That first sentence

My husband and I love to share the opening sentence of whatever we’re currently reading. (It’s really fun! Try it.)

We’ve learned that not that all books start with a brilliant first line. Sometimes the entire first paragraph is what hooks us.

But this blog is about that first sentence.

I thought I’d share some, taken from books on my keeper shelf. Bear in mind that my keeper shelf is huge! Choosing only a handful wasn’t easy, and I ended up pulling out books at random. In no particular order, here are the first sentences in those books, with the punctuation exactly as printed:

“If it had not been for my fiance’s alcoholic cousin Mookie I feel quite sure that my daddy would still be a member in good standing at the Oconee Hills Country Club.” (Mary Kay Andrews, HISSY FIT)

“Sophie Dempsey didn’t like Temptation even before the Garveys smashed into her ’86 Civic, broke her sister’s sunglasses, and confirmed all her worst suspicions abut people from small towns who drove beige Cadillacs.” (Jennie Crusie, WELCOME TO TEMPTATION)

“The wild child of Parrish, Mississippi, had come back to the town she’d left behind forever.” (Susan Elizabeth Phiillips, AIN’T SHE SWEET?)

“What if I told you I had a fantasy?” (J.R. Ward, LOVER REVEALED)

“There are some men who enter a woman’s life and screw it up forever.” (Janet Evanovich, ONE FOR THE MONEY)

“Every smiley moon, without fail, Claire dreamed of her childhood.” (Sarah Addison Allen, GARDEN SPELLS)

“I was fifteen when I first met Sherlock Holmes, fifteen years old with my nose in a book as I walked the Sussex Downs, and nearly stepped on him.” (Laurie R. King, THE BEEKEEPER’S APPRENTICE)

I love all those sentences and loved the stories that followed.

What about you? Do you judge a book by its first line or paragraph? If not, what (besides the author) makes you decide to read a particular book? What’s the first line of the current book you’re reading?


Until next time, and eager to read your replies,
Ann
www.annroth.net

Recipe of the month

Applesauce Muffins

Ingredients
Vegetable shortening
2 cups baking mix
¼ cup sugar
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 egg, slightly beaten
½ cup applesauce
¼ cup milk
2 Tbs. vegetable oil
¼ cup margarine
¼ cup of a cinnamon/sugar mixture

Directions
1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
2) Grease bottom only of (mini) muffin cups with solid vegetable shortening.
3) Place baking mix, sugar, and cinnamon into bowl and mix.
4) In a separate bowl, blend egg, applesauce, milk and oil.
5) Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients. Pour liquid ingredients into well. Stir quickly until all dry ingredients are just moistened.
6) Spoon batter into prepared cups (about 2/3 full).
7) Bake for 10-12 minutes
8) Meanwhile, melt butter. Place cinnamon/sugar mixture in a nearby bowl.
9) Allow muffins to cool for two minutes after removing from oven.
10) Dip top of each muffin in melted butter…then cinnamon/sugar mixture.


Laura Bradford
http://www.laurabradford.com

At The Beagle's Beck And Call

Tomorrow, I plan to celebrate. I might even have a glass of champagne! See, it’s going to be a really big day. Tomorrow morning, I’ll take Phoebe, our beagle, to get her stitches out...which, I hope, will mark the end of my being at our beagle’s beck and call.

Here’s the deal. I would be the last person you’d want to partner with on a reality game show. Need a partner to go running with? I’d just slow you down. Need another driver to get you through the frozen tundra? Don’t call me. You’ll regret it.

But…are you sick? Feeling poorly? Need someone to fuss over you? That’s me. I’m a great caregiver. I make soup. I play cards and puzzles and dominoes. I can sit by a bedside for hours and read aloud to you. Over the years, I’ve fussed a lot over my husband and kids.

And…I think my beagle noticed. Three weeks ago, she woke up not being able to walk. I picked her up and carried her to the vet…and found out that somehow-known only to her and the wiener dog-she tore her ACL. Something had to be done. I’ll admit, given the fact that she’s 12, we did have a momentary hesitation about the surgery…but there’s a story about our beagle. See, she’s more to us than just a dog who likes ham.

When Phoebe was almost a year old, she pretty much saved our daughter’s life. Lesley was three and was playing in the garage. I was on the driveway weeding or something, when all of the sudden, Phoebe let out three sharp barks and stood at attention. Lesley, who was playing near Phoebe, went running to me, and I went running over to see what had the dog so upset.

It was a coiled rattlesnake. It had been right next to little Lesley, and Phoebe saved the day.

So…of course, on the 21st, I took Phoebe in for surgery.

I should have known a convalescing beagle is not a pretty sight. The poor thing’s leg and hindquarters were shaved down to bare skin. She’s got a three inch scar on her back right beagle knee. And she was on all kinds of drugs, all which made her loopy.

