Five Inventions that made a huge impact on my life are: Television, Immunization, Dishwashers, The Pill and the Internet.
A quick straw poll of those nearest and dearest turned up answers relative to the age of the respondent.
While our grandmothers and great-grandmothers would probably rate the invention of the radio, electricity, the old-age pension, hip and knee replacements as their Top Five, my husband’s mother maintains: Penicillin, hand held battery-driven vacuum cleaners, The Pill, electric typewriters made a huge impact on her life.
His father rates:- Television, the improved efficiency and safety of cars,antibiotics, anaesthesia, laparscopic surgery. (Can you tell he’s a surgeon?) J
My 21 yo son says:- The computer game Modern Warfare 2, stick deodorant, Toyota Landcruisers, fixed gear bikes and Atomic weapons. (what can I say, he’s a boy!) He was surprised to be told that fixed gear bikes were all we had to ride in the “olden days”!
My 24 year old skyping daughter’s are:- cell-phones, computers, iPods, skype, and MAC makeup…
My 27 yo daughter said:- ipods, laptops, wireless internet, cell phones and GHD(hair straightener). LOL!
I wonder what will our children’s children think are the greatest inventions of their era? Intergalactic travel? The cure for cancer? I can’t even begin to fathom the possibilities. Can you?
Which inventions would make your list? In-vitro fertilization? Satellite navigation? Automatic car windows? Richard Gere? Aerobics? Moosetracks icecream, credit cards, atms, something else?
I’d love to hear your Top Five. And maybe some suggestions for what kids born in the future will think are their Top Five.
I’m giving away a copy of my June release, THE SHERIFF AND THE BABY to the most interesting answer.
CC!

Missing the Olympics...

I am suffering major Olympics withdrawal right now. I had so much fun watching all the events. I found some new ones to root for with Nordic combined and ski cross. And if I loved Apolo any more, he’d need to take out a restraining order on me. The hockey games were amazing. I’m so proud that the MVP is a Michigan kid. Actually I’m so proud of all the athletes, no matter their country. They all played with so much heart. They work so hard and sacrifice so much to get to this level of competition that I can’t help but root for them all!

If like me, you’re suffering Olympics withdrawal, please remember to pick up my April book, HIS BABY SURPRISE. (I had to post that yummy cover again!) The hero, Brooks Hoover, is a hockey bad boy who’ll hopefully steal your heart like he stole mine and the heroine’s.

So who is your favorite athlete from the games? Or what was your favorite event?

EMAIL HUMOR...and THOUGHTS

All of us get those email jokes and inspiring stories that circulate. Some I read, others I delete, depending on how much time I have. I received this one the other day. The title caught my attention and then after I read it, it made me think.

Here’s the email:
What is celibacy?
It can be a choice in life, or a condition imposed by circumstances.
While attending a marriage counseling weekend, Walter and his wife Ann, listened to the instructor as he explained, “It is essential that husbands and wives know the things that are important to each other.”
He then addressed the men, “Can you name your wife’s favorite flower?”
Walter leaned over, touched Ann’s arm gently, and whispered, “Gold Medal All-Purpose, right?”
And thus began Walter’s life of celibacy…

Okay, the celibacy part didn’t make me think. After I smiled, I wondered after many years of marriage, did my husband know my favorite flower? Did I know my favorite flower? Through the years my tastes have changed. When I was younger I loved roses, still do. Don’t we all? My favorite was yellow roses. When I got married, my mom and I argued about the flowers. I wanted the bridesmaids to carry a long stem yellow rose. She wanted them to carry a bouquet of mixed spring flowers. They carried the rose (and that battle wasn’t easy to win since she was paying for the flowers).

After I read the email I sat wondering what is my favorite flower today? I like roses, irises, tulips, Gerber daises, lilies, just about anything. You give me flowers and I’ll love them. I’m not picky anymore. I decided not to test the hubby since I couldn’t quite decide on a favorite flower.

A few days later was our anniversary and, Bless his heart, I kid you not he came home with yellow roses.

I was so excited I said, “You remembered.”

He smiled and replied, “Sure I remembered. It’s our anniversary.”

I took a whiff of the flowers. “I meant about the yellow roses.”

