It Must Be Spring

Today marks the first day of Spring Break for the schools here.  For us, that means a practice run of what summer will be like.  Five grandkids ranging in age from nineteen months to eight years will be taking up all-day residence in my small house for six days.  I'm praying it doesn't rain.  Let me rephrase that.  I'm praying it doesn't snow.  (I need to cover all possibilites.)

In Kansas, any kind of weather is a possiblity. We can go from balmy seventy degrees one week, to snow and ice the next, and then back to thunderstorms and hail.  And once the first tornado watch is announced, we know it's time to keep an eye to the sky, along with an ear for the warning sirens.

Every Monday at noon, except when the weather is cloudy and might appear threatening to some, the tornado sirens are tested.  We know it. We're quite accustomed to it.  But when the sirens go off in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday (last week), it's time to check outside.  That's what I did, only to discover a beautiful blue sky with nary a cloud.  The TV was running the warning message, but when I checked the radar online, the entire center of the country was cloudless.  I posted on Facebook, of course.  What else?  Someone answered that it was some special weather day and the sirens were a test.  Obviously this was my punishment for not watching or listening to local news.

From east to west and north to south, we've all dealt with some really bad weather this winter, so let's all hope Mother Nature sends us a kinder and gentler spring and summer.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Here I am with my usual shout-out for this great day of the year.

I’m a good part Irish, so I got a big kick out of writing about a crazy Irish family in my most recent Harlequin American Romance (FAMILY MATTERS, October 2010).

And today, I’m honoring tradition by eating corned beef and cabbage and soda bread. I also made a point of following “the wearin’ of the green”—from clothing to jewelry, including a favorite shamrock pin that once belonged to my grandmother.

Traditions help make any holiday even more special, I think. Don't you?

And whether you’re Irish or honorary Irish, you’re allowed to celebrate today. (smile)

Have you got any traditions of your own?

In any case, once again, let me wish you a very Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

All my best to you,

Barbara

~~~~~~

Barbara White Daille
http://www.barbarawhitedaille.com

Wedding Folklore

Before we talk weddings, I want to invite all the followers of our American Romance Blog to join me and other E-Harlequin readers for my *Free* weekly online read, The Bull Rider's Surrender. One chapter a week will be posted at E-Harlequin beginning Monday March 7th. I'll be giving away copies of my books so please join the discussions following each chapter. Hope to see you there! Now,on to weddings...

My niece recently became engaged and March of next year she'll be walking down the aisle. Watching her go through the process of shopping for a wedding gown, picking her bridesmaids and planning the details of her wedding brings back fond memories of my wedding planning days. For those who are superstitious I thought it would be fun to share a little folklore about weddings. Some of these I'd never heard of before I married and after reading them I believe it was a good thing! I was married on a Friday in the month of May and did not have a sixpence in my shoe. And I know for a fact I fell asleep first on our wedding day because hubby is a night-owl and I come from a long line of farmers…early to be—early to rise.

WEDDING DAY
Certain days of the week, and certain months of the year are better than others for a wedding.
Monday for health,
Tuesday for wealth,
Wednesday best of all,
Thursday for losses,
Friday for crosses,
Saturday for no luck at all

Married when the year is new, he'll be loving, kind & true,
When February birds do mate, You wed nor dread your fate.
If you wed when March winds blow, joy and sorrow both you'll know.
Marry in April when you can, Joy for Maiden & for Man.
Marry in the month of May, and you'll surely rue the day.
Marry when June roses grow, over land and sea you'll go.
Those who in July do wed, must labour for their daily bred.
Whoever wed in August be, many a change is sure to see
Marry in September's shrine, your living will be rich and fine.
If in October you do marry, love will come but riches tarry.
If you wed in bleak November, only joys will come, remember.
When December snows fall fast, marry and true love will last.


FOR A LUCKY BRIDE


Something old,
Something new,
Something borrowed,
Something blue,
And a lucky sixpence
In her shoe.

Married in White, you have chosen right
Married in Grey, you will go far away,
Married in Black, you will wish yourself back,
Married in Red, you will wish yourself dead,
Married in Green, ashamed to be seen,
Married in Blue, you will always be true,
Married in Pearl, you will live in a whirl,
Married in Yellow, ashamed of your fellow,
Married in Brown, you will live in the town,
Married in Pink, you spirit will sink.

OTHER BELIEFS
If the groom drops the wedding band during the ceremony, the marriage is doomed.
The new bride must enter her home by the main door, and must not trip or fall - hence the custom of carrying the bride over the threshold.
The spouse who goes to sleep first on the wedding day will be the first to die.

Weddinng Cake


If a single woman sleeps with a piece of wedding cake under her pillow, she will dream of her future husband.