But within a day, she got one thing down-if she barks, moans, or attempts to hobble, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing and fuss over her. That includes carrying her down the front porch steps so she can do her beagle business. And carrying her from room to room because she hates to be alone. And then retrieving her giant sheepskin bed because she needs a soft place to sit. Have I mentioned that she’s thirty pounds?

Now, I’m happy to say, she is getting around pretty well. Just last night she started putting weight on her hurt leg. So, I guess my days of ‘beagle watch’ is over.

I’m just hoping her other knee doesn’t go out any time soon. Or worse, that Suzy the wiener dog doesn’t try to get on the action. Then I really won’t be able to get anything done.

I have a feeling I’m not the only one to fuss over a pet. Anyone want to share a story?

Shelley
www.shelleygalloway.com

OCTOBER WINNER!!!

CONGRATULATIONS ANONYMOUS (Joy)! You’re the October winner. To receive your free autographed books please contact Shelley Galloway, Rebecca Winters and Linda Warren 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 and Happy Holidays!

Time to Change the Time

It’s the most dreaded, hung over day of the year, aside – possibly – from New Year’s Day. What am I talking about? This year, in a cruel twist of fate, on the day after Halloween, with sugar rushes still pulsing through our veins, we awaken to discover we don’t know what time it is.

That’s because, while we turned back some of the clocks last night to mark the end of Daylight Savings Time, we never get them all. Even if the computer and the cell phone reset themselves, what about the clock in the car? The one in the microwave oven?

There’s always a nasty surprise awaiting us somewhere. If you’re like me, this goes on for days.
Many years ago, when I was growing up in Tennessee, we went onto DST for the first time. The next day, a huge thunderstorm hit Nashville. While my mother was in the supermarket, she heard another woman remark, “This is what comes of fooling with God’s time.”

There you have it. God said, “Let it be twelve o’clock!”

While visiting China last year, I was surprised to learn that the entire country consists of one vast time zone. Never mind when the sun is highest in the sky or when it sets. If it’s noon in Beijing, it’s noon everywhere.

Although we flew several hours into the interior to Shi’an, the ancient capital where you find the terra cotta warriors, I never noticed anything strange about the time. Of course, that might be because my then-91-year-old mother fell in the shower and broke her pelvis, and her assistant and I (we were attending a ceramics conference) spent most of the week arranging to get her airlifted home.

In case you’re wondering, my mother, now 92, has recovered and is back at work in her studio. You can learn more about her unusual ceramic sculptures on my Web site, http://www.jacquelinediamond.com/.

Also, while we’re on the subject of the time change, my younger son attends the University of Arizona in Tucson. Arizona doesn’t go on DST, so when we drove there from California two weekends ago, we didn’t have to advance our watches. Had we waited until next weekend, we’d have to shift ahead by one hour. Can’t figure it out? Me neither.

By the way, Hunter works as a research assistant at Biosphere 2, a self-contained environment originally built to replicate conditions in a space colony (see photo, upper right). Currently, it’s used for biology experiments. We enjoyed touring the facility, which you can learn more about at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biosphere_2.

Speaking of space, I think I’ve run out of it. And when it comes to time, the thing that really matters, of course, is what we do with it.

Halloween Eggs!

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays!!! I love the candy and costumes and most especially making fun, Fall-themed stuff. I'm so excited I snagged October to debut as the Harlequin American Blog's new Mistress of Crafts!! (Photo courtesy of marthastweart.com)

While I found this month's craft on marthastewart.com, I can't imagine doing it as complicated as she does. She and her staff are crazy-talented!! If you are the kind of person who's patient enough to do this the "proper" way, here's the link: http://www.marthastewart.com/article/bewitching-halloween-eggs?xsc=aol-1009-halloween-eggs

For the rest of us not-so-patient folks--like me--I'm thinking we could come up with the same fun results in MUCH less time. What I would do in order to turn these into keepsakes is "blow" the eggs. (Remember that old trick to get the egg stuff out?)

From there, to get a really pretty pumpkin orange, Martha reccomends powdered dye. Again, I'm not that patient or talented, so I'm thinking buy a pint of glossy interior latex and just paint it on. Once that dries, use black paint to make a spooky or funny pumpkin face. To do a black skeleton egg, use black paint, and once it dries, paint with white. Martha uses wax to etch her designs. I tried wax with Easter eggs one year, and the results were not pretty!! LOL!!

I love the look of setting all of the eggs in a nest, so either buy one, or look around the yard. This time of year in Oklahoma, it's pretty common to find some bird's poor house on the lawn. I kind of like the idea of recycling it.

For added kooky fun, how about Pumpkin People Eggs? Paint them as above, but then make clothes for them from fabric scraps. Some corkscrew doll hair might be fun, too!! Oh--you could make little witches with pointy hats. Monsters. Possibilities are endless. Above all--have FUN!!!!!

