Cats and Books etc.

I Decided to Answer the Questions in Jodi's Post After All

2012-01-30T10:18:00.000-05:00

You can have one of the following two things: trust or love.

Well, I'll take trust. I want to be trusted and I want to trust; if you have that, love will naturally follow.

Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

Not always; sometimes I'm lazy or cranky or tired and I kind of fail. You know, when you fail a friend, you also fail yourself. Now that's something to think about.

Where do you like to go to have fun?

Wherever the fun is! Fun is what you make of any activity, whether it's a solitary pursuit or a gathering with friends.

What is beauty?

Beauty is the light that shines from within.

Why is it called a "drive through" if you have to stop?

That's a good question.

Do you have any regrets in life?

Yes.

What is your favorite song and why?

I don't really have one favorite song. I like lots of different songs for lots of different reasons. For example, I love Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock and Roll." If I'm in the car alone when that one plays on my iPod, I turn up the volume to concert level. I also like "Amazing Grace," mostly for the story behind the writing of it: The author was in the slave trade, and he had an epiphany, realizing that slavery was wrong, and this song reflects that. Plus, it has a very moving melody.

If you were granted one wish what would it be?

World peace. If I only had one wish, I'd want to make it count.

If sour cream is past its expiration date is it good then?

If it doesn't have blue fuzzy stuff growing on it, it's OK to eat.

Why is your definition of true happiness different from anyone else's definition of true happiness?

Happiness is a personal thing. You have to find your own happiness; no one can give it to you.

What do you expect from 2012?

It's good not to have expectations; that way you're not disappointed when they don't pan out. I'd rather be open to whatever comes.

Rules?!?! I Don't Need No Stinkin' Rules!

2012-01-21T15:22:00.000-05:00

Actually that's not true. If we didn't have rules, we would have chaos.

Jodi (of Under The Georgia Sun fame), posted this on her blog a day or so back. It's an "about me" survey sort of thing, and the originator posted rules and Jodi edited them. Here's her version:

~~The Rules:~~
1. Post the rules.
2. Post 11 fun facts about yourself.
3. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post, ~~and then create 11 new questions for the people you tag.~~
4. ~~Tag 11 people and link them in your post.~~
5. ~~Let them know you've tagged them.~~

Facts about me (don't know how much fun these facts will be, but they'll be true facts (as opposed to untrue facts)):

1. While I am nominally a Christian, I think I'm really an agnostic, defined by Prof. Huxley as: "One who holds that the existence of anything beyond and behind material phenomena is unknown and (so far as can be judged) unknowable, and especially that a First Cause and an unseen world are subjects of which we know nothing." An agnostic is not the same as an atheist. I can look around me and have faith that there is a higher power (or Higher Power) of some sort; just look at any sunrise or sunset, or the stars at night, or especially the full moon. Have you ever seen anything so gorgeous? I don't know for a certainty that a Christian God created these things, and frankly, I prefer the mystery. I don't feel the need to "know" everything. That's why they call it Faith and not Knowledge. I heard an Episcopal priest once say in a sermon that doubt is good; it keeps you curious. Now I know there are some contradictions in this paragraph, but there you have it.

2. This will be my 127th post.

3. I am a child of the Southeast, but I have also lived in the Northwest. I went to library school in Seattle (go Huskies!) mainly because I was feeling adventurous. Seattle was where I attended my first major league baseball game (and the Mariner's won both of the ones I went to). It's also where I experienced a live hockey game. If I hadn't gone to UW, I probably would not have spent two months in England in the summer of 1987. That was an experience I'll never forget.

4. I met Richard because he, as a research scientist, came to the library to introduce himself to the librarian (that would be me) right after he started his work at the facility where I was. I've heard of people who don't think they need libraries and librarians, but they really do. (Notice I said "need" not "want.")

5. I love my in-laws. There are some I like better than others, but I love them all, because they are fellow human beings and I believe in the Golden Rule.

6. This one I brazenly stole from Jodi: There are days when I would be perfectly happy not saying a single word; and other days when I can't shut up.

7. I like baking. Unfortunately most baked items are also high-calorie goodies. I have to temper my urge or Richard and I and all our friends would be roly-poly.

8. I used to be a person who indulged in retail therapy, but after my depression and subsequent recovery, I find that I don't need a lot of the kind of stuff I used to buy. Although Richard may not believe it, I actually think twice before I make a purchase.

9. I love cats. And I love dogs. I don't mind little rodents, or even big bunnies. We once had a (former) laboratory white rat named Gus. Daddy brought it home from work. We thought Gus was a little boy rat... until she produced a litter of little ratlets. We changed her full name from Augustus to Augusta.

10. I have plans for my retirement. If there is a God, I hope He's not up in Heaven guffawing at my plans. I will mention what these plans are if they come to fruition.

11. Growing old ain't so bad. After so many years on Earth, you sort of get to know who you are, and you tend to not worry so much about what other people are thinking. I've seen a t-shirt with this message: "The older I get, the more people can kiss my ass." I'm not quite that drastic, but don't tell me how to behave. If others don't like me as I am, then perhaps that's their problem; I may work around that if I'm in a good mood. A benefit of aging is that you tend to feel kinder toward everybody, but you're less likely to take a lot of crap. Happy aging!

I think I'll pass on answering the questions. If you want to see what they are, go to Jodi's blog.

And just because I like you, here's a pretty picture I swiped from Google Images:

This is somewhere in Canada.

What a Relaxing Weekend!

2012-01-17T15:48:00.003-05:00

I did not want to get up this morning when the stupid alarm went off. But... I have to be at work at 7:30 am, so I dragged myself out of bed and did all my morning stuff; you know, the weigh-in, the shower, the breakfast, the tooth-brushing, etc. If the weigh-in doesn't get my heart started in the morning, the shower certainly does.

Before this morning at 0-dark-hundred, I, like most of America, had a lovely three-day weekend.

The loveliness started on Friday evening with Theresa and Kathy coming for dinner and Knit Night. Richard bought some outstanding rib-eyes, and cooked them on the charcoal grill.

To accompany these tasty steaks, we had broccoli with a lemon/crumb topping.

We also had sauteed corn.

For dessert we had cheesecake. Yum!

Before all that, though, we had some pomegranate martinis.

And then we got down to knitting.

We knitted until the effects of the martinis began to wear off and by then it was about bedtime anyway, so Theresa and Kathy departed, to be seen again at our next Knit Night.

On Saturday, Richard and I went out to dinner for our anniversary. We went to a seafood restaurant in Albany (west of here). I'm not going to describe the whole meal, but we had lobster egg rolls for an appetizer. They were quite good, as was the spicy dipping sauce that came with.

On this anniversary foray, we also went to the booze store and to a bookstore. Had success with booze, not so much with books.

On Sunday, I watched romantic comedies all afternoon and evening. The ones I watched in the afternoon were on the Hallmark channel, and the other one was The Holiday, with Kate Winslet, Jude Law, Cameron Diaz, and Jack Black. What a charming movie!

On Monday, I just puttered around the house and knitted.

All in all, my long weekend was very pleasant. I've noticed that when I do something social on Friday night, the whole weekend seems longer, and that held true this weekend as well.

So, this was a frivolous look at my life. I hope your weekend was just as enjoyable.

Christmas in Tennessee

2012-01-04T09:59:00.008-05:00

Richard and I spent Christmas in Tennessee with Richard's sister's (Beverly) husband's (Paul) mother (Ann). Clear? Oh, well, never mind; just call them nice folks.

It was a pretty quick trip. We went to Richard's mother's house on the 23rd and spent the night there, and then the three of us drove up to Tennessee on Christmas Eve. The traffic was not bad at all and we passed through some very attractive countryside. We left Tennessee on the 26th, and although we were expecting some heavy traffic on that day, it never materialized and we had another quite pleasant drive.

We spent most of Christmas Day at Ann's house (after a pretty danged satisfying breakfast at the Waffle House near our hotel). During the afternoon, Paul's brother Mark took us on a tour of the surrounding mountains. This was an area I had never visited before and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

First we drove up Tracy Mountain, ears popping all the way. Mark didn't waste any time getting up to the top of the mountain. Once up there, we visited Foster Falls, named for an ancestor of Ann's.

It is a lovely waterfall, and I could tell that Richard was just itching to go camping and hiking in the area.

After seeing the waterfall, we went to Suwanee Mountain (these mountains are in the Appalachian range), and to Suwanee, Tennessee, home of The University of the South, an Episcopal institute of higher learning. The campus is not huge (but then, neither is the school), and it's lovely. It was overcast that day and I'd love to see the area when the sun is shining.

This is the DuPont Library on campus, and the architecture is typical of the whole campus. Yes, it's named after The DuPonts. I wish I could have gone inside but it was Christmas Day.

We did get to go inside the All Saints Chapel. The word "chapel" is a bit misleading. This building is like a cathedral. And beautiful.

Mark's young son passed away several years ago from leukemia, and they held his funeral service at this Chapel, so it has more than a little family connection.

The acoustics in the Chapel are just amazing. You don't have to speak loudly to be heard from one end of the Chapel to the other.

This is the rose window you see on the front of the building. I imagine if the sun had been shining, it would have been a better picture, but I have a bare-bones, idiot-proof camera.

The stained-glass windows were impressive.

Here's another shot of some buildings on campus.

Our final campus tour stop was at this overlook into Pelham Valley. It seems to stretch forever. Too bad the mist was covering the area.

This is the dinner turkey after Richard finished slicing it up and before we all fell upon it and consumed it with the gusto of a hound dog. Dinner was good (I've never had a bad Christmas dinner). I made a Spiced Eggnog Pound Cake for dessert, and it was good as well. I tend to use my extended family as guinea pigs when it comes to baking. They take it well.

I hope everybody had a good Christmas and New Year's holiday. Except for this head cold (which mercifully waited to attack me until after Christmas), I've had a good one. My mother-in-law thinks that Richard and I should host Christmas in 2012. We'll have to cogitate on that.

That Time of Year

2011-12-15T11:58:00.000-05:00

Well, friends, it's almost Christmas. I want to wish everyone a safe and peaceful Christmas season this year. As usual, my greatest wish is for world peace.

I'm looking forward to spending the holiday with my in-laws' in-laws (how's that for an extended family?) in Tennessee. We'll be driving on Christmas Eve and the day after Christmas and I hope the traffic is not too heavy. We've chosen a route that does NOT take us through Atlanta, and I'm happy about that. I have nothing against Atlanta the city, just Atlanta's traffic. OMG!

Yesterday, Richard and I went Christmas shopping. Every year we take a day off from work in the middle of the week and go to the mall in Valdosta. We shop, have lunch, and shop some more. We also go across the road from the mall to one of my favorite places, a bookstore. Not only did we do our Christmas shopping yesterday, but we also managed to get the oil changed in my car, and bought groceries -- all by 5:00 pm. We usually do our grocery shopping on Wednesdays, but we generally don't get started until 6:00 pm (because we both have jobs); then we go to dinner; and then buy food for the week. By the time we get home, it's 8:00 pm. Yesterday, we were able to have a nice leisurely dinner at home and spend the evening relaxing. Oh, wait... we also prepared our Christmas cards and they'll be going out in the mail today. Yay! Then we relaxed. I got some knitting done, Richard got some reading in, and we also watched most of a Christmas movie.

I hope everyone has a pleasant holiday, and if you're of a faith that doesn't celebrate Christmas, I hope whatever winter observances you participate in are peaceful and joyful.

Take care, everybody! Have some eggnog.

...Wherein I Talk About the Day My Pants Caught Fire...

2011-11-28T07:00:00.002-05:00

I went to college and finally graduated after floundering around trying to decide on a major. When I did I settled into Fine Arts with an emphasis on theater.

This really is the main campus of my alma mater.

All of us theater majors formed a company, calling ourselves The College Players. Our first (and maybe only) production was Godspell, which was a popular play at the time. I was not an actor, but a stagehand-type, and we made me stage manager. I helped construct the set and kept everybody in line during rehearsals and the performances.

Our set consisted mainly of a gargantuan unadorned cyclorama and an iron fence. My friend Louie and I were in charge of making the cyclorama, sewn from yards and yards of 36-inch-wide burlap. We had a little portable Singer Featherweight sewing machine. I did the actual sewing while Louie supported the weight of the fabric as it moved through the machine. When we had all the strips of burlap sewn together, we added a 30-foot long strip of webbing across the top of the hanging (because that's how wide the dang thing was). Into that, we punched holes and hammered in grommets.

Louie and I had quite an assembly line going with the grommets: I punched the holes and he hammered the grommets. In fact we had it down to a science and were moving along merrily when all of a sudden the cyclorama would not move. We tugged a time or two, and then turned around to find our production manager's dog, Bear (big black Lab), happily lying on the burlap, his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth in sheer joy. We had to love on him for a minute before we removed him to another spot.

The cyclorama was hung to the rigging over the stage and stretched across the back of the stage and around the sides. The iron fence was placed in front of that.

And speaking of that fence, I helped construct it as well. We used heavy iron pipe cut and welded together to make the fence. My job was to hold the upright pieces of the pipe while someone who knew something about welding fused them together. I had on a welder's mask and everything.

Holding a piece of iron pipe in an upright position was not particularly exciting and my mind began to wander. I was just blithely daydreaming when I felt my ankle starting to get warm. I lifted my mask and looked down, and my pant leg was on fire. MY PANT LEG WAS ON FIRE!! I was momentarily rendered inarticulate, so I started beating the welder on the shoulder and when he looked up at me, all I could do was point to my pants. He turned off the torch and slapped at my ankle and put the fire out. Lucky for me I was not burned. I had to sit down after that, and boy did I get some ribbing from EVERYBODY! The legend probably continues. I kept the pants and eventually sewed patches from them (they were jeans) into a vest that I made.

So that's how my pants caught on fire. I hope you got half as much of a giggle out of that as we all did, back there in Charleston.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

2011-11-21T16:56:00.003-05:00

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

EVERYBODY!

I HOPE YOUR HOLIDAY IS A GOOD ONE AND THAT YOU HAVE PLENTY TO BE THANKFUL FOR;

I KNOW I DO!!

It is not a form of insanity...

2011-11-15T16:34:00.000-05:00

I want to tell you something revealing about me. There was a time in my life when I was clinically depressed. It was the worst time of my life. Everything was dark in my mind. I had feelings only of profound sadness, complete and utter worthlessness, and fear. I felt I didn't deserve to be alive and that the rest of the world would be better off without me. I did not, however, formulate any plans for doing away with myself. I suppose I wasn't completely dead inside. Somewhere deep down, my inner self was struggling for some light.

There are those who, first of all, just don't understand what depression does to a person. They think you should just get over it and cheer up. Like it's easy to do that. When you're in a deep abyss with no means of egress, there is no "up," cheering or otherwise.

I wasn't an idiot about it. I knew that it was a physical problem and that it was fixable. I just didn't know how long it would take. I went to my doctor and told her the situation. I didn't have to be diagnosed by her; I knew for a fact that I was depressed. She prescribed meds. I took them. The side effects were almost as bad as the depression. So I went back. She prescribed other meds. Same deal. So I went back. Then she referred me to a psychiatrist. He and I talked and he gave me an intelligence test. (Don't know what that was for, but I went along.) Then he left his office for a minute and came back with samples of some meds (one for depression and one for anxiety, depression's constant companion), handed them to me and said that anyone as intelligent as I could figure out how to take them. Well, it was written right there on the packaging.

Things got a little better. It took weeks, though, before I felt better. After a while I was not as afraid of the world outside our house. We started doing things. I went back to my night class. I drove by myself. But I could still feel the pressure of depression. I began to despair that I would never again be able to forget the sadness, worthlessness, and fear. I realized during all this that depression had been creeping up on me for most of my life before it hit full-force. I also found out that depression can run in families.

And then Richard found out that we were going to have to move. I was against it. I became disengaged from the process of preparing, packing up, and moving. But I did it anyway, though I felt like a zombie.

The worst of it happened years ago. After a while (and after we had moved), I thought I was over it and I weaned myself off the meds. I was okay with that for a while, but then it started to creep back into my life. I waited a little longer than I should, but I finally took some action. I got more counseling and more meds. I'm a little disappointed that I can't get rid of the depression and anxiety without the drugs, but after a while, I started having little nanoseconds of actual happiness.

They were few and far between, but these moments started coming more and more frequently and lasting longer than a nanosecond. I will be a slave to the meds for the rest of my life, but I remember and once again know happiness. I feel it. I'm strong. I can approach people I don't know at a party or meeting and start a conversation. I'm happy about my advancing age. I fought long and hard to get here. Now I want to live forever -- or at least as long as my long-lived grandparents.

Depression is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. The meds provide the balance. There is always hope.

The Most Recent Books I've Read

2011-10-14T10:40:00.000-04:00

Last weekend our HD cable box died. I mean dead as a doornail. Black screen. Nothing.

So I had to read.

I say that like it's a chore, but I enjoyed all four books I finished that weekend. I have a few others that I read before the weekend, so here they all are.

Fools Rush In, by Kristan Higgins. This one was definitely up to Kristan's standards. I loved it. Here's the blurb from Amazon: "Millie Barnes is this close to finally achieving her perfect life… Rewarding job as a local doctor on Cape Cod? Check. Cute cottage of her very own? Check. Adorable dog suitable for walks past attractive locals? Check! All she needs is for golden boy and former crush Joe Carpenter to notice her, and Millie will be set. But perfection isn't as easy as it looks—especially when Sam Nickerson, a local policeman, is so distracting. He is definitely not part of her master plan. But maybe it's time for Millie to start a new list…"

Jane (I'm-Still-Single) Jones, by Joan Reeves. Jane is a designer in New York City who goes to her ten-year high school reunion in small-town Louisiana. The last person she wants to see there is the geeky boy who broke her heart when they were in school, but now he's a very successful, very rich, very hunky guy. They immediately lock horns like neither wants anything to do with the other. Slowly we learn the back story of the two former sweethearts, and of course, as in all romances, one thing leads to another, and the truth comes out. It's an engaging book, although parts of the dialogue are a little hokey, but I enjoyed reading it and would recommend it to anyone who likes romances.

The Love Goddess' Cooking School, by Melissa Senate. "Holly Maguire's grandmother Camilla was the Love Goddess of Blue Crab Island, Maine--a Milanese fortune-teller who could predict the right man for you, and whose Italian cooking was rumored to save marriages. Holly has been waiting years for her unlikely fortune: her true love will like sa cordula, an unappetizing old-world delicacy. But Holly can't make a decent marinara sauce, let alone sa cordula. Maybe that's why the man she hopes to marry breaks her heart. So when Holly inherits Camilla's Cucinotta, she's determined to forget about fortunes and love and become an Italian cooking teacher worthy of her grandmother's legacy. But Holly's four students are seeking much more than how to make Camilla's chicken alla Milanese. Simon, a single father, hopes to cook his way back into his daughter's heart. Juliet, Holly's childhood friend, hides a painful secret. Tamara, a serial dater, can't find the love she longs for. And twelve-year-old Mia thinks learning to cook will stop her dad, Liam, from marrying his phony lasagna-queen girlfriend. As the class gathers each week, adding Camilla's essential ingredients of wishes and memories in every pot and pan, unexpected friendships and romances are formed--and tested. Especially when Holly falls hard for Liam . . . and learns a thing or two about finding her own recipe for happiness." This was a lovely book, and somewhat deeper than your basic romance. I think I'd call it a mainstream novel.

I got tired of reading romances, so I switched to a mystery:

Dick Francis's Gamble, by Felix Francis. This is the first Francis novel penned solely by Felix, and it's just as good as all the other Francis novels. "Nicholas 'Foxy' Foxton, a former jockey who suffered a career- ending injury, is out for a day at the Grand National races when his friend and coworker Herb Kovak is murdered, execution style, right in front of him-and 60,000 other potential witnesses. Foxton and Kovak were both independent financial advisers at Lyall & Black, a firm specializing in extreme-risk investments. As he struggles to come to terms with Kovak's seemingly inexplicable death, Foxton begins to question everything, from how well he knew his friend to how much he understands about his employer. Was Kovak's murder a case of mistaken identity...or something more sinister?" (Amazon) This description of the book doesn't really address the excitement and suspense in Gamble. It was a roller coaster ride throughout much of the book; an exhilarating read!

Welcome to Temptation, by Jennifer Crusie. "Prepare to be absolutely charmed by Jennifer Crusie's riotous tale of two slightly twisted sisters and a town chock full of hunks, coots, and petty politics in Welcome to Temptation. Sophie and Amy Dempsey are just two wedding filmers trying to hop to the next level of their careers when they agree to produce a documentary of aging film star Clea Whipple's return to her hometown of Temptation, Ohio. But things are never easy in rural Ohio, and what starts off as an esoteric art film project soon evolves into potential porn. Clea's husband Zane turns belly-up, the race for mayor turns dirty, and Sophie and Phin turn on the heat full steam.With clever characters and Crusie's trademark wit, Welcome to Temptation will keep your eyes glued to the page and your stomach aching with laughter." --Nancy R.E. O'Brien (Amazon review).

The Violets of March, by Sarah Jio. "In her twenties, Emily Wilson was on top of the world: she had a bestselling novel, a husband plucked from the pages of GQ, and a one-way ticket to happily ever after. Ten years later, the tide has turned on Emily's good fortune. So when her great-aunt Bee invites her to spend the month of March on Bainbridge Island in Washington State, Emily accepts, longing to be healed by the sea. Researching her next book, Emily discovers a red velvet diary, dated 1943, whose contents reveal startling connections to her own life." (Amazon). Oh, this was a lovely story! The "startling connections" get even more startling toward the end of the book, but it's all perfectly believable. This is one of the four that I read on the fateful dead-cable-box weekend. I was looking for something different from the run-of-the-mill romance and I found it in this novel. I highly recommend it.

Daniel's Gift, by Barbara Freethy. Daniel St. Claire is the 12-year-old son of a single mother, Jenny. He wants very desperately to know his real father, but Jenny keeps putting him off. Danny doesn't like Jenny's current boyfriend, a cop named Alan. He finds out from snooping in his mother's closet what his father's name is, and he also finds out that his father has recently come back to San Francisco. Luke Sheridan is a highly successful doctor in medical research who has followed his parents' expectations for him willingly throughout his life, and he thinks that he is happy and content. When Danny shows up on Luke's door on the night of an important party, Luke's wife shuts the door in his face and tells Luke that it was just a kid selling candy. On his way home on this foggy night, Danny is struck by a hit-and-run driver and seriously injured. When Jenny finds out what Danny has done and also finds the house empty, she goes on a frantic search and goes to Luke's house. It's during the party and the maid turns her away at the door. When Luke asks the maid about the visitor at the door, she tells him Jenny's name and he runs outside trying to catch her but she's already gone. Luke reads about the accident and starts going to all the hospitals in town looking for Danny and Jenny. When he and Jenny had parted thirteen years earlier, he was on his way to medical school and he gave her $500 and told her to get an abortion. The accident leaves Danny with a serious brain injury and in a coma, but his spirit travels out of his body, accompanied by his guardian angel, Jacob. (Freethy makes all this believable.) Danny tries to get his parents to at least talk to each other and most of the book is taken up with the ups and downs of the story. It's a very good novel, although in places it's a little more lightweight than I was expecting, but it was enjoyable. I recommend it. You'll love Danny. He's a good kid.

And I will continue reading. But, you know, it's October and I really should get back into my knitting. I know I can do both (not at the same time!). I just ordered some yarn to make a scarf and I need a quick project like that. I read the Yarn Harlot's blog and am amazed by how much knitting she does. I imagine her hands are a blur while she's knitting.

Well, happy reading everybody. And go knit something soft and cuddly.

Random Thursday/Friday in October

2011-10-06T17:02:00.000-04:00

Anybody besides me getting tired of the Republicans' war on women?

I work in an academic library. This semester, there has been a noticeable turnaround in the attitude of the student population. They are more focused, more polite, and visit the library in greater numbers. I hope this is because of a change in admission requirements and not just a fluke.

My boss retired. The rest of us are sort of flopping around like fish out of water, trying to hold things together with a skeleton staff. We've had a meeting with the administration and things should start happening in the not too distant future. Keep your fingers crossed that everything goes well.

I know it's a little early to be talking about this, but Richard and I will be hosting the family at Thanksgiving this year. Just like the dinner we had with them in March (or was it April?), we are looking forward to it. Since my father-in-law passed away, there will only be seven places at the table rather than eight, and he will be missed. I hope everybody has a good time anyway. I know the food will be good (main course, deep-fried turkey).

Even though I am a PC user, I was sad to hear of Steve Jobs's passing. It made me want to go out and buy an iPad 2 in his honor. What a genius! I do have an iPod, so I'm not completely anti-Apple. And I'm seriously contemplating that iPad 2.

My friend Julie is having a beer-tasting this weekend. I don't drink beer, so she's going to make me a Cosmopolitan or two (or ten). Seriously, though, I'll probably stop at two, as I will be my own designated driver that evening.

I got a little tired of taking Amazon's recommendations for books to download to my Kindle. I started reading about five of them and got bored with every one. So I am now reading a hardback copy of Dick Francis's Gamble, written by Felix Francis, his first on-his-own mystery since his father died. I guess I wanted some variety. I have a feeling that if I finish reading several of those Kindle books, I will be glad of it. Maybe I was just missing mysteries. I've put a few mysteries on my Christmas wish list.

Speaking of Christmas, Richard and I blithely go through most of the year spending our separate disposable incomes on things of our own choosing, but as of October 1, there is a moratorium on both of us buying ourselves anything until after Christmas. You never know what your spouse is going to come up with for Christmas gifts, hence the moratorium. However, I told Richard he could spend money on camping gear ("Why, Mr. Richard, you know I don't know nothin' 'bout no campin' stuff!") and I can buy clothes. Anyway...

The diet is going along nicely. I can no longer stuff myself at mealtimes. I would probably be in physical pain if I did. And it was not even hard to decrease my food cravings. I guess because I'm eating a more balanced diet and eating more low-calories things that fill me up and keep me satisfied longer. Yay Duke Diet!

The weather around here finally dropped out of the high 90s. We've even put a blanket on our bed! A couple of mornings it was down in the low 40s when I got up at oh-dark-hundred. We just had more insulation added in our attic, and the other day Richard said he wished it would get really cold so we could find out if our house stays warmer.

Okay, is that random enough for you? I guess I was just feeling talky. Take care. Read a mystery.

Jazzed and Motivated

2011-09-13T15:30:00.000-04:00

I've done something I swore not too long ago that I would never do again: I went on a diet.

Throughout my life I've been on and off diets so many times I lost count. As everybody already knows and as I finally realized, they don't work. Especially ones that use gimmicks.

I don't remember just how I came across it while I was surfing the 'net one day back in June, but I got on the Duke University Medical Center Diet and Fitness Center website. I read up on their approach and became a believer. I signed on at dukediet.com and started a journey.

