Oatmeal Cake

I don't remember who gave me this recipe, but I've had it for a long, long time. This homey, moist, and delicious cake is well worth the time to bake it from scratch. 

Begin with 1 cup "Quick" Oatmeal OR 1 1/4 cup "Old Fashioned" Oatmeal.

Add 1 1/2 cup boiling water.

Combine the oatmeal and boiling water. Set aside for 20 minutes to cool.

Meanwhile, cream well:

1 cup brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup butter

Add 2 eggs to sugars and butter, beat well.

Add the cooled oatmeal mixture and stir.

Next add in:

1 1/3 cup flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt

Mix well.

(You may add nuts or raisins to the batter, if you prefer.)

Bake at 350 degrees in a greased and floured cake pans. For the cake pictured above, I used an 8 inch diameter pan, which took 70 minutes in my oven. However, using two layer pans will take less time--35 to 45 minutes.

The cake above was served it with cream cheese frosting, but you can simply sprinkle it with powdered sugar or whipped cream. This past weekend, I made the cake again and put raspberry jam between the layers and gave each slice a spritz of whipped cream. 

It's quite nice unadorned, too. I've never really been fond of super sweet icing. When I was young, the other kids in school would lick off the icing and leave the cupcake. I was the kid who scraped off the icing and ate the cupcake. What can I say? I've always been a little different. :-)

Are you the kid who licked off the icing and left the cupcake behind?

Enjoy!

More Rights Returned

I received the official email from Mundania Press for the return of the rights of SEA OF HOPE, HEAVEN'S BLUE, A RUSH OF LIGHT, and THE KEEPER'S PROMISE. Originally, I wrote these Christian romances for Awe-Struck Ebooks, but Mundania Press later bought the company. SEA OF HOPE won EPIC's Ebook Award in 2002 for Best Inspirational Novel. HEAVEN'S BLUE won the same award in 2005. THE KEEPER'S PROMISE was a finalist in the contest as well.

At the moment, the only plan I have is to get a new cover for SEA OF HOPE and then reissue it myself. Daughter #2 designed the covers for HEAVEN'S BLUE, A RUSH OF LIGHT, and THE KEEPER'S PROMISE. I'm very fond of the cover of HEAVEN'S BLUE, but I'll see what the general consensus of opinion is as to whether I should get new covers for all the books.

What do you think? Should I get new covers for all the books?

My Patriot's Saga Heads West

This is a portion of the Cuyahoga River. I saw it last year when hubby and I attended a reunion of my mother's cousins. Long before our trip, I considered extending my Patriot's saga by having some of the McGowan clan head west. The past few weeks, I've been researching the Ohio Territory and I've settled on a place and time for my story's beginning. While this latest addition to the Patriot's saga will not be set along the banks of the Cuyahoga, it won't be too far from it.

The book will be called Patriot's Courage and it will be a historical Christian romance like Patriot's Heart and Patriot's Pride. It may take me a while to put it altogether, but I'm looking forward to it. Ohio is a lovely place to visit. :-)

Please Turn Off the Television in the Waiting Room

For a few decades now, whenever I must spend time in a waiting room, there is a television blaring away in a corner. I always want to turn it off, but most often other people are also in the room and most of them sit and stare at the screen. I always have a book to read--either a paper edition or another book in my cellphone app. I find the constant, inane chatter from the screen annoying.

There are usually old magazines lying about on tables in waiting rooms, but in general they are the same ones that were there a year ago. 

I think it would be a wonderful idea if the television sets in all waiting rooms were turned off. Doing so might encourage people to read. Especially if some newer magazines were left on the table and perhaps a few books as well. 

Do we really need to have televisions in waiting rooms? 

IRONS IN THE FIRE $0.99 for a Limited Time

Irons In The Fire is $0.99 for a limited time. 

If you haven't read it yet, now's the time to download your copy at https://amzn.com/B0112J0KIE

The book was a nominee for the Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Award for Best Small Press Paranormal. It is a contemporary paranormal romance in which Irish legends revolve around a contemporary plot set along the Jersey shore. The heroine, Catherine, has been told she is a descendant of fairies but without her uncle’s ancient book of spells, she cannot harness her powers and though she can foresee the future, she can do nothing to change it. But when her uncle is murdered, she must depend upon Britt Jenkins, her uncle's neighbor, to help her solve the murder.

In the following scene, Britt and Catherine are returning to his house after being questioned by the police. 