Supplies:

1 Dozen Boiled/Blown Eggs

Assorted Dye or Paint

Assorted Markers

Assorted Paint Brushes

Assorted Halloween-themed fabric scraps

1 Purchased or Found Bird's Nest

Boo!

Do you get nervous? I do. Public speaking, flying, and being in a gale on my sailboat: all moments when my pulse speeds up. Lucky for me, I don’t have too many outward signs of my inward trepidation. To an innocent bystander, I can seem perfectly calm, cool and collected. Inside, an 8.2 earthquake shakes me. And my hands get cold. Really cold. It takes about an hour for them to warm up after the episode of nerves has passed.

I spent the weekend at the New Jersey Romance Writers Convention, “Put Your Heart in a Book,” and my nerves were right there with me. You see, talking about my writing makes me nervous, too. It is immensely important to me. It’s part of who I am. I am afraid that when I talk to others about my writing, especially agents and publishers, I am not doing justice to my written words. My audience will dismiss what I say, because I’m not saying what I ought. Have you ever had someone excitedly describe the plot of a book or a movie you haven’t read or seen? How long did it take before your eyes glazed over? I’m afraid that’s exactly what happens to anyone who hears me talk about my most cherished characters and stories.

At any convention, I try to meet as many people as I can. I ask a lot of questions. I am amazed by what others are doing, how prolific and creative they all are. Invariably, the people I meet ask me questions, too. My nervousness kicks in, but I answer as clearly as I can. I want them to understand what I’m writing, what I’m thinking and the delight I find in the writing process.

So, in a lot of these conversations, my hands go vampire cold while the rest of my body stays warmly mortal. I know when I say goodbye and shake that person’s hand, she’s going to shiver and wonder if she’s been unwittingly discussing romance with the undead. But that’s okay. I’m glad I’m having an attack of nerves. Because if my stories matter so much to me, then maybe—just maybe, at least when I write—I can make them that important to my reader.

Cold, cold, stay away

We've had to turn on the heat in the house. That's a sure sign that my least favorite months of the year are upon us. Now, I think a blanket of snow is just as lovely as any fan of winter, but I loathe being cold. I start getting chilled in October, and I often don't truly thaw until April. I have to haul out the fleece jackets, the space heater for my office, the fingerless typing gloves my husband got me for Christmas a few years ago. And if it's a dark winter with little sunlight? That just adds insult to injury. Sometimes I think I'm part bear because when it gets cold and the days grow short, I want to curl under the covers and sleep until spring.

But to combat the winter months, I try to stay so busy that the days fly by. A few days ago, I made out a detailed calendar of all the projects I want to get done by the end of the year. I'll also have some holiday travel to occupy some days, Christmas shopping/wrapping/card addressing to do, and I have a three-day meeting in mid November. January is the worst month. It seems twice as long as any other month in the year. But if I can make it through January, I start to feel better, even if the thermometer is still below freezing. It's a psychological turning point when I can flip the calendar over to February. I know that despite the temps, the next month is when spring starts. By February, my daffodils are usually poking out of the soil as if they think if they do so spring will come faster. We might even have an occasional warm day in February, warm enough to get outside and shed some of the cabin fever.

Anyone else not a fan of winter? If so, what tactics do you use to get through it? I'm looking forward to the day when I can answer that question with "Go to Florida for four months." :)

Meet Leigh Duncan, HAR New Author

Please Welcome Leigh Duncan to the Harlequin American Line. Leigh’s debut book, The Officer’s Girl, will be available in April, 2010.

Thanks for the warm welcome. It’s an honor to be here.

Leigh, tell us a little about your family and where you're from.
I consider myself a Florida girl, even though I haven’t always lived in the Sunshine State. I grew up on the east coast of Central Florida and met the love of my life at the University of Florida—go Gators!—and we’ve been together, well…let’s just say a long, long time. We moved around quite a bit—14 different places in the first 10 years of married life—and spent some time in Guam and Los Angeles, and a number of years in the DC area before we came back “home.”

I have two kids, a son and a daughter, who remind me quite often that they’re all grown up now.

What did you want to be when you grew up? Have you always wanted to be a writer?
I’ve been making up stories and putting them on paper ever since I learned my letters in kindergarten. In fact, I still have one of those early stories—about a blind princess who wound up rescuing the handsome prince who rode to her rescue. So, I’ve always known I wanted to be a writer, even when I was working as a teacher, a secretary or a government contractor, I found time to write. I used to set my alarm for 4 AM so I could get in a couple hours of writing time before I had to get the kids—and myself—out the door. Now that the kids are grown and I’m not paying college tuition, I’ve quit my “day job,” and those 4 AM alarm clocks are over. Thank goodness.