Anyone care to share a superstition they followed on their wedding day?

Marin Thomas
The Bull Rider's Surrender March E-HQ Weekly Read
Roughneck Cowboy Feb 2011
Rodeo daddy April 2011
The Bull Rider's Secret July 2011

One Of Those Times

I'm going to follow right along with Laura's post. Boy can I relate.

I don’t know about everyone else, but my life goes along pretty calm for awhile, then when one thing happens, ten more follow. This is one of those times. I started a new position first of the year with a new group where we’re all trying to figure out how to do business. Long hours is an understatement.

Both my 84 year old mom and my 80 year old mother-in-law have had some health issues recently and in addition I’ve had a minor health concern crop up myself. Health problems are worrisome enough under any circumstances, but my husband and I have planned to take both moms on an Alaskan cruise this summer, so we’re a little concerned about the sizeable investment we’ve made. But, my mother-in-law told her doctor last week that whatever treatment he has planned that he should know that she's going to Alaska this summer.

My son and daughter-in-law are trying to buy a new house, which has also put a little stress on me, who seems to have become their personal financial advisor. You see, they need to buy the new one and move out of the old one before they can get it ready and on the market. This involves juggling finances, ,and changing the boys schools before the school year is out.

My almost twelve year old pomeranean has bad teeth, but the last time we had them cleaned they pulled half of them and now the others are going bad. Long story short, I’m spoon feeding him. This, my young granddaughter finds highly amusing. “Grammy, this is not how you’re supposed to feed dogs,” she says as she scoops another tiny bite of soft dog food for him to lick out of his spoon.

The fun news is that even with everything going on in my ‘other’ life, my book, Second Chance Dad, hit the shelves this month. That’s kicked off a speaking engagement, numerous blogs, two book signings, and a mini-conference. As fun as all that is though, it has consumed every last minute of spare time.

Oh, and don't forget daylight savings time that stole one of the few hours I have to sleep. Talk about bad timing.

But as I stress over all the things in my life, I am so thankfull. Watching the news and reading the stories about Japan, I send up a prayer for those poor people and count my blessings every one.

The Perfect Deadline Storm

On any given day, this is the scene I face while attempting to write!!

Oh my!! The holiday season has had nothing on my crazy winter, only instead of being consumed with baking cookies and shopping, I've had blizzards and bronchitus and kid drama and a concussion and kid drama and more bronchitus and you guessed it--kid drama!! Argh!! LOL!!

In the midst of all of this, I've been chipping away at the fourth book of my Buckhorn Ranch series and Natalie and Wyatt's story is due today!! Double Argh!! The more books I write, the more I've come to realize that for me, anyway, my creativity is linked to so much more than I'd like it to be. I've read many articles written by those elusive New York Times Bestselling Author creatures and most all of them say their writing life is kept quite seperate from their personal life. That's great in theory, but how does one make such a thing work?

Casa Altom is modern and open--meaning the only doors are on bedrooms and baths. There's no such thing as finding a nice, quiet place to call my own. But I thought all of your kids left for college, you ask? Why yes, they supposedly did. But they discovered dorm food isn't all they'd dreamt it would be, so they're in and out at random times to feed. Then, they plop down on the sofa and turn on a show I undoubtedly would love to watch. Or, they wax on about whatever love or school issues they have going on.

If the kids are gone, Hubby strolls in. He might have his guitar. Or a fun work story. Or commentary about the weather, or how much we need to go to the gym, or what sounds good for dinner.

Lord knows, I adore my family!! They are my world. But I also have this writing world going on that seriously interferes with their need to access Mom.

What's the moral of all of this? Nothing, really, other than the realization that unless I move to a deserted island, I may not ever be able to seperate my personal and professional lives. But then again, would I really want to?

Japan's tragedy has reminded me how blessed I am to even have so many petty issues to whine about. So at the moment, I might not be a NYT besetselling author, but I am a happy, loved author, and for today that's exactly what I need!!

Where Did You Come From?

In Florida, spring is in the air. At our house, we’ve turned the heat off and the air on. Tiny leaves have poked through the soil in my freshly planted garden, and I have my fingers crossed that they’re cucumbers and not weeds. Daylight Savings starts tonight (don’t forget to move your clocks forward). And leaves are forming on the Chinese Ting that grows outside my office window.

So, with all this new life bursting on the scene, is it any wonder that I’ve been asking, “Where did you come from?” No, this isn’t a lecture on the birds and the bees. It’s a question about the heroes and the heroines in the stories we write.

Where do they come from?