Jenkins' sports car had a stick shift, a clutch, and very little room. When he shifted gears, his hand brushed Catherine's thigh and set off a tremor inside her. She edged closer to the door of the sleek vehicle and sought to blot out the vision she had just endured.

With him as a distraction, eliminating the illusion wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be. The engine roared and the strong, callused hand on the gearshift slid along her thigh again, creating another earthquake in her system. She swallowed hard, turning to gaze out of the window as they sped along Main Street. 

She recognized the small business district of Gull Haven. A crowd had gathered on the street outside of one of the pubs. As the car cruised past, a fight broke out on the sidewalk. She flinched when one drunken man slammed another with his fist.

“Did you see that?” she gasped.

“Yeah. Another fight at the ‘Happy Sailor.’ That's a nightly ritual.”

She frowned at his lack of concern. The light from a street lamp illuminated the grim set to his mouth. She supposed exhaustion weighed as heavily on him as it did on her, but she didn't doubt he was furious with her as well. She had told the detective about that slip of paper. While she didn't regret it, because she knew her uncle's scrawl contained an important clue, she didn't enjoy causing a rift between them. He had, after all, saved her life.

The car rolled by another pub that had at least twenty motorcycles parked outside. Catherine knew the nightlife in Gull Haven left a lot to be desired. If any residents wished for something more cultured than beer and pretzels for an evening out, they went to Rivershire, over the bridge on the mainland.

They left the business district behind and headed north. The rest of the town was quiet. Too quiet. With the solid rock wall on the right, dark houses on the left, and her mysterious, unpredictable companion, loneliness crept over her.

The Taylors’ brooding gothic came into view and served only to make her more uneasy. The thought of staying in that house by herself gave her the creeps.

He turned the car into his driveway. “So where's your aunt?”

She started at his curt tone. “I don’t know. At some spa, I think. We don't—I mean, we've never really been close.” A deep stab of pain shot through her heart. The loss of her uncle could only make the situation with her aunt worse.

“What about Mike's stepson, Drew?”

“He had a sailing race this weekend in Maryland.” Catherine's throat tightened. Drew had always gotten along well with Mike. He would be as devastated as she was at the loss. Although Drew wouldn't be back until tomorrow, perhaps she could share her grief with him and patch up the old animosities.

Her companion stared at her for a minute, his eyes as hot and piercing as a laser. Then he got out of the car.

She slid out and followed him as he stalked into his house. Inside the back door, he flipped the switch to turn on the lights. She covered her eyes until they could adjust to the blinding gleam. Dangling from the ceiling, a bare bulb sent glaring rays bouncing off the stark white ceiling and walls.

It had been a long, terrible day and her tongue turned acerbic. “This reminds me of a blizzard I attended once,” she said.

He stopped pulling the plastic drop cloth off his refrigerator to scowl. “You don't like it?”

“It's dazzling.” She smiled as he glowered. Not only was he egotistical, he was monochromatic.

“Now wait a minute, Mullaney.” He wagged a finger at her.

“You may call me Miss Mullaney or Ms. Mullaney or even Catherine, but I'm not one of your old chums from the pub, Jenkins.”

His eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed threateningly. “I'll call you anything I please.” His voice took on a menacing edge.

Catherine rolled her eyes. Where did this fellow come from? The Stone Age? He could keep his pizza. “Look, I'm grateful you saved my life today, but I'm totally exhausted. Thanks for offering to feed me, but I can take care of myself.” She didn't feel hungry, anyway. 

She spun, snagged her foot in the plastic drop cloth, and let out a startled cry as she pitched toward the floor. With lightning reflexes, he caught her before she connected with the solid tile. The strong grip on her shoulders set her heart racing. His face hovered over hers and her knees went weak.

“You are going to sit on my couch and you are going to eat my pizza, because I am not going to be responsible for you fainting in my kitchen.”

His cold tone acted like a bracing splash of water, bringing her to her senses. “I wasn’t going to faint. I simply tripped.”

“It looked like fainting to me.” He searched her face with his scorching gaze. His breath fanned her skin, sending a tingling sensation over her limbs. She decided she really would faint if he came any closer. She closed her eyes as she felt the flush blooming on her cheeks.

He freed one of her arms and passed his hand across her brow. “Are you feverish?”

Terrific. What could she say to him? No, I'm just blushing because you are sending these crazy shivers up and down my spine. She didn't say anything.

“All right. Come into the living room.” He ushered her to the sofa. “Put your feet up. I'll get a blanket. How about a glass of wine?”