So, you’re an early riser then? What’s your writing routine?
Yes, I still get up with the chickens. I’m normally out of bed and drinking the first of many cups of coffee by 5:30. I usually sit down at the computer around 8, finish with email and “surfing” and am ready for my writing day by 9. I meet with my critique partners once a week, but most days I write till my hubby calls to say he’s on his way home, usually about 6:30 or so. The next 30 minutes or so, I kick into high gear, fix dinner and straighten up the house if it needs it (there’s just the two of us at home now, so housework is minimal). Evenings we hang out, watch TV or visit with friends.

Sounds like you spend a most of your daytime writing. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Sleeping. Always. I leave the staying up late and worrying to my hubby. Those are his strengths.

Do you have any talents readers might find interesting?
Riflery and fly fishing. My parents thought an “involved” kid stayed out of trouble so my sister and I were “involved”. In the chess club (I haven’t played in years), and the drill team and the rifle club. I lettered in riflery at UF, and I shot in the National Matches in Camp Perry, Ohio. I didn’t win, but I shot respectable scores. But I’ve never been hunting. Not ever. For me, it was all about the competitiveness, the precision required to put ten rounds in the bull’s-eye.

I don’t shoot much anymore. My eyes aren’t sharp enough. I like fishing though. Especially the precision and symmetry of fly fishing. And if the fish I catch and release is bigger than my husband’s, so much the better. Hmmm. I’m sensing a pattern with competitiveness.

When did you consider yourself a writer?
Always. When the kids were little, I concentrated on children’s literature. Later, when my son was in school, I wrote the newsletter for his college baseball team. For a while, I wrote a workout journal for our local newspaper. I completed quite a few manuscripts that the publishing world is better off without. (They live in a time capsule to be dug up when I’m gone.) Along the way, I sold a few essays and a magazine article, but I have to admit, I didn’t consider myself “an author” till the day my editor called to say Harlequin American was buying my book.

Can you tell us one thing about yourself that would surprise your friends and family?
No more roosters! No more fairies! I’m done with those. Gifts are always appreciated, but think e-readers, luxury cars and expensive jewelry. LOL!

Why did you target the American Romance Line, Leigh?
I’ve been a fan of Harlequin romances ever since I stumbled across a stash of them at the house where I babysat in high school. Believe me, once I made that discovery, I was always available to babysit for that family. Once the kids were settled in for the night, I’d settle down too—with a glass of soda and a Harlequin romance.

Growing up in a small town in Florida, I loved reading about all the wealthy men and beautiful women, their fascinating loves and lives. The stories resonated with me because, even though the heroes and heroines were rich and powerful, the problems they faced were the same ones as the ones my friends and family dealt with.

Community, family and friendships always play an important role in the stories I love to read, as well as the ones I write. That’s why I was so drawn to Harlequin American Romance. I think it’s why my work found a home here.

If you could wish for anything, what would you wish for?
A book launch party like Richard Castle…champagne and fan-fare. But I’ll settle for everyone liking my book.

One last question before we let you go, Leigh. Tell us a little bit about “The Officer’s Girl” and how you came to write it.
I grew up calling the beaches just that—Cocoa Beach, Melbourne Beach, Indian Harbor Beach. But times, and terminology, change. After twenty years of living anywhere but Florida, we bought a home in Satellite Beach where, all too soon, up went the familiar hurricane warnings along with not-so-familiar evacuation orders for the “barrier islands.” Of course, I knew about the Keys, but they were hundreds of miles south of us. It didn’t make sense that my radio and TV were blaring orders to “get out, get out” every five minutes. Puzzled, I called my dear hubby at his office and asked him where these islands were off the coast of Florida.

“Our house sits on a barrier island,” he said dryly. “Start packing.”

After the hurricane safely passed, I started thinking, “What if?” What if Florida’s newest resident didn’t heed the orders to evacuate? What if she was a career girl with all her hopes and dreams dependent on her staying put? What if a hunky, but disillusioned, cop showed up on her doorstep? Would he take her into custody if it meant ensuring her safety? Could this unlikely pair fall in love?

That set the stage for “The Officer’s Girl.” When it’s released in April, I hope you’ll have as much fun reading Stephanie and Brett’s story as I did writing it.

Pancakes—mix or scratch?

I love all the conveniences we have today. I grew up in a home that had a wringer washing machine, clothes that were hung on the line to dry and then had to be ironed, floors that had to be waxed, and so on. We had an electric stove but my grandmother cooked on a wood stove until the early ‘70s, and she was in her early ‘70s at the time. She was an early riser, up every morning before sun, and would get a fire going with wood that had been chopped the night before, put on a pot of coffee and start making breakfast. Porridge, pancakes, bacon and eggs, toast, hand-squeezed orange juice... Breakfast wasn’t just a meal, it was the most important meal of the day and it had to be something that would “stick to your ribs.” I still love that saying!