For me, every new book starts with the characters. And because I write romance, I usually “see” the hero or the heroine first. I’ll be going about my business—shopping, cleaning, cooking, whatever—and one of them will pop into my head. Sometimes, they wave and keep on going. There’s a woman in an orange grove who’s been doing that lately. But she doesn’t stop, so I wave back and let her go, knowing her story isn’t quite ready to be told yet. When it’s time, she’ll come back and stay a while. She’ll start talking or she’ll do something that catches my attention.

That’s how it was with heroine in The Daddy Catch, my second book for Harlequin American Romance. Before I even started working on the book, I caught a mental glimpse of a feisty fly fisher landing a redfish in the Indian River. At the time, I was knee deep in edits for my first book (The Officer’s Girl, April 2010), so I just gave her a nod and went back to work. She didn’t leave, though. She hung around. She’d pop in at the oddest moments. Each time she did, I got to know her better. I learned that her name was Jessica Cofer, that she was a widow and had a little boy. She owned a fly fishing shop in nearby Merritt Island, and was passionate about preserving a slice of undeveloped riverside for future generations.

All well and good, but what’s a romance without a hero?

Dan Hamilton took his own sweet time making himself known. But one day, as I watched Jessica land another big red, I noticed this tall, dark-haired man in a business suit leaning against a palm tree on the bluff overlooking the river. Right away, I knew my hero had arrived on the scene. Of course, Dan didn’t think he needed a woman in his life. He was a thoracic surgeon, and he pretty much thought he had it all. In fact, he’d just received the sign that he’d “arrived” when a tightly knit cadre asked him to join them in building an exclusive cosmetic surgical center.

Clearly, Dan needed convincing. That’s where my job came in. The result was The Daddy Catch, my second book for Harlequin American Romance, one that I hope you’ll enjoy. The Daddy Catch will be available in June.

Louella Returns!

I've been having a lot of trouble getting on and completing Book #4 of my O'Malley Men series. I wrote the first half of this book in a week while staying at a spa hotel in Boulder, Colorado. I was loving the story, had some ideas on how it would end (I'm a panster). But then life got in the way, ie. I had to leave the spa. :-(
It went onto the back burner while I did edits and rewrites for Book#3, my latest release, Colorado Cowboy. But Luke's story was published in January and now I've run out of excuses for not finishing his firefighter brother, Adam's story. Since it's about a firefighter falling in love with a suspected arsonist, the subject matter was lending itself to another serious tale. Both The Sheriff and the Baby and Colorado Cowboy were rather serious tales and what I really wanted to write was another romantic comedy - to return to the fun days of watching Will the ski bum romancing the town judge in Colorado Christmas.
The inspiration on how I could bring back the romantic comedy elements to my writing was provided by a little English pig called Cinders, who apparently is afraid of mud!
Yes, this little piggie suffers from mysophobia - a fear of dirt. While her siblings revelled in the muck, poor Cinders stood shaking in her trotters. The farmers who owned Cinders just happened to have some miniature plastic bootie pen and pencil holders. They slipped them onto Cinders and now she happily plays in the mud. Apparently she loves them so much, she trots over to the farmer every morning to have them slipped on! (she's named Cinders after Cinderella btw) :-)
I thought at the time this was such a heart-warming story, and then I remembered Louella, the world's naughtiest pig in Colorado Christmas.
I'd had such positive feedback about Louella and she'd provided so many light-hearted moments in my debut novel that I thought: What if Louella made a comeback in Adam's story? What if Louella had a fear of snow and needed rubber booties (fur lined of course!) in order to get around town, and stick her snout into everyone's business?
Since Louella's return to the page, I've been happy as a pig in mud! (okay, sorry, very bad joke)
But seriously, she's helped everyone lighten up and inspired me to write what I hope is shaping up to be my best story yet.
If you'd like to win a copy of my latest novel, Colorado Cowboy about Luke, the oldest O'Malley, who runs the family ranch, tell me what makes you laugh when reading a book, watching tv or whatever. I'll choose the most inspiring.

Meantime, I'm making the most of
summer downunder.
Till next time!
CC

A WEIRD KIND OF STORY

Goose or dog?

This is not a problem many people have. If you do, please let me know.

We live on a lake in central Texas and when we moved here fourteen years ago there were a lot of geese, tame and wild, and ducks. Then they started disappearing. Our neighbor said a bobcat was getting them at night. That was one hungry bobcat. He got all but one tame goose. I think he was old and tough and not vey appetizing.

Luckily, most of the wild geese were able to fly away, except for two that were injured. So now that just leaves three geese on the lake and we’ve noticed they don’t socialize. The wild geese stay to themselves and the tame one is alone.

When my husband works in the yard or on his boat, the tame goose follows him around like a dog. I guess he’s lonely. As soon as my husband goes outside, the goose comes waddling and he has this annoying quack, kind of like a smoker’s quack. The more you talk to him, the louder he gets.