This is a journey that you can stay on forever. I haven't really changed my lifestyle, but I have adapted (fairly easily I'd say) to tracking my weight every day and also logging my calorie intake every day. Believe it or not I look forward to getting up in the morning (at 6:10, mind you) and weighing myself. (My friend Theresa pointed out that that's kind of sick and I agree.) I know that programs like Weight Watchers and the WebMD site advocate weighing in weekly, but daily works for me.

Counting calories is the way to go. With Duke's online food log, it's so easy. You can look up nutrition information for many foods on Duke's website (and if you can't find it there, look at nutritional labels on food packaging, or the WebMD site's "Food-O-Meter"). Duke's online weight tracker draws you a graph and lets you see your progress.

One positive thing about this new (to me) way of eating is that I'm never really hungry. I consume between 1200 and 1400 calories a day. Sometimes I go over, but I've found that doing so occasionally reminds your metabolism that it has a job to do. I've started eating healthier food, like more fruits and veggies, fewer white starches. I'm allowed up to two snacks a day, but I sometimes don't have both of them. I started out by measuring my vegetables and now I'm pretty confident that I can eyeball a half cup of food. Duke has helpful articles and charts you can use as aids.

I had resigned myself to accepting my body as it was, but I have high blood pressure, sleep apnea, acid reflux, and arthritis, all of which are exacerbated by weight. I realized back in June that it was time. I guess I could not start a diet until I had reached that realization. My previous doctor had nagged me about losing weight and I resisted mightily. Well, she retired, so I had to find another doctor. He never said a word about my weight, except an occasional comment if I happened by sheer chance to lose a pound or two. He is now thoroughly impressed. (I'm rather impressed by the whole thing, myself.)

Wanna know how much is gone? Well, I have hit my first 15-pound goal and have started on the second one. I'm taking it 15 pounds at a stretch, because that is doable for me. To say, "Okay, I'm going to lose 30 pounds," is a bit overwhelming, but 15 at a time is manageable. I'll quit with the increments when I get to a point that I don't need to lose any more. Stepping on the scale and seeing another pound gone is very motivating. And now I'm sleeping better, the joints in my lower limbs haven't hurt in months, I haven't had heartburn in a long while, and I'll check with my doctor about the blood pressure thing when I go back the next time.

I am excessively proud of myself. I needed this.

Take care, everybody, and eat healthy.

Things I'll Probably Never Do

2011-09-06T10:44:00.000-04:00

1. Enter a competitive-eating contest. Eating that much food in such a short period of time just can't be good for you. They hardly even chew! And it looks kind of gross anyway.

2. Run in a marathon. Let's get real here. I'm an old fart who's been essentially sedentary most of my adult life. The farthest I've ever run is a half mile. I have actually done active things, like playing tennis, horseback riding, hiking, building sets for plays; you know, fun stuff. I've also had accidents and if I didn't know me better, I'd think I was clumsy, but I'm really not. But now it's the old part that holds me back. I know that active people older than me have trained and done it, but for me it's so far outside the realm of probability it's not even on the chart any more.

3. Take up boxing. Boxing involves hitting people and I almost never want to hit anyone.

4. Win the lottery. The odds against winning are astronomical, and no matter how many tickets you buy, the odds never get more favorable.

5. Climb Mt. Everest. Well, first of all, it involves climbing; then there's the freezing coldness, the wind, the fact that you have to camp in that cold, the gazillion layers of clothing you have to wear, the freezing cold, the stuff you have to carry, the cost, the freezing cold, etc.

6. Sing in public. I can't sing (although a friend of mine, a musician, once told me that anybody could sing; he apparently never heard me). When I do break into song, the cats look at me as if I've gone round the bend and they look frightened. I sing flat, off key, and I have no breath control. It's a kindness on my part that I do not sing when other humans can hear me.

7. Walk a tightrope or swing on a trapeze. I don't have a death wish.

8. Give my cat a bath. See #7.

9. Drive in a NASCAR race. Aside from the occasional crash and burn, driving around in a circle could get boring. I don't know how they do it. It also involves a car with no functioning doors, fireproof suits, crash helmets, amazing speed, heat, noise, driving too close for comfort, and other dangerous stuff. I'm a chicken.

10. Own a restaurant. I like to cook, sometimes (mostly I like to bake), but I don't have a passion for it. I also don't have a passion for owning my own business. The accounting part would kill me. And then there's the fact that I have retirement in the cross-hairs. I've been in the work force since 1967 and I'm ready to quit.

11. Wrestle an alligator. Alligators have teeth, and extremely strong jaws, and they live in swamps, and they're just downright scary. I saw some testy alligators at the National Zoo in Washington, DC. They were snapping and growling at each other. Maybe they hadn't been fed yet.

12. Sky dive. The idea of jumping out of an airplane, on purpose, into thin air just gives me the willies. I'm okay with the flying part, especially in small planes, but I want to stay in the plane until after a nice safe landing.

Okay, that's enough. I tried to stay away from things that might be misconstrued as tempting fate. I try never to take things for granted because I know circumstances can change without warning.

Take care and have a good day.

Random Whatever

2011-08-23T09:17:00.013-04:00

"The worth of a book is to be measured by what you can carry away from it." ~James Bryce

I have a friend who asks me, every time I see him, "What are you reading now?" Lately I've been reading romances, and when I tell him that, he gets this sort of indulgent look on his face. He is, by his own admission, a bit of a literary snob. I do have my standards, you know. If a romance is not well-written, I believe it's not worth reading. And I tell him that. I like a good story with quality writing, and it doesn't hurt if it has some romance and/or humor and/or mystery. I've read literary novels; some I've enjoyed and some I haven't. I don't care how facile a writer's use of the English language is, if it ain't a good read, why bother? Some Pulitzer Prize winners are just plain boring (which makes me wonder about the people who read them), and if a book is boring, I won't finish it. I used to finish every book I started, prided myself on it in fact, then I finally realized that life is too short to read bad writing. That's my opinion, and I'm sticking to it. Apparently, I'm not the only one. Read this blog post that I ran across just this morning: "How I Stopped Being a (Literary) Snob." The blogger didn't get into the quality of writing, but he acknowledged that your mass market paperback is just as worthwhile as anything else.

A couple of weeks ago, we were told about an event that was supposed to have a bunch of bluegrass pickers playing, so we arranged to go. When we got there, they were playing a rousing tune, an instrumental. As the evening went on, however, we discovered that the music was all bluegrass gospel. Now I have nothing against gospel music, and I love the older, gospel quartet, foot-tapping stuff I used to hear back in the '60s. But they weren't playing any of the good stuff I remember. Most of it was new stuff that I had never heard before, and frankly, it just wasn't that good. Just because it's religious doesn't mean it's good music. Well, it is good in that the words are usually heartfelt, but it doesn't seem to be good poetry, if you know what I mean. We stayed for a little over two hours. The pickers were quite talented, but there was only one good singer and he sang right after we sat down, but I was hoping for some good Appalachian mountain music. Oh well. Sometimes things work out and sometimes they don't.

Wow! I'm just full of complaints, aren't I? I'll try to be more positive.

I'm positive I had a good time at the party we went to on Saturday. Aside from the food (including some super-yummy banana pudding), the highlight of the evening was the game of Tifton Jeopardy! Our friend Bret likes to do this at parties and it's lots of fun. He prepares all the questions, makes up a game board with Post-Its, gathers up some prizes, and directs people to organize themselves into teams (Jeopardy! by committee). Our team came in second. Of course teams change with every party. We were supposed to have Redneck Jeopardy! at another recent party, but for various reasons, that didn't happen. Julie and I were all set to be on the same team because we each come from a long line of rednecks and thought we could do well. Maybe Bret will do that one another night.

"Anyone who says they have only one life to live must not know how to read a book." ~Author Unknown

I have been reading (so what else is new?). The latest reads are:

A Redbird Christmas by Fannie Flagg. Charming, engaging, lovely. Beautiful story.
All I Ever Wanted by Kristan Higgins. Also charming, engaging, and lovely.
Par for the Course by Jenna Bayley-Burke. Fair to middling. Lots of melodrama.
Charlie All Night by Jennifer Crusie. Funny, romantic, good read.
Catch of the Day by Kristan Higgins. This woman is such a good writer and storyteller. She deserves to be on the best-seller lists.
Maid for Love by Marie Force. Not bad. I'll read more. Parts seemed a little far-fetched, but it's fiction.
Savannah Blues by Mary Kay Andrews. Mary Kay never disappoints. Mystery, romance, humor. Great!
My One and Only by Kristan Higgins. Do y'all get the idea I like Kristan Higgins? Another wonderful read.

This coming Monday, August 29th, is the birthday of Henry Bergh, born in 1813. He is the founder of the ASPCA. I would encourage everyone to contribute to this wonderful organization. Also adopt a homeless pet. They need loving, forever homes.

Happy August! And take care. Hugs to your pets.

Happy Birthday to ME

2011-08-01T14:59:00.000-04:00

It's my birthday. I turned !@#$%^&*+ years old at 1:15 this pm. A bunch of my Facebook friends and family have already wished me happy birthday. Richard and I went to a party on Friday that had absolutely nothing to do with my birthday. About 9:30 pm, the party ordered pizza. Our hostess had provided nice and tasty hors d'oeuvres (or however you spell it; I can never get it right except by accident).

On Saturday night, we had a small dinner party. I meant to take pictures and forgot. (That should tell you how old !@#$%^&*+ is.) We had, as an appetizer (see? I'm not going to try my spelling again), spanakopitas, or as our wedding guest (so many years ago) called them, collard tarts. Of course, they don't have collards in them! What were you thinking? Richard used the traditional spinach and feta.

For our main meal we had crab cakes with remoulade sauce, shrimp and tortellini, broccoli salad, and rustic bread. For dessert, I made a zucchini cake and cream cheese icing. The cake broke (alas!) as I was removing it from the pan (I hate that particular pan), so we served the frosting on the side: a very rustic slice of cake with a dollop of cream cheese goodness.

It was a fun dinner party. We sat around the table until about 11:00 pm with never a lull in the conversation. My kind of party. When everybody left, Richard washed up and I put away the food and dried the flatware (hate water spots!), and then we collapsed into bed.

On Sunday, I curled up with my Kindle for a while (until the battery was low and I had to recharge).

I also watched a Braves game (and took a nap during). They lost. But they did win the first two games of the series with the Marlins.

Tonight I get to find out what Richard got me for my birthday. I always like what he gets me, so I have no worries. We usually have pasta for dinner on Mondays, but I'm going to insist on something a little more exciting. After all, it IS my BIRTHDAY, for heaven's sake!!!

Happy birthday to Me.....

Counting My Blessings

2011-07-20T12:46:00.003-04:00

I was thinking last night that I actually have blessings to count. Everybody does, even those who are eternal pessimists. So I thought I'd list a few here.

1. I have an education. I was fortunate enough to have parents who believed in education, despite the fact that neither finished high school. Or maybe it was because they didn't finish high school that they believed that education was a necessity. My father never made it past eighth grade but he made a deal with both my sister and me: Go to college and graduate and he would foot the bill entirely; fail to graduate and we'd have to pay him back every penny. We both graduated, I from the College of Charleston and Carla from Clemson. Neither of us finished in the usual four years. Carla had to go part-time as she was a young newly-wed and mother (her daughter once asked her, "How come you get to go to school when you're just a mommy?"). I, on the other hand, took six years to graduate because I changed my major twice and (gulp!) flunked out once. I had to lay out a semester to get my ~~shit~~ feces together. I finally settled on fine arts as a major and my GPA shot up. When I graduated, my mother gave me a card that said, "Graduating already?" She did have a sense of humor. My parents also helped me out when I went to graduate school, although I didn't ask them to pay for it, and now I also have a master's degree.

2. My sister. We haven't always gotten along. She's older than I am and she used to have a mean streak a mile wide. When we were kids, she would pinch me and beat on me and just generally be disagreeable. Then when I was 12 I had had enough. She slapped me and I hauled off and hit her back. Then I sat down and cried. She never touched me again after that, at least not in a mean way. Maybe she was just trying to toughen me up, I don't know (never thought to ask). Now that we're a tiny way past middle age, we get along fine. She's one of my favorite people. We don't see each other very often but every few months one of us will call the other and we'll talk for an hour or more. The last time I saw her we went out to dinner and she apologized for having been so mean. When she was about fifteen, a neighbor who was my age but bigger than Carla, dared to touch her breast and she bloodied his nose. His mother stormed over to our house and demanded that my father punish Carla, and Daddy told her just where she could go and why. Carla was feisty. Now she's mellowed and quite philosophical, just my kind of person. She's also very good-hearted and I love her.

3. The family I married into. I couldn't ask for better in-laws. At my father-in-law's funeral recently, Richard's sister's husband and I agreed that we had the best father-in-law ever, and we did. My sister-in-law (Beverly) is another of my favorite people, as is Paul, her husband, and Katie and Alex, their daughters. And I love my mother -in-law. Not everybody can say that.

4. I have a job. In the current economic situation, this is truly a blessing. Although I am looking forward to retirement, I'm glad I have a job. They don't pay me diddly-squat, but I have a job.

5. Sunrises and sunsets. So far in my life they have come around like clockwork, beginning and ending each day, and I'm grateful for every one of them. I would love to live somewhere that regularly has beautiful sunrises and sunsets and to live in a house that has views to both the east and west. I love seeing them over water, especially at the beach.

6. I live in a democracy. Our democracy is struggling right now, what with all the partisan politics (we need statesmen, not career politicians), but I wouldn't live anywhere else. Well, maybe Canada except that I would freeze to death the first winter. I imagine the founding fathers are all spinning in their graves at this time. But the good old U.S. of A. is home.

7. I live in the American South. It's warm down here. The winters are not harsh. We have good people. We have good food. I once had a t-shirt bearing a description of the South. I don't remember the exact wording, but it mentioned magnolias, peaches, front porches, cool breezes, and fried chicken. The South is like anywhere else in the country, except that we all talk funny. Some people not of the South think we're all racists down here, but we're still no different than the rest of the country. (Racism is ugly, no matter where it is, from D.C. all the way to the tiniest rural hamlet in northern Minnesota.)

8. Indoor plumbing. When I was under the age of six, we lived in a house out in the country with four rooms and a path. The path led down toward the woods to an outhouse. It was a two holer. We had electricity, but not running water. I don't know how my parents managed, but they did. We had a well out by the back porch (the kind with a pulley and a bucket). I remember one summer when my aunt and her kids were staying with us that Mama and my aunt would fill up two #2 galvanized washtubs with water and take turns bathing us kids; one washed and one rinsed. Thank God for indoor toilets and showers!

9. Cats and dogs. Animals add so much to our lives. You love an animal, it loves you back. They know. People with animals around them have lower blood pressure. And the little critters have such personality!

10. Good food. I love to eat. I love to go out to dinner. And I love to cruise recipe websites. I love parties, family gatherings, pizza, creme brulee, corn, bread, cheesecake, pie, carrots, etc. I could go on. I just wish that plant breeders would breed for flavor and not shelf life. There's nothing like a good tomato sandwich in the summer. Or peach pie. Yummmm!

Take care, y'all. Tell me about your blessings.

A Book Review... of Sorts

2011-07-18T08:50:00.005-04:00

The Bitch-Proof Suit by De-ann Black. "The Bitch-Proof Suit is a sparkling and exciting novel, brimming with romance, humor, friendship, rivalry, Irish cocktails and scandalous behavior. When Blue (Bluebell) Byrne is up against the odds in the world of New York fashion marketing, she needs the ultimate in accessories - a bitch-proof suit. Her marketing experience has helped her create the perfect suit. She had it made by bespoke tailors, cut with twice the precision at half the price. No labels, no trends, just sheer cutting edge class. The story starts in Manhattan. Blue is about to put her suit to the ultimate test when she vies against a boardroom full of conniving business rivals to win the top job assignment - to work in the company's office in Dublin, Ireland, and settle a few scores at the same time. The suit, her negotiating skills, and gutsy determination help Blue win the job. Within hours she sets off for Dublin. It's the one place she swore she'd never go back to. Six years ago she'd left that city behind, along with Morgan Daire, the man who broke her heart, sure she'd never return. It had almost destroyed her once, but hell...she loves a challenge! She'll be working with the unspeakably glamorous and influential Verde Valmont, and Verde's Irish assistant, Emer. Blue will also be facing up to the formidable Dubliner, Morgan Daire, the man whose past is inexorably linked with hers. Then there's her friend, Dublin designer, Murphy, an incorrigible rogue whose flirting causes jealousy and all sorts of trouble. She also encounters the sexy and handsome Sears Pearson, a New York coolhunter. The Bitch-Proof Suit did actually exist. The author, De-ann Black, designed and wore it several years ago when living and working in Dublin, and it served its purpose brilliantly." I lifted this "product description" straight from Amazon. The book was a 99-cent Kindle download and it was quite readable, well-written, and with a good story to it. I enjoyed it very much. Murphy was a hoot.

Spun by Sorcery by Barbara Bretton. "While Chloe Hobbs, a half-human sorceress-in-training who owns the popular yarn shop, Sticks and Strings, and the love of her life, the all-too-human chief of police, Luke MacKenzie, are off fighting the forces of evil to protect his daughter’s soul, the unthinkable happens. The town of Sugar Maple, Vermont, disappears—animals, people, buildings, roads: everything. Not only do Chloe and Luke have to figure out how this could be. They also have to engage in another battle to the death with supernatural forces. And they have to face all of this when they haven’t even begun to recover from the previous clash. The third book, following Casting Spells (2008) and Laced with Magic (2009), in Bretton’s decidedly dark saga of Sugar Maple, a place where vampires, trolls, shapeshifters, and werewolves live in peace, is an exciting conclusion to her very clever trilogy. Readers will be on the edge of their seats as Chloe and Luke risk everything to protect the little town they love." --Shelley Mosley (Booklist review). I am a little disappointed that this is the final book in a trilogy. I'm hoping that Bretton will have a change of heart and write more sequels. I have thoroughly enjoyed reading these books. I know Barbara Bretton writes other novels, so I'll just have to enjoy some of them, too. Well, I just checked Amazon and a new Sugar Maple/Chloe Hobbs book will be coming out in December. YAY!!

Strange Bedpersons by Jennifer Crusie. Crusie is one of my new favorite authors. She writes so well and tells such a good story that you can't help but like the books. She writes such good, snappy dialogue. In this novel, "Tess Newhart knows her ex-boyfriend Nick Jamieson isn't the right guy for her. He's caviar and champagne; she's take-out Chinese pot stickers. He's an uptight Republican lawyer; she was raised in a commune and thinks Cinderella is politically incorrect. He wants to get ahead in business; she just wants …him—only not the social-climbing Nick, but the sweet, caring, unbuttoned-down Nick. And Nick wants her, too, but there's no way Tess is about to play second fiddle to his obsession to make partner. Yet somehow she finds herself agreeing to play his fiancee for a weekend business trip that could make or break Nick's career. And while he's wrapped up in convincing Tess that he needs her in his respectable world, Tess is doing her best to keep her left-wing opinions to herself and her hands off Nick." This one was up to Crusie's best standards. The scene in the restaurant near the end is just priceless -- laugh out loud funny.

Summer Rental by Mary Kay Andrews.

"Sometimes, when you need a change in your life, the tide just happens to pull you in the right direction…. Ellis, Julia, and Dorie. Best friends since Catholic grade school, they now find themselves, in their mid-thirties, at the crossroads of life and love. Ellis, recently fired from a job she gave everything to, is rudderless and now beginning to question the choices she's made over the past decade of her life. Julia—whose caustic wit covers up her wounds--has a man who loves her and is offering her the world, but she can't hide from how deeply insecure she feels about her looks, her brains, her life. And Dorie has just been shockingly betrayed by the man she loved and trusted the most in the world…though this is just the tip of the iceberg of her problems and secrets. A month in North Carolina's Outer Banks is just what they each of them needs. Ty Bazemore is their landlord, though he's hanging on to the rambling old beach house by a thin thread. After an inauspicious first meeting with Ellis, the two find themselves disturbingly attracted to one another, even as Ty is about to lose everything he's ever cared about. Maryn Shackleford is a stranger, and a woman on the run. Maryn needs just a few things in life: no questions, a good hiding place, and a new identity. Ellis, Julia, and Dorie can provide what Maryn wants; can they also provide what she needs?
Five people questioning everything they ever thought they knew about life. Five people on a journey that will uncover their secrets and point them on the path to forgiveness. Five people who each need a sea change, and one month in a summer rental that might just give it to them." If I didn't wait so long to do my book reviews, I could write them better myself, but when you read one book right after another, things get a little blurry around the edges. Andrews is a very good writer (I know I say that about every writer I read). When I listed all the books I read last year, she left a comment on my blog thanking me for including her in my reading list. That's a nice and rewarding thing to happen.

This Matter of Marriage by Debbie Macomber. Giving herself a year to meet Mr. Right, thirty-year-old Hallie shudders over her disastrous dates and sets her sights on handsome neighbor Steve Marris, who is trying to win back his ex-wife. Steve finally wises up to something that his children already know: that Hallie is the perfect woman for him. The kids are a little sad that their parents won't be getting back together, but they love Hallie. She and Steve become very good friends, but his habit of running off to his ex-wife any time she whimpers kinds of gets under Hallie's skin. She moves to another location, but they can't stop thinking of each other. Steve finally sees the ex as the needy manipulator that she is.

One Was a Soldier by Julia Spencer-Fleming. "Adjusting to civilian life after a tour in Iraq proves difficult for Rev. Clare Fergusson in Spencer-Fleming's resonant and timely seventh mystery featuring Clare and her not-so-secret lover, police chief Russ Van Alstyne (after 2008's I Shall Not Want). On returning to Millers Kill, N.Y., Clare jumps right back into her duties as priest of St. Alban's Episcopalian Church. But her 18 months flying helicopters in Iraq aren't entirely in the past: she's drinking more and relying on a mix of leftover pills from her Army medical kit. Along with several other returning service members, Clare joins a community support group for veterans. When a member of the group, Tally McNab, apparently shoots herself in the mouth and falls dead into her swimming pool, Clare spearheads an investigation, hounding Russ to consider homicide. Clare and Russ's relationship deepens, while the focus on the struggles of veterans supplies another strong emotional thread." (Publishers Weekly). Spencer-Fleming waited quite a while to get this book out, but I think it must have been harder to write than the previous novels in the series. It was worth the wait. Now I wonder how long I have to wait until the next one.

Hannah's List by Debbie Macomber. This is a sweet novel. Michael's wife Hannah dies of cancer. Michael knew that she was his soul mate and he is devastated. On the anniversary of Hannah's death, Michael's brother-in-law gives him a letter from Hannah. In it, she requests that he get married again and suggests three friends of hers as possibilities. Michael can't imagine loving anyone other than Hannah, so he only halfheartedly approaches these women in turn. His dates with the first two women are lukewarm at best, but when he meets Macy, he detests her immediately. She is so different from Hannah. Hannah was very organized and efficient in everything she did, but Macy seems to be incredibly ditzy. You can probably imagine where the story goes from here. The more he sees of Macy, the more she drives him crazy with her flower-child demeanor but, of course, he begins to realize that she is really the woman for him.

Finding Positano by William James. "Three years ago Jack Campbell separated from his wife. His daughter, Maggie, wrote him a letter expressing her anger and disappointment. She was 27 then, a finance professional, and maybe should have known better than to take sides in such a private matter, maybe not. Either way, they hadn’t spoken since, and her letter lay there beneath their relationship. Now, three years later, with the stress of work and difficulties in her personal relationships, Maggie Campbell goes in search of her father, a search that takes her to Positano on the romantic Italian Amalfi Coast, a picturesque town where anything can happen. What she finds in Positano might just change her life if she doesn’t leave it all behind to return to the comfortable safety of the life she already knows, fearful of the changes that can come from chance decisions. Finding Positano is a charming story of love, reconciliation and possibility." I thought James did a good job writing from a woman's point of view. If his descriptions of Positano are true-to-life, I want to go there. It sounds like a wonderful place. There wasn't a great deal of conflict in this story, and you know conflict is plot, but I still enjoyed reading the book. It was pleasant and refreshing.

Just One of the Guys by Kristan Higgins. This is the first Higgins novel that I read and, for me, it ranks right up there with Jennifer Crusie's novels for sheer writing quality. I will read more. Chastity O'Neill, the only girl in her family, has four older brothers, all either firefighters or other emergency workers. She's always been just one of the guys, but at 31 she's getting tired of it. She wants to fall in love and have a family of her own, but in her small hometown in upstate New York, nobody thinks of her as anything but one of the guys. Most of her life she's been in love with Trevor, honorary family member, friend of her brothers, another firefighter, but he treats her like a sister. She meets a handsome surgeon and they develop a relationship, but he's not Trevor. Does she find true love or will she remain one of the guys? There are plot twists aplenty in this novel and if you like romance, I'd highly recommend this book.

French Fried; One Man's Move to France with his Wife, Too Many Animals, and an Identity Thief by Chris Dolley. Chris and Shelagh sell their small farm in England and move with their animals to the south of France. Chris Dolley writes with great good humor using that dry English wit to describe the most absurd events in their colorful life. To most of us, these events would be terribly disheartening, but Dolley doesn't wallow in self-pity. He takes the situation and deals with it, showing us all the way to do it. France seems to have lots of rules and regulations for foreigners moving there and the Dolleys run into miles of French red tape while trying to do the simplest things, like buying a car. It's rather hilarious. Most of the book is taken up with the fight to nail their identity thief. It gets very complicated as they try to solve the mystery, but they do it, all still with Dolley's characteristic humor. Unfortunately, I got a little tired of the quest for the identity thief, and thought he spent too much of the book on it, but it was well-written and otherwise I enjoyed it.

Bet Me by Jennifer Crusie. "Thirty-three-year-old Minerva Dobbs is annoyed when her current boyfriend dumps her three weeks before her sisters' wedding. But she's downright furious a few moments later when she overhears her now "ex" boyfriend bet hunky Calvin Morrisey that he can't take her home and bed her. In fact, she's so angry at them both that she lets Cal take her to dinner and decides to string him along until after her sisters' wedding. Minerva pegs Cal as a handsome "used car salesman of seducers." Cal thinks Minerva is a "cranky, starving, risk-averse statistician." But Minerva's hormones keep whispering "this one," although she knows the gorgeous Cal isn't the man for her practical, white-cotton-bra, several-pounds-over-thin, self. And Cal is blindsided by the lust he feels for the voluptuous, sensual woman he glimpses behind Min's actuary exterior. While Cal and Min struggle to deal with their mutual distrust and attraction, their friends and families try their best to interfere and direct the progression of the unlikely romantic connection." Such a fun read! One of the sub-plots in this novel is that of Min's ex getting together with Cal's ex to try to win them back. Cal's ex is a psychologist who thinks she has the stages of love down to a science and feels certain that Cal and Min will get over their "infatuation" and all will be back to "normal." HA!