Everything my grandmother served was made from scratch, including pancakes. My mother kept up the tradition and so did I. Pancake batter is one of the easiest things to whip up—even kids can make it—and the ingredients are staples in every kitchen.

When my daughter was ten or eleven, she was invited to a friend’s house for a sleepover. The girls decided they wanted pancakes for breakfast, but the host mother said they couldn’t have them because she was out of pancake mix. My daughter—who already had the recipe memorized—stepped in, and when I picked her up later that morning, her friend’s mother was still stunned that a child knew how to make pancakes from scratch.

Here’s our favorite pancake recipe.

1 egg
1 cup milk or buttermilk
2 tablespoons melted butter (or vegetable oil)
1 cup flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt

Beat the egg, and beat in the rest of the ingredients in the order listed. Heat the griddle. Pour on the batter with a large spoon or ladle. When bubbles appear on the surface, flip the pancake and cook the other side till golden brown. Serve with butter and syrup.

Pancakes are still a stick-to-your-ribs breakfast favorite at my house, and we still make them from scratch. How do you make them?

Until next time,
Lee
The Writer Side of Life

Writing Tip

I thought I'd take a turn at sharing writing tips for the next few months. Please feel free to chime in with your own tips and advice, too!

I sure still have a lot to learn about writing, ('conflict' seems to be my arch enemy!) but one thing I'm pretty good at is getting my story on paper. I write every day, no matter what. And, I write fairly fast. That's not to say it's all very good...I just have a far easier time revising and expanding what I've written than simply writing ten quality pages in one sitting.

If writing fast is a challenge for you, I found some tips for 'writing fast' in the book, A Novel Idea.

1) Set a timer. Write for fifteen or twenty minutes. Just write, don't delete or revise.

2)If seeing mistakes on the screen bothers you, turn off or cover your monitor. Remember, spelling and editing mistakes can be fixed later.

3)If you are too tempted by the Internet, make a plan to only check email at certain times of day.

4) When typing, if you forget a name or place, mark the spot with an XXX, then move on. You can go back later and fill in those blanks.

5) And finally, if you're about to write a pivotal scene, prepare for it by jotting down notes about the five senses or the key elements you want to incorporate. Then, when you're typing, you can just plug in some of those notes.

Has anyone ever tried any of these ideas? I, for one, would have a really hard time covering my monitor! But I'd love to have more notes by my side whenever I begin to write.

Shelley
www.shelleygalloway.com

Small Town Here We Come!

After living in large cities all my life, I'm finally going to be a small town girl! We look the plunge and bought a lake house in Mineola, Texas, which is about an hour and a half from Dallas. The house we found is a Victorian farmhouse style, two story home on Lake Holbrooke. Yes, it's peach, but it kind of works! Even my husband likes the color. There are big trees all around it. The house looks old, but it was built in 1994 and is modern where it counts - central A/C!

Living in Mineola, at least on the weekends, will be a real treat for me. It was one of the first places I visited when I was going to set a book (The Bachelor Project, HAR#844, Sept 2000) in a fictional small town. As program director of Dallas Area Romance Authors, I organized retreats to a wonderful bed and breakfast there in Mineola. We would sit out on the second floor balcony and talk writing (and maybe drink some wine) until we were all so sleepy we couldn't keep our eyes open. We usually went during the Iron Horse Fall Festival, the first weekend in November. The weather was cool and crisp and I think everyone had a great time. For me, though, the small town atmosphere of parades, local restaurants and stores, families and friends, really made an impression. I interviewed the chief of police in Mineola to get a feeling for law enforcement in a more rural area. Mineola had about 5000 people then and 5600 now.

The kitchen in the lake house is so cute. There are white cabinets with glass fronts, curtains instead of bottom cabinet doors, a gas stove (I haven't cooked on gas since 1971!) and a screen door that goes out to the back porch. The porch stretches the entire back of the house and is one of my favorite features. I can imagine sitting out there, much like we used to sit on the balcony of the B & B. I don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at the lake. It's just beautiful. We went there on Sunday and the water just glistened from the autumn sunlight. There is a small dock for fishing or to tie up a boat, which we don't have. My son-in-law is in charge of getting a boat! My husband and I know nothing about boats. But then, I don't know a lot about country living, either, and I'm willing to learn. Maybe I'll turn into a small town girl yet. After all, Mineola does have at least one coffee shop that sells books, and I'll bet I can order up some good local gossip with my latte.

Parent-teacher conferences etc.

Today, Oct. 20, I am working from 6:55 AM to 7:30 PM. While I get off at 2:30 PM, I'm headed straight to parent-teacher conferences. I'll do the same thing Thursday.

I teach two sections of freshman English, so I expect to see at least 1/2 of those parents. There are two types of parents who usually attend conferences: the A student's parent who comes to say hi and hear how wonderful her child is, and the D & F student's parent who comes to find out what she can do to get Johnny back on track.