The goose has now figured out that when my husband disappears, he goes into the house. So the goose waddles to the patio and looks through the French doors trying to find him, quacking that annoying quack.

We named him Goofy. And Goofy doesn’t know if he’s a dog or a goose. In the mornings, as soon as we turn on the kitchen light, here comes Goofy, quacking, quacking, wanting someone to come out and play. We’ve even started closing the blinds so Goofy can’t see us. It didn't work. He’s still there quacking.

We’re hoping when spring comes and the wild geese return that Goofy will have company and stay on the water. Poor lonely Goofy.

Does anyone want a goose? He’s real friendly.

I’m thinking of putting Goofy in my next book. Do you think I can make it believable?

Linda
www.lindawarren.net

Her Christmas Hero – AR ‘10
Coming in August The Hardin Boys series.

Anniversary Celebration

This month marks the fourth year since I got THE CALL, the most exciting day of a writer's life. When someone (in this case, Kathleen Scheibling, senior editor at Harlequin American Romance) says they want to publish your first book, it's the realization of all the dreams you've imagined and the payoff for all the hard work you've done. It's validation. And I missed it. Sort of.

Can you imagine? Not that the offer would have been withdrawn, you understand. But to have the editor finally, Finally, FINALLY call with an offer and not answer the phone? Okay, here's what happened.

The date is also my mother-in-law's birthday. It was a Thursday. (Are you understanding how important this day became, that I know the day of the week?) So I had to clean house, cook a meal, bake and decorate a cake, etc. You know the drill. My kids were at school, husband at work, and I was...writing. You can imagine how glad I am now that I wasn't sleeping, shopping, or reading. That I was writing makes a better story. Phew.

I was in my office in the basement of the house. Outside my office door, a load of clothes was washing and another drying. I was also printing pages. Lots of noise. I never heard the phone ring.

I had an eye on the clock, and when it became the last minute (since I'm a deadline girl, lol), I saved my work in progress, closed the computer down, went upstairs, and did some cleaning. At some point in tidying the house, I had to take something to the room where the answering machine was and I noticed it blinking. I distinctly remember thinking I'd listen to it later; it was probably a sales call. But I do have kids, and although no school nurse had called my cell phone which I had with me while I was writing, it was possible it could be an emergency. So I hit Play.

Kathleen Scheibling had left a message.

Kathleen Scheibling. Senior editor. Who had my manuscript.
This is a weak-at-the-knees moment. Now, I was cautious. I'd received a call from an editor before, Brenda Chin, who bless her heart, directly after introducing herself said, "This isn't the call you're hoping for," enabling me to draw breath and listen. She, of course, meant it wasn't THE CALL.

Therefore, I tried not to get my hopes up this time. It was a little after noon here in the Midwest. I ran and found my copy of notes from the RWA PRO network on what to do when you get THE CALL. I skimmed it, took a deep breath and dialed Canada.

I got Kathleen's voice mail.

Jeez louise. Talk about roller coaster emotions! So I left a message that I was returning her call. Then I called my husband and told him I was waiting for the editor to call back, it probably didn't mean anything, not to get his hopes up, it was no big deal, and I was going back to cleaning and cooking and... (all of this in one breath, I'm sure). And while I'm reassuring him and hearing his excitement for me, the house phone rang. Caller ID read Harlequin Enterpr.

My husband wished me luck. I think I said goodbye before I closed the cell phone. Maybe. Kathleen explained the office was closing for the day due to a huge snowstorm and she almost didn't check messages, but she wasn't sure the office would be open on Friday. That's how intense the storm was.

And I'm thinking: I would have worried myself into anemia by Monday. (Okay, I don't know if it's possible to actually do that. But waiting would have made me a basket case.) Anyway, Kathleen offered for the book, I was so light-headed I had to sit down, and we talked details for a few minutes. We came to terms easily since I'd been studying up on this for a long, long time and knew what to expect from a contract, and that was that. I was a contracted author! Woo hoo!! I called my husband. I called my critique partner. And I went back to cleaning the house. Because as magical as it is to sell a book, the cleaning fairies didn't automatically appear to relieve me of mundane chores so I can write.

But my husband came home with a cake.

Megan Kelly
The Marriage Solution, May 2011
Stand-In Mom, Sept 2011
www.megankellybooks.com

Recipes Delayed

Due to a death in my family, the monthly recipes post will be delayed. Thanks for your understanding.

Victoria

http://www.facebook.com/#!/note.php?note_id=10150090262477411

Prom Season

There are some things really memorable about high school. Friends, sports, teachers…football games. Prom.