Rescue Me by Sydney Allan. This is the first and last Sydney Allen novel I will read. Her writing is just not that good and it interfered with my enjoyment of a pretty good story. I don't care if she has published 40+ books, she can't write. The story was good, but the storytelling wasn't. There were some downright melodramatic scenes in the book but they would have been improved with better crafting. "She's used to doing all the rescuing. But love has a way of changing everything. Hailey Jensen is in the rescue business--animal rescue--and more than willing to risk life and limb for fowl or fauna. Just when life couldn't get better, her world crumbles. Her identical twin has cancer, and her marine rescue is failing before it even gets started. Lacking coping skills, she takes refuge behind sarcasm and solitude. But, thanks to Dr. Rainer Hartmann, her sister's friend and a man who mistakes overbearing control for helping, she finds herself on the opposite end of the control stick. A wildly independent woman, Hailey fights with the determination of a bulldog as Rainer struggles to drag her out of despair...and into his arms." Sounds good, doesn't it, but don't waste your time. I'm glad it only cost me 99 cents.

I'm sorry I relied so much on Amazon reviews, but things have been a little different lately. However, I also apologize for the sucky reviews I wrote myself. Maybe I should buy a book on writing reviews. Maybe I should write the review right after I read the book. OK, done with the disclaimers. Try the Crusies and Kristan Higgins. They're both really good writers.

Some Sadness and Some Random

2011-07-05T13:59:00.006-04:00

I'll take care of the sadness part first: Richard's father passed away on Sunday. He was a retired university professor of microbiology, an avid sailor, a former Marine, and a Braves fan. He had a great sense of humor, was very generous, and enjoyed writing historical fiction. He did something when he retired that I'm going to do: he took off his watch and thereafter ignored the fact that he owned one. I loved that. And I love him. I'm so glad that I married into that family. The funeral will be on Thursday in north Georgia.

The cats are fine, but they're not getting along fine. Bagheera has some of the devil in her. She's found out that Lila will hiss if she gets too close, so now she takes every opportunity to make Lila hiss and then they have a little swatting fight. It's a little disconcerting if we're trying to go to sleep and both cats happen to get on the bed at the same time. I think Bagheera has found most of Lila's sleeping spots and, though not always, will go and disturb her. The little devil! At least nobody is peeing on the furniture.

We have a little fishpond just off the back of the house. On Sunday I happened to look out and I saw a golden retriever sitting IN the pool, lapping up water. I guess he/she was hot and just wanted to cool off a bit. I had never seen that particular dog in the neighborhood before. I wanted a picture but I was sure he/she would bolt if I went outside with my camera.

I had breakfast for dinner last night, two eggs (fried in PAM) on lightly-buttered whole-wheat toast. As I was munching on my meal I was thinking how it was just the thing and how it really hit the spot. When I was living/working in Charleston, we had a little breakfast/lunch room on the premises. I frequently would get the nice lady who ran the place to make me a toasted egg-bacon-and-cheese sandwich for my breakfast. For a while there I quit buying cereal and milk at the grocery store. Of course I gained numerous pounds, some of which I'm still carrying. My drink of choice for that meal was a Diet Coke, like that was going to do any good. HA!

I'm embracing healthier eating habits now, like eating more fresh fruits and veggies, whole wheat breads, less fat, and more lean protein. I'm rather fortunate that my protein of choice is shrimp and other seafood, which has way fewer calories than red meat or pork. I'll let you know if I manage to do something really strange, like losing weight. (I imagine that if I do lose weight, I'll be crowing about it -- loudly!)

For those knitters among you, have you found Patternfish.com? It's a wonderful resource for knitting and crochet patterns. I have a wish list on the site, just waiting until we win the lottery so that I can purchase and download them all. Every once in a while I feel like doing a little shopping, so I usually buy a few patterns, a little yarn (from my other favorite knitting site, WEBS (www.yarn.com)), and maybe a few books for my Kindle.

Another favorite website is ePlans.com. I like looking at house plans, because eventually we'll both be retired and moving to some location above the gnat line (the gnats down here are tres annoying). I came across a plan a couple of months ago that Richard and I both agree is damn near the perfect house plan. I have a group of saved plans on that website and this one is listed as the Dream House (my wording). It's slightly larger than the house we own now and it's in our price range to build. It has an open floor plan, two guest rooms, a library/study, and a nice master suite.

I watch The Barefoot Contessa on a semi-regular basis, and I'm jealous of some of the kitchen gadgets she owns. She has a square fluted cutter that she uses when she make scones (she cuts out the squares then cuts them diagonally), and I stumbled across the website where that particular item is sold, Cassandra's Kitchen. This site has quite a few of the things Ina uses in her kitchen. Surfing the Internet pays off.

Writing this particular post has briefly taken my mind off our recent loss. We are glad that daddy-in-law didn't linger and suffer; he went rather quickly and peacefully. I hope when my time comes I'm half that fortunate.

Take care, everybody. Hug your loved ones.

Older Women

2011-06-16T10:36:00.000-04:00

I'd love to give credit for the following, but I received it in an e-mail with no author listed. It is thought provoking... gentlemen.

A woman over 40 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think.

If a woman over 40 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's usually more interesting.

Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it.

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.

Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40.

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.

Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off that you are a jerk if you are acting like one. You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.

Yes, we prefer women over 40 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 40, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.

For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage!

Random Monday in June

2011-06-13T10:45:00.000-04:00

Have I ever mentioned that I hate Mondays? When I was living in Charleston, I used to wear red every Monday because I find red to be a cheery color and I thought it might make me hate Mondays just a wee bit less. It worked pretty well, but did not completely remove my negative feelings about Mondays. For some reason, I am at my most comfortable in bed on Monday mornings right around the time the alarm starts going off. By Friday it's easier to drag myself out of bed because -- well, it's Friday.

I had a relatively unproductive weekend. Other than doing my laundry and cleaning up the remains of the dishes after dinner (Richard is one of those jewels of a cook who washes up as he goes), I read. I finished The Bitch-Proof Suit (De-Ann Black) on Saturday (reviews later), started reading Strange Bedpersons (Jennifer Crusie) and finished it later that day; then I started Summer Rental (Mary Kay Andrews) and finished it on Sunday; and then I started This Matter of Marriage (Debbie Macomber) on Sunday afternoon. Sometimes my reading just goes like that; I can't seem to get enough of it.

I may have mentioned this before (but I'm too lazy to go back and look), but when I was in library school I took a young-adult literature course. One of the books we had the option of reading was The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. I sat down one weekend and didn't get up until I had finished the thing. It was one of the most depressing books I have ever read. As I told my professor later, it took reading three murder mysteries to cheer me up.

I wasn't depressed this past weekend, I was just in the mood to read romances. I love the endings. That's also what I love about romantic-comedy movies -- happy endings. I think that's also what I like about mysteries. The endings aren't always necessarily happy happy, but the bad guy usually gets his just desserts and that makes for a satisfying ending.

The weather forecast for the next few days is for HEAT: 99 today and 101 tomorrow! Last summer was particularly hot as well, and then we had an unusually cold winter (for south Georgia). I feel like I'm living in Death Valley. We are having another drought. Richard has decided to have a well dug for the purpose of irrigation. Using city water for the lawns and flowers is frowned upon during a drought.

Well, about fifteen minutes ago the fire alarm went off in the building and it was not a drill. Fortunately, it was also not a fire. There was something amiss in one of the rooms on the ground floor, but it's been handled. OK, back to the blog. The excitement's over.

It was actually nice outside -- in the shade. There was a gentle breeze blowing and I was sitting on a bench under a tree waiting for the all clear.

I have embraced e-bills and online payments. I absolutely love not having to sit down and write a bunch of checks, stuff and seal envelopes, find return address labels and stamps and wait days until my account is cleared. My bank is a wonderful institution, and they will pay any bill to any creditor. I also don't have to shred so much paper. Yay! I've also become a recycling fool. Every scrap of paper that doesn't need to go through the shredder and every bit of plastic goes into the bins, not to mention glass and metal.

I'm going to miss one of my favorite events this year, the Harriette Austin Writers Conference in Athens. I had to spend an inordinately large amount of cash to upgrade my glasses (I wear three different pairs: computer, dress, and shades, all bifocals). I debated long and hard about it, but I just can't afford it this year. I will miss all my Athens friends, but maybe Richard and I can make a trip up there later in the year.

One of my dear friends turned 50 a few weeks ago. I got to attend both a surprise luncheon and a party the next night. Both events were a lot of fun. I got to talk to people I don't see very often and I met her daughters and other members of her family. I also had good food. The lunch was held at a restaurant I had never been to before, so that was an experience. It's a classy little place. I had a chicken-salad-on-croissant sandwich and a cup of soup. At the other party, we had a Low-Country Boil, which is potatoes, corn on the cob, smoked sausage, and shrimp cooked in water seasoned with Old Bay. There was salad and bread, appetizers, and tons of really good cookies (like macadamia nut and white chocolate chip; yum!).

Low-Country Boil is what people in Georgia call the above-described meal. In South Carolina we call it either Beaufort Bog or Frogmore Stew. Whatever it's called, it's good.

Shrimp is my favorite protein, but I tried a new recipe a while back which turned out to be an insult to shrimp. I thought it would be tastier. I was wrong. I tossed the recipe in the recycle bin.

Richard and I have quite a library of cookbooks, some of which we hardly ever touch. I suggested getting rid of those little-used ones but Richard decided it might be better if we tried a few new things. So the current plan is to try a recipe out of one of those books once a month, minimum. We'll see how that goes. We could find ourselves adding to our repertoire.

There will be a Father's-Day gathering with the in-laws. We haven't been to their house since Christmas and I'm looking forward to it. At the birthday party I mentioned above, they were playing rock-&-roll oldies from the era that I grew up in and my 50-year-old friend was born into. I think I'll get on iTunes and download some oldies for the road trip on Father's Day.

Well, I guess I've babbled on long enough. I hope everybody stays cool and comfy in this awfully hot weather. I know I'm going to spend as little time out in it as I can. Hug your kitties and doggies, and take care.

My Prediction

2011-05-26T11:59:00.000-04:00

I predict that I will not read 52 books this year. It's already almost June and so far I've read only 17 books. This is not a tragedy. I read for pleasure, not for records.

A Year on Ladybug Farm, by Donna Ball. Three friends -- retired, divorced, and/or widowed -- decide to move to the country and restore a farm. "As the friends take on a home improvement challenge of epic proportions, they encounter disaster after disaster, from renegade sheep and garden thieves to a seemingly ghostly inhabitant. Over the course of a year, overwhelming obstacles make the three women question their decision, but they ultimately learn that sometimes the best things can happen when everything goes wrong..." (Amazon review). There are sequels to this book, although I haven't continued reading. It was a well-written book with good storytelling, so I may read more.

My Reading Life, by Pat Conroy. Conroy's book is part annotated bibliography and part autobiography. He tells about the books and how they affected his life. He writes a lot about his abusive father and his mother, who encouraged him to read, read, read. He talks about people who influenced his reading life. Some of his book is Hemingwayesque, in that he had his Sylvia Beach (a bookstore owner in Atlanta) and his Gertrude Stein (a teacher in high school). He includes several books as paragons of Southern literature, including Gone With the Wind (of course). His all-time favorite, God-I-can't-get-enough-of-it, gotta-read-it-as-often-as-possible book is Look Homeward Angel. He gushed over that book so much and so floridly that it kind of turned me off ever wanting to read it. I really enjoyed the autobiographical parts of the book, and I think anyone who enjoys Southern literature would like this book.

World's Greatest Sleuth, by Steve Hockensmith. Once again, Hockensmith comes through with a great read (he hasn't failed me yet). This time Otto and Gustav are headed to the World's Fair in Chicago to participate in a sleuthing competition thought up by a publishing house. Their publisher dresses them up as caricatures of cowboys, which of course they hate, since they are real cowboys. They're competing with other sleuths, both amateur and professional (and some fake). Things are very contentious and then, of course, they find a body. Well, almost everybody is trying to find out whodunit, but a few seem to want to keep the rest from solving the murder. If you've kept up with the series, you'll want to read this one, too. I can't wait until Hockensmith writes the next one.

The Red Garden, by Alice Hoffman. "Hoffman brings us 200 years in the history of Blackwell, a small town in rural Massachusetts, in her insightful latest. The story opens with the arrival of the first settlers, among them a pragmatic English woman, Hallie, and her profligate, braggart husband, William. Hallie makes an immediate and intense connection to the wilderness, and the tragic severing of that connection results in the creation of the red garden, a small, sorrowful plot of land that takes on an air of the sacred. The novel moves forward in linked stories, each building on (but not following from) the previous and focusing on a wide range of characters, including placid bears, a band of nomadic horse traders, a woman who finds a new beginning in Blackwell, and the ghost of a young girl drowned in the river who stays in the town's consciousness long after her name has been forgotten. The result is a certain ethereal detachment as Hoffman's deft magical realism ties one woman's story to the next even when they themselves are not aware of the connection. The prose is beautiful, the characters drawn sparsely but with great compassion." (This is the Publisher's Weekly review and it is so much better than anything I could write about this book that I decided to use it.) I really liked this book. It's the first Hoffman book for me, and since I enjoyed it, I started another of her books (the title of which escapes me at the moment) but I couldn't get into it. I seem to be more concerned with story than with the author, but read The Red Garden. It's worthwhile.

Fearless Fourteen, by Janet Evanovich. "Our heroine, the irrepressible bounty hunter Stephanie Plum, finds herself watching over a goth teen called Zook, who is heavily into gaming, after his mom can’t make bail and disappears (or has been kidnapped). A lot of people think there is stolen money buried in or near Officer Morelli’s little house—that’s Steph’s Morelli, the cop who is her number-one boyfriend most of the time, or at least when the entrancing Ranger isn’t nearby. The money is the reason behind Zook’s mom’s disappearance, and it’s the tie that binds Evanovich’s various plotlines, which carom about endlessly, not always resolving. Questions abound: Are Steph’s sidekick, the plus-size Lula, and Ranger’s man Tank really engaged? Ranger is working security for a fading but brassy pop star: How does Steph manage to get into and out of her reality show? Can Zook and his sidekicks protect Morelli’s house—and Stephanie—with their homegrown weaponry (think potatoes as missiles)? Where else but Evanovich’s fourteenth novel can a line like “it’s raining money and popsicles!” actually make sense? Fans will be delighted, but others, who stumble into the series at this advanced point, may find themselves starved for backstory, so much so that they may need to go all the way back to One for the Money (1994)." --GraceAnne A. DeCandido (this is the review from Booklist). I think this was probably not my favorite Stephanie Plum story, but they can't always be perfect. I did actually enjoy reading it, as usual, and it won't stop me from reading subsequent Evanovich novels.

Under the Tuscan Sun, by Frances Mayes. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie version of this book (so much so that I bought a copy), but I managed to start the book with no expectations of it being better than the movie. The movie is good and so is the book, but the story changed from one format to the other. Reading the book really solidified my yearning to visit Italy. Mayes is a wonderful writer (and she's from south Georgia, just a few miles up the road!). She currently lives and teaches in San Francisco, but she spends her summers and Christmases at Bramasole, her house near Cortona, Italy. The book tells all about the renovations to the house and it's also a travelogue of Tuscany. She portrays the locals as friendly and welcoming; she tells all about their favorite meals that they cooked, and even includes recipes! It was an excellent read and I'm so glad I bought the book. I bookmarked some of the pages with recipes in the hope that I might go back and try some of them. If you haven't already read this book, what are you waiting for?

Anyone But You, by Jennifer Crusie. I love Jennifer Crusie's books. They are always such fun to read. Nina, just turning 40 and just divorced, gets something her socially conscious husband would not allow -- a dog. She wanted a cute and cuddly puppy, but what she got was Fred, a depressed Bassett hound. But Fred turns out to be good for her love life. Nina's downstairs neighbor, Alex, is a hunky emergency-room surgeon, who actually likes his job and who resists his family's attempts to get him to specialize in a more lucrative practice. Unfortunately, he is ten years younger than Nina, or at least Nina thinks that's bad. She's very sensitive about turning 40. Her best friend keeps pushing her toward Alex, as does Fred, believe it or not. They seem to know that 40 is not the end of the world. Alex is completely smitten. Now if they can just convince Nina...

Take the Monkeys and Run, by Karen Cantwell. "Film lover Barbara Marr is a typical suburban mom living the typical suburban life in her sleepy little town of Rustic Woods, Virginia. Typical, that is until she sets out to find the missing link between a bizarre monkey sighting in her yard and the bone chilling middle-of-the-night fright fest at the strangely vacant house next door. When Barb talks her two friends into some seemingly innocent Charlie's Angels-like sleuthing, they stumble upon way more than they bargained for and uncover a piece of neighborhood history that certain people would kill to keep on the cutting room floor. Enter sexy PI Colt Baron, Barb's ex-boyfriend who would love to be cast as new leading man, filling the role just vacated by her recently estranged husband, Howard. When Colt flies in from out of town to help Barb, events careen out of control and suddenly this mini-van driving mother of three becomes a major player in a treacherous and potentially deadly FBI undercover operation. It's up to her now. With little time to spare, she and she alone, must summon the inner strength necessary to become a true action heroine and save the lives of those she loves. The question is can she get them out alive before the credits roll?" This is the Amazon "product description." I decided to use it anyway. I had never heard of Karen Cantwell or her heroine, but this was a thoroughly enjoyable book, especially when it got to where you didn't know which side the players were on. There are fun surprises in the book and I may read some more of this series. It was one of those Kindle recommendations that I love.

The Paris Wife, by Paula McLain. Having recently read Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, I was sort of intrigued by this fictionalized telling of much the same story but told by Hemingway's wife Hadley. The story takes you from their first meeting in Chicago, their attraction for one another, and their life in Paris and other parts of Europe. In a note at the end of the book, the author states that she tried to remain true to accounts of Hemingway's life, and if she did, then Ernest was a perfect shit at times, especially where Pauline was concerned. McLain is a good writer and a good storyteller and I enjoyed most of this book (except the parts where old Ernest was being the perfect shit). Reading about his relationship with Pauline while he was still married to Hadley made me a little less sad that he finally put a bullet through his head.

Is It Just Me, Or Is It Nuts Out There?, by Whoopi Goldberg. I love Whoopi. She and I have practically identical views on manners, and that's what this book is about. Reading this book can make you more aware of when you might be stepping over the line between good manners and bad ones. She writes with understated humor, except for the chapter on bullying. She gets really serious in that one because it is such a serious subject. This is not about Miss Manners or Emily Post type of manners, but about doing-unto-others type of manners and just plain human civility, or lack of it. She addresses cell phone use and other current day issues. I am keeping this book forever and I expect I'll go back and re-read parts, if not all, of it.

One of these days I have to post some actual pictures of my knitting. I'm still working on the peace-sign sweater and I have actually finished the motif. Now I just have to finish the front, knit the sleeves, block it, put it together, and wear it. This is not rocket science. I should be able to do it.

See y'all later. Happy reading and happy knitting!

Family Dinner

2011-04-04T08:44:00.011-04:00

Finally! We got the family to come to Tifton.

After some intensive negotiation, we found a weekend that everybody could come down here. We had hoped to feed them lunch on Saturday, but some of them ran into an awful hold-up on I-85 because of a wreck. They were in that traffic jam for an hour and a half. So everybody got here mid-afternoon.

My niece (the one who gave us Bagheera) arrived wanting to see her former kitty, and shortly after she got in the house, she yelled, "BAGHEERA! HERE, KITTY!KITTY!KITTY!!" Well, she startled Richard and me and I'm pretty sure she scared the hell out of all three cats. Bagheera has adapted to our quiet ways and has become shy of strangers like Lila and Dashiell. Katie caught one very brief glimpse of Bagheera and that was it. Nobody ever did see Dashiell, but after a few hours Lila came out of hiding and let people pet her. After everybody left on Sunday, it was about two hours before Bagheera emerged from her hiding place. We have no idea where that place was; it's like she just dematerialized.

I was going to take pictures of all the food, but I got so caught up in cooking it and getting it on the table that I just forgot. But here's what we had: Richard grilled steaks because everybody likes cow. Beverly volunteered to help, so I asked her to make our green salad. Richard also made a fruit salad (with no dressing because good fruit doesn't need dressing). I cooked green beans in chicken stock with a little bacon fat thrown in for good measure. We also had some sauteed asparagus (cut it in two-inch pieces, put a little olive oil in the pan, sprinkle on some salt and pepper and a few red pepper flakes, and cook quickly until done to your liking (I like my asparagus crisp-tender)). Everybody loved the asparagus. We also had mashed potatoes, but I don't think everybody else likes them as much as I do. I bought some artisan breads at the bakery. I was going to make my world-famous biscuits, but decided I didn't want to be that industrious. For dessert we had a sour cream poppy seed cake with an orange glaze -- yummy! That cake is Beverly's favorite.

Since I did most of the cooking, Richard cleaned up after dinner. That was awfully nice to just sit and vege while someone else did the work.

Everybody seemed to enjoy the gathering and although I was tired afterwards, I absolutely loved having them all come down here. Richard's parents and our two nieces stayed in a hotel and Beverly and Paul stayed with us (sounds a little inhospitable to the parents, but they preferred it that way). After everybody went to their hotel, we had a good time talking with Beverly and Paul. We are now planning to have just the two of them come down some weekend this summer to hang out and relax and maybe watch a Braves game and a bunch of movies on our nice HD television.

I hope we can arrange to do this again next year. I thought it was a lot of fun. I love my in-laws.

I Still Miss You, Mama

2011-03-17T08:49:00.028-04:00

Patricia Moore Griffin, 1992

My mother's birthday was last week. She passed away in 1993. She was only 69.

Mama liked to work in her garden. On the day she died, that's just what she was doing. My father was inside reading when my Aunt Doris came over to see Mama. Daddy sent her out back, and my aunt found her. Needless to say, it was quite a shock to all of us.

I was out of my office and away from home when she died. I was attending a seminar in Albany. When I got home that evening there was a phone message from Daddy. When I called, Aunt Doris answered and broke the news. Whatever I learned at the seminar flew right out of my head and to this day I have no idea what the thing was about.

Richard and I had been dating for only a few months, but he drove me home to South Carolina. I used up most of a box of tissues on the trip. He had to get back to Tifton but he came back to get me at the end of the week.

During that week, relatives and friends came out of the woodwork to attend the wake and the visitation at the funeral home and the funeral itself. Even my former husband came.

My cousin Steve, who I've never seen wear anything but jeans and a western shirt, arrived wearing black jeans. After we had our little weep and dried our eyes, I commented on his wearing his "dress" jeans, but you know, that was a tribute to Mama. He got as dressed up as he ever does.

Mama and I had a typical mother-daughter relationship, until I grew up, and then we became friends. The friendship was solidified during a typical mother-daughter phone call and I realized she was trying to guilt me into something. I called her on it, and she admitted she was doing it, but she never did that again. I don't think she was fully aware that she did that until I drew attention to it.

When I was living in Charleston and going home every other weekend or so, Mama and I would sometimes go shopping. She told me later that she watched me to see what sort of things I was attracted to, and used that information when she went Christmas shopping. I thought that was right clever of her.

When I was still in college, Mama would come down occasionally to spend a weekend. One weekend she was going to take my friend Richard (not the one I'm married to) and me to dinner. They had never met. Richard, normally sartorially well put together, arrived at my apartment wearing the goofiest collection of clothes I'd ever seen. He had on an old misshapen tweed jacked, a skinny tie from the 50s/60s, frayed khakis, and some ugly old brogans. When I answered the door, he barged on past me, stuck out his hand, and said, "Hey! You must be Pat's mommer!" (My first name is Patricia and I used to go by Pat.) Mama said later that the look on my face was priceless. I'd never been so shocked. Well, Richard finally changed his clothes and combed his hair and we went to dinner. My mother was charmed and Richard became a good friend of the family. He called Mama and Daddy "Ma Griffin" and "Pa Griffin."

Mama and Daddy came to Charleston periodically. They would stay in a hotel because I never lived anyplace that had room for guests. We toured old houses and ate at seafood restaurants and Daddy would always invite one or two of my friends.

When I was going away to graduate school in Seattle, Mama decided that she and Daddy would drive me as far as Bozeman, MT, where my Aunt Dorothy lived. We visited my Aunt Mary in Sioux Falls on the way. We also did some sightseeing along the way. We toured the Jack Daniels distillery in Lynchburg, TN; in South Dakota, we went to the Mitchell Corn Palace, stopped in the Badlands, had a buffalo burger at Wall Drugs, and visited Mt. Rushmore. When I was about to get on the plane in Bozeman for the rest of my journey to Seattle, my mother, usually very calm, actually cried because I was going to be away for a couple of years.

I wish Mama had lived long enough to attend my wedding to Richard (the one I AM married to; Richard from Charleston did attend the wedding). I feel like her spirit was there, but it's hard to introduce a spirit to your new in-laws. Mama was good at getting along with people, so I'm sure she would have liked my in-laws and they her.

I think Mama would have taken quite easily to computers and the internet and e-mail. She would have loved Amazon and I would have had her reading my blog. She also would have made a great Crusty Old Fart.

Mama worked in the post office, knew everybody and they knew her. When she retired, she would stand at the open front door, look out at the road, and say, "Look at all those poor people going to work," and then she would laugh and go out and do some yard work.

Sit and Look

2011-03-13T15:41:00.009-04:00

The following was found on a page-a-day calendar from 1993. I've been keeping it for a long time. I don't have any idea who the author is/was, but I like the philosophy.

"I had a big dog named Bubber who was one of my most important teachers. He used to sit out on our deck up in the mountains and just look. It was difficult for me to imagine what he was looking at all the time, so one day I just went out and sat beside him and for a long time experienced just sitting and just looking. One sees so much when one just sits and looks.

"Bubber has since died, and his great wisdom in having taught me to sit and look lives on."

Have a great day!

Pain and Wonder*

2011-02-27T11:41:00.006-05:00

I has it.

I had an eventful weekend.

My first stupid move was to catch the inside of my arm in the zipper of my purse. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! It would take too long to explain how I managed to do that, but I sometimes go through phases of stupid, freaky accidents like that. And it hurt. Ouch!

The real pain and wonder came about Friday night when Richard and I and a group of friends went to Cafe Harika and Hooka Bar in Cordele, GA. We sat on cushions around a low table which was placed on a platform. Close to the floor without actually sitting on the floor. Well, I am not the most limber or agile person on the planet, so I had a hard time getting comfortable. My friends suggested I sit next to the wall so that I could have something to lean on. As I was scooting (or my clumsy way of scooting) into the seat, I lost my balance and fell backwards onto a low wall. At the same time I heard a loud >crack<, I hit the wall right on my spine (the crack was not my spine). My first, simultaneous, reactions were pain, fear, and surprise. I'm always surprised when I do something stupid. I don't think I'm really like that. I'm into denial. I flopped down on the cushions beside me, trying not to cry (I was successful). I finally lumbered myself into the corner backed by a plethora of soft, supportive cushions. My friend Jeannie offered me some ibuprofen, which I accepted and which had some effect, and I was glad because it let me enjoy the rest of the evening.

(Lord, I wish I had pictures of the evening!)