He got that deer in the headlights look. “Uh…well…” I could see he didn’t remember so he did some fast thinking and went with the truth. “I went in for red roses but the lady said she was low and could do a mixture. I told her no I’d try somewhere else. She said her supplier sent her too many yellow roses and she’d let me have a dozen on sale. I told her she had a deal.”

Gotta love a man who gets it right—by accident—and on sale.

I guess when it comes down to it, I still love yellow roses. And the husband.

What’s your favorite flower? Or are you like me—just happy to get flowers.

Linda
http://www.lindawarren.net/
Skylar’s Outlaw – Jan ‘10

Yummy Kentucky March Recipes

In Texas, March has come in like a lamb, with mild temperatures and sunny days - so far. I'm looking forward to springtime when there are no more freezing nights, snow or ice storms. Of course, the winter storms here in the Dallas area aren't nearly as bad as the ones I grew up with in Louisville, Kentucky. The wind whipping down from the upper midwest, through the Ohio River Valley, could freeze your mittens in no time flat!



I'd like to share two wonderful Kentucky recipes with you, both made with buttermilk. The first is from a cookbook my sister sent me in 1974 when I lived in Denver. My husband had mentioned his grandmother making buttermilk pies when he was a boy, and I found this recipe in my Out of Kentucky Kitchens cookbook by Marion Flexner, Bramhall House. Here's a photo from last Thanksgiving, along with my daughter's pecan pie.

Buttermilk Pie

Make (or buy) a pie crust and place in a 9 inch pie pan. Prick the surface to keep from blistering and bake for 10 minutes at 450 degrees. It should be done but not brown.

Filling

3 eggs 3/4 t. vanilla

3/4 C. sugar 3 T. lemon juice

3 T. flour Grated rind of 1 lemon

3 T. melted butter (or substitute 1/2 t. dried lemon peel)

(no substitutes) Cinnamon to dust top

1 1/2 C. buttermilk

Beat the eggs with the sugar. When light and lemon-colored, add the flour. Beat again, then pour this mixture into the buttermilk. Add vanilla, lemon juice, grated rind and butter. Pour the filling into the baked pie crust and dust the surface with cinnamon. Return to the oven at 375 degrees and bake until filling just sets. (Usually this is about 20 -25 minutes, but check by inserting a toothpick in the center; it should come out clean if the filling is set.) Do not cook too long because this is a custard and can get too tough. Remove from the oven and allow to cool slightly before serving.



This pie is also excellent cold the next morning for breakfast with a hot cup of coffee or tea!


The second recipe is one I made for my daughter's birthday a few weeks ago. This is from allrecipes.com. I baked this cake in a bundt cake pan and it turned out great.

Kentucky Butter Cake

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease and flour (or spray) a 10 inch bundt cake pan.

3 C. unbleached all purpose flour 2 t. vanilla extract
2 C. sugar 4 eggs
1 t. salt 1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. baking soda 1 C. buttermilk
1 C. (2 sticks) butter

In a large bowl, mix the flour, sugar, salt, baking powder and baking soda. Mix in buttermilk, butter, vanilla and eggs. Beat 3 minutes at medium speed. Pour the batter into the prepared pan.

Bake 60 minutes or until a wooden toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Prick holes in the still warm cake. Pour the sauce (recipe follows) over the cake and let it cool before removing it from the pan.

Butter Sauce

3/4 C. sugar 1/3 C. butter
2 t. vanilla 3 T. water

Combine all ingredients in a saucepan. Cook over medium heat until fully melted and combined, but DO NOT BOIL.

Getting Ready

Just yesterday I made plane reservations for our son Arthur to come home in May. It’s hard to believe, but he’s just about made it through his freshman year in college.
Hmm…let’s be honest here. I’ve just about made it through his freshman year! It’s been a strange adjustment for my husband Tom and me.

Tom has had a tough time adjusting to a ‘girl’ house. He’s now outnumbered, and Lesley and I have used that to our advantage. We’re uninterested in both Sunday football and the History channel. We don’t want big breakfasts every day of the week. And we can have whole conversations about the new cute clothes we saw at the mall.
Tom’s anxiously awaiting Arthur’s return to dinner conversation. Very much so.