I love seeing both.

I have to admit, freshman year is hard. It's a transition from that sweet coddling of middle school to the harsh reality of high school--where every grade counts toward college admission. In middle school if you show effort you get a C. In high school, that's not the case. Write an F essay, get the F. In many subjects, there are no "redo's".

It sounds harsh, but then I think of how many times I've been rejected, or how many times any author is rejected, and we've given it our A effort. Kids oftentimes haven't learned what their A effort is. They're going to do the minimum of work they can get by with. That's why I make anyone who didn't get an A on an essay rewrite their paper. (I won't get into the point structure.)

More work for me to read them all again, sure, but at the same time, they have to learn. And writers learn by rewriting.

I'll keep you posted on how it goes.

Michele

My New Granddaughter

August and September were very trying months for my family. My newest granddaughter, Payton McKenzy, was born in the afternoon of August 10. She was four weeks premature. Late that night, it was discovered she had Transposition of the Great Vessel (TGV), a congenital heart defect. Two holes in the wall between the two chambers of her heart (Ventricular Septal Defect VSD) were keeping her alive.

Payton was airlifted via helicopter the next day from Wichita to Children’s Mercy Hospital in Kansas City. Because the staff wanted to her to grow a little, Payton’s surgery wasn’t done until September 8 and expected to go very well. But at some point during the operation, she had a reaction to something, but the surgery had to continue. The reaction produced edema, which caused acidosis, and her respiration and blood pressure dropped to dangerous levels, prompting the staff to call for the crash cart. My daughter called at 7:30 that evening, after the surgery was over, to tell me that Payton wasn’t expected to last an hour.

It was nearly 9 p.m., after finding places for my other four grandkids to stay, when we started the 3+ hour drive to Kansas City. We kept in touch on our cell phones, but there’d been little change. We made good time, in spite of driving through thunderstorms, and arrived at Children’s Mercy at 12:20 a.m. Around 4 a.m., my oldest daughter, her husband and 7-year-old daughter arrived, and the staff had started to see some slow improvement. By 10, Payton was considered out of immediate danger, and we were on our way home.

Payton came home September 28, with her heart working as it should, but she returned to CMH October 3, this time by plane, because she was having some feeding problems. Her second homecoming was October 10, and although it’s been an adjustment period for everyone, especially her, she’s doing well.

Thanks to the many friends and family for their prayers and thoughts. Even the staff at CMH calls Payton their little miracle. As a dear friend said, this is the kind of story books are made of. Maybe someday…

The Discovery Channel - The Surgery That Saves Little Lives

My favorite four-letter word...S-A-L-E

I know this is squeaking in just under the wire, but it’s still the 17th in my part of the world. (smile)

It’s a good thing I learned to touch type in high school, because my eyelids are drooping as I write this and I couldn’t see the keyboard if I tried. I’ve been on the go since eight this morning, on a mission more perilous than any man has ever known.

Yes, you guessed it--I hit the clearance racks at the local mall.

This involves an all-day marathon that would put most Ironman triathletes to shame.

First, my friend and I warmed up by making a dry run through a local department store, where the discounts were respectable but the crowd provided only a minor challenge. Disappointed but undaunted, we forged ahead.

To get ready for the real deals (no pun intended!), we fortified ourselves with a long lunch, hot gossip, and chocolate. Plenty of chocolate.

Finally, we arrived at the mall at the peak time to jump into an arena filled with avaricious shoppers, bored spouses, and cranky kids. Let me tell you, this is not the place for amateurs!

The oh-so-simple-sounding task of scouring the clearance racks requires the endurance of a long-distance runner, the strength of a champion weight lifter, the keen eye of a skeet-shooter, and better math skills than an Olympic judge.

There are people out there who would doubt the truth of this statement.

Then there are those of you who have been there, done that, and lived to shop another day.

The shopaholics among us are eager to celebrate your victory. And I know you just can't wait to share. After all, half the fun of finding a real bargain is being able to brag about it afterward! LOL So, please, tell us about the best deal you’ve ever found.