Did you go to your high school prom? I went my senior year but not my junior year. I wasn’t asked. Come to think of it, I didn’t get asked to a single homecoming dance either. When I was in high school-you went to those things with a date. No date? No dance. End of story. Nowadays, lots of kids go in groups. No pressure. It’s better that way, I think.

Anyway, yesterday marked a big ‘Mom’ event for me. I took my daughter prom dress shopping. For the last time. This May will mark the fourth year in a row that PROM has been on the calendar at our house. For the first two years, it was all about my son. Prom preparations involved renting a tuxedo and helping him pay for the dinner and the limo his group went around the city in.

Now, it wasn't completely without drama. There were ‘prom try-outs’ (as my husband and I privately called them). This involved him asking various girls over to our house. He’d hang out with them. Watch a movie. Our son was concerned about the amount of time he’d have to spend in the date’s company-between pictures and dinner and prom and after prom and after prom breakfast…it could be twelve hours. He never wanted to take an annoying girl.

But other than that, Prom was a piece of cake for his dad and me. He asked a girl. Took her. Had fun. Came home. End of story.

I should have known it was too easy.

Last year marked year one of Prom with my daughter. And with my daughter came girl drama. First, she had a boyfriend (no prom tryouts there!) but no dress. Then, of course, two weeks before the big dance, she had a dress and shoes and hair appointments...but no boyfriend. Just tears.

After that came Plan B. She was going with a group of girls, which involved numerous discussions about transportation and restaurants. Then the boys came back. She had multiple invitations….finally chose one….and then there were more plans (Plan C) to iron out.

In the end, somehow my husband and I ended up hosting an after prom breakfast. Which meant at 3:00 am, 40 kids arrived at our house. Tired and hungry. And loud.

So, obviously it’s with more than a little trepidation as we prepare for this year’s Prom. Right now? Things seem good. Date? Check. Dress? Check. Someone else volunteering to host middle of the night breakfast? Yes!

All that’s great. What’s not is that Prom is six weeks away. Anything can happen during that time, and I’m sure it will.

Next year we won’t be doing the Prom season two-step. Our daughter will be off to college. Like my son, chances are she’ll have far more fun and interesting things to plan for than a high school dance.

But for now? It’s all about my senior. Because one thing is certain: One day, years from now, she'll be sitting around with friends and remembering Prom preparations. She’ll probably laugh…and wonder why it had all seemed like such a very big deal. Until she has kids of her own.

Anyone want to share a prom story with me? Either yours or one of your kids? I sure hope I’m not the only person to be besieged with prom drama…

Shelley Galloway

FEBRUARY WINNER!!

CONGRATULATIONS Savannah Rose! You’re the February winner. To receive your free autographed books please contact Marin Thomas and Jacqueline Diamond through their Web sites.

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

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

What a Difference a Month Makes

Last month, I looked out my office window and blogged about what I saw -- dark, dreary, cold weather and more snow than we usually have here in the South. What a difference a month makes. Today it's sunny, going to be about 60 degrees, and my daffodils are on the verge of blooming. I don't think there's anything that says spring to me more than bright yellow daffodils. We even just had our first spring-like storms a couple of nights ago -- tons of rain, lightning, thunder and wind. In parts of the city, the tornado sirens were wailing. Okay, so I could do without the tornadoes, but it's just another sign that spring is fast approaching.

This time of year (as opposed to January), I feel good, like anything is possible. My mood is great and I'm concentrating on lots of positive things:

1. My exercise/eating -- I've lost 7 pounds so far in February. That's because I've been tracking my calories and exercising a couple of hours a day. It is a thrill to get on the scale in the mornings and see the number go down. And that positive feeling propels me to keep doing what I'm doing.

2. I've dug out the genealogy records I haven't looked at in a decade and started working on them again. Yes, watching Who Do You Think You Are? partially inspired this, but I'm hoping I can eventually find out where my family came from when they came to America. I know my maternal line's history, but my paternal one is a mystery to me.

3. I'm headed to the Hill Country of Texas soon to do some on-site research for the trilogy I'm currently writing for American. I've been there before, but I wasn't in "writer mode", if you know what I mean. Now I'll be taking tons of photos and picking up every tourist brochure and local newspaper I can find. Plus, OMG, it's going to be in the 80s in Texas. I'll get a taste of not only spring but summer!

4. We had a new driveway and walkway put in over the winter, so now it's time for new landscaping. I can't wait to see what it looks like after Jason the lawn guy gets finished. I need to do before and after photos.