My daughter has gotten used to things, too. She’s taken over the basement-my son’s former lair. Now instead of the sounds of boys playing video games, I hear the unmistakable high-pitched laughter only five sixteen year-old girls can make. I predict a territorial war will break out within days of his arrival.

I would have never have guessed it, but I, too, have gotten used to him being gone. No longer am I buying frozen pizzas, canned chili, Cheese-its and real ‘Coke’. Lean Cuisines and Diet Cokes have taken their place. I like that everyone is usually asleep by eleven o’clock at night-and awake by eleven in the morning. I’ve even gotten used to doing less laundry-which, by the way, I cried about last August.
Now I’m wondering how our life is going to change when our extremely sociable, restless, late night-boy returns.

All I’m sure about is that things will change. As they’ve changed already.

•I now care less about his grades and more about his health. Every time he calls, I say silly mom things like, “How are you feeling? Are you eating?”

•I prefer hearing about his fraternity antics after the fact. Way after the fact.

•Things just aren’t the same…even when he is home. He’s more grown up. More patient with me. Now, when I tell him stories about the dog or my writing, he actually pretends to listen. On Valentine’s Day, he called me twice…just because he knew I was home alone. These things are new. Really.

So, during these last two months before we’re a family of four once again, I guess I’ll treasure the changes that have been made and will look forward to things getting shaken up again.

Anyone have words of wisdom or a story to share…either about when your child left and came back…or you did? I’d love to know that I’m in good company.

~ Shelley Galloway

FEBRUARY WINNER!!

CONGRATULATIONS Lois! You’re the February winner. To receive your free autographed books please contact Rebecca Winters, Cathy McDavid, Ann DeFee and Michele Dunaway through their Web sites.

To enter the contest simply leave a blog comment and your name will go into the drawing. Easy and painless. And FREE BOOKS.

So check back often and be sure to leave a comment. Good luck!

Mr. Tough Guy

Sometimes, as parents, we wonder if we’ve done our job well enough – or too well.

As an empty nester, I suppose I should stop thinking about parenthood. However, I write a lot about parents: would-be parents, adoptive parents, unexpectedly pregnant parents, surrogate parents (as in my upcoming August release, His Hired Baby), and so on. So the topic feels very immediate.

Right now, I’m working on the fourth book in my Safe Harbor Medical miniseries from Harlequin American, tentatively titled Officer Daddy. This one incorporates a surprise pregnancy, so the whole parenting issue remains in the future, but it’s definitely on my heroine’s mind. Plus, she and the hero – who’s still in the dark about his impending fatherhood – volunteer to counsel teen parents.

Also, being an empty nester may mean the kids are out of my sight, but they’re hardly out of my mind, especially when the one in college. There are, for instance, those urgent NM phone calls and emails. NM, as you probably figured out, stands for Need Money.

Lately, we’ve received numerous nerve-wracking NM calls for $100 hospital emergency room copays. It seems our younger son’s shoulder, dislocated in too many tumbles off the skateboard, developed a will of its own. It’s been popping out even when the guy’s only lying in bed, perhaps dreaming about skateboarding.

Next week, my 20-year-old baby of the family is scheduled for outpatient shoulder surgery. And – here’s the did-we-do-something-wrong-or-right part – he doesn’t want his parents to come. Neither of us.

This tough guy is certain his friends and roommate can help him get home and that he can handle everything else by himself. That includes, two days later, getting on a plane and flying here for spring break.

I’m glad he’s independent. I respect his self-sufficiency and the fact that he’s charting a responsible course toward the future, doing well in his classes and planning to become a high school science teacher. I remind myself that not wanting us there doesn’t mean we’re lousy parents, only that we can be annoyingly fussy sometimes.

In fact, if he hadn’t received the love and emotional support he needed as a child, he’d probably be clinging to us a lot harder. Hmm. Makes me wonder if I should have hugged him less.

But that wasn’t really a choice, now, was it?

A REMINDER - REBECCA LYNN

Rebecca Lynn, as our January winner we have free autographed books waiting for you. Please contact Laura Bradford and Roxann Delaney through their Web sites.

Thank you.

Wow!

I just got news that I have to share: An Unexpected Father, my April release, was chosen as one of Romantic Times Book Reviews ‘Top Picks’. They gave it four and a half stars, too! I am stunned and honored.