Anyway, the wonder set in when I tasted my dinner. It was delicious, particularly the shrimp shish kebabs marinated in a saffron paste. The restaurant advertised themselves as having American Mediterranean food. They had some Greek dishes, Middle Eastern dishes, and of course, American. My shrimp was served on a bed of Basmati rice, cooked in some kind of broth to give it some flavor (I'm not crazy about plain white rice). I was a little fearful when I saw that the shrimp was a bright red and I thought, "Ooh, I hope this is not going to be lethal," but it wasn't. There was a little spiciness, which took me about halfway through the meal to discern, but I could still taste the shrimp, and I loved it. Despite my embarrassing myself this time, I'd go back to that restaurant. I love shrimp, and if it's on the menu, that's what I usually go for. Most of the other people had lamb shish kebabs, and they all raved over theirs, too. Our hostess brought out hummus and baba ganoush, along with some freshly-baked and warm naan. It was all wonderful. I was afraid I was going to fill up on the hummus and naan and be too full to enjoy my shrimp, but it didn't work out that way. Before the entree, I had some tabbouleh (very lemony). For dessert, I had baklava. (The baklava was good, but my Greek friend Takis in Athens makes better baklava.)

As if that weren't enough to enjoy, out came a belly dancer. She was great. I've only ever seen belly dancers on TV and in the movies, so it was very entertaining to see it live. She was pretty and graceful and we showed our appreciation with applause after every dance. I had been warned that men should not speak to the dancers, because then their brothers would come out to "have a word of prayer" with them. But that turned out to be ridiculous in this case. After all, this is south Georgia. The girl is American all the way, from Cordele, but dancing professionally in Atlanta. She's competed in ballroom dancing and and she was quite forthcoming about her professional life. Nice and friendly, just the way a Southerner should be. After she had done her show, she brought out some filmy, triangular scarves with shiny things sewn to them. These she offered to the women of the group and got four of them up to dance with her. She tied the scarves around their waists and taught them a few belly-dancing moves. Richard asked if I was going to get up and dance, and I informed him in no uncertain terms that I was not moving until it was time to get up and go home. I was too comfy against my pile of cushions. We did eventually leave, but altogether I had a great time. Everyone was in a good mood and I laughed a lot.

Saturday morning we had to take Lila and Dashiell to the vet. They are so traumatized by being put in carriers, taken outside, put in the car, and driven across town. They meowed all the way, especially Dashiell. Poor babies. The vet visit was quick and relatively uneventful for the cats, but I got to pet other people's doggies. First there was a black and white terrier type and she was sweet. She was interested in our cats; her owner said they also have cats at home. After we saw the vet, there was a grown golden retriever and a puppy. The grown dog was so friendly and if you know goldens, they frequently look like they are smiling. This dog was very happy to see me, even though we were strangers. Later that morning we went to the first ever Southeast Lawn and Garden Expo, sponsored by the Literacy Volunteers of Tifton. It was small, but they hope to do it again and that it gets bigger. Anyway, the director of the local animal shelter was there with a rescue dog, a pit bull with scars on his face, so you can guess what he was rescued from. This was an old dog and very placid, such a sweet old thing. They say dogs are great judges of character, and this dog seemed to know that he was in loving, caring hands now.

While at the Expo, we also visited most of the vendor booths. We stopped at the Georgia Museum of Agriculture (Agrirama) booth, where they were selling things that can be bought at the Museum: stone ground grits and cornmeal, and some handwoven rugs and placemats. And they weren't charging an arm and a leg for them either. We bought some grits and cornmeal. At another booth we stopped to chat with a man named Tripp (first name) who was inoculating logs for growing mushrooms. He and Richard talked for a good twenty or so minutes about shiitakes and oyster mushrooms. Richard is trying to grow mushrooms, too. Mmmmm! Fresh shiitakes!

Well, that was my eventful weekend. Oh, we had shrimp and tortellini for dinner on Saturday and today I'm baking a carrot cake with cream cheese icing for Richard's birthday, coming up soon.

*Pain and Wonder is the name of a tattoo parlor in Athens, GA. I never went there. There is another tattoo place called the Midnight Iguana. I don't know where they came up with these names!

The Daffydills Is Bloomin'! The Daffydills Is Bloomin'!

2011-02-17T16:05:00.010-05:00

This is a picture of our first daffodil of the year. They are almost always the first flower to bloom and I find them very cheery. I took this picture two days ago, and now daffodils are springing up all over the place. I love daffodils.

Here's Bagheera, looking shyly away from the camera. Actually she's trying to ignore me. Cats are so good at that. This cat is so energetic I'm glad we don't let her outside. She'd be quite the huntress and would bring us all kinds of dead critters.

My husband, a dedicated cat lover, has all kinds of names for our cats. Let's face it, "Bagheera," is a bit of a mouthful, so right after we got her, he called her Baggie. I protested, but he ignored me. Then Baggie got lengthened to Baggie Boo. A little while later that was shortened to just Boo, and then it grew into Boo Boo. A couple of weeks ago he called her Boo Bear which morphed into Boo Berry. I give him a hard time, but I'm now calling her Boo Baby. Poor cat doesn't know who she is.

I thought y'all might like to know what I really look like, although I will qualify this revelation by saying that I am not particularly photogenic. This picture was taken at a restaurant that we went to for my birthday a while back. My profile picture is of me when I was two years old. I was cute then.

Here's Dashiell, looking a little deranged because of the reflection of the flash in his eyes, but also kind of cute. He's a sweet cat. He's sitting in one of his favorite spots. Sometime I let him sit there when I'm washing dishes and he seems mighty interested in what I'm doing.

I don't know what this flower is called (and neither does Richard), but I thought it was pretty so I took a picture of it. I think this was at the State Botanical Garden of Georgia in Athens.

As you can tell, I didn't have much to say but I said it anyway. I hope you enjoyed the pictures.

OMG -- Does This Girl Do Nothing But Read??

2011-02-04T08:00:00.007-05:00

Here are some short reviews of the books I've read so far this year:

Easily Amused, by Karen McQuestion. When twenty-nine-year-old Lola Watson inherits her aunt's house in the suburbs, she thinks it just may be the cherry on a banner year. After all, she’s happily single, with fabulous friends and her dream job working at a popular magazine. Life is perfect—until her new neighbors make her their new “project,” a heartbroken high school friend crashes indefinitely at her house, and her younger sister announces she’s getting married…on Lola’s thirtieth birthday. Suddenly Lola’s not so keen on her newfound domestic bliss. But when she meets handsome, mysterious Ryan Moriarty, Lola dares to hope she’s found the perfect guy to one-up her sister and add a little spice back into her life. This light-hearted romance is headlined by a charming cast of characters, led by the self-deprecatingly funny Lola. Breezy and fun, Easily Amused serves as a gentle, often amusing reminder that love can often be found in the place we least expect—under our very noses. (Amazon.com Review). I found this book fun to read. It's the first McQuestion book I've read, and it probably won't be the last. I think her other books are probably not so lightweight as this one. The most fun thing about this novel was the ending.

Don't Look Back, by Karin Fossum. This is another of the Scandinavian mysteries that I like so much. This one is set in Norway. A vital young girl of 15 is found dead on a lakeshore, totally naked but arranged in a position as if she were just sleeping. She was covered with a parka, and her clothes were all neatly folded near her. The medical examiner is a little baffled about the cause of death because she had only a few markings on her and they didn't seem as if they were enough to kill her. Inspector Sejer of the Oslo police finds real clues hard to come by, so he concentrates on the people in her small community, trying to find some connection to her death. After much investigation, annoying many in the community by his doggedness, he slowly uncovers the killer. The novel is complex and I found myself unable to put it down. I think I finished it in record time. Karin Fossum has become one of my favorite mystery authors, and I've only read two of her stories so far!

Trust Me on This, by Jennifer Crusie. Dennie Banks is a society page reporter with aspirations for more serious journalism, going after a big story. Alec Prentice is a government agent working undercover. When they meet by accident in a hotel lobby, Alec takes Dennie as the partner of an elusive con man he's been after for years. Dennie thinks Alec is a con man. Unfortunately, they are instantly attracted to one another. It seems that everything either of them does just deepens the suspicions of the other. They both resist the attraction they have for one another, because Dennie thinks that Alec is running interference for her interview subject, a well-known professor who has just gotten divorced. As their confusion grows, so do their feelings for each other, and what begins as a comedy of errors may just end in the love affair of a lifetime. As usual, Jennifer Crusie comes through with a fun story. This is the first one I've read, though, that does not have a dog in it. The story did not lend itself to the inclusion of a dog. The lack of a dog, however, did not diminish my enjoyment of this novel one bit.

The Bucolic Plague: How Two Manhattanites Became Gentlemen Farmers: An Unconventional Memoir, by Josh Kilmer-Purcell. When the author and his partner are driving home to NYC after a weekend of apple-picking in upstate New York, they come across a lovely Victorian farmhouse near a small, almost deserted-looking village. They stop in what appears to be the only open business, a hotel and restaurant, and find that the place is not deserted after all. They inquire about the farmhouse because they want a weekend place to escape to. Josh is in advertising and Brent works for Martha Stewart. They end up buying the farm, on which the house has already been restored. The story is of their experiences in the country, finding someone to run the place when they are not there, welcoming animals to the farm, building a garden, and just generally working hard and getting their hands dirty. They get to know the locals and are welcomed by them. The memoir is humorous in the first half, but things get tense when Josh quits his job to live on the farm full time, and Brent is "downsized." Their relationship suffers. Josh was about to be let go from his job as well about the time he decided to move to the farm. It was his dream to do that, and Brent wanted to make it happen for him. They struggled financially, although they got help from the herd of goats that Farmer John brought to the property. They made goat's milk soap, started an online business and a blog about the farm. Things were going pretty well, until the fall of 2008, when Wall Street imploded, and people stopped buying so many non-essentials. The story details the struggle, both financially and emotionally, and their triumph over both. It was a wonderful story. It was one of those Amazon recommendations, so I downloaded it to my Kindle and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Dark Lover, by J.R. Ward. This was a departure from my usual reading selections. My sister recommended Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood series, so I have read the first novel. The good guys in this story are mostly vampires. At first I was a little put off by the hokey spelling of the Brotherhood members' names (Rhage; Zsadist; Tohrment; Phury; Vishous) but after a while I just went with it. The main characters are Beth, a half-breed who doesn't know she's about to become a vampire, and Wrath, the leader of the Brotherhood. Beth's father, whom she never knew, was Darius, who was killed by the Lessening Society in a car bomb attack. The Lessening Society's only reason for existence is to kill vampires. They are the bad guys. They have no souls or hearts. Darius asks Wrath to help Beth through the "transition." Wrath doesn't want to because he doesn't want much to do with females because his main focus is protecting his race against the Lessening Society. Wrath is also the vampire king. But after Darius dies, Wrath knows he must honor his friend's request. He goes to see Beth, watching her from outside her apartment. She sees him momentarily and he nearly scares her half to death. Beth is a crime reporter, but she's beginning to find bright light uncomfortable. Wrath does help her through her transition, because he falls in love with her, although he resists it. Dark Lover is a well-written story with lots of twists and turns. After the minor thing about the spelling, I was able to suspend my disbelief and really enjoy this novel. There are subsequent books, each focusing on one of the members of the Brotherhood. I may or may not read on. There are so many things I want to read, I'm not sure I want to commit to a series. But it was good.

Night of the Living Deed, by E.J. Copperman. Alison Kerby has just bought a grand old Victorian house on the Jersey Shore to turn into a guest house so she can support herself and her daughter. Strange things begin to happen in her restoration efforts and after being conked on the head by a bucket of joint compound, she is able to see the two ghosts who inhabit the house. At first, she's in denial. There is no such thing as ghosts, but these two apparitions will not go away. They want her to investigate and find out who killed them. She resists, and Maxie, the ghost who can pick up solid objects, keeps sabotaging her work on the house. She finally agrees to investigate, especially after she finds out that both her daughter and her mother can see the ghosts. She finds out that there may be a deed hidden in the house with George Washington's signature on it that is worth about a half million dollars. An anonymous caller and e-mailer keeps telling her she has a time limit on finding that deed and turning it over to him/her. She has several suspects, but can't really pin anything solid on them. The caller/e-mailer threatens her daughter and her mother, and Alison becomes rather frantic to find the deed. This is a fun read and I think I'm going to put Copperman's next book on my reading list.

My reading efforts are starting off well this year. I have a bunch downloaded onto my Kindle, and I got quite a few books for Christmas. Right now I'm reading Pat Conroy's My Reading Life and A Year on Ladybug Farm by Donna Ball.

Happy reading!

Sometimes It's Just The Simple Things...

2011-01-27T08:50:00.009-05:00

Several years ago I was engaged in one of my pitiful efforts at decluttering and ran across some fabric that my mother had given me many years ago.

These pieces of fabric were actually old flour sacks from the 40s/50s that Mama had saved. She used to make clothes for my sister and me from the printed sacks.

I kept thinking that I would do something with them... eventually... but I never got around to it. When I came across them again I decided to give them to my friend Theresa. She sews and makes quilts and stuff like that.

Theresa was quite thrilled to get them and even did a post on her blog about them.

Well, as it turned out, Theresa never got around to doing anything with them either. (Sometimes we are both pretty pathetic.)

Then, come Christmas, and she had a brainstorm. She decided to make me napkins out of the flour sacks and give them to me as my gift.

When we were exchanging gifts, she kept hemming and hawing and being afraid I wouldn't like her gift. I told her to quit issuing disclaimers and just gimme the damned gift and when she finally gave it to me I was blown away.

It's so thoughtful. I now have fourteen nice napkins, with a history behind them. I plan to buy some neutral-colored placemats, and since we have white china, I can set the kind of eclectic table I like. I will be able to use my variety of pottery pieces for serving and happiness will ensue. I'll also get to tell their history to my guests when I use them.

Here are the napkins:

The prints are true to their era and I just love my napkins.

Number 100

2011-01-11T11:21:00.005-05:00

This is my 100th post. I was going to wait until the anniversary of my first blog post, but y'all might think I gave up.

I started reading again, and I have finished the first book of 2011:

The Long Road Home, by Mary Alice Monroe. This is Monroe's first novel, recently re-released. New York widow Nora MacKenzie finds out that her husband's estate is virtually bankrupt, and she takes on a farm in Vermont while waiting for the estate to be settled. Once there, she has to deal with the skepticism of the locals and one very intriguing farm hand, C.W. She shows her mettle by working as hard as everybody else, caring for the farm's herd of sheep. The house that she and her late husband were building is unfinished, so she hires help to complete it. We find out that C.W. is actually Charles Blair, the man Nora blames for her husband's death and all her financial woes. Nora does not know this, but C.W. knows who she is and he is determined to right all the wrongs perpetrated by his evil (only way to describe her), greedy step-mother, Agatha, who issued loans to Nora's late husband and forged Charles's name to them. Then she called in the loans, which Mr. MacKenzie could not pay. MacKenzie thought Charles had ruined him and he went to Charles's office in the Blair Bank and shot himself. This affected Charles deeply, so he crawled into a bottle, eventually dried out, then disappeared from New York. Everybody in Vermont thought he was a drifter. Even Nora. As this is a romance, Nora and C.W. fell in love. The road gets quite rocky when a freak autumn snowstorm wipes out most of the sheep, C.W. disappears to New York to straighten everything out, and Nora goes to NY to see to the settling of the MacKenzie estate and to deal with the auction of all her posessions which she hopes will pay off all her husband's debts. She goes to the Blair Bank to confront Charles Blair once and for all. Fur flies when she finds out that C.W. and Charles Blair are one and the same.... The book is well written and the story has romance, suspense, and intrigue. I'd recommend it to anyone.

This coming Friday is another anniversary. Richard and I will have been married for sixteen years. We're going out to celebrate. We don't buy each other anniversary gifts; instead, we buy something for the house. We haven't decided what the house needs this year, yet, but we will. Dinner will be good. I anticipate having both an appetizer and dessert, in addition to my entree. Too bad I don't like wine, or we would toast to another year.

Take care, everybody.

So I'm Four Days Late...

2011-01-04T08:49:00.007-05:00

HAPPY NEW YEAR, Y'ALL!!

I had a good year in 2010 and I'm expecting no less in 2011.

I finished reading my 60th book of the year on Christmas Eve, and then I took a break from reading. My reading got ahead of my book reviewing, but I'll try to do better this year.

I've gotten a couple of new followers to my blog, thanks to the interview in the local paper, and several people have told me they plan to keep track of the books they read from now on. That's rewarding, to know that someone thinks you had a good idea.

This post is not really meant to be a list of my accomplishments. I just wanted to wish everybody a Happy New Year.

We went to a Winter Solstice party. One of our friends throws this party every year so that she can have a December party and still spend Christmas with her family. Everybody is asked to bring a gag gift and some food and we have an exchange of gifts after stuffing our faces. (We know some really good cooks.) Some of the gifts are hilarious and some are not so "unwantable." Richard and I wound up with a Grinch Christmas tree ornament, which is actually kinda cute. One person didn't like what she got and kept trying to trade with someone -- anyone -- but we all stood firm. (One year, another friend didn't need what she got -- it was a set of napkin rings -- so she hid the rings around our hostess's house. Julie was finding napkin rings all year long.)

Christmas Day with Richard's family was enjoyable, as always. I think everybody gave me at least one book, so my reading list grows. We had a ham in addition to the turkey. I love ham. For dessert, Richard and I made a pumpkin pie and an apple pie. Even my brother-in-law, who doesn't have a sweet tooth, ate some of the apple pie. Our nieces were not able to stay for dinner, but Katie left her two yappy dogs at my sister-in-law's house. Without my hyperactive niece, the dogs were quite calm and affectionate. One of them, Courage, curled up on the sofa next to me and stayed there for a long time. When we were opening presents, she got into my lap and I had to open my gifts around her. It was sweet. Snow was predicted for that area, so Richard and I left a little earlier than usual. At one point during the day, there was a snow flurry, and then it rained. Beverly (SIL) called later and told us that after we left, it started to snow in earnest, so we missed seeing a white Christmas. Oh, well. It was still nice.

On New Year's Eve we went to a party here in town. There was plenty of champagne and our hostess offered orange juice and pomegranate juice to mix with it, if you were so inclined. Champagne mixed with orange juice is a Mimosa, and Renata and I decided that champagne mixed with pomegranate juice is an Ambrosia. We kept telling ourselves that the mixtures were good for us because of all the antioxidants and vitamins we were getting. There is nothing like a good rationalization.

Well, I hope your new year is starting off right and that the rest of the year is as good to you as you could wish. Happy 2011!

Merry Christmas, Part 3

2010-12-21T08:16:00.008-05:00

Today is my last day of work before the Christmas holidays. YAY! We were originally scheduled to work two more days after this, but they will be doing some sort of massive electrical repair, or something like that, so the president of Small Public Institution gave us two days off so that the electricians could complete their task before they took their holiday.

I had my picture in the paper earlier this month. I was interviewed because of my having read 52+ books this year. My friend Bret is friends with one of the hometown-paper reporters, so he contacted her about interviewing me. Bret and I chat about books at every social gathering. You can find the article at tiftongazette.com. Do a site search for "ABAC librarian." (I tried putting in a link, but it failed and I'm not computer-savvy enough to figure out why.) (My picture did not make it online, but, trust me, I'm as cute as pie -- NOT!) When I blogged with a list of all the books I had read during the year, I got comments from two of the authors, both Southern women. That was exciting. The year's not over and I'm still reading. I wonder if I can maintain the same pace next year.

I still have my Christmas knitting projects to finish, but I'm getting there. I hope I'm not up until the wee hours of Christmas morning getting them done. I bought too much yarn for one of them, but I'm not at all upset because I really like the color and softness of the yarn (Lion Brand Wool-Ease, color Pumpkin).

Pies will be baked this week. I had a hankering for cookies the other night, but I'm not sure I'll be making any. I only have so much ambition. Besides, I have other plans for my holiday break at home -- less fattening plans.

My Christmas wish again this year is for peace on earth. Wouldn't it be nice to see it in our lifetime? I hope your Christmas is peaceful and not too stressful. Relax, friends. Take it easy. Have fun. Hug all your relatives and tell them how much they mean to you. Go to church, if you're so inclined. If you are not of a faith that celebrates Christmas, happy holidays anyway. Peace.

Merry Christmas, Part 2

2010-12-14T08:47:00.005-05:00

Richard and I usually pick a day in early December to go Christmas shopping. We take off work and start out early because the mall we go to is mostly deserted on a weekday morning. This year we did a bunch of online shopping before our shopping day out, so we didn't have a whole lot to buy at the mall.

Good thing, too. The mall was swarming with 6-year-olds -- four schoolbus loads of them. OMG! It really wasn't too bad. They were mostly in the play areas and food areas. We got our shopping done (Yay!), had a nice lunch, and went to a bookstore for one last gift and a little personal book shopping. It was unseasonably chilly for early December in south Georgia, but we survived it. The day was bright and sun-shiny and the wind was still.

Now, I just need a volunteer to wrap all the gifts. As usual, the volunteer will be me. I wrap and Richard writes the gift cards.

This year, again, we are bringing dessert to the family Christmas dinner gathering. We will be making an apple pie and a pumpkin pie. That's what we took to the Thanksgiving dinner and the family put in a request for the same thing at Christmas. Richard and I make good pies. I make the crusts and he does the fillings. I have no idea how he prepares the apples to go in the pie, but, come to think of it, I don't need to know. That's his job.

I hope your Christmas preparations are going well. I hope that your Christmas is as joyous and peaceful and beautiful as you wish for. And I also hope that Santa Claus is very good to you.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!! (Part 1)

2010-12-06T08:00:00.001-05:00

THREE WISE WOMEN
would have...

asked for directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stable, made a casserole, brought practical gifts...

and there would be
PEACE ON EARTH.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

------------------------------------
OK, I lifted this from a t-shirt ad in a catalog. You can find it here: www.acornonline.com. Do a quick catalog search for item number 14600. I would have just bought the t-shirt, but it doesn't come in my size. Rats!

Fifty-two Books

2010-12-01T08:14:00.007-05:00

Here are the 52 books I read in 2010:

1. The Black Dove, by Steve Hockensmith
2. Shem Creek, by Dorothea Benton Frank
3. Knit Lit, ed. by Linda Roghaar & Molly Wolf
4. The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin
5. Home is Where the Wine Is, by Laurie Perry
6. He Who Fears the Wolf, by Karin Fossum
7. Fire and Ice, by J.A. Jance
8. Summer on Blossom Street, by Debbie Macomber
9. The Girl on Legare Street, by Karen White
10. East of the Sun, by Julia Gregson
11. Birds of a Feather, by Jacqueline Winspear
12. Split Image, by Robert B. Parker
13. The Postmistress, by Sarah Blake
14. The Professional, by Robert B. Parker
15. Voices, by Arnaldur Indridason
16. Twelve Sharp, by Janet Evanovich
17. The Shape Shifter, by Tony Hillerman
18. Home Safe, by Elizabeth Berg
19. The Blight Way, by Patrick McManus
20. Death Without Tenure, by Joanne Dobson
21. The Crack in the Lens, by Steve Hockensmith
22. Laced with Magic, by Barbara Bretton
23. The Black Cat, by Martha Grimes
24. Just Take My Heart, by Mary Higgins Clark
25. Hissy Fit, by Mary Kay Andrews
26. Nature Girl, by Carl Hiaasen
27. The Vintage Caper, by Peter Mayle
28. Lean Mean Thirteen, by Janet Evanovich
29. Return to Sullivan's Island, by Dorothea Benton Frank
30. Just Desserts, by Barbara Bretton
31. Time is a River, by Mary Alice Monroe
32. Changing Habits, by Debbie Macomber
33. The Scent of Rain and Lightning, by Nancy Pickard
34. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson
35. Deep Dish, by Mary Kay Andrews
36. The Devil Amongst the Lawyers, by Sharyn McCrumb
37. Fast Women, by Jennifer Crusie
38. The Help, by Kathryn Stockett
39. The Goddess of Fried Okra, by Jean Brashear
40. The Spare Wife, by Alex Witchel
41. Thursdays at Eight, by Debbie Macomber
42. The Draining Lake, by Arnaldur Indridason
43. Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert
44. Red Hook Road, by Ayelet Waldman
45. Faking It, by Jennifer Crusie
46. The Blue Bistro, by Elin Hilderbrand
47. Crossfire, by Dick Francis and Felix Francis
48. The Beach House, by Mary Alice Monroe
49. Compromising Positions, by Jenna Bayley-Burke
50. Painted Ladies, by Robert B. Parker
51. A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway
52. The Girl Who Played with Fire, by Stieg Larsson

... and then I continued reading:

53. The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, by Stieg Larsson
54. Crazy for You, by Jennifer Crusie
55. The Sugar Queen, by Sarah Addison Allen
56. Brilliant, by Marne Davis Kellogg
57. The Trouble with Angels, by Debbie Macomber

It's only December 1st, so I can probably read at least two more books -- as long as I don't neglect my Christmas knitting.

Every one of these books was good to read. Some I liked better than others, of course. I think my new favorite author is Mary Alice Monroe. Or maybe Jennifer Crusie. Or Marne Davis Kellogg. Oh, I don't know! Read them all!

Nearly Perfect

2010-11-12T08:25:00.010-05:00

I had a great day yesterday.

Richard has a sailboat, which he keeps at a marina on Lake Eufaula. It was time to get the boat hauled out of the water and have the hull scraped (lots o' algae) and painted. The marina where he keeps the boat does not do that, so he had to take the boat to another place farther up the lake.

I took a day off from work to help him out. My part was to drop him off at his marina and then drive to the other marina to pick him up.

The drive from one marina to the other takes about 30 minutes, but it took Richard about four hours to motor his boat up there. Consequently, I had a lot of time to fill.

I took along two books and my knitting. I spent my four hours at the Lodge at the state park on the lake. When I walked in the building, there were a bunch of women at the front desk having a good time chatting, and they greeted me warmly as I came through the door. I told them I had some time to kill and asked if it was all right to sit in the lobby. They practically escorted me to a chair. I met the park manager. Her name is Annette; very nice woman.

The Lodge also has a dining room. Richard and I had arrived at the park at about 10:00 am (it's a two-hour drive from our house) so I was able to finish one of the books (Crazy for You by Jennifer Crusie) before lunch. I finally hauled my self out of the comfortable chair and moseyed in to the dining room. Since it's the off season, I had my choice of tables, so I picked one near a window so that I could look out at the lake.

The waitress brought me a menu and some diet Coke and I picked out my meal. I realized later that I should have gotten a salad rather than a patty melt and fries, but you know what they say about hindsight. The service, even on a slow off-season day, was particularly slow, but I didn't really care. I had my book and still another couple of hours to kill so I started the second book I had brought (The Sugar Queen by Sarah Addison Allen).

After lunch I went back to my lobby chair and knitted a while. I'm working on a Christmas gift for my niece. While I was knitting, one of the park employees stopped, we exchanged a few pleasantries, and he then just watched me for a few minutes, apparently fascinated (and it wasn't even World Wide Knit in Public Day!). When I got tired of knitting, I went back to my book, keeping an eye on my watch so that I could get to the other marina before Richard was ready to go home. After finishing almost half the book, it was time to go. I went to the car, swatting gnats all the way and started a very pleasant drive.