5. Even though both of my grandmothers were good seamstresses, they both died before I was old enough to be much interested in sewing. So I missed the opportunity to learn from them, and consequently I can't do much more than put a button back on my hubby's shirts. So I think I'm going to take a sewing class in April at the local Jo-Ann Fabric. I like to do cosplay at Dragon*Con each year, and it would be awesome to someday be able to make my own costumes, not to mention, you know, regular clothes. :) Maybe even a fabulous dress for the RITA ceremony at RWA National.

6. I used to cross-stitch before I got really serious about writing, and I have a half-finished project I'd like to finish, not to mention several cool patterns I haven't used yet. So after I meet my next deadline at the end of March, I think I'll pull out the cross-stitch stuff and get back into that again.

Does spring rejuvenate you? What new things would you like to try this year? What things haven't you done in a long time that you'd like to start again?

A Different Kind of Launch Day

Usually, when we talk about launches on this website, we're talking about our newest Harlequin American releases. Today, though, let's talk about a different kind of launch.

That’s a NASA photo of the shuttle Discovery sitting on the launch pad at Cape Kennedy. As I’m writing this, it’s lift-off day on Florida’s Space Coast. The shuttle Discovery is set to blast off on its final trip to the International Space Station a little before five pm. And that means tourists and visitors have thronged Brevard County. Titusville, especially, has taken on a carnival-like atmosphere.

There’s not a hotel to be had—for love or money—between New Smyrna and Palm Bay. Campers, tents and motor homes line the shore along the rivers. They crowd the parking lots at the beaches. Restaurants are jam-packed, and souvenir stands have popped up on every street corner.

Any rocket launch is an awe-inspiring sight, and a shuttle launch is extraordinarily spectacular. The thunder of a thousand freight trains fills the air. The ground literally shakes as more than two million pounds of rocket fuel provides nearly seven million pounds of thrust to get the big bird off the ground. Flames spew from the huge engines, creating a fiery trajectory that can be seen from as far away as Orlando.

But if you still have a shuttle launch on your Bucket List, you’ll want to book your travel plans soon. Discovery will be moth-balled when it returns from this flight. Endeavor makes its final trip to the Space Station in April. And after Atlantis lifts off in June, that’s it. Now that our space program is headed in a new direction, who knows when—or if—there’ll ever be another manned flight.

Pictures of Discovery on the launch pad and at lift-off courtesy of the National Air and Space Administration. View these and additional photos at www.nasa.gov


Discovery at Lift-off on 2/24/11

Oscar Night

Where will I be on Sunday evening? In front of the television watching the Academy Awards! Even though I haven't yet seen any of this year's nominees—no, not even The King’s Speech—I love Oscar night! The red carpet, the MCs (I adore Anne Hathaway), the entertainment, the acceptance speeches...I can't wait!

I'm not one of those people who goes all out for Oscar Night, but I'll still be doing some extra-special snacks for the occasion. Here's one of my favorites.

Baked Brie
1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
2 teaspoons olive oil
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
8 ounces brie cheese

Heat the olive oil in a small skillet. Lightely saute the garlic and tomatoes. Stir in the basil and parsley and continue cooking unitl the parsley is wilted. Stir in the balsamic vinegar and cook for another minute or so, till evaporated. Put the brie in an ovenproof dish, heap the tomato mixture on top and bake in a 350-degree oven for ten minutes. Serve with crackers or a baguette. Enjoy!

Happy Oscar Night!

Until next time,
Lee
The Wedding Bargain (January 2011)
http://www.leemckenzie.com/

A Very Melancholy Birthday

Today is my 60th birthday, which under any conditions is a mixed blessing. On the bright side, I'm still around, alive and kicking despite my own "best" efforts and a family history of early heart attacks, and I get even more senior discounts for movies and restaurants.

On the other side, I'm 60.

I was going to post lots of photos from my birthday dinner and party last Saturday night, but we had to cancel the momentous occasion. My beloved father-in-law, whom I've mentioned several times as I've written about where I learned about small Texas towns, is dying. He is almost 93 years old and he's tired. His body is worn out and he's ready to be reunited with is wife of more than 60 years who passed away in 2005.

We understand that it is time and he wants to go to sleep and not wake up, but it's never easy to say goodbye. He's the family patriarch. When he spoke, we all listened. He enjoyed life so much, especially after retirement when he and Sudie, as we called my mother-in-law, went dining and dancing. They traveled to every state except Alaska, putting lots of miles on their big Cadillac sedan which was like a rolling living room.

No matter what happens this week, I know that Dad's stories and words of wisdom will be with me always. Thank you for allowing me to share this with you. I want to thank you in advance for your thoughts and prayers as I may not be able to comment in a timely manner. I know you'll understand. Please, tell your loved ones how much they mean to you because even after 60 or 92 years, life seems short and at times, unbearably fragile.