For me, writing a book and sending it out for publication feels a little like sending my children off to school. How are they going to do? Will the other kids like them? Will they behave? Will anyone understand the effort I put in to raising them right? I know that you have to just send it off and hope for the best, but it’s difficult mothering such an unruly child. When a review and kudos like this come along, they bring grateful tears to my eyes.

When I was a teenager, my dad came home one night from work and hugged me. Just out of the blue. Now, my dad’s not really a demonstrative guy. I’d never had any doubt that he loved me, but hugs were for special occasions: birthdays, injuries, good report cards. If you’d been away on a trip—not just a weekend sleepover—yeah, a hug was due. He was glad to see me and I was glad to see him. But his return home from just another day at the office was not a ‘huggable’ event. A kiss from my mom was enough of a greeting for him.

On this particular evening, as far as I knew, I hadn’t done anything spectacular. I was a teenager; no one expected spectacular from me. Getting through those teen years was sometimes all anyone hoped for really, me included. Mostly, I think I was a relatively easy kid to raise—especially after my older brother. My parents didn’t pull their hair out too much over my moodiness, I paid attention in school, I was popular enough. You know, normal. So, I had no idea why my dad hugged me. When I asked, I was embarrassed by his answer. In a good way, though.

I had just spent the weekend with a close friend and gone out on a hike with her family. I didn’t know it, but my dad, a forester, was managing a timber sale with my friend’s father. At work that day, this father asked my dad if I was his daughter. After my dad admitted it was so, the guy shook my dad’s hand and congratulated him on having a good kid. He was impressed because I had picked up some trash on our hike and carried it back out of the woods.

This wasn’t a special thing to me; it was the way I had been raised. But it sure was to my dad. He got to find out—from a complete stranger—that all the hard work of being a parent had paid off. I feel that way about my book. The characters I loved writing went out into the world and did something good. It’s a small thing, like picking up a piece of trash, but they made me proud.

Of course, after I read the review, I hugged them, too.

Spring is a tease

Last weekend was a wonderful reprieve from our long, cold winter. It was in the mid 60s, sunny, birds were singing, and I don't think anyone was left in their houses. People around the neighborhood were jogging, walking, working in their yards, filling the bays at the car wash, etc. Finally, here was that hint of spring we'd all been waiting for. Sunday, it was 65. Monday, 45. By mid-week, we were struggling to get above freezing, snow showers filled the air, and the nights were dipping into the teens. Ugh.

Anyone who knows me knows that winter is, by far, my least favorite season. I get cold easily, I hate gray days, and I've had some bad experiences traveling in wintry weather (like doing unintentional 360s down the highway until I ended up in a ditch). Even a normal winter here in the South has me layering up in fleece and watching for the earliest sign of spring -- my daffodils popping out of the ground. Of course, lately my daffodils, which popped up a few weeks ago, have been shivering. It's been a cold, gray winter with more snowfalls than we typically have. I nearly had a stroke when I saw my last natural gas bill.

But this year, I don't think I'm the only one experiencing winter fatigue. People on the East Coast of the U.S. have been buried by one giant snowstorm after another. Residents of Texas and the Deep South even got a taste of winter -- a foot of snow in Dallas and snowfalls in atypical states such as Louisiana and Mississippi.

At times like this, I try to look for consolations and things to look forward to in order to get through the winter blues. For instance, I tell myself that it can snow and be cold now because I have to be inside reading RITA entries anyway. Maybe by the time I turn them in, the weather will have improved enough that I can start walking outside again instead of on the treadmill.

I think about where I'll be in less than a month -- Disney World! I LOVE Disney World, and it'll be a nice treat in between two deadlines and a board meeting. And at the end of next month, I'll get to enjoy a visit with my sister and nieces when they fly in for a week. Yes, my entire March is full to the brim, but there's a lot to enjoy in there. And hopefully, it won't be cold and there won't be a snowflake in sight and the daffodils will be in full bloom.

So, how has winter been where you are? Are you looking forward to spring? What do you do to get yourself through winter? Or are you a winter lover? And for our friends in the southern hemisphere, what is the weather like where you are now? It's odd for me to think that Christmas and Valentine's Day fall during your summer.