The weather was perfect. I started the day wearing a woolly cardigan over a short-sleeved t-shirt, but I quickly discarded the sweater. I had some Google maps to guide me to the marina, and I managed not to make a single wrong turn. I arrived just as the boat was coming out of the water. I didn't feel like standing around watching such a slow process, so after I spoke to Richard, I went back to the car, lowered the windows to let in the breeze, sat with one door open and read. I sort of lost track of time, engrossed in my book as I was. Richard finally got through with the marina folks and we headed for home.

During my day I saw a Great Blue Heron (on the wing), a deer crossing the road and disappearing into the forest, and a Red-Tailed Hawk (also on the wing).

Did I say the weather was perfect? Well, it was. My day started out with a road trip with Richard, which I always enjoy; I got to spend time doing my two favorite relaxing activities; I saw wildlife; I had a leisurely lunch; I met nice people; and all in all it was a nearly perfect day. Oh, the being off work part was nice, too. When the boat is cleaned and painted, we'll get to do it again, only with different books and a different knitting project.

Ten Things...

2010-10-26T08:55:00.004-04:00

I've been inspired by Bridget to write a list of Ten Things That I Am Afraid Of. She has some pretty creepy things on her list. We will have some overlap.

1. Getting stuck on a railroad track. When I was in high school, I was on a date with my then-current boyfriend. He was driving me back home and we were about to cross the railroad tracks in my hometown. I was yakking away about something, not paying much attention, when he stopped on the tracks and looked to the right. I turned to see what he was looking at, and had the bejeezus scared out of me when I saw the train, with its headlight on, not fifty feet away. The train was stopped, but that is beside the point. We're talking upwards of 200 tons of steel and a braking distance of far more than fifty feet. Ever since that night...

2. Aquatic creatures with teeth or stingers. As I've said before, I'm a great audience; I readily suspend my disbelief. I went to see Jaws when it first came out and that first scene when the shark attacks the girl swimming at night really gave me nightmares. I've seen snippets of Jaws since then, and I see just how fake the shark looks, but still, ankle deep is about as far as I go into the ocean.

3. Clowns. I'm with Bridget on this one. When I see a clown, I think "serial murderer of children." Creepy.

4. Snakes. Another one I have in common with Bridget. I don't think snakes are creepy, but I do try to avoid them. We had one in our garage one day so I couldn't get to my car. I still think about that snake sometimes when I go to the garage. Richard said it was harmless, but a snake is a snake.

5. Walking/standing on a surface I can see through. I'm not afraid of heights, as long as I'm standing on a solid, opaque surface, but I could not walk on a glass floor. I don't even like walking across grates in the sidewalk. I can be on tall structures and look out over railings and enjoy the view, as long as that floor is solid. You'll never catch me on that new Skywalk at the Grand Canyon.

6. Big spiders. Little spiders don't bother me much, but big ones, especially black ones with red hourglasses on their stomachs, creep me out. I am really afraid of them. I don't care for those large ones with furry legs, either.

7. Scary movies. When I was a child, my father worked in our town's movie theater. Sometimes he would take my sister and me to work with him. This particular theater ran a lot of those low-budget horror flicks, and I was a very impressionable little kid. I usually didn't sit in the theater when one of those movies was playing, but the lobby and auditorium were separated by only a curtain, so I could hear everything that went on, and sometimes my curiosity got the better of me and I would go look. Big mistake, because then I would have nightmares that night. I swore off scary movies at an early age. I have seen a few in my adult life, though, like the version of Dracula starring Frank Langella. That was a pretty classy movie, but I wouldn't watch it again.

8. I agree with Bridget on the Tea Party movement. Lord have mercy! Those people are scary.

9. Car trouble. I had a car one time that liked to eat alternators. I think it went through three of them while I owned it. I always feel so helpless when something goes wrong with my car. AAA and my cell phone are my friends, but I still have a feeling of panic.

10. Political attack ads. Both sides lie, or at least twist the truth, and it's not good for the country. Campaigns should be run on the issues and a candidate who has no useful ideas for improving things should not win elections. Politics is just a power struggle, and few of our politicians actually care about the people. We should have term limits so that we don't have career politicians lining their pockets with special interest money, and special interests should be banned from funding those attack ads. I could go on...

Well, that sort of turned into a rant, didn't it?

Three Days, Three Books

2010-10-20T08:29:00.005-04:00

I order to get to my goal of reading 52 books this calendar year, I have read a few relatively short books. When I get really involved in a story, it find it hard to put down, so I was able to complete three books in three days. That wasn't necessarily a goal but it worked out nicely. I am now reading Stieg Larsson's The Girl Who Played with Fire. This is book #52. I will probably exceed my goal this year (or I could quit after this book and concentrate on knitting).

The three books are:

Compromising Positions, by Jenna Bayley-Burke. Well, this was something different for me. I've been reading a lot of things classed as "romance" lately, and this one was an Amazon recommendation. I read the blurb, which warned that this book was "not for the prudish or faint of heart," and I felt challenged. No damn review is going to deter me if I can help it. Actually the review was pretty good. While the book falls somewhere between erotica and soft porn, it actually has a believable story. There is a lot of sex, but nothing you wouldn't expect from two characters who are falling in love. It is, however, vivid. There is a mystery, but nobody is murdered. It has humor, which any good love story should have. Sophie has been fantasizing about David since she was in her teens, but David is good at not forming emotional attachments. He meets his match when he is recruited to help Sophie teach a couples yoga class. It seems to take forever to get them into bed together, but when they finally make it, David is smitten, although he refuses to admit it to himself. David is also rich and pisses Sophie off by buying her expensive things and making decisions for her. She doesn't want to be his "kept woman." The story goes on pleasantly and, I will spoil it, but it has a happy ending. Of course, all romances have happy endings. If you're not especially prudish, you might enjoy this novel.

Painted Ladies, by Robert B. Parker. Spenser is hired by an art professor to protect him while he delivers a ransom for a priceless painting. The people who stole the painting were very clever and set up the exchange so that Spenser was neutralized. The professor, and supposedly the returned painting, are blown to smithereens as he's returning to Spenser's car. This does not sit well with Spenser, because he failed the professor. Of course, he has to investigate to find out who killed the professor. The investigation takes unexpected turns, but it also has a few "aha" moments. Very readable, as Parker's books usually are.

A Moveable Feast, by Ernest Hemingway. This is a partially fictionalized account of Hemingway's early days as a writer in Paris. It was very compelling reading. We learn about his friendships with such famous people as Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and Sylvia Beach. I bought the restored edition, which has a very long introduction and an equally lengthy foreword, which I skipped. I wanted to read Hemingway's writing, not some analysis of it. And when I say long, I really mean it. This edition also included some writing from later in his life, and you could tell a difference; I liked the early stuff better. It also included alternate beginnings and endings, of which he wrote many. I skipped those, too. Aside from all that unnecessary stuff, I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book, and I may try some more of his novels. I read The Sun Also Rises, but I was disappointed by a lack of plot. Memoirs don't need plots, just some indication of change in the subject of the memoir. I may try A Farewell to Arms next.

I'm rather proud of myself for being so close to reaching my goal. The Girl Who Played with Fire (#52) is, as expected, good reading, so I have no doubt I'll finish it.

Retirement Fantasies

2010-10-13T08:33:00.002-04:00

I'm getting to that point where retirement is the light at the end of a lo-o-ong tunnel. I'm looking forward to it and occasionally counting the days, although really it's several years off yet.

In the meantime, around this time of year, I get to have a few short pretend retirements: the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. Because I work in a state-supported academic institution, I get the Thursday and Friday of Thanksgiving week and about a week to ten days (counting weekends) at Christmas. I look forward to these holidays, for reasons more than that I'm a child at heart.

It's a time to imagine what retirement will be like. I've been looking forward to it for so long. I'm a little burned out on my career as a librarian and I'm looking forward to being a part-time sloth. There are books to read and knitting to get done; cats to cuddle; and the possibility exists that I may want to go back to writing some.

If I don't have to sit at a reference desk for most of the hours in any given day, then I'll have the energy to accomplish some things at home, run errands, take walks, go shopping just for the fun of it. I haven't strolled around a mall with no purpose in years. I'm always there to get something and get out.

I keep thinking of things I won't do when I retire, but I'm not carving anything in stone. I may develop whole new attitudes toward things. I repeatedly tell people, "You couldn't pay me to go back to school," but who knows; I might find something else I want to learn about. I've done enough traveling alone, but I might like to take some weekend trips with Richard. (A friend calls him "that pig" because he didn't take me to Australia when he went there for an international scientific meeting; but it would have been like traveling alone again as he was busy in meetings and conferences every day.) I still want to see New England, preferably not in the winter. I'd also like to see the Grand Canyon, maybe ride a mule down into it and back.

Richard's father, when he retired, took off his watch and doesn't bother much with what time it is. I can see me doing that. In fact I take my watch off now (for practice) when I get home from work on Fridays and if I need to know what time it is when we're out somewhere, I ask Richard.

It's going to be a frabjous day in my own personal La-La Land when I retire.

Weekend in Athens (Georgia, not Greece)

2010-10-07T08:38:00.001-04:00

Well, we did have dinner on Friday night with a Greek. Takis and his wife Judy are two of our dearest friends, as is Diane, who was also at dinner. Diane is a fellow librarian. We all got together at one of my favorite Athens restaurants, DePalma's, a wonderful Italian place. For an appetizer, we got some of their spinach and onion breadsticks to share. A full order was just right for the five of us. For my entree, I had the Pasta DePalma, which is capellini with a rosemary cream sauce and artichoke hearts (and of course cheese). It was very tasty. Dessert for me was canolli. We spent a good two and a half hours talking and laughing (lots of laughing). It was a good way to start off the weekend.

On Saturday, we drove out to Winterville to have a look at our old house. The new owners have made some changes, but at least they haven't chopped down any of those nice hardwoods. We also visited a bookstore (Barnes & Noble). Because Tifton has no bookstore, wandering around in B&N was a real treat.

Next we went to Main Street Yarns and Fibers in Watkinsville. I bought some Ella Rae superwash wool in a nice rust brown to make a sweater or something, and some bright red tweedy stuff to make a scarf. Richard sat in a rocking chair while I fondled yarn and shopped.

For lunch, we were going to go to Gautreau's, a rather wonderful Cajun restaurant, but at the yarn shop we found out that they had closed. The owner's wife died, so he closed the restaurant and moved back to Louisiana. I felt very sad for him. We did eat at another "Cajun" place, The Big Easy Cafe, and I wasn't impressed. I ordered the shrimp and grits, and while it was technically shrimp and grits, it still missed by a mile. They used those little baby frozen shrimp and I think all they did was to thaw them out and throw them on top of some plain grits. Yuck. Richard had a fried shrimp po'boy. I snatched one of his fried shrimp and it was nowhere as good as the ones he makes at home. What a disappointment.

After lunch we went to the State Botanical Garden of Georgia. What a lovely place. Richard is more interested in plants than I am, so I sat outside the visitor's center and read my book. I had a nice shady spot near a fountain and it was so restful. Richard wandered around the grounds and collected a few seeds. Afterward, we went inside the visitor's center where they have an interesting tropical garden. It's very lush and beautiful. The garden is divided up into areas such as spice plants, medicinal plants, food plants, etc. They even have a breadfruit tree. Here are some pictures I took.

The fountain outside the Visitor's Center.

A cone flower near the fountain.

The Tropical Garden path.

Don't know what this is, but it's awfully pretty.

Sadly, because of all the budget cuts for state government institutions, they have had to let a few of the collections go. Richard was telling me that the rhododendron collection is all overgrown and some of the bushes are already dead. That's really too bad.

Late Saturday afternoon, we went downtown and had us a little pub-crawl. We stopped in at the East West Bistro and had a little refreshment. We looked at the menu, but nothing really jumped out at us as something we'd like for dinner. Just our mood, I guess, because that place has really good food. Next we wandered over to the Copper Creek Brewing Co. and had a little more refreshment. This place has a 30-foot bar that is covered in pennies. I asked the bartender how many pennies were imbedded in the acrylic bar top and she said it was about $300 worth. They were all heads up, and Richard and I were discussing just how anal a person would have to be to arrange 30,000 pennies all heads up, facing in the same direction, and in order by date. We decided it would have just been too OCD to do all that. I thought it was amazing that they got them all heads up. I think I would have placed just one tails up and whoever spotted it got a free beer.

On our way to Copper Creek, we encountered a young man with his solid white bulldog puppy. The little thing was so adorable I couldn't resist petting her. She was as soft as a bunny. The guy seemed a little abashed that so many people, especially females, were stopping to admire and pet his dog. When Richard and I started to walk away, the puppy fell into step right beside me. What a cutie!

We moseyed back to our car and went back to the hotel to freshen up. Dinner was at the Olive Garden. I know it's a chain, but they have awfully good food. We sat at the bar while waiting for our table and had a little more refreshment. For a Saturday night, we didn't have to wait too long. I had portobello mushroom ravioli and Richard had the chicken Marsala. One thing I like about Olive Garden is that they don't overfill your plate. It's a reasonable amount of food. It leaves more room for dessert. I had the tiramisu and Richard had a chocolate cake concoction that looked just yummy.

Unfortunately, neither of us slept well that night, even though we had the World's Most Wonderfully Comfortable Bed to sleep on. I'm sure the "refreshments" had something to do with that. They (whoever "they" are) say that alcohol disrupts your sleep. Also, other hotel guests kept coming in at all hours and talking loudly in the corridor. And about 3:00 am, there was a fight brewing out in the parking lot (and we were in a nice hotel!). One guy was offering to rearrange the face of another guy, and we could hear much of the conversation. We finally crawled out of bed at 8:30, or at least Richard did. I stayed where I was until after he took his shower. When we finally got up and going, we went to an IHOP for breakfast, then we hit the road for home. When we got back to Tifton, I helped unload the car and then I settled in the recliner with the footrest up and slept like a log for a solid three hours. We had planned ahead and only had to heat up our dinner.

Even though we enjoyed the hotel mattress's comfort, we were glad to get back to our own bed. All in all, it was a great weekend and I think we should do it more often. I love Athens.

Gotta Blog

2010-09-30T09:41:00.007-04:00

The weather has improved tremendously. Yesterday it was in the 70s rather than the 90s. What a relief! It's not fireplace weather yet, but I'm starting to look forward to it.

I'm still reading, trying to make it to 52 books before the end of the year. I think I'm in the middle of #47 (or maybe #48; I can't remember and I forgot to count). I usually have two books going at once: one at home and another for my lunch break at work.

At home I'm reading Crossfire, by Dick Francis and Felix Francis. I was looking at the Dick Francis website the other day and Felix hinted that he was going to continue his father's work. That will be nice. Crossfire, as with the rest of the Francis books, is a page-turner.

My lunchtime reading is On Folly Beach, by Karen White. It's not quite as exciting as a Dick Francis novel, but so far the story is good. Karen White likes to toss in a good mystery, although the novels are not strictly mysteries. They're more mainstream, women's lit.

Here are a few of the books I've actually finished:

The Draining Lake, by Arnaldur Indridason. I don't know what it is about Scandinavian writers, but they certainly can turn out a good mystery. In this story, a skeleton is found in a lake near Reykjavik that is mysteriously draining away (the draining is not germane to the story). The remains are tied to a Russian listening device, of the type used for espionage. This clue leads Erlendur and his colleagues to the 1970s, during the Cold War. The flashbacks in this particular story are of the politics in Leipzig in East Germany. There was a socialist movement in Iceland at the time, and some of the Icelandic students went to study in Leipzig. There was a scary picture of life under communism of that time. (Makes me glad I'm a capitalist pig, not to mention a bleeding-heart liberal.) Erlendur has to hunt down former Icelandic students who went to Germany in the 70s. The ending is a good surprise when they find out who the skeleton is. If you haven't read any of Arnaldur's books, I highly recommend them.

Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert. What an absolutely wonderful book. Very upbeat and positive and worth reading again and again. That's all I have to say about this book besides, "READ IT!"

Faking It, by Jennifer Crusie. Once again, I've lifted a review from Amazon. If you like fun stories, you must read this one.

"Mural artist Tilda Goodnight is struggling to pay off the mortgage on the family business and keep the Goodnight secrets safely hidden. Juggling her life gets even more complicated when she hides in Clea Lewis's closet and collides with sexy Davy Dempsey. Tilda is in Clea's bedroom to steal back a forged painting; Davy's there to steal Clea's account codes and retrieve the $3 million the larcenous blonde stole from him. Somehow, Tilda finds herself exchanging a mind-blowing kiss with her fellow burglar, and when Davy follows her home and rents a room from her mother, she's forced to deal with the charming con man. Everyone in Tilda's world is pretending to be someone else, including her daydreaming mother, her split-personality sister, and her cross-dressing ex-brother-in-law. All of them, including Tilda and Davy, are Faking It. What will happen when all the secrets are out and everyone knows the truth about everyone else? Will Davy recover his 3 million? Will Tilda recover all the forged paintings and find her true artistic calling? Will Tilda's mother run off to Aruba with a hit man named Ford? And exactly what is the difference between a man labeled a "doughnut" and one who deserves the title "muffin"? Faking It is a hilarious, warm novel with a cast of quirky and wonderful characters that endear while they charm." --Lois Faye Dyer -- (Amazon review.)

Faking It would make an absolutely wonderful movie, although the sex scenes would have to be toned down quite a bit. Crusie describes them vividly. Those scenes are not gratuitous, though. They are definitely part of the story.

The Blue Bistro, by Elin Hilderbrand. "Hilderbrand sets her sophisticated romance novel against the glamorous backdrop of Nantucket Island. Adrienne Dealey is anxious to put Aspen behind her, for it was the scene of her latest disastrous romance with a man of dubious character. Her previous stint as a concierge lands her a job as hostess at an upscale oceanfront restaurant. Charming, boyish owner Thatcher Smith has put the multimillion-dollar property up for sale and intends to close the Blue Bistro for good by summer's end. Other restaurant workers include a handsome, flirtatious bartender; his jealous, hardworking girlfriend; and a publicity-seeking pastry chef. As the romance between Thatcher and Adrienne heats up, his close, secretive relationship with reclusive, enormously talented chef Fiona Kemp, with whom he eats dinner every night, becomes a problem. Hilderbrand keeps things moving briskly in between sumptuous descriptions of food, drink, and tableware, throwing in an in-depth lesson on the restaurant business for good measure. Fun, stylish, and absorbing vacation reading." --Joanne Wilkinson-- Copyright © American Library Association. (Booklist review.)

The love story in The Blue Bistro is almost heartbreaking. This is the first Hilderbrand novel I've read and I enjoyed it thoroughly, but I want a sequel. I want to know what happens afterward. I think I will be reading some more of this author's novels.

When I was growing up, there were always books in the house. My mother subscribed to a book club. I remember having a laughing fit over Kipling's Just So Stories, especially "How the Whale Got Its Throat." I thoroughly enjoyed the two-volume novel The Tontine, by Thomas B. Costain. And one year when we went to the beach in the summer, I took along Gone with the Wind. My mother fussed at me for staying inside reading, but I was engrossed in that book. I read Forever Amber, by Kathleen Winsor, a book in which the text on the pages was in two columns rather than spread across the whole page. Several times I read a novel called Freedom's Way, whose author I can't remember, but I loved that book. Books were my entertainment and sometimes my refuge.

I hope you have been happily reading. I know it's one of my favorite activities.

Change of Seasons

2010-09-23T09:19:00.008-04:00

Today is the first day of autumn.

And there will be a full moon tonight.

Do you think this is an auspicious coincidence?

Maybe some astrologist could clue me in.

I was looking back at some of my older posts the other day, and found a mention of last fall's first chilly temperature. It was October 19, 2009, and the forecast was for a low temp of 38 degrees. That's delightful night-time weather. It means we can get out the snuggly, fuzzy blanket, and the cats will want to sleep on the bed with us. I'm looking forward to fires in the fireplace and warm, woolly sweaters. Hot soup with toasty garlic bread. A big bowl of chili with some sweet cornbread.

This is going to be another random post, but I did want to celebrate the first day of fall.

A friend of mine was in the hospital for a week while the doctor waffled between "does she have diverticulosis?" or "does she have appendicitis?" Meanwhile, she was in a great deal of pain, and then had an apendectomy. The pain almost immediately went away and then they kicked her out of the hospital. (Isn't that just the way now: yank it out and kick 'em out?) Anyway, she's all better.

All this is leading up to a conversation I had with a coworker. I was telling him about my friend, and he got into a rumination about the difference between diverticulitis and diverticulosis, and went into some graphic detail. I interrupted him and told him I was glad it wasn't lunchtime while we were having this conversation. He saw the humor in my comment because neither of us is especially squeamish, and we had a nice chuckle.

Then I went to lunch.

I was sitting there in the Cheese & Feed (really, that's the name of the restaurant) enjoying my sandwich of ham and cucumber slices and cream cheese spread on a croissant, and at the table next to mine were three businessmen (they all had on white shirts and ties) talking about their colonoscopy preparations. I mean, really? Over lunch? In public? Just for the fun of it, I seriously considered pointing out that there were other people present who could hear them, but instead I went back to eating my sandwich. When I got back to work I told my coworker about it and we had another good laugh.

I'm excited. Richard and I have planned a weekend trip to Athens. When we go we're hoping to meet some old friends for dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. We'll also go to the yarn shop in a nearby town and probably to the beer store. We have other favorite restaurants in our plans as well. One is Cajun, where we may get fried shrimp po'boys. The weather should be pleasant, too. It will be a nice trip.

This is the first year I have ever knit in the summertime. Before, it was always something I did only between October and March. I also used to knit exclusively with acrylic. Now I've discovered cotton. I've also discovered merino and have found a yarn on Webs that is 80% merino and 20% silk (Berroco Inca Gold). I haven't actually personally touched this yarn, but it sounds so yummy that I'm going to have to buy some of it for something. It comes in lovely colors, all named in Spanish. I'm currently drooling over granate (garnet). Shopping on the Internet is frighteningly easy.

Well, I hope the first day of fall is auspicious for you, in a good way, of course. It's one of my favorite seasons of the year. I love the crisp air and the bright blue sky.

Reading Goal and Other Random Stuff

2010-09-16T08:48:00.011-04:00

Quite a few years ago I decided I wanted to read an average of one book per week for an entire year. I never did reach that goal. BUT... this year I have it in the crosshairs. Here it is the middle of September and I've already read 44 books. I have about 19 weeks left to read the other eight. I think I'm gonna make it.

One year, I was feeling quite stressed and I read a lot of books as an escape. I read Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe novels like they were going out of style, but I still didn't make it to 52 books.

I'm working on book #45, Faking It by Jennifer Crusie. Crusie has become one of my new favorite authors (thanks to Lene) and I find myself adding more and more of her books to my wish list.

On a different subject: yesterday at work, I had a patron who was your basic know-it-all idiot. I wanted to vault across the desk and throttle him until his eyeballs rolled back into his head. I didn't. But I did tell my friend Theresa about it (we were chatting via e-mail) and she wrote "death to all who don't think you know what you're talking about." It was gratifying and soothed my ruffled feathers.

Speaking of Theresa, she no longer works at the library of Small Public Institution. She is now employed at the Georgia Museum of Agriculture and Historic Village. This facility is like a theme park, but is not gaudy like one. Several farmhouses have been moved to GMA and you can see how people lived in the 19th century. They have cows and goats and other animals, a turpentine still, a small steam train, a church, and a store, among other farm-related things. They grind corn and you can get some stone-ground grits. It's a very interesting place. Theresa is run ragged, but she loves the job and is never bored.

This has been one of the hottest summers I have ever experienced. If you pay attention to national weather reports, you know that the South was not the only area affected. It has consistently been in the high 90s most of the season. We're finally getting some relief. Temps are down to 90, but it feels good. I got really tired of last winter's cold weather (very unusual for me) and was looking forward to summer. This turned out to be one of those "be careful what you wish for" situations. I'm glad it's September.

On a sad note, we lost another kitty. Bennis got sick and the vet could not figure out what was wrong with her so we did the humane thing. This happened a couple of months ago, but I was too distressed to write about it earlier. But I'm thankful we still have Lila, Dashiell, and Bagheera. We have Bennis's ashes in a little urn, sitting right next to Fido's ashes. I wish we had been able to have our dog, Brandy, cremated too, but she's buried in the woods behind our old house in Athens. I'd like to retire to Athens, and I think it might be nice to move back into that house.

Do you realize it is only 100 days until Christmas?

If Not Knitting, Then Reading

2010-09-02T09:31:00.019-04:00

Here's a few of the books I've read lately. I'd recommend every one of them.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson. OMG what a wonderful, and wonderfully written, book. In one of the reviews on Amazon, the reviewer pointed out that you really don't want to mess with the girl with the dragon tattoo. Her name is Lisbeth Salander and she is a computer genius. She can find out anything about anybody.

Mikael Blomkvist, a disgraced journalist who is about to go to jail for a few months, is hired by Henrik Vanger to find out what happened to his great-niece Harriet four decades earlier. She just disappeared and no body was ever found. Mikael takes the job, reluctantly, because the powerful person he "libeled" is threatening to close down his news magazine if he does not quit the organization. Mikael hires Lisbeth to help him. They have to delve into Vanger family history, which makes a few people quite nervous. Mikael and Lisbeth uncover all kinds of things about the Vanger family; some are sad and some are shocking.

Lisbeth is a strange person. Labeled as mentally handicapped when she was a child, she has been under the supervision of a guardian all her life. When her old and benevolent guardian retires, she gets assigned to a new, and unscrupulous, one. This man violates her in several ways. Lisbeth is absolutely not mentally handicapped and sees the world quite clearly. She decides to teach her guardian a lesson he will never forget and she manages to scare the ever-loving shit out of him, thus neutralizing him. That scene alone is worth the price of the book.

Stieg Larsson, who died in 2004, was a talented storyteller, to put it mildly. He wrote mysteries at night to relax. I have yet to read the other two books in the series, but they are definitely on my reading list.

Changing Habits, by Debbie Macomber. This was an interesting novel to read, but it is not one of my favorite Macomber books.

Three young women enter a Minneapolis convent: Angelina, who believed she was called by God; Kathleen, whose devout Irish Catholic family always assumed that she would become a nun; and Joanna, who is trying to escape the heartbreak of having her fiance come home from Vietnam with a pregnant bride. These three women spend years in the convent, all as teachers in the convent school. They each face a crisis and finally decide to return to the secular world. Most of the book is taken up with their lives as nuns, then the action jumps to a reunion that marks the closing of the convent, long after they have settled back into society. The ending was satisfying but you see it coming.