All my best to you,

Barbara

~~~~~~

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

National Boss's Day

According to Wikipedia…

Patricia Bays Haroski registered "National Boss's Day" with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce in 1958. She was working as a secretary for State Farm Insurance Company in Deerfield, Illinois at the time and chose October 16 because she forgot that the birthday of her boss, who was her father, was actually on the 16th. Four years later in 1962, Illinois Governor Otto Kerner backed Haroski's registration and officially proclaimed the day.

National Boss's Day has become an international celebration in recent years and now is observed in countries such as Australia and South Africa.

Hallmark did not offer a Boss's Day card for sale until 1979. It increased the size of its National Boss Day line by 90 percent in 2007 by creating collections of new and innovative cards.

Fun "Boss" Quotes from http://www.coolnsmart.com/boss_day_quotes/

"If you think your boss is stupid, remember: you wouldn’t have a job if he was any smarter."

"The person who knows HOW will always have a job. The person who knows WHY will always be his boss."

"Accomplishing the impossible means only that the boss will add it to your regular duties.
By working faithfully eight hours a day, you may eventually get to be a boss and work twelve hours a day."

"There is only one boss. The customer. And he can fire everybody in the company from the chairman on down, simply by spending his money somewhere else."

I'm raising a glass of cyber champagne to toast our wonderful "Boss's" at Harlequin American Romance--Many thanks for the time, care and commitment you put into making our books the very best they can be. Happy Boss's Day!

Marin

A Cowboy Christmas (Dec 09)

www.marinthomas.com

The Joy and Wonder of Childhood

As long as I can remember we’ve made an annual jaunt to Galveston Island. My parents took me every summer when I was a child, and we took our boys, and now our grandkids. It’s a family tradition. After this hectic summer, moving, selling two houses along with work and family – I desperately needed my feet in warm sand and salt water. So when we finally sold the second house, my husband and I decided to go see how Galveston was rebuilding after Hurricane Ike struck the Texas coast last year.

There are undoubtedly prettier beaches and fancier resorts, but Galveston Island has character. You can stroll along the Historic Strand with its old shops and horse drawn carriages. You can ride a Duck boat or visit Moody Gardens and the aquarium. We love to ride the ferry across to Bolivar peninsula and back. And no trip is complete without the mandatory souvenir expedition to Murdoch’s, the souvenir shop that extends out over the water.

Today the beach houses on Port Bolivar are almost all damaged or gone entirely. Murdoch’s is rebuilt, but not yet open for souvenir shoppers. But restaurants and hotels are booming and the volcano at The Rainforest Café erupts on schedule. It’s not quite there yet, but Galveston is bouncing back.

When I was a child and we neared the causeway over to the island, I’d be so excited I thought my heart would jump out of my chest. I’d sit on my feet in an effort to be taller so I could see the water a split second sooner. And at the first glimpse of the bay, I got absolutely giggly. My parents always drove the boulevard lined with old mansions to get to the gulf. I can’t explain how long that short drive seemed for a little girl who had her swimsuit on beneath her shorts, or that feeling when we finally turned onto Seawall Boulevard with the gulf rolling in and rows of colorful umbrellas on one side and hotels and restaurants on the other. Even when it was over 100, we’d crank the windows down so we could hear the surf and smell the salty air.

Maybe these days, I don’t experience that innocent joy and wonder of childhood, but there’s still that little thrill.

Does anyone else have special childhood memories to share? Those experiences that you just couldn’t wait for, like Christmas morning?

A Peek into my Doomed Life . . .

Why is it that the more behind you already are, the more things exponentially go wrong? (This pic is of our dog, Daisy. This morning, we look like twins--only I have more dried up spaghetti in my hair!! LOL!!)

I started off the day in great shape. Harvested my Tomatoes on Facebook's highly addictive Farmville game, took a nice, hot shower, and then sat down to call Johanna, my fab editor. The day before, I'd started my AAs(Author Alterations--the last author step in the editing process!!) only to find they'd vanished. Not yet in full panic--even though they're due Friday, I calmly wrote Johanna a message asking her to resend.

This morning, not seeing a note from her, made me look around my computer some more, thinking they might be lost. Sure enough, I found them in an obscure download file I hadn't even known I have. Great, so I'm back on track and don't even have to bother Johanna, right? Ha! I go to open the file, and nothing happens. Strike One.

Son #2 comes running in, demanding to use the computer. Since I'm thinking Johanna must be working out of her office, I dial Toronto, calling for the fab Miz Laura Barth. She knows how to fix anything!

Son #2 is now doing an impatient hop. "This is serious," he says. "I have to do something for school."

Oh--well in that case, I'm thinking, let me stop all action and get the heck out of YOUR chair!! I gave him my patented "If You Don't Leave This Second I'm Taking Your Car Keys" glare.

He scurried off to the scary, dark portions of the house otherwise known as the kids' rooms.

Oh--as for my BFF Laura Barth? I got voice mail. Strike Two.

If you've ever had the chance to call Harlequin's Toronto offices, the receptionists are AMAZING. Unflappable, speaking in ethereal voices that instantly let you know everything's under control. So after pressing zero to wind my way back to one of these angels, I ask for anyone in the office who might know anything about Harlequin American.