A Sentimental Journey

A strange thing happened to me the other day.  I was hoping to take a short nap while my youngest granddaughter was taking hers, but while I was lying there, I thought of my high school band and vocal music director.  I don't know why his name sneaked into my mind, but instead of napping, I went to the computer and searched his name on Facebook.  I really didn't expect to find anything.  Instead, I discovered he's still in the town in Oklahoma where he settled two schools after he left us back in 1967.  And that town is having a celebration this weekend in honor of him and the community-type band--jazz band--he's put together. To say I was surprised I found him is an understatement.  He was a very special to person to many of us, and from reading the Facebook "Event" comments, we aren't the only ones who think so.

Mr. Rotter came to our high school at the beginning of my freshman year.  It was a small school of less than 200 students, but we had a larger band then than there is now.  And Mr. Rotter made us one of the best in the state.  Part of that had to do with the fact that he wasn't a whole lot older than we were.  As a band director he worked us hard.  He expected the best from us, and we gave it to him.  We won a I rating (the best) at a state-wide marching contest in the fall of his second year, his last at CHS.  He could play a mean saxophone, but he loved the trombone best.  Many of us still remember enjoying his rendition of Little Egypt on the piano...if we were lucky enough to talk him into doing it.

I won't be able to go to the celebration this weekend.  Life sometimes gets in the way of the things we'd really like to do.  But I'll be thinking of him and the students and adults who've been lucky enough to know him.  He's one of a kind.
 

Roughneck heroes

New release--Roughneck Cowboy *Men of the West* (Feb 2011) by Marin Thomas


Blood Is Thicker Than Oil

When his mom passed, roughneck Travis Cartwright thought he’d lost the only family he and his daughter Charlie had. That is until he discovers an estranged father and siblings living just a few hours away. They might be strangers, but they’re blood; and Travis needs to protect Charlie should tragedy strike at his dangerous job.

Dominick Cartwright offers his son more than peace of mind. He gives Travis a new job, a place to live, and a side project--to convince Dominick’s stubborn neighbor, Sara Sanders, to sell her ranch. Travis is confident he can smooth talk the plain-Jane teacher into selling quickly; but there’s more to Sara than meets the eye. Soon Travis loses sight of his mission…and his heart.

As their relationship grows, they uncover painful family secrets, and Dominick’s real motives. Then, the sparks fly!

Why a Roughneck for a contemporary romance hero?
These rough and tumble men have always fascinated me. These guys don't flinch when hot oil splatters their hard-hats or drips down the back of their necks. Their duties on the "rig" consist of pulling cables, chains and thongs around the platform for eight to twelve hours per shift. They work in terrible weather conditions on rigs in the middle of the ocean or rigs in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma. They're risk-takers by nature and genuinely fearless individuals. While researching material for my story I learned some fascinating facts about Oklahoma.



The setting for Roughneck Cowboy is outside Tulsa in the fictional town of Tulapoint, OK. The oil history of this state dates back to 1859 when oil seeps, known to Indians as "Medicine springs" were discovered in Indian Territory. The first unintentional oil find was made near Chelsea, OK in 1889 and it produced one half barrel per day. In 1897 The Nellie Johnstone #1, the first commercial well drilled in OK hit pay dirt in the Bartlesville Dewey Field in Washington County. Tulsa changed from a small frontier town to a boomtown.



The discovery of oil in 1901 at Red Fork, a small community southwest of Tulsa on the opposite side of the Arkansas River brought in wildcatters and investors. In 1901, an official survey was done and streets lay out and neighborhoods were established in Tulsa on the opposite side of the river from the drilling sites. In 1905 the Glenn pool oil field was discovered. The strike created such a large supply of oil Tulsans were forced to build storage tanks for the excess oil and later pipelines. Tulsa soon became a leader in the growing petroleum industry, resulting in many oil companies choosing Tulsa for their home base. In 1906 Oklahoma Natural gas Company was formed. In 1907 Oklahoma and the Indian territories became the State of Oklahoma. Also in 1907 Oklahoma becomes the largest oil producer, with Tulsa claiming the title of "Oil Capitol of the World." Below is a picture of an oil-producing well that sat out front of the Oklahoma City capitol building in 1939.