Fast Women, by Jennifer Crusie. This was a rollicking good mystery slash love story. Nell Dysart, recently divorced, gets hired at a run down detective agency, owned by Gabe McKenna and his cousin Riley. Nell and Gabe each think that the other will be easy to handle, but boy are they both wrong! Nell wants to spruce the place up, but Gabe wants everything left the way it is, as his father left it. There is a butting of heads but also some sparks flying. In her efforts to clean the office, Nell finds some interesting stuff, which brings up all kinds of questions. Bodies start hitting the floor, adding to the other questions.

I enjoyed this book, and I will read more of Crusie's novels. It was funny, well-written, had a good love story, and the mystery part was excellent. Go read it.

The Goddess of Fried Okra, by Jean Brashear.

(I confess. I lifted this review straight out of Amazon.com.)

Grief. Hope. Love. Sword fights. And the crisp glory of fried okra. Ex-cocktail waitress and "convenience store professional" Eudora "Pea" O'Brien is filled with grief and regret, low on cash and all alone. Headed down the hot, dusty back roads of central Texas, Pea is convinced she'll find a sign leading her to the reincarnated soul of the sister who raised her. A sign that she's found her place in the world of the living again. At least that's what the psychic promised. In an unforgettably funny and poignant journey, Pea collects an unlikely family of strays--a starving kitten, a pregnant teenager, a sexy con man trying to go straight, and a ferocious gun dealer named Glory, who introduces Pea to the amazing, sword-wielding warrior goddesses of Texas author Robert E. Howard--creator of the Conan the Barbarian novels-and celebrated in festival every year. Six foot tall, red-headed Pea looks good with a sword in her hand. Glory, the goddesses, and a grandmotherly café owner become Pea's unlikely gurus as she struggles to learn swordplay and the art of perfect fried okra. She'll have to master both if she's going to find what matters most--her own lost soul. "Jean Brashear writes with warmth and emotion truth. The depth of her understanding of human nature marks her as a writer to watch, a writer to read and a writer to enjoy." Cathy Maxwell.

This book was one of those serendipitous finds on Amazon. I was browsing and this one came up as a FREE Kindle edition. I read the reviews and decided I might like it. And it was FREE. (I don't know why it was free, but it's not now.) Anyway, I downloaded it and enjoyed it very much. Brashear really draws you into the story.

OK, that's enough for today. I'll have some more later. Y'all take care!

Love Bacon

2010-08-16T12:37:00.008-04:00

Bridget passed on the Ten on Tuesday 10 Reasons to Love Bacon because she is a vegetarian. But I am an omnivore, so I think I'll give it a shot.

Breakfast. This is a multi-part reason because I am a breakfast freak.

1. Bacon, eggs, and grits: This is a classic. You can get it in Waffle Houses and Denny's all over the place, but at home is best. I like my eggs either scrambled or over easy; butter on my grits; and my bacon crisply fried.

2. Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich: When I was living/working in Charleston, the marine lab where I was employed had a snack bar and the nice lady who ran it would make sandwiches and hot dogs to order. Her bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches became legendary. I used to skip breakfast at home, just so I could have one of those sandwiches. (I also gained a lot of weight on them, not that I needed to.) They were a gastronomical delight.

3. Bacon alongside a stack of pancakes, with maple syrup drizzled on both. The combination of sweet and savory makes my mouth water even as I write this.

OK, enough with breakfast.

4. BLTs. Bacon, lettuce, and ripe, red tomato slices on whole-wheat or 12-grain bread. Plenty of mayonnaise, and salt and pepper. This is best made at home, too.

5. Clam chowder. The first ingredient to go in the pot is bacon. After it is fried crispy and drained, the rest of the chowder is assembled and the bacon goes back in at the end. Twenty minutes of simmering and you have a nice, thick pot of heaven.

6. Canadian bacon, pineapple, and mushrooms on a pizza. I came up with this combination when I was in library school in Seattle, and I asked Pizza Haven (on The Ave), to put mushrooms on my Hawaiian pizza. I liked it so well that my Hawaiian pizza now always has 'shrooms.

7. I love the aroma of bacon frying. I would rather my house smelled of bacon than cookies.

8. Bacon grease cooked in green beans. Richard and I are Southerners, so we don't really love crisp green beans, though we will eat them with gusto when presented with them. But at home, we cook our green beans to death, with chicken broth and bacon grease. Yummy.

9. Similar to #7, I love the smell of onions cooking in bacon fat. It's usually the beginning of a recipe that may eventually turn into something like a pot of chili.

10. As Emeril Lagasse is always telling us: "Pork fat rules!" He has never explained what the pork fat rules are, however.

From this list, you might think we eat bacon and its by-product on a regular basis, but we don't. We use far more olive oil and canola oil than we ever would of bacon or bacon grease. But we do break down and indulge every two or three months.

Bacon is a good thing.

How Does Grown Up Feel?

2010-08-09T10:23:00.004-04:00

I rolled over another birthday recently.

When I was in my early thirties and my mother was in her middle fifties, I read an article in a women's magazine about being a grownup. The main point of the article was the author's wondering when she would feel like a grownup. I realized then that I didn't feel like a grownup, had no idea what that would feel like.

I told my mother about the article, and she said, "You know, I've been wondering about that, myself." Well... I was surprised that Mama did not feel grownup yet, and I felt a sense of freedom, that I really didn't have to worry about it yet.

As this recent birthday passed, I got to thinking again about that conversation with Mama. I think I have achieved grownupedness. I feel mature enough to deal with life. I'm less intimidated by those above me in the pecking order. New situations don't scare me. I am no longer a person to be messed with.

I am one of those post-WWII baby boomers. I grew up during a time when children were seen and not heard and men were believed to be superior to women in all areas (if that ain't a load of horse manure, I don't know what is). Now that I've gotten over those crappy societal expectations, I'm a happier person.

However... though I feel grown up, I do not feel old.

Growing old is inevitable; growing up is not.

What Is A Romance?

2010-08-04T16:06:00.005-04:00

At one time I thought I knew the answer to that question.

Two blog posts ago, I wrote about trying to read a romance. I had always thought that "romance novel" = "dismally bad writing, and even worse storytelling," the kind of writing that made your stomach turn over. The book I tried to read a couple of weeks ago was like that: really horrendously bad writing and a thin story line. I couldn't finish it, even though the author is a New York Times bestseller. (I'm still shaking my head about that one.)

Lene, bless her heart, thought I was lumping all romances into that bad, dominant male/wimpy female category. And I was. She suggested that I read Jennifer Crusie's Fast Women. So I did.

Well... Jennifer Crusie can write. I enjoyed Fast Women immensely. It had good prose, lots of action, believable romance, mystery, danger, conflict, and character growth. I think the key for me was the believable romance.

If Fast Women is an example of good romance writing, then I've been reading quite a bit of it lately. I just thought I was reading good books.

I have some more thinking to do.

Whatever you do, I'd recommend NOT reading that author I mentioned in the other blog post. She might be a very nice person and she might live in my mother-in-law's hometown, but I don't think I'll be looking her up the next time I go there.

I Wanna Go To New England

2010-07-27T08:53:00.016-04:00

I have never been to New England. The farthest northeast that I have gone is New York. No, wait; I lied. I did change planes at Logan in Boston on my way to London, but it was nighttime and I didn't even get to see any of the landscape, or cityscape for that matter.

So I took a virtual tour of sights in New England by going to Google Images. Here are a few of them:

Clam chowdah! I make clam chowder, and Richard and I think it's quite tasty, but I want to have some chowdah, made with fresh clams in New England by a New Englander.

Since I started out with food, I'll continue with that theme for a bit. Here is some nice blueberry coffee cake. It's nice that something that is so good for you is also very yummy. (Now you know I'm not taking about the cake part, but the blueberries.)

I've never had a lobster roll. I'm saving myself for the lobster roll I'll get in Maine.

Of course I have to see the autumn leaves and the picturesque towns. The southern Appalachians have nice fall color (take a drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway in October), but just because you've seen one location's fall foliage doesn't mean you've seen them all.

Visiting some coastal wildlife would be fun. A whale-spotting tour on a boat could also be fun.

I'll bet spring in New England is gorgeous.

And, finally, it would just be wrong to go to New England without visiting a few lighthouses.

If anybody reading this has any suggestions for what else I should see in New England, I welcome the comments. Thanks!

I Tried To Read A Romance...

2010-07-20T08:44:00.007-04:00

OH! MY! GAWD!

I came across a romance novel in the library last week and decided to give it a try. The cover was attractive (no ripped bodice or washboard abs) and the first page showed promise. The last time I attempted to read a romance was 1994. I had just met the author so I bought one of her books. The first page was horrendous, so I closed the book and I have no idea where that book got to.

The book I picked up last week is Dangerous, by Diana Palmer. The whole first chapter is blatant exposition. For those who don't know what that means, exposition is the "telling" of backstory rather than "showing." (Major rule of writing: Show, don't tell.) In this case, characters are having conversations in which they are telling each other things that they both already know. This is a weak device for getting across backstory. I could have tolerated it if there was a half page or less of it, but it went on and on and on and on.

I kept reading (sort of like watching a NASCAR race to see who crashes and burns first) because I kept telling myself that I should give it a chance. Along about page 50 we got our first intimate scene where the enigmatic cowboy kisses the shy girl, only he doesn't just kiss her, he "ground his mouth into hers."

It's hard to laugh out loud and gag at the same time.

When I got to the next page, where he is being manly and she is being meek and submissive, I slammed the book shut and tried to get the contamination off my favorite bookmark.

This book was so badly written, it's hard to believe that Publisher's Weekly said, "Palmer demonstrates, yet again, why she's the queen of desperado quests for justice and true love." The publishing industry must have very low standards for romance writers, and what does that say about the readers who are addicted to romance novels?

It boggles the mind.

The Latest in My Long List of Book Reviews...

2010-07-08T16:21:00.009-04:00

Nature Girl, by Carl Hiaasen. Honey Santana thinks people should just act right. When a clueless telemarketer, Boyd Shreave, calls her during dinner, she tries to teach him some manners and he calls her a “dried up old skank.” Honey, who frequently hears two songs playing in her head at the same time, cooks up a plan to really teach Boyd something. She tricks him into coming to Florida by pretending to be a telemarketer herself and offering a deal he can’t pass up. When he gets to Florida, Honey takes Boyd and his girlfriend to one of the Ten Thousand Islands, hoping he will learn to appreciate nature and goodness, but Boyd is bulletproof and behaves like a spoiled brat the whole time. Things are complicated by an unwashed (literally) fishmonger/stalker named Louis Piejack; a half Seminole and his “hostage;” and Honey’s ex-husband Perry and her son Fry. They all end up on the island and Hiaasen’s hilarious ridiculousness ensues. Things get resolved -- mostly -- and I found this novel to be quite a page-turner. Very enjoyable.

The Vintage Caper, by Peter Mayle. When a hot-shot Hollywood lawyer's most treasured and expensive wines are stolen, his insurance company calls in Sam Levitt, a gourmand and lawyer-of-all-trades with a varied background, to investigate. The investigation takes Sam to Paris and Bordeaux, where he hooks up with the elegant insurance agent Sophie Costes, a fellow wine and food snob. The trail finally leads them to a man named Francis Reboul in Marseille, and soon, with the help of Sophie's journalist cousin, Phillipe, they get an in with Reboul and close in on closing the caper. While the plot may be predictable, the pleasures of this very French adventure—and there are many—aren't in the resolution, of course, but in the pleasant stroll through the provinces and in the glasses of wine downed and decadent meals consumed. (Publisher’s Weekly review)

Lean Mean Thirteen, by Janet Evanovich. Stephanie Plum works as a bail bondswoman for her cousin Vinnie in Trenton. She's mostly in love with Morelli the cop, who calls her Cupcake, but she's also mesmerized by Ranger, who works serious security and calls her Babe—a split in nomenclature that aptly characterizes this delectable long-running series. Ranger needs Stephanie to plant a bug on her ex, the ever-smarmy attorney Dickie Orr. When Dickie goes missing, a lot of bad people and places start to blow up, burn up, and turn up. Evanovich smoothly slips from the hilarious to the hair-raising, from the erotic to the familial, carrying the running jokes we love so well: exploding taxidermy (a regular plot point here); waiting for the cable repair guy ("those fuckers!" say at least half a dozen characters); Stephanie's oddball assortment of colleagues, buddies, and relatives. Stephanie saves herself in the end, as usual, but both Ranger and Morelli mop up the mess, also as usual. We end with pizza and a tangled tale of underwear. (Booklist review by GraceAnne A. DeCandido) I thoroughly enjoyed this novel and found myself laughing out loud frequently.

Return to Sullivan’s Island, by Dorothea Benton Frank. Frank creates a world in which aspiring writer Beth Hayes, whose chirpy internal monologues and quiet uncertainties make her easily endearing, is as much a character as the house she lives in. After graduating from college in Boston, Beth returns to the South to spend a year house-sitting her family's home, Island Gamble, while her mother, Susan, visits Paris. Frank's portrayal of a large and complicated family is humorous and precise: there's Susan, adoring and kind; Aunt Maggie, a stickler for manners; twin aunts Sophie and Allison, who run an exercise-and-vitamin empire; and uncles Timmy and Henry, the latter of whom has ties to Beth's trust fund. Frank's lovable characters occasionally stymie her pace; there's almost no room left for Beth's friends or her love affairs with sleazy Max Mitchell and cherubic Woody Morrison, though these become important later on. Frank is frequently funny, and she weaves in a dark undercurrent that incites some surprising late-book developments. Tight storytelling, winsomely oddball characters and touches of Southern magic make this a winner. (Publisher’s Weekly review) I found Beth to be flighty and somewhat immature for a 23-year-old, but overall I enjoyed reading this novel.

Just Desserts, by Barbara Bretton. Finn Rafferty shows up at Hayley Goldstein’s bakery in New Jersey to order a cake for a world-famous rock star’s concert after-party in Atlantic City. Hayley is a little skeptical at first, but the contract is negotiated and Hayley and her staff start designing the cake. This is the chance of a lifetime. She can afford to upgrade her baker’s kitchen and pay off a few bills. What Hayley doesn’t know is that she is the aging rock star’s long lost daughter. Finn, attracted to Hayley, promises not to tell her even though he hates keeping it from her. When she finally finds out, her world is turned turned upside down, and Hayley will need help letting down her guard and hanging onto the things that matter most. And the rocker's lawyer, Finn Rafferty, may just be the man for the job.

Time Is a River, by Mary Alice Monroe. Mary Alice Monroe is becoming one of my favorite authors. Years ago I abandoned mainstream novels for mysteries, but I’m finding lately that I’m enjoying them again. Time Is a River is the second of Monroe’s novels that I’ve read (the other was Last Light Over Carolina, which is coming out in trade paperback). Mia Landan is a breast-cancer survivor. Her older sister sends her to a retreat in the mountains outside of Asheville, NC, called Casting for Recovery where she learns to fly-fish and shares her feelings with other breast cancer survivors. The retreat makes her feel much better and she goes home to Charleston a day early and surprises her husband in bed with another woman. Mia runs from the house, gets in the car, and drives back to North Carolina. She stays in a small cabin that belongs to Belle Carson, her fly-fishing guide and the leader of the retreat. As Mia lives in the cabin and goes fishing on the river, she begins to learn who she is and just where she fits into her own life. As she gets to know the people of Watkins Mill, the small mountain town near the cabin, she learns of a mystery that has cast a pall over the town and especially over Belle. Even though Belle tells her to leave it alone, Mia must find out the truth. Along the way, she makes friends of many of the townspeople. The town librarian and the local newspaper editor/town historian help her in her quest. As she gets to know the focus of the mystery, she learns more about herself and nature and fly-fishing. There is a romance in this novel, but it is not the main plot. It's handled beautifully. It’s a heartwarming story, well-told and well-plotted, and it has a very satisfying ending. Mary Alice Monroe is an excellent writer. I’m going to read more of her novels.

I swear, I'm going to get some knitting done and try to tone down this reading frenzy. I'm making a sweater with a peace symbol knit into the front. I've finished the back and I'm almost to the point where I have to start the design on the front. The yarn is a lovely green called malachite, and it's made of Pima cotton and Tencel (50/50). Very soft and silky. I'll have more information later on.

Cat Behavior 101 (and other stuff)

2010-06-29T09:24:00.016-04:00

On Saturday I wanted to knit on my sweater, so I settled in the recliner (my favorite place to knit), got out the knitting, saw that I was near the end of the skein, and tied on a new yarn end. Just as I was getting ready to start a new row, Bagheera jumped into my lap. I put her on the floor and, just like a yo-yo, she jumped right back up. We went through this several times, and then I thought, maybe if I moved the knitting a little further down on my lap, she'll see there is not enough room for her and go away. So I tried that. She jumped up on the arm of the chair, assessed the situation, and then climbed onto my chest and settled down. I decided I didn't want to go through this routine for the rest of the afternoon, so I gave up and put away my knitting. Of course, Bagheera jumped down then and ignored me for the rest of the day. I didn't dare pick up my knitting again because I knew she'd start all over. Damn cat.

Lila had to have knee surgery. She did the same thing that Fido did: she blew out a ligament. Richard took her to the vet and I picked her up the next day. She's doing fine, but with her hind leg shaved rather drastically, she looks like she has a raw chicken leg hanging off her hip. Cat hair grows pretty slowly so it'll be a while before she looks normal again. The nice thing is that she is no longer limping. She's not jumping up on the bed any more. I guess she realizes her limitations. Her new thing, when she wants on the bed in the middle of the night, is clawing the box spring on Richard's side of the bed. He eventually wakes up and lifts her onto the bed and she is so happy. She gets between us and purrs very loudly.

I am now addicted to my Kindle. I just downloaded another two books today. I won't ever grow averse to reading an actual hard-copy book (which is a good thing as not every book comes in a Kindle edition), but I do look forward to saving space on the bookshelves. I've started selling my books on Amazon, and while there is not a mad rush to buy my books, I did sell a few recently. That was gratifying.

Last Friday was a very high-calorie day. First off, we had a staff meeting to which our director brought Krispy Kreme donuts. I think I had four or five (love me some Krispy Kreme donuts). I thought I was safe for the rest of the day, but Theresa invited me to go out to lunch to celebrate Debbie’s birthday. We went to the King Buffet (Asian food), where I had only one plate of food, but then somebody broke out the birthday cake, a chocolate-on-chocolate, multi-layer cake from Mi Lady Bakery. Debbie cut me a sizeable piece, which I polished off. Along about 2:00 pm my stomach was feeling a little over-sugared, but I wasn’t done yet. For dinner, Richard and I went out with a crowd to celebrate Renata’s and Joe’s birthdays. We went to the Coconut Asian Bistro. I had my usual egg rolls and shrimp fried rice. Coconut is kind of a noisy place when you get twenty people at one long table, all talking at once and shouting from one end of the table to the other. After a while, the restaurant staff brought out the two cakes that Bret had procured: a chocolate cake and a caramel cake. I was going to forego cake but there was a spare piece of caramel floating around, so I said, “Oh, what the hell,” and I ate it. After abusing my stomach all day, I had to take several doses of bicarbonate of soda to be able to sleep that night. I ate lightly for the rest of the weekend and I have recovered. I will try never to do that again. (Famous last words…).

As you can see, nothing exciting has happened to me lately (except for the dealings with Amazon), but I hope you have been mildly amused. I try.

Apparently, All I Do Is Read

2010-06-22T09:17:00.019-04:00

Here are some more book reviews. Happy reading!!

The Crack in the Lens, by Steve Hockensmith. This is the fourth installment in Hockensmith’s Holmes on the Range series. Set in 1893, a few weeks after the events of 2008's The Black Dove, Hockensmith's excellent fourth mystery to feature Otto Big Red Amlingmeyer and his older brother, Gustav (aka Old Red), takes them to San Marcos, Tex. The laconic Old Red, whose life took an unexpected turn after his brother introduced him to the deductive methods of Sherlock Holmes, reveals that the love of his life, hooker Gertrude Eichelberger, was murdered in San Marcos five years earlier. The pair's efforts to investigate put them at odds with the local pimps as well as the law. The brothers discover that Gertrude was but the first victim of a serial killer, who modeled his crimes after Jack the Ripper. The personal stake Old Red has in catching the murderer adds an emotional dimension to the puzzle, which Edgar-finalist Hockensmith nicely leavens with witty prose and cliffhanging chapter endings. (from Publisher’s Weekly, lifted straight from Amazon)

Laced with Magic, by Barbara Bretton. Laced with Magic is Bretton’s sequel to Casting Spells. Half-sorceress Chloe Hobbs and policeman Luke MacKenzie, the only humans in the sleepy Vermont town of Sugar Maple, face worldly and unearthly challenges in this sweetly charming sequel to 2008's Casting Spells. When Luke's ex-wife, Karen, shows up in town claiming that their dead daughter is trying to ask them for help, Chloe must deal with smalltown gossip and fix her relationship with Luke while she battles her old Fae enemy, Isadora, over the child's spirit and the future of Sugar Maple. Bretton seamlessly blends a playful world of eccentric and meddling supernatural creatures living in the midst of New England with a warm, natural and romantic story and just a hint of mystery. Scenes in Chloe's yarn shop and helpful knitting tips hold extra appeal for yarn aficionados while never distracting from the plot. (ditto)

The Black Cat, by Martha Grimes. I think Martha has been reading too much Rita Mae Brown. In The Black Cat, animals talk to each other and try to send telepathic messages to our hero, Richard Jury. Harry Johnson (from The Old Wine Shades) appears in this novel also, and Jury really wants him to turn out to be the killer. Many of the clues point to Harry, but Jury can’t quite pin him down (read The Old Wine Shades; you’ll see why). The victims in this story are all call girls from different escort agencies, so finding something in common besides their call-girl status, proves very frustrating. The linking clue comes in an unexpected way and Jury is finally able to solve the murders. Publisher’s Weekly didn’t like it very much, but I enjoyed this book.

Just Take My Heart, by Mary Higgins Clark. I had never read any of Clark’s novels before and I enjoyed this one, for the most part. There was a subplot that could have been left out altogether and it would not have made a bit of difference in the novel. Other than that, Clark weaves a pretty good story. County prosecutor Emily Wallace is involved in a case trying to convict a man of shooting his ex-wife, a famous Broadway actress. Her star witness is a career thief who testifies that the husband, Gregg, paid him money to off his wife, Natalie. The thief also testifies that he did not go through with the job because he was a thief, not a killer. He has a piece of information that seemingly clinches Gregg’s fate. The suspense continues through the whole book and when you find out whether or not Gregg did the deed, it’s a good surprise. I think the story was well-plotted (except for that unnecessary subplot) and fast-paced and I did actually enjoy it.

Hissy Fit, by Mary Kay Andrews. I used to read Mary Kay Andrews’s books when she was writing as Kathy Hogan Trocheck (Callahan Garrity mysteries). Now she’s writing mainstream romances with a little bit of mystery thrown in and it really works. This is the first book I read on my Kindle and I love that thing. In the novel, Keeley Murdock, at the rehearsal dinner for her wedding to A.J. Jernigan, finds A.J. screwing her maid of honor and supposed best friend on the table in the board room of the country club. Keeley pitches the hissy fit of all hissy fits, calls off the wedding, and storms out. She lives in the small town of Madison, GA, and word is all over town before she even gets home. She gets a ride from Will Mahoney, who was at the rehearsal. Will wants Keeley, an interior decorator, to help him restore an antebellum mansion outside of town. He needs the job to impress a woman he’s never met, but only seen on TV, enough that she will want to marry him and settle down in the house. Keeley of course thinks he’s lost his mind, and she declines, mostly because she is so distraught about her ruined wedding plans. Will has an impossible deadline, too. Suffice it to say she comes around and agrees to do the job, insane deadline and all. The mystery in this novel is that Keeley’s mother, Jeanine, disappeared 25 years earlier, and everybody thinks she ran off to parts unknown with Darvis Kane, a car salesman. The story gets into town gossip about all the illicit affairs of various prominent citizens. Keeley becomes determined to find out what happened to her mother, and gets the help of her best friend, florist Austin LaFleur. Andrews brings all the plots and subplots together nicely, writes a good story, and winds it up to a very satisfactory ending. I was enjoying this book so much, I was a little bereft when it ended. Needless to say, I will be reading more of Mary Kay Andrews’s books.

I am loving the Kindle and I'm glad I bought it. Kindle editions are cheaper than hard-copy books, there are no shipping charges, and no waiting days for books to arrive in the mail.

Giving In

2010-06-08T09:00:00.000-04:00

I have been resisting buying a Kindle, but because of all the books I have cluttering up the house, I may have to go that route. I'm going to try selling my books online. Not all of them, of course, but most of them. Maybe then I can afford the Kindle.

I have many first-edition mysteries, all with the book jackets intact and all in like-new condition. I love the feel and smell of a brand new hardback book. I like turning pages. I like looking at the place where my bookmark is to see how long it will be before I find out whodunit or whether or not the lovers unite (not meant as a double entendre, Theresa). I love settling down in my chair with a cat and a book.

But, Lordy, I have a lot of books!

This is one of two bookcases in the house that Richard did not build. It has space for a few more books, but not many, as you can see.

This is the bookcase in the breakfast nook, with most of our cookbooks on it.

The wall of bookshelves that Richard built.

The bookcase with all my writing books in it.

Bookcase #1 in the bedroom.

Bookcases #2 and #3 in the bedroom.

All these bookcases that Richard built are about seven feet tall, except for the wall of shelves which goes all the way to the ceiling.

This is the bookcase in the guest bedroom, which my grandfather built.

Do I have a lot of books or what??? So you can see why it's time to give in and get a Kindle and pass on most of my hard-copy books.

More Books

2010-05-25T08:49:00.011-04:00

I'm still reading like a fool, although I have to slow down soon in order to knit on my sweater. There will be pictures when I remember to take some.

The books:

Twelve Sharp by Janet Evanovich. Ooh, that woman can come up with some scary bad guys who seem to be impossible to defeat. By about halfway through the novel I start asking "Is Stephanie Plum ever going to get out of this predicament?" Of course, she does, but it's always a nail-biter-page-turner of a story. In Twelve Sharp, a sociopath (what else?) is trying to take over Ranger's life and part of that plan is making Stephanie his girlfriend. The man also plans to kill Ranger and as bait he goes to Miami and kidnaps Ranger's young daughter (who lives with her mother and stepfather). Well, you don't mess with Ranger's family and friends, but he has to go into hiding because the sociopath has killed several people and the police think Ranger did it. Stephanie, being the hot-headed, headstrong person she is, is determined to solve this problem. She, naturally, gets herself into deep trouble (several times) and Ranger and Morelli (Steph's homicide-detective boyfriend) have to rescue her, although she manages to extricate herself about half the time. The suspense in this story is so effective you're out of breath by the time it ends.

The Blight Way by Patrick F. McManus is his first foray into writing a mystery novel, and he does a damn fine job of it. McManus is known primarily for his humorous short stories. The Blight Way takes place in Blight County, Idaho, and the lead character is Sheriff Bo Tully, college-educated and an artist in addition to being sheriff. He is called out when a body is found draped over a fence on the Skraggs property, the Skraggs being a ne'r-do-well family that is usually involved in whatever crime has been committed. Bo decides that this time they are not to blame. After all, they did call him to come investigate the killing. As a 75th birthday present to his father, Pap Tully (former sheriff of Blight County), Bo takes him along to help with the investigation. There is humor aplenty in this story and the bodies keep piling up. The bodies are mostly from Los Angeles and Bo has to find out what they're doing in Blight County. One thing I liked about this novel (one of the many) is that McManus has his characters reveal their reasoning and methods of detecting. It's a good story and a good mystery and I'm buying the next one in the series.