She says, "Hmm . . . I could connect you with Johanna Raisanen."

Nope, she's working at home.

"Laura Barth?"

Nope. Straight to voice mail.

"Kathleen Scheibling?"

Yahtzee!! She connects me to Kathleen's line and my new savior picked up on the second ring, knew just what to do and I had my AAs printing within a few minutes. Have I mentioned how awesome the Harlequin crew is??!! They rock!!

Okay, so I'm printing, printing, wondering if I have time to check on my coffee cakes at Yo-Ville--another highly addictive Facebook game when the printer stops. If any of you have ever seen Total Recall, there's a scene where the fans are shut off, leaving the Martian Mutants to a certain death. Well, this is kinda the same feeling I had at this point. Strike Three.

Turned out to be a simple jam. Whew. I'm printing, printing, looking at my friend Michelle's AWESOME U2 pics when the printer stops again--only this time in a happy way. "I'm done," it says. I'm thinking, wow, that was fast. But what did I expect seeing how it had only printed half of the book? Strike Four!

I troubleshoot. I unplug and replug. I stand on my head. I brush all of the cat hair off of the top. Still nothing. As a last resort, I pressed a link for HP's online help site. After sifting through dozens of irrelevant articles, I find the topic I need for when the printer doesn't print. Their suggestion? Turn it on and off, then see if it works. Duh. Feeling like an idiot, yes it did work, and my AAs are happily sitting beside me.

Moral to this insanely long story? I should've eaten chocolate before attempting anything!!! Have a great, strike-free Wednesday!!! Oh--and if you want to waste time with me, join me for cyber-chocolate over on Facebook!!

Embarrassing Moments

Embarrassing moments - I'm sure that most of you have been there and done that. Your face gets red, your hands are sweat and you'd really, really like to be somewhere else. Remember the Southwest Airlines' "Do you want to get away" commercials? Yep, that's what it's like. But there are different degrees of embarrassing moments - all the way from a "giggle with your sister/best friend/hubby" to "Ohmigod, just shoot me now." I came up with this topic because I recently had one of those "giggle" moments.

Last week I went to the mall to get my hair cut, and on the way in and out I had to walk through Nordstrom's (notice the words "had to"). And since I was already in Nordstrom's I decided to check out the shoes. For you folks who aren't familiar with the tony department store I'll set the stage. Think a smidge below Neimann's and Sak's but add a guy in a tux playing a grand piano. It's not exactly your run of the mill big box store. As for the clerks - let's just say they could go straight from work to high tea without going home to change.

The concierge summoned a sale's associate who insisted on measuring my foot. I've been wearing shoes for a long time, but hey, if that made her day I was fair game. She was having a hard time deciding on the number - was it an 8 or an 8 1/2 - so she turned over the shoe I'd taken off (supposedly looking for a number) and right there like a neon sign was a Marshall's tag with $29.99 written in 36 point font. I'm surprised they didn't give me the boot (pun intended) right there and then.

Here's an "Ohmigod" moment from my teen years. It was a Saturday afternoon and I was babysitting my bratty brother. I was bored out of my mind so I decided to do a spa day. My hair was rolled in orange juice cans (for you folks without curly hair that's a hair straightening technique). I had cotton balls between my toes and for the piece de resistance I had applied some goopy red face mask that cracked when it dried. Cute, huh? Everything was copasetic, that is until I heard my brother at the front door. Guess what? It wasn't my bro. In fact, standing at the door was a boy that I'd had a crush on forever. One look at me and he was in his car and outta there so fast he fishtailed down the road. Nope, he never asked me out. I wonder why?

And here's another family story that should give you the chuckles. To say my father-in-law was eccentric is an understatement of mammoth proportions. In retrospect this story is funny, but it wasn't at all amusing to my husband who was in junior high at the time - you know what it's like to be thirteen. The family car overheated so his dad pullled into the a gas station. They way my husband tells it, the attendant (and yeah, a long time ago there were people who actually pumped your gas) disappeared under the hood and then came around to the driver's side window and uttered these fateful words, "Hey man, did you know you have coffee perkin' out of that radiator?" Seems my pop-in-law heard that coffee grounds could be used to clean a radiator. Oh, boy!

So now that you know our secrets hop in and tell us your story. But keep in mind that someday you might see it in a book.

BTW - Top Gun Dad comes out this week.

Ann DeFee
Top Gun Dad, HAR, October 2009
Hill Country Hero, HAR, February 2010

The Ten-Minute Pick Up

The Ten-Minute Pick Up

There's nothing that starts out the day worse than to wake up to a house in disarray. It seems to put the whole day into catch-up mode. To solve this, try this time-saving small tip.

Each evening, before calling it a day, spend 10 minutes picking up and straightening the major rooms in the house. Don't make this a major clean-up time, and don't worry about the bedrooms---except maybe your own. Simply look over the areas for items out of place, straighten the cushions, put the day's newspaper where it belongs, and wake up the next morning to a tidy home and a smile on your face.

Anyone care to share their secret quick pick-up tip?

Roxann Delaney
http://roxanndelaney.com