A second oil boom hit Oklahoma between the years of 1925-1930. The population rose over 72,000 and many of the new residents came from Pennsylvania, Ohio and New York. Wealthy oilmen Waite Phillips, William Kelly and J. Paul Getty built their mansions and modern headquarters in the state. Another community that flourished in Tulsa was greenwood. It was the largest and wealthiest of Oklahoma's African American communities and was known as "Black Wall Street." The neighborhood was a hotbed of jazz, and blues music in the 1920's. The area over 600 businesses and 36 square blocks with a population of 15,000 African Americans. "Black Wall Street" is now also sadly remembered as a "Black" mark in the state's history. On June 1, 1921 one of America's most affluent all-black communities was bombed from the air and burned to the ground by mobs of envious whites. It took fewer than 12 hours to destroy the model community. Over 3,000 African Americans died, over 600 businesses were lost: 21 churches, 21 restaurants, 30 grocery stores, 2 movie theaters, a hospital, a bank, a post office, libraries, schools, law offices, a half dozen private airplanes, and even a bus system.



Like a lot of western states, Oklahoma's history is filled with men and women who've risked their lives performing dangerous jobs in order to provide for their families. You'll find that pioneering spirit in Travis Cartwright, my hero for Roughneck Cowboy.

A Roughneck's Dream--Author Unknown

I was working in the oil fields one cold West Texas day,
And there on the rig floor a dying roughneck lay,
He said, "I am off to the Big Rig, the Big Rig I'm told
Where the crown is purest silver, and the kelly's made of gold
Where a diamond studded cat line hangs from a pearl gin pole,
And the the driller makes all the connections,
and you never come out of the hole.

I run a Wild West Trivia Contest each month in my author newsletter. Sign up for my newsletter at www.marinthomas.com and I'll e-mail you my February Wild West Trivia Question. If you answer the question correctly your name will be entered into a drawing for a chance to win a copy of Roughneck Cowboy.

Happy reading!
Marin
www.marinthomas.com

KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS!

Given that I had so much fun writing the two kids in my March release, Second Chance Dad, I thought it might be fun to share a couple stories about raising my two boys. I’m happy to report that they are both now grown and still living thanks to my strong willpower in not killing them.

My youngest son, Justin, was about four when I was trying to teach him and his brother to pick up after themselves. I had held strong for an hour that they could not go out and play until the Legos were picked up. They were not happy.
Justin procrastinated for awhile then strolled into the kitchen where I was cooking and looked up at me with those big blue eyes and said, “You’re getting pretty old.”

I shook my head and said, “No, not really.” I was twenty-eight.

My sweet little blond-headed angel flashed those dimples and continued, “But you’re going to die pretty soon, right?”

In spite of the above story, my youngest son was the sweetest, most loving kid. His older brother on the other hand...When my oldest son, Jeremy, came out of the womb--and I’m not stretching the truth here--they laid that baby on my chest, he arched his five pound, premature little body, looked at me with that steely blue gaze and pretty much said, “I’m not sure who you are, but just so you know, I’m in charge.”

Jeremy was ADD and able to out-logic me by the time he was two. I was on a first name basis with his kindergarten teacher just trying to get him through school. After a particularly bad day, I was trying to talk to him about his unacceptable behavior. He asked how I knew what he’d done. Not wanting him to realize that his teacher was snitching on him, I answered, “A little birdie told me.”

A week later he finally learned to ride a bike. We lived in an extraordinarily kid friendly, small town neighborhood where all the moms watched out for the kids. Jeremy was out front riding his bike with very strict boundaries set that he could only ride as far as one house down each direction. There were kids everywhere as usual, but when I went outside after a few minutes to check on them, his little blue bike was in the middle of the street, but no Jeremy.

The other kids looked around and said he’d just been there. Needless to say, I was frantic. I felt like the worst mother ever. Myself, the other moms and a couple teens that were in the crowd started searching. He was shortly located a couple blocks over where he’d followed a friend he knew from school. He was only missing a few minutes, but all moms surely know the terror that went through my mind. When I got him home, I tried to explain how frantic I was and that he couldn’t just take off like that. Mommy didn’t know where he was and I was afraid.

He looked at me with those penetrating blue eyes and calmly asked, “So why didn’t you just ask that little bird?”

Any other cute kid stories out there?

Happy Valentine's Day!

Ah, Valentine's. The day our thoughts turn to chocolate and hearts and flowers and chocolate and love and chocolate and romance...and the authors here on the Harlequin American Romance Blog wish their readers an abundance of all those things!

On Saturday I celebrated at a luncheon with fellow romance writers in my local chapter of Romance Writers of America. This is always a special occasion and I look forward to it every year. This year was really fun because I was on the decorating committee.

I filled my favorite vintage milk glass bowls (I have three of them) with red carnations to use as centerpieces. With the black and white table linens, black-and-white printed paper, votice candles, and chocolate hearts wrapped in red foil, I was going for understated yet elegant. What do you think?

Do you do something special to celebreate Valentine's Day? If so, please share the love!

Until next time,
Lee
The Wedding Bargain (January 2011)
Visit Lee's website!