The Shape Shifter by Tony Hillerman is probably my favorite of his Joe Leaphorn/Jim Chee novels. Joe is retired but he gets a letter from an old colleague who tells him about a Navaho rug that was supposedly destroyed in a fire. The rug, or a copy, shows up on the wall of a house recently photographed for an architecture magazine. Joe's curiosity is aroused as he was a new police officer when the fire was being investigated. After visiting the house, Joe's friend dies in a one-vehicle accident and Joe gets suspicious, especially since the man's wife calls Joe when her husband is late coming home that night. The plot is very complex and while there are lots of clues, Joe has to figure out which ones are important and how they all fit together. Just as you think you know something about the crimes the plot changes. It was great reading and in the end, justice is served, though maybe not as you might expect.

Death without Tenure by Joanne Dobson. I love Joanne Dobson. She writes great academic mysteries. Death without Tenure is the sixth in her Karen Pelletier series. Karen is up for tenure at Enfield College, but there is only one tenured position available and another professor is also vying for that spot. Of course the other professor is killed and Karen is the chief suspect. The love of Karen's life, police detective Charlie Piotrowski, is serving in Iraq, but the investigating officer of the case hates Charlie and he keeps taking it out on Karen. She finally decides that she is going to have to investigate the killing herself in order to survive. There are several intriguing subplots and the main plot is excellently written. Several surprises at the end of the novel make you glad you started the book in the first place.

Go put your feet up, get a cat on your lap, and read.

Kudzu

2010-05-19T08:26:00.005-04:00

This is kudzu, covering up everything. It was imported from Japan in the early 20th century to prevent soil erosion in the American South. If left alone, it will cover anything in its path: trees, power lines, houses, vehicles. It's nutritious forage for cattle, but if the cow lingers too long over its dinner it may find itself covered by kudzu. I read somewhere that the vine grows about one foot per day. No wonder they call it "the vine that ate the South."

I'm sure some Southern mystery writer has hidden at least one body in a patch of kudzu. It seems like such a perfect place.

Eight Books

2010-04-29T09:17:00.017-04:00

I've read eight books since I last told you about my reading. I can't seem to quit (not that I want to).

Summer on Blossom Street by Debbie Macomber is a heartwarming story. I picked up Macomber's Cedar Cove Christmas in December because it was during the time at work after the end of fall semester and before the holidays. I was bored and the library was practically deserted. I enjoyed her storytelling in that book, so I was drawn to Summer on Blossom Street, hoping it would be as pleasant a read. It was. The story revolved around a "knit to quit" class where participants take up knitting to take their minds off some not-good-for-you habit. Each person in the class has a story and Macomber tells them with warmth and compassion. I enjoyed the two books so much that I think I'll read more. They're not heavyweight literature, but she does deal with some serious issues, and I love happy endings.

The Girl on Legare Street by Karen White is a sequel to The House on Tradd Street. Our main character is a workaholic real estate agent whose family home is a house on Legare Street in Charleston, SC. Melanie and her mother are both able to sense ghosts and there is a particularly evil one haunting the family home. Melanie and her mother, Ginnette, are also estranged from each other because her mother left Charleston when Melanie was seven with no explanation. Melanie has hated her mother ever since. When Ginnette comes back to town and buys the house on Legare Street, from the no-class people who owned it and who also cared nothing about preserving the historic decor of the house, Melanie is livid. Ginnette, however, senses that the evil ghost is getting stronger and comes back to town to protect Melanie. The two women come to terms in order to fight the ghost and in the process they iron out their differences. I'm hoping White will continue this series, but I also plan to read some of her other novels, the latest of which is On Folly Beach.

East of the Sun by Julia Gregson is a book I won in a giveaway offered by Bridget of The Ravell'd Sleave. Bridget wrote a very good review of the book and if you click here, you'll find that review. This is the story of three young women who leave England in 1928 to sail to India and find new lives. The women go their separate ways but keep in touch, providing us with a view of their lives and their interactions. I enjoyed this novel much more than I expected to, although I DID actually expect to enjoy it. (Thanks, Bridget!)

Birds of a Feather by Jacqueline Winspear is the second in her Maisie Dobbs series. Maisie is a psychologist and private investigator who used to be a combat nurse in World War I. Birds of a Feather takes place in 1930. Maisie is hired to find the missing daughter of a wealthy businessman, but the more she investigates, the more complicated things get. While they are looking into the problem, Maisie's assistant Billy is having problems of his own. I found the novel hard to put down. Winspear's writing is very compelling and I enjoyed the story immensely. I need to get into the next novel in the series and catch up. I'm a little behind in my Maisie Dobbs reading.

I'm really going to miss Robert B. Parker. I have just read his latest two novels (others are scheduled to be published later this year), Split Image, a Jesse Stone story; and The Professional, a Spenser novel. Split Image ends as if Parker knew it was his last Jesse Stone novel, although his obituary in the NY Times said he died of a heart attack at his desk while writing. A couple of unresolved issues got resolved and that was satisfying for me. I won't tell you what these issues are because they don't get fully resolved until the last chapter, so go read the book! Jesse, as usual, doesn't just solve one problem, and he gets some help from Sunny Randall. A body is found in an abandoned car and that leads to a pair of twins married to rich but unsavory bad guys. Jesse's investigation leads him to some very dark corners of organized crime and other badness. Parker's writing is, as usual, very lean with very little description, but you never miss out on any details. Parker is good. Keep your eye on the twins.

The Professional is pure Spenser. An attorney brings him together with four women who want him to stop a man who is blackmailing all of them. It seems this man has a habit of seducing young women married to wealthy older men. Then he gets the bright idea of blackmailing them by threatening to ruin their marriages if they don't pay him off. The women don't have enough personal cash to keep up with demands, so they hire Spenser. Like in any good mystery, the more Spenser digs into the problem the more complex it becomes. Things are going along relatively smoothly until the dead bodies start turning up. The ending is a little sad, but loose ends are tied up as well as they can be.

The Postmistress by Sarah Blake was one of those impulse reads, but I ended up very glad I read it. I first heard about this book in a review by Lene of The Seated View. You can read her review here. Lene listened to an audio version and her review at first made me want to skip the book because it sounded too intense. But the book was on the new book display at the library and it kept calling my name. I finally picked it up and started it and I'm glad I did. It was very worthwhile reading. Parts of it were very intense, particularly the scenes in Europe when the Jews were trying to get away from the Nazis. This story takes place right before America entered World War II and Blake's description of the Blitz in London reads as if she had actually experienced it. The other part of the story takes place in the small (fictitious) village of Franklin, MA, on the very tip of Cape Cod. Two women living in Franklin and another woman reporting on the war from Europe are the main characters in the novel. Blake's storytelling kept this from being just another mainstream novel.

Voices by Arnaldur Indridason is the third of his Reykjavik thriller novels. In it a former child star is found stabbed to death in his room in the basement of a large hotel in Reykjavik. Gulli, the victim, is a recently fired (downsized) hotel doorman who also dressed as Santa Claus for the hotel's Christmas party. Our detective, Erlendur, a man with problems of his own (including his drug-addicted daughter), finds suspects everywhere in Reykjavik, and just as you think he's found the killer, another twist in the plot is introduced. If I could read Icelandic, I'd get the original books and read to see if the translator did a good job, which I think he did because I've enjoyed reading each of the Arnaldur books (including Jar City and Silence of the Grave). I'm looking forward to reading the next novel in the series.

Well, I'm exhausted. I need to go home and curl up with a good book.

Happy Tax Day!!

2010-04-15T09:29:00.007-04:00

We spent our tax refund on our nice, new, flat-screen TV. I love that TV.

To change the subject...

Pardon my whining, but I want to tell you about some of the adventures of my youth. I've hit that time of life where cashiers in chain restaurants give you the senior discount without even asking your age. Damn brats! I don't feel as if my youth was misspent, but I have had a few accidents that have left me with arthritis in most of my joints. Some of them were even funny. After one of them a friend kept asking me, "Well, have you seen the humor in it yet?"

When I was around 19 or 20 I was taking horseback riding lessons. We learned to saddle and bridle our mounts (even how to make a horse open its mouth to receive the bridle); how to clean out hooves, which included making a half-ton horse raise its foot (you lean against its leg); how to groom them; even how to catch a horse in the field (you use a bucket of oats); and we learned how to jump. The horses were adorable. I just wanted to hug every one of them. The owners of the stable had set up jumps in the large field and that's where I was riding Tantivvy that day. Tantivvy, bless his heart, was a very unpredictable horse, and he showed it right after we had gone over a jump. About a stride or two after we cleared the jump, Tantivvy decided to make a sharp left. He turned and I didn't. I went flying off the saddle and landed flat on my back a few feet away. The fall knocked me out briefly and I woke with my instructor's dog, Jobyna, licking my face. I petted Jobyna and lay there for a few moments and then I got up and got back on the horse, which is what you're supposed to do when you fall off. I didn't think much of it. Falls happen. And I was young and indestructible. The next morning I tried to get out of bed and I couldn't do it. Every muscle in my body was stiff, almost rigid, even those muscles that allow you to wiggle your ears. I called in sick and stayed home and hobbled around the house when I wasn't flat on my back in the bed. As I told Richard a little while back, I am now at that age where the adventures of my youth are coming back to bite me in the ass.

The second most spectacular accident I had was a fall down a flight of stairs. The night before this one I had been thoroughly enjoying myself at a cast party. I was working on a play at the historic Dock Street Theater in Charleston (SC). The play, if I remember correctly, was Chapter Two. My job was stage manager. I got to tell all the backstage people what to do and when to do it. We held the cast party the night before the closing matinee. I got home late, of course, and possibly a little tipsy. I didn't crawl out of bed until about 11:00 am the next day. For some reason I didn't own a pair of slippers and I had put on a pair of tennis socks before I made my way downstairs. About three steps down the recently-refinished oak stairs, my feet went out from under me and I bounced the rest of the way down on my butt. Somehow, perhaps by divine intervention, I made myself turn a little to the right so that I wasn't bouncing off each step on my spine. I landed at the bottom, shuddering with pain (I didn't cry until later). My housemate helped me up and I walked around a bit, then had breakfast and went to the theater for the matinee. Before the curtain went up we were all in the habit of sitting in the greenroom and chatting. I didn't feel like joining them that day, so the union tech came looking for me. Pete was one of my good friends and he asked why I was sitting backstage in the dark. It was then that I started to cry. Pete sat in my lap and put his arms around me and I told him all about the fall. He was very comforting. He went back to the greenroom and explained my absence and throughout the afternoon actors and techs were coming to me and saying nice and sympathetic things. After the performance we had to strike the set; I didn't feel like helping, but I did want to stick around for the usual celebration. Pete sent me off to rest, so I went out to the lobby (the theater was closed by then) and lay on one of the carpeted landings of the staircase. When I got home I was curious to see if I had a bruise, so I took a hand mirror into the bathroom and got a look at my butt. Holy cow! there was a bruise the same size, shape, and color of a large ripe eggplant. There must have been a pint of blood under that patch of skin. I felt my stomach turn over. I went to the doctor the next day and when he saw the bruise it shocked him too. I got X-rayed and sent home to do as little as possible for the rest of the week. I spent the week on my nice cushy sofa with my legs propped up on the arm to take pressure off my back. I read a lot and watched a lot of TV. This was the accident that my friend later asked if I'd seen the humor. I did eventually.

My most embarrassing accident took place in a Market Street bar in Charleston. (This is already getting good, isn't it?) My usual drink is gin and tonic, but a friend of mine talked me into having tequila and tonic. It was tasty and went down smoothly, so I had a couple more. This "friend" had the bartender mix them almost half and half, so soon I was pretty well snockered. It started getting late and I was getting sleepy, so I got up to leave. I had to take one step down to cross the dance floor and just as I did, I fell directly onto my knees. I went straight from standing to kneeling in a split second. I hauled myself up, got in my car, and drove myself home to my apartment. Yes, I was still drunk. I was aware of this, so I drove as carefully as I could and at the speed limit and made it home safely. (I never drove drunk again.) I don't remember much about the hangover, but I'm sure there was one. A week or so later my knees were still hurting so I went to the doctor and when I told him how I had come to hurt them, he had a good hearty laugh, prescribed some steroids and gave me some exercises to do.

I've only been that drunk one time since and I had a designated driver. It was one night in January of 1986 after I had been accepted at the University of Washington for library school. My friends decided to hold an extended happy hour for me at our favorite Friday-afternoon-after-work bar on Folly Beach. I downed gin and tonics like they were ice water on a hot summer night. David drove me home afterward and I didn't get out of bed the next day until about 2:00 pm. The hangover was so bad I swore I'd never have another one and I haven't. I didn't give up alcohol altogether, but I cut way back and now hangovers are a thing of my past. They just weren't worth it. Oh, yeah, no accidents happened to me that weekend.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this brief look into my past. Tell me your stories in the comments.

Old Friends Gone

2010-04-02T08:09:00.006-04:00

Three of my favorite mystery authors have died recently.

Ralph McInerny was the author of the Father Dowling and Andrew Broome mysteries. He was also a renowned scholar and professor at Notre Dame. I met Ralph at one of the Harriette Austin Writers conferences in Athens, GA. I was thrilled that he remembered me from year to year (he came often to the Conference). He was a good speaker and an excellent mystery writer. His presence at the conferences will be greatly missed.

Robert B. Parker was one of my all-time favorite writers. His Jesse Stone novels are wonderful and the TV movies produced by CBS and starring Tom Selleck were spot on as far as I'm concerned. Selleck was an excellent choice to play Jesse Stone. I started reading his Spenser novels after seeing Robert Urich play Spenser on TV. His earlier novels are dated, mostly because he described what people were wearing and Lord knows the 1970s was one of the worst decades for fashion. I will truly miss his novels.

Dick Francis wrote the very first mystery I ever read. I believe it was Whip Hand (one of his Sid Halley novels). That was back in the 70s when I still lived in Charleston. I have read every one of his novels and thoroughly enjoyed them all. Selfish me, I'm hoping that his son Felix, with whom he collaborated on his most recent novels, will continue writing these racing mysteries.

It's interesting how you can develop a good relationship with a long-time writer without ever having met him.

Book Report on a Friday

2010-03-26T10:14:00.007-04:00

I would recommend The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin to anybody, whether or not you feel you are happy. I'm a pretty darn happy woman and I found things in that book that I never even thought about, simple things. One of Rubin's is reading children's books. One of my simple things is knitting (and especially yarn-shopping on the web). In the Project, which she spent a year starting (it's a never-ending pursuit; what could be better?) she chose several things each month to see if they made her happier or not. Mostly the things she did did improve her outlook but a few she left by the wayside.

One of her objectives was to start a blog and add to it every day. She always has something interesting on the blog. This is not about being a Pollyanna; it's about finding the things that truly make you happy and assimilating those things into your everyday life.

If you're happy in yourself, then you will make other people happy too. The opposite of that works as well: make other people happy and you will also be happy. That's my observation. I also think that happiness is a choice, but it's not that simple. Other people do not make you happy but you can avoid letting them make you unhappy by your approach to them. I'm probably confusing the hell out of everybody, so just read the book. You, too, can be happier.

Crazy Aunt Purl's Home is Where the Wine Is by Laurie Perry is her second book. In both books, some of the chapters are taken from her blog (Crazy Aunt Purl), with a little tweaking here and there, and some stuff is new. In the current book, her last chapter is very thoughtful and insightful. Perry writes well, with humor and compassion. She has also worked at understanding what makes her happy and then implementing those things in her life. She's not as systematic as Gretchen Rubin, but it's interesting and empowering reading.

He Who Fears the Wolf by Karin Fossum is one of those Scandinavian mysteries that I love. This one takes place in Norway. Our sleuth is Inspector Sejer. Our suspect is a schizophrenic named Erkki who has escaped from a mental hospital. The victim is an elderly widow who is killed with her own garden hoe. It's a complicated story and throughout you find yourself sympathizing with all the characters, even Erkki. I want to tell you how I felt when the story ended but I'm afraid I might give away some of the plot twists. Fossum really sweeps you away with her excellent storytelling.

In Fire and Ice, J.A. Jance brings together two of her series. Part of the story is told from J.P. Beaumont's point of view (from Seattle) and the other is told from Joanna Brady's POV (Bisbee, Arizona). This one involves a Mexican drug cartel and a series of murders in Washington State. The story starts out by relating the grisly murder of a young woman by a man who is afraid of what will happen to his wife and two little boys if he does not kill the woman. He kills her in the mountains in November and her remains are not found until the next spring. The investigators only have a few clues, but it gets them started. While Beaumont is dealing with the serial killings, Joanna Brady is having her own problems down in Arizona. You have to read for many chapters before you find out how the two situations are related. By then you are so engrossed in the book it's impossible to put it down. I like the way Jance switched from one POV to the other. It made the story more compelling. J.A. Jance is one of my favorite storytellers and reading just one of her books will tell you why.

I hope some of you are inspired to read any of these books. Every one of them was well worth my time.

Miscellaneous

2010-03-02T08:30:00.007-05:00

I finished my Knitting Olympics project, wimpy as it was. As slow as I knit, I figured that any project I finished by a deadline was an accomplishment. The Yarn Harlot made the most beautiful sweater for her project. It would have taken me years to finish something like that. I'd love to see pictures of all the Olympic knitters' projects. I'll bet they're all wonderful. I made my Mistake Rib scarf for my friend Theresa (of Knitting Non-Pareil), my enabler when it comes to knitting. She's an inspiration, too. She knits fast and beautifully. Here's a picture of the scarf.

This picture doesn't show the true color. It's called Blackberry Heather and it's really darker than it looks in the picture. I made this from some Brunswick yarn that I bought years ago. It's 55% Orlon and 45% wool. (I don't think Brunswick is in business any more; don't know why.) I enjoyed making the scarf, especially as I had the TV on the Olympics in HD (WOW!).

In other news, we celebrated Richard's birthday recently. For the past couple of years he has been cooking his own birthday dinner, trying out new recipes. This year we had lobster bisque, a spicy shrimp concoction wrapped in phyllo, sour cream poppy seed cake, and ice cream. I made the cake. Richard even made the ice cream. Everything was especially good.

Richard mentioned that I haven't written anything about my reading lately, so here goes. Since the first of the year I have read The Black Dove by Steve Hockensmith, Shem Creek by Dorothea Benton Frank, and Knit Lit edited by Linda Roghaar and Molly Wolf.

The Black Dove is the third in Hockensmith's Holmes on the Range series. This one takes place mostly in San Francisco's Chinatown. It has its funny moments, but it deals with the very serious subjects of racism, prostitution, and gangsters. Big Red and Old Red Amlingmeyer are wonderful as usual and Hockensmith knows how to tell a good story. Several characters from the previous book (On the Wrong Track) appear in The Black Dove.

Shem Creek, the novel, takes place in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina. Shem Creek, the creek, runs through Mount Pleasant. That's the place where many shrimp boats dock, and there are seafood restaurants lining the banks. The novel is a pleasant, easy-to-read story that involves a quest for a new life, coming of age for a teenager, a love story, and some conflict and a near tragedy. Dorothea Benton Frank sets her stories in the South Carolina Low-country. I think I may read some more of them.

Knit Lit is an anthology of stories (non-fiction) related to knitting (you probably figured that out already, didn't you?). Each section in the book has a theme, covering a wide range of topics. For the most part they're all well-written and eloquent. I have a few favorites, particularly the story about "Mom, Molly, and Me" and another written by a "Seafaring Knitter."

Currently I'm reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. I'm finding it fascinating, mostly because quite a few of the suggestions she makes for making yourself happier are things that I already do. We all have room for improvement, though. Just reading the book makes me happier. Rubin also has a website which you might want to check out.

That's all for now. I mostly just wanted to brag on my knitting.

SNOW PICTURES!!!

2010-02-22T16:02:00.009-05:00

Now, all you people who experience snow frequently, don't poo-poo my snow event. It had not snowed in south Georgia since 1973, so when it happens, you have to celebrate it.

These pictures were taken about 30 minutes after the snow started. The snow got thicker as the evening went on. And it was mostly gone by morning. It was nice while it lasted.

Here's Bagheera on the sofa. She's been curling up in my lap lately. I like that.

These are the four furballs at chow time. They love their canned cat food.

OK, that's all my snow and cat pictures.

No Pictures... Wa-a-ahh!

2010-02-16T09:24:00.007-05:00

I was going to post some pictures of the SNOW IN SOUTH GEORGIA, but my camera decided to mess up, so I'll just tell you about it. I'll post the pictures when I figure out what's wrong with my camera.

All day this past Friday, the main topic of conversation, no matter who you talked to, was the possibility of snow. And all day I kept saying, "I'll believe it when I see it." Small Public Institution closes at 3:00 pm on Fridays, so I went home and took a nap. About 5:15 pm I opened my eyes and realized there was white stuff on the trees outside. I jumped up and went to the room where Richard was and told him to get outside and take pictures. I put on some shoes and my jacket and took my own camera outdoors. The first thing I noticed when I got out there was the clean, fresh smell of snow, something I hadn't experienced since we left Athens. I took several pictures from the porches of the house (it was cold and I wanted to get back indoors to the fire). Richard got out in the road and took the prettiest picture of the house with the snow coming down. Our house is blue with white trim, so the picture was all blue and white. Lovely.

Richard and I have decided to enter the twenty-first century: We bought a large, flat-screen TV. We replaced a 24-year-old, 21-inch, Montgomery Ward color TV and a VCR that we were using as our cable box. We got it on Sunday and Richard set it up that afternoon. It took me about a minute and a half to get used to it. WOW, is it wonderful. I can read all the text on the news channels and the weather channel. I was beginning to think I needed new glasses, but I guess what I really needed was a TV I can see. The Olympics look great on a large-screen TV and I can't wait for baseball season to start.

Speaking of the Olympics, I entered the Knitting Olympics. (See the Yarn Harlot's website.) The idea is to cast on after the Olympic Flame is lit, knit something challenging, and to finish by the closing ceremony on the 28th. Since I'm not the world's greatest or fastest knitter, I chose to knit a Mistake-Rib scarf. I only get to knit at night and on weekends, and since I work longs days, my biggest challenge is not to fall asleep at night while I'm knitting. Maybe when I have more experience I can do something more challenging. I admire those people who can knit a whole sweater in 17 days. I'm "watching" the Olympics while I'm knitting, and occasionally I get distracted by what's happening on the TV, so I have to pause the knitting and watch. I'm one of those knitters who has to keep both eyes on the knitting if I don't want to screw up.

Richard and I had a date the other night. We went to Albany (about 45 minutes west of here) to the Outback Steakhouse to have an anniversary-dinner do-over (I was sick on our anniversary, and even though we went out, I did not enjoy it much), and to celebrate Valentine's Day. We thought we would go early to avoid the crowds, but half of Albany had the same idea. We had to cruise the parking lot for about five minutes until we spotted a car backing out of a space. It was standing room only when we got inside, so we took our beeper and sat at the bar, perused the menu, and had a drink. We finally got a table and the rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. We opted not to have a Bloomin' Onion, reserving our appetites for dessert instead. The salads came and I changed my mind about the type of dressing I wanted, but the waiter was gracious and got me some blue cheese. The entrees were cooked to order and tasty, and our desserts of cheesecake, mine with chocolate sauce and Richard's with raspberry, were very good. After we finished at the restaurant, we went across the road to the mall and visited a real bookstore (something we don't have in Tifton). I bought two books, The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, and Devil's Brood by Sharon Kay Penman. Devil's Brood is a historical novel about Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. It's 740+ pages long and has some of the tiniest type I've ever seen in a novel. Reading it will be a challenge for my myopia but I'm sure I'll get used to it after I've been reading for a little while.

I'll have pictures as soon as I diagnose my camera's problem. Everybody take care.

Things That Cheer Me Up

2010-02-04T08:44:00.009-05:00

1. Flowers, especially those given to me as a gift, like these roses that my niece gave me for my birthday last year. They were just rosebuds when I got them, and they blossomed nicely, didn't they?

2. Ice cream on a hot summer night. Richard and I don't buy ice cream very often but when we do we get the good stuff with a high butterfat content. Yum! Love me some butter pecan!

3. Chocolate. I don't consider it candy if it doesn't have chocolate in it or on it. The comedian Gallagher said that chocolate goes straight to a place in your brain right next to sex. I believe it. My favorite candy bar is a Snickers. Unfortunately, I think, the vending machine just down the hall has them. I try to be good and not have eight or ten in a day.

4. A good, fun romantic comedy. One of my favorites is Must Love Dogs, with Diane Lane and John Cusack. Another one I like is The American President, with Annette Bening and Michael Douglas.

5. A good murder mystery. When I was in library school I took a young adult literature class. One of the books we were assigned was The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood. I read the entire book in one day, and it was so-o-o depressing I had to read three murder mysteries to cheer myself up. The thing I like about mysteries is that the bad guy almost always gets his just desserts in the end. Very satisfying.

6. Something witty popping out of Richard's mouth. He's got a quick mind and a good sense of humor and he makes me laugh frequently. Laughing is healthy.

7. Knitting. I get settled in the recliner just the right way that is so comfortable for knitting and I go to town. Sometime Lila (the cat) jumps up on the footrest and settles in between my ankles. The cats used to love to play with my needles when I was knitting, but they're getting older now and less playful. At least now I can knit in peace.

8. Christmas. I look forward to Christmas every year, mostly because it involves getting together with family. I love the decorations, especially those where people have gone a little nuts with the lights on their houses and in their yards.

9. A fire in the fireplace. We have a gas fireplace now, but in our last house we had a big wood-burning fireplace. Richard would build a big fire and warm us up good. Even our gas fireplace warms us nicely on a chilly night. The cats love it. They flake out in front of the fire and enjoy the warmth.

10. Hot soup. Richard and I save our soup-making for cold weather. It really hits the spot when the weather is cool. Some of our favorites are clam chowder (I have a really good recipe), macaroni and tomato soup, chili soup (this is one of my grandmother's recipes), and a recent discovery: smoked sausage, tomato and mushroom soup.

11. Hurtin' songs. Hurtin' songs are country songs the subject of which is unrequited love. I don't know why they cheer me up, but they do. You'd think they'd depress me. I guess I'm just weird. One of my favorites is called "Sorrowful Angels" from Patty Loveless's Mountain Soul CD. My favorite line is: "and when her heart was broke and bleeding, sorrowful angels wept into their wings."

I guess eleven cheering things are enough. Just to send you off happy, here's another flower picture. This is a purple leaf smoke tree. You can see where it gets its name.

Cheers to all of you!

Pictures ...That I Took!

2010-01-26T08:24:00.017-05:00

I got a request to post finished object pictures and cat pictures, so here goes.

This is my Berroco 100% merino scarf. I enjoyed making this. Real wool is so soft, especially this merino. I'm glad I have finally graduated from knitting with acrylic. Don't get me wrong, acrylic has its place, especially if you want something that is wash and wear. Most of my scarves are acrylic and they come out of the washer and dryer feeling soft and looking pretty. But, things change. It's past time to put on my big girl panties and knit like a woman! Roar!

This is my sock-yarn scarf. I forget the brand name, but it's superwash wool and nylon. Aren't the colors gorgeous? I made this with one ball of yarn, so it's not very long, but it's lightweight and I can wear it indoors when the heat's not cranking like it should.

Here's a closeup of the colors. The scarf is very simple. I knitted about an inch of two-by-two ribbing and then switched to garter stitch; at the end I put another inch of ribbing. Because it's sock yarn it took a little longer to knit but I really enjoyed it. (Now I just have to use some of my sock-yarn stash to make some actual socks.)

Here's Dashiell (a.k.a. Bubba) settled on the sofa. I showed this picture to Theresa and she said, "So that's the cat I never get to see." Dashiell is a little on the shy side, to put it mildly. When anyone besides Richard or I come in the house, he runs and hides -- and stays hidden until the axe-wielding-serial-cat-killer-stranger leaves. The silly cat doesn't realize he could get so much more petting, which he loves, if he'd just come out of his hidey-hole.

This is Lila. I know she looks like Basement Cat in this photo, but she's really very sweet. She likes to sleep between Richard and me at night.

And Bennis looks like Ceiling Cat, but she really isn't. The new kid in town, Bagheera, wants to play with Bennis, but Bennis sees it as aggression and reacts accordingly. Too bad. Bennis is kind of a loner.

Here's Bagheera on her cat condo. I still haven't gotten a very good picture of her and she's so pretty. Maybe when the weather is nice and we let the cats out onto the screened porch I can get one in daylight and won't need the flash.

Back to the knitting: I'm currently working on another scarf (it's what I do, I guess), this one of wool and silk. It's from Manos del Uruguay in shades of burgundy and rose (mostly burgundy). This one is even softer than the merino scarf.

Happy knitting. Pet your cats for me.

Red Sky At Morning...

2010-01-19T09:58:00.005-05:00

Isn't that a lovely sunrise (or maybe it's a sunset)? I swiped the picture off Google Images.

Have you missed me? I've been sick. I was so sick of being sick that I told Richard I was actually looking forward to going back to work. Today I feel as normal as I have a right to be. Life is good.

We had a great Christmas. My mother-in-law requested a carrot cake for Christmas dessert and Richard told her I'd be happy to make one -- which I was. I had never made a carrot cake and I love them, so I found a yummy-sounding recipe (from the Barefoot Contessa) and whipped one up. It had cream cheese icing, my favorite. I can make a cake and I can make icing, but when I put them together it looks like a disaster (I am not skilled), but the thing tasted really, really good and everyone praised it. I was happy.

On Christmas Day we got our new kitty, Bagheera, the lovely seal-point Siamese. She loves affection and purrs quite readily. She is not a lap cat, but she does love being on the computer table when Richard and I are surfing the 'net. She has taken to sitting on the cable modem, warming her butt. I have yet to get a good picture of her. Every time I take one the flash reflects off her eyes and she looks a little deranged. I'll get a picture eventually.

Speaking of cats, our normally unsociable cat, Bennis, has decided (after living with us for over ten years) that she wants to be a lap cat. This may have something to do with the arrival of Bagheera, but who knows what a cat is thinking. She started this a few weeks ago when Richard was in New Orleans at a scientific meeting. I was home sick with bronchitis and one day she just curled up in my lap and slept for a good long time. I had to call Richard that night and tell him about it.

I finally finished a knitted object. Back in December I had bought some Berroco 100% merino wool in earthy shades with a little soft blue added for interest. I used it to make a scarf (simple two-by-two rib) and I wove in the ends last night. I must take some pictures. I finished the scarf just in time for the weather to warm up. Another knitting-related accomplishment is that I have learned to do a long-tail cast-on without going to the internet and watching the video -- again. I usually forgot between projects, but I think I've finally got it.

If you haven't already, try to donate toward the relief effort in Haiti. I'm going to give some money to the Red Cross, and I already donate monthly to Doctors Without Borders.

Happy New Year!!!!

2010-01-05T10:34:00.005-05:00

Happy New Year! everybody, and I mean Everybody In The World!

I had a nice Christmas break (baked my first-ever carrot cake (YUM!)) and just enjoyed myself for two whole weeks. I'm looking forward to this new year and to doing more knitting and reading and enjoying the cats and my life in general.

I hope all of you had a great Christmas and that your New Year will be filled with hope and promises kept and laughter.

Keep on laughing!

'Tis the Season

2009-12-16T14:10:00.006-05:00

My first Christmas wish every year is for peace on earth. It would be nice to see it in my lifetime. Until then, let's all enjoy our blessings: family, good friends, Christmas trees, cats, dogs, and other animals, good food, steady employment, a roof over our heads, parties, and anything else we might want to celebrate.

Good wishes to everybody, no matter what your December/winter solstice beliefs may be.

Marie

Writers and Knitters, Part 2

2009-12-08T09:30:00.001-05:00

Writers and knitters have something else in common: Sometimes they're the same people!

Harriette, my writing teacher in Athens, just turned 90 (!) and her students threw her a birthday party. Richard and I went to the party this past weekend. Harriette's wish was for a party along the lines of the class party that is held at the end of each quarter, i.e. a potluck. Since Richard and I couldn't think of anything we could keep well on a 200-mile trip, we stopped at a Publix in Athens and bought cheese, crackers, bagel chips, and hummus. Our class parties were always true potlucks, no organizing involved. Harriette said even if everybody brought dessert, that was all right. Harriette is a vegetarian and there were a number of meatless dishes at the party, including one very tasty lasagna.

We all filled our plates and found places to sit. Richard and I sat in a couple of very comfortable chairs near the fireplace and our friend Diane (who was on Jeopardy! twice) sat with us. I had seen on her Facebook page that one of Diane's interests is knitting. She directed the Harriette Austin Writers Conference several years ago and it was so stressful (but she did a wonderful job) she decided she needed something relaxing to do, so she took up knitting. She brought her current project with her, a pair of worsted-weight socks which she was knitting on the tiniest circular needle I have ever seen. It was a 9-inch circular. She got the needles from Hiya Hiya. Diane let me knit a little on her sock and it was a little awkward at first but I could get the hang of it.

On the way into Athens, we stopped at Main Street Yarns and Fibers in Watkinsville, where I dropped $54+ on five hanks of wool. Three of the hanks are 100% merino and the other two are wool and silk. The nice people at Main Street Yarns also wind your hanks into balls for you. (Richard was very accomodating, but he had an ulterior motive: he wanted to go to a beer store he had discovered in Five Points in Athens. So he wandered around the yarn store and fondled yarn, and then at the beer store I wandered around and looked for Kahlua and Plymouth gin and Laphroaig scotch. I found some Kahlua Mocha. Yum.)

At the party I discovered that Judy also knits. Judy and her husband Takis are published authors, their latest is Bitter Tide, writen under the joint pseudonym of Ann Stamos. You can find them on Amazon. While we were eating and Diane and I were talking knitting, Dana joined the conversation and darned if she isn't a knitter as well. Priscilla was sitting next to Dana, wearing a very pretty sweater, and I asked if she had knitted it. She said no, that she didn't know how to knit, so I told her about Main Street Yarns and how she could probably find someone to teach her through them. I may have convinced another writer to join the knitting community.

Harriette found herself a comfy chair and sat for the whole party (hey, she's 90!). Everybody wanted to talk to her, especially her current students. I finally got my opportunity to sit down with her and chat. We were talking about Diane's knitting and I found out that Harriette knits! She told me about making a pair of socks for her boyfriend in college. He was very specific about what he wanted in socks, so she made them the way he wanted. Afterwards she had occasion to look in his closet for something and she saw her hard work wadded up and tossed onto the floor. She never knit him another pair of socks (although she did marry him).

It was delightful finding out that so many of my fellow Harriette students are also knitters. That just gives us even more to talk about on those rare occasions when we get together.

My sock yarn scarf is growing steadily. When I finish and block it, it will be very nice.

Writers and Knitters

2009-11-24T09:14:00.006-05:00

Writers and knitters have something in common: they are very generous in spirit.

When we lived in Athens, I was sort of a permanent member of a mystery-writing class. We lived there for six years and I attended every quarter. I loved it. One of the best things I learned was that experienced writers very much want newbies to succeed. One of the customs of the class was that each person could read his or her own work aloud in class and get critiques and suggestions from the other members. This terrified me at first and it took about four weeks to work up the nerve to read my stuff, but when I did everyone in class was very effusive with their positive comments. I was elated, and encouraged to read more often. Pretty soon it got to where you couldn't shut me up.

The Harriette Austin Writers Conference is held in Athens every year. Professional writers, agents, and editors come and meet and greet the attendees. Attendees have an opportunity to have a sample of their work read and evaluated by a professional, and quite a few conference-goers have now been published (I'm not among them, unless you count this blog; but that's another story altogether). The professionals are very generous with their time and listen with real interest to the wannabes.

Knitters are like that as well. This past Saturday I went to Cordele, GA, with my friend Theresa and two other women to a meeting of the Purlin' Peaches, a group organized on Ravelry. We met at a truck stop with an attached Arby's restaurant. We commandeered a couple of tables in Arby's and commenced to knitting. People stared at us, but we kept on knitting.

We had a show & tell. Nicole was there with her three-month-old son, Simon. What a cutie! She was making a pumpkin hat for Simon. Kathy was making a yoga wrap, one of the most sophisticated and feminine garments I've ever seen. It is off-white with a leaf border. Very pretty. Kathy brought along a baby blanket she'd made for Simon. Adanya, a very charming Mexican woman, was crocheting hats -- without a pattern. She just started in the middle and zipped right along. She showed us several she had made for her young daughter, and they were adorable. Theresa, bless her heart, usually spends most of the time talking, but she did show us some socks she'd made and a ball of hand-dyed wool which she gave to Nicole, as it was dyed in her school colors. Violet was working on a crocheted pink snake. It was for her daughter. She was crocheting it as a tube and stuffing it as she went along. Hazel, a prison nurse, was knitting away on the sleeves (two at a time) of a silky cotton sweater. Suzi showed off a beautiful green triangular scarf that had silver threads in it. Li didn't knit because she couldn't stay, but she was wearing a sweater vest that she had made. She's very slim and the vest looked great on her. I was knitting on a sock-yarn scarf. Nicole asked me what pattern I was using and I had to confess that I was making it up. I started out doing two by two ribbing; I did that for about an inch and then I switched to garter stitch. When I get to the end, I will put another inch of ribbing. (See picture below.)

I'm knitting on my Harmony laminated wood needles (from KnitPicks) in size 4. My wonderful husband bought me a whole set of the Harmony straight needles for Christmas last year. I may never knit with metal needles again. I got my sock yarn at Main Street Yarns and Fibers in Watkinsville, GA. Wonderful store.

The women of Purlin' Peaches treat me as if I am as accomplished at knitting as they are, which I am not. They are all that generous, and I'm sure if I have a question of any kind, they will be just as generous at helping me.

An Aside

After knitting for a while and drinking a diet Coke, I needed to go to the restroom. So, I inconvenienced Hazel (our table was against one wall) to get out (she was very accomodating) and went looking for the facilities. When I got to the convenience-store side of the establishment, I saw a sign in the familiar blue & white so I went that way. I was led down a hallway with numerous doors, all numbered, all locked, and all with "vacant" signs beside the doors. I tried a few door handles to no avail. I was confused. Did I need to go ask the cashier for a key to go to the bathroom? That's not very convenient. I stepped outside the hallway to double-check the blue & white sign, and saw that it really said "showers!!" I was trying to get into the truckers' showers! I looked around and spotted the real restroom sign and finally accomplished what I'd set out to do. If I had been younger, I would have been mortified at my mistake, but at my age? Who cares? It was a good story when I got back to the table. Theresa said she was putting it on Facebook (but she didn't).

Yet Another Five Things List

2009-11-19T13:35:00.007-05:00

Today's five things are the the last things I did, divided up into categories. I can't tell from the FB prompt if I should list five things in each category or if the five categories are the five things. Oh, what the heck, I'll just do it my way.

1. The last five things I've EATEN: (1) A hot ham & cheese sandwich (ham, provolone, lettuce, tomato, mayo, & Italian dressing); (2) A bag of Miss Vickie's Simply Sea Salt potato chips; (3) Frosted Mini-Wheats, Cinnamon Streusel flavor, with skim milk; (4) A blueberry muffin, made by Richard; and (5) A char-grilled chicken sandwich from Chick-Fil-A (chicken, whole-wheat bun, lettuce, tomato, pickles, & mayo). (Did anybody see any real veggies in that list???)

2. The last five things I've DRUNK: (1) Unsweetened iced tea; (2) Diet Coke; (3) Milk; (4) Water; and (5) Caffeine-free Diet Coke. (Sorry, no mojitos, gin & tonics, or fuzzy navels; I'm a boring drinker)

3. The last five things I've LISTENED TO: [These are all from the same CD: Greatest Hits by Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band] (1) "Roll Me Away" (at top volume, of course); (2) "You'll Accomp'ny Me"; (3) "Hollywood Nights"; (4) "Old Time Rock & Roll" (also at top volume); and (5) "We've Got Tonight." (I do love Bob Seger. I went to one of his concerts when I was living in Charleston, and it was the absolute best concert I've ever been to.)

4. The last five things I've WATCHED: (1) The road on the way to work (it didn't do anything special; I just wanted you to know I try to be a conscientious driver); (2) A video of a cat climbing a policeman, on I Can Has Cheezburger?; (3) The Weather Channel; (4) Ask Food Network; and (5) My computer crash (I clicked on something I shouldn't have and infected my computer with a virus. It got fixed without losing anything, and I got warned, "Don't do that any more!")

5. The last five things I've BOUGHT: (1) Well, lunch today; (2) Groceries last night (OK, Richard actually pays for the groceries, but I do contribute toward the household expenses); (3) A sweater vest from L.L. Bean; (4) A book, The Girl on Legare Street by Karen White (for those of you not familiar with Charleston, "Legare" is pronounced "Legree"); and (5) Two Christmas gifts. (And a partridge in a pear treeeeee.....)

Stay tuned. I have more "5 things..." Later, friends.

Roarin' Bill

2009-11-10T09:00:00.000-05:00

Carlton H. Griffin

On January 24, 1944, my father was on a B-17, named Roarin' Bill, which was brought down near Glabais, Belgium, while on a mission to Eschweiler. Of the ten crew members, six were taken as prisoners of war by the Germans, my father among them. Three others of the crew managed to escape and worked for a while with the Belgian underground. The pilot was killed and went down with the plane.

My father's parachute took him to a Belgian farmer's field where he hit the only boulder around. This was unfortunate in more ways than one. It left him with injuries that would plague him for the rest of his life. It also meant that the farmer and his family did not have the resources to take care of him and nurse him back to health, so they were forced to turn him over to the Germans. The Germans took him to a POW hospital (I don't know where) where he was cared for with compassion. Daddy drew a distinction between Germans and Nazis. He said the Germans at the hospital were very nice to him. (He was fortunate; some of the other five POWs wound up in concentration camps.) He felt that if he had been turned over to the Nazis, his POW experience would not have been so pleasant -- if you can call being a POW pleasant.

Patricia Ann (Patti) Moore

Before Daddy went off to England, he met my mother in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He was this cocky Air Corps radio man, barely out of his teens, and Mama worked at a war plant. I don't know where they met, but he showed up for their first date drunk and unshaven. If I'd been my mother, I would have told him to take a hike and slammed the door in his face, but she was apparently more tolerant.

During the late summer of 1944, the American Red Cross managed to get Daddy released from the POW hospital and sent home. He went into a Veterans' Administration hospital in Atlanta. Mama took a bus from South Dakota to Georgia when Daddy got home. She, naturally, stayed with Daddy's family on the farm. My mother, who was used to crawling out of bed in the morning and choking down a cup of black coffee and a piece of dry toast, was treated to a Southern farm breakfast of epic proportions on her first day in the South. It consisted of, among other things, fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, and there were probably some eggs, ham, and/or bacon thrown in there for good measure. When asked if she wanted some milk, she readily accepted. When she took a big swallow, she discovered it was buttermilk, which she had never tasted. Nobody told her that on the farm there is milk and then there is sweet milk. This was my mother's introduction to the South. She survived and became as Southern as the rest of the family.

In October of that year Daddy got a weekend furlough from the hospital so that he and Mama could get married. Mama and Daddy got married and had my older sister and me. They were married until April 1993, when my mother died just about 18 months shy of their 50th wedding anniversary.

They lived in South Carolina (how and why the family moved from Georgia is unknown to me, but most of the clan moved) all the rest of their lives. When I graduated from library school at the University of Washington in Seattle, my parents and my sister came out to Washington, met some of my friends, attended graduation, and then we all drove back across the country.

Within a year after that, my father got an envelope postmarked "Seattle" but with no name or return address, nothing to identify the sender. Inside, it had a little clipping from a newsletter for former WWII POWs. The clipping was an ad, looking for members of the crew of the Roarin' Bill for a reunion. Daddy contacted the person who placed the ad, one of his old crew members. They met in Wilmore, Pennsylvania, at the home of one of the former POWs who had been in a concentration camp. Mama and Daddy both went and had a very good and meaningful time. His crew buddies were able to fill in some of the gaps for Daddy because he did not remember anything that happened until he woke up in the POW hospital.

When Daddy died in 2000, he was buried with military honors, folded flag, "Taps" and all.

Silence of the Grave

2009-11-05T08:45:00.010-05:00

Silence of the Grave is the latest book I've read. It's the second in Arnaldur Indridason's Icelandic mysteries (following Jar City). Silence of the Grave is even better than Jar City, and I didn't think that was possible.

There are two storylines in this novel, and of course they eventually converge, but getting there is what keeps you turning pages. The first story takes place in the late 1930s/early 1940s, and the other is set in the present day. A skeleton is found buried near a new residential development in Reykjavik. Because it's buried in the dirt, with no coffin, an archaeologist is called in to help Inspector Erlendur and his co-workers uncover the body. While the archaeologist is painstakingly unearthing the skeleton, Erlendur goes about his investigation. The story shifts back and forth from the '40s to the present day.

The earlier story involves an abusive husband and father. It was so well written (and translated) that it was hard to read in places, but I toughed it out and I'm glad I did. At one point, I had to put the book down and go to another room. It happened to be the kitchen, where Richard was cooking dinner. I told him about the story, and I also told him he'd better be nice to me as I was ready to stab him in his sleep. That's how the story affected me. (I'm a great audience when it comes to reading.)

In the present-day story, Erlendur gets a cryptic phone call from his difficult, angry, drug-addicted, and pregnant daughter, Eva Lind. She says, "Dad. Help me," and then the call is cut off. He searches through the seamier parts of Reykjavik for her and finally finds her on the ground, unconscious and bleeding. He gets her to a hospital where she loses the baby and slips into a coma. The doctors tell him that he should talk to her, and while he finds little to say at first, he finally begins to tell her about the investigation and about his early life. He also talks about why he left her mother when Eva Lind was so young. It's Arnaldur's creative way to tell us lots about Erlendur.

The storylines finally come together and Erlendur finds out whose skeleton is buried in the dirt. During the investigation, the clues seem to lead in two completely different directions, and you don't know until the end whodunit.

Silence of the Grave is one of those novels that make me glad I learned to read. The story is compelling and the ending is satisfying. I no longer want to stab Richard in his sleep.

The next novel in the series is Voices. I'm looking forward to reading it.

Another Five Things...

2009-10-27T08:39:00.004-04:00

Today's 5 things are "Greatest Cereals of All Time." I can think of at least six. We'll see how this goes.

1. Rice Krispies. When I was five years old I was in the hospital (at Christmas (!) for heaven's sake!). I kept asking when I could go home (I was afraid Santa Claus would not be able to find me) and the damned doctor kept saying, "Well, maybe you can go home tomorrow." I swear he said that for the whole week. Anyway... one day the doctor asked me if I wanted anything, and I said, "Rice Krispies." Later that day I got a whole box of cereal. I was one happy child. I had my favorite cereal and Santa Claus did find me. Another reason Rice Krispies are so great: Rice Krispies Treats. Yummy.

2. Cream of Wheat. My mother used to fix this on cold mornings. It's a childhood favorite that I still eat to this day. I put butter and just the right amount of sugar and it tastes like warm, buttery shortbread.

3. Oatmeal. I use only the old-fashioned oats, none of this instant gruel. This is another cold-weather treat. Our normally unsociable cat, Bennis, likes to lick my bowl when I'm through with my oatmeal. I usually leave her a few little bites.

4. Frosted Mini Wheats, Maple and Brown Sugar. I eat this cereal every weekday morning. I like it; I don't have to think about it in my near-somnambulistic early-morning state; it has a good amount of fiber; and it usually keeps me full until lunchtime.

5. Granola. I love this mixed with vanilla yogurt. It's crunchy and sweet and tart, all at the same time.

6. Grits. Grits is served as a side dish, although technically it is a cereal. ("Grits" is singular.) In 1980, I went to visit my Aunt Dorothy in Spokane, WA. That's the year that Mt. St. Helens blew her top. Anyway, Aunt Dorothy knew I liked grits, so she went shopping for some. She looked all over Spokane, and finally found it in an international food store. (I guess the folks in Spokane think the South is another country.) She served it in a bowl, expecting me to put sugar and milk on it, so I had to explain to her about grits being a side dish. (Oh, yes, GRITS is also an initialism for Girls Raised In The South. That's me!)

I love carbs.

38 Degrees This Morning

2009-10-19T09:41:00.004-04:00

Now 38 degrees may not seem very cold to some people, but down here in south Georgia, it is. It has been cooling off gradually for a couple of weeks, but it wasn't so long ago that it was in the 90s.

We had rain for a few days at the end of this past week; in fact, it was pouring when I got to work Friday morning. But Saturday was a beautiful day, with cool temperatures and that distinctive bright blue sky you see in October.

I got out my favorite sweatshirt and layered it over a tank top and a long sleeved t-shirt. Our cat, Lila, loves that sweatshirt. She gets in my lap and kneads her paws in the inside of my left elbow, and purrs like a fool, then she puts her head down and takes a cat nap. Lila also loves me more in cool weather. She spent every possible moment in my lap this weekend, seeking my body warmth.

I love cool/cold weather. I must have inherited some of that thick northern blood from my mother. I like bundling up in my pajamas, bathrobe, and fuzzy slippers and sitting in the recliner with a cat in my lap. I also like evenings when we can light a fire in the fireplace. The cats desert my lap for the space near the hearth. I console myself with a cup of rich hot chocolate.

As much as I like cold weather, I don't want to move out of the South to anyplace where it snows like crazy every winter. When we lived in north Georgia, we got snow a couple of times a year, and an occasional ice storm; that was enough for me. Although it occasionally gets down into the 20s or teens in the winter, it doesn't last very long. I have warm clothes and outerwear, so I can take it. And as long as there is air conditioning, I can deal with summertime temperatures in the 90s with heat indexes in the 100s.

I hear El Nino is affecting our weather, giving us these unseasonably cool temperatures this week. It's going to warm up to the high 70s near the end of the week. Oh, well.

Books Set In Charleston

2009-10-15T09:03:00.008-04:00

I've recently read two books set in Charleston, SC, one of the loveliest cities in the country. I went to college in Charleston (GO Cougars!) and wound up staying there for fifteen years. I made some good friends and had a good time.

The first book is The House on Tradd Street, by Karen White. It's a ghost story/mystery/love story. Our heroine, Melanie Middleton, a type-A real estate agent, inherits the house on Tradd Street from a colleague of her grandfather. The old man has no relatives of his own. Melanie doesn't like getting attached to anything. She lives in a condo with white walls and sparse furnishings. The old man stipulated in his will that she had to live in his house for a year before she could sell it, because that's exactly what she had intended to do when she heard she was the benificiary of his will. In order to sell the house Melanie had to first renovate it. Of course she grows to love it, but that's not the crux of the story. Enter Jack Trenholm, a well-known writer of true-crime mysteries. There was a story that the old man's mother had run off with a known gangster and seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth. Jack wants to help her renovate the house and research the story of the missing couple. Melanie doesn't fully trust him because she really doesn't trust anybody. She's also a bit of a misanthrope. Oh, yes, the ghosts: Melanie can see ghosts and the house seems to have two of them, one benevolent and the other decidedly evil. She has to fight the evil ghost and wonder about the nice one. She knows there is a reason why she was chosen as beneficiary of the will, and of course she spends most of the story trying to figure out why. I'm not telling this as eloquently as I'd like, but it was a good story, a little different from what I usually read, and it had a very satisfying ending. I really enjoyed it.

The other book with a Charleston setting is South of Broad, by Pat Conroy. It's the story of Leo King and his group of friends. They all met in high school and remained friends decades later. The characters in this book include Leo and his parents, a loving father and a difficult to love mother; a set of extremely talented, artistic twins and their drunken mother; three orphans; a black football player (who later becomes chief of police); several Charleston blue-bloods and their extremely snobbish parents; and one very scary sociopathic pedophile. There are other characters, but I don't want to give anything away. You must read this book. You don't even have to know anything about Charleston to enjoy it. Conroy uses many real names of people (he probably knows these people personally) and places and changes others. From his beautiful writing you get a sense of the loveliness of Charleston. Leo tells the story and right away you find out that he, at nine years old, was the one to find his older brother in the bathtub with his wrists and throat slit. Leo has spent time in a mental institution, and when the story opens he is doing community service for having been caught at a party with a large amount of cocaine in his pocket. Someone else put it there, but Leo never told the police who it was. Leo is rebuilding his life. He's seventeen and has a strong character, so he's doing well with his rehabilitation. He also inherits a house on Tradd Street, but Leo is thrilled about it, unlike Melanie in The House on Tradd Street. (I don't think there was any plagiarism going on with either of these two books, just coincidence.) The story covers the years from 1969, when Leo and his friends were in high school, to the early 1990s, after Hurricane Hugo hit Charleston. There is a very harrowing description of the night Hugo hit and of the aftermath of the storm. (For anyone who is wondering, Charleston recovered at least physically if not emotionally from the hurricane's mess.) At one point in the story, the friends all go to San Francisco to find and rescue one of the twins, who is suffering from AIDS. My friend Theresa, who hasn't finished the book yet, thought it seemed a bit far-fetched in places, but it's FICTION people! Suspend your disbelief and just enjoy it. My description, and the one on the flap of the book jacket, do not do justice to this stunning book. I would recommend it to anyone.

Karen White has a sequel to The House on Tradd Street, which I have already placed on my wish list. I wouldn't mind seeing a sequel to South of Broad, but I'm not sure Pat Conroy writes anything but stand-alone novels.