She tried to shake off his solicitous hands. “There's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine.”

“You've had a shock. Maybe I should call an ambulance,” he muttered.

“I'm okay,” she protested.

Ignoring her attempt at bravery, he swung her feet up on the couch, covered her with a blanket, and handed her a glass of wine. Then he busied himself zapping pizza in his microwave.

She soon regretted her comment about his kitchen. After a few sips of wine, she suggested it would be perfect if he added some plants and a collection of plates, perhaps, or old copper molds. She complimented the living room with its gleaming oak floor. After several more sips of wine, she even volunteered to help him choose his furnishings.

He handed her a personal-size pizza and refilled her wineglass, then sat cross-legged on the floor and munched on his own meal.

“So you think the house has possibilities?” he asked.

“It's charming,” she reassured him. “With the right touches, it would be a real showpiece.”

He shook his head. “Your uncle told me the same thing.”

For a few minutes she had put all the day's events out of her mind, but his words brought it all back. Determined not to cry, she swallowed against the ache in her throat and listened as he told her how her uncle sold him the house, gave him advice on repairs, and bought him a set of tools. Reclining against the pillow, she enjoyed the rich timbre of his voice and watched as the softer side of her rescuer took shape. The words he chose made him seem quite intelligent, she decided. And when he wasn't glaring at her, he presented a rather handsome appearance.

Taking another sip of wine, she closed her eyes, just for a minute. She wouldn't fall asleep on him. No, she just felt delightfully warm and safe. She wished she didn't have to go back to Aunt Evelyn’s house.

     Oblivious to the late hour, her rescuer droned on, describing how to spackle sheet rock and strip old wood. Her head nodded and she fell asleep.

Buy your copy now at https://amzn.com/B0112J0KIE

Envelopes

Way back in the dark ages of my youth, long-distance telephone calls were very expensive. My mother rarely called her relatives in Ohio and Pennsylvania. To keep in touch, they often sent letters to each other. Not all the relatives reciprocated, but my Aunt Grace—Mom’s sister—was the most faithful correspondent. Her handwriting was atrocious and I found deciphering her words a difficult task. However, every one of her letters was treasured—read and reread.

Aunt Grace wrote to everyone who wrote to her. As I grew up, she wrote letters specifically to me. When my oldest daughter was able to grasp the intricacies of cursive writing, Aunt Grace directed letters to her. A letter from Aunt Grace usually consisted of advice—but she dished it out in clever and amusing ways. For instance, when my sister was seeking Mr. Right, Aunt Grace suggested a new wardrobe which included a dashing chapeau and a cute little dog. My sister was supposed to take the dog to the boardwalk and stroll about. She was bound to attract attention in that manner.

One of the saddest things about our changing world is the demise of the art of writing letters. I will be the first to admit I love Facebook. It’s a great way for keeping in touch with far-flung relatives. I know where my daughters are. I know my niece is going to the cabin for the weekend. I enjoy seeing everyone’s photographs. However, correspondence on the internet is usually kept to a minimum amount of words. Today’s youngsters will probably never receive a single handwritten letter in their entire lifetime. There are four- and five-year old children who do not know the word envelope.

There are very few people who write letters anymore. Lately, I only write letters to my sister-in-law because she writes back. We talk on the phone occasionally, too, but a letter in the mail is a nice surprise--something to keep.

For those of you who have no idea how to start writing a letter, I found an interesting site that might be helpful http://auspost.com.au/education/letterwriting/students/personal-letters.html

Send someone special a letter. It’s the next best thing to being with them and they can cherish it forever.

Prayer Shawls

I'm crocheting a prayer shawl. This is the beginning of it. I knew nothing about prayer shawls until my father attended a grief counseling session after my mother died. At the end of the session, he received a prayer shawl. Dad didn't know what to do with the prayer shawl but he thought it was a nice gift. He kept it in his closet. I found it there after he passed away. 

I've always enjoyed crocheting. I wrote a post about how I learned the craft when I was young. You can read it HERE. Last year, one of my dearest friends joined a group which provides hats, blankets, and other handcrafted items for children in hospitals. (Blankie Depot) My friend asked me to teach her how to crochet a hat for an infant. We had a grand time one afternoon as she learned how to make a small hat. She soon excelled and made an incredible amount of very lovely little hats and donated them regularly.

One day my friend asked me to show her how to make a blanket. I found an easy pattern but she struggled with it and admitted she really only wants to make the hats. I promised her I'd make some blankets to donate while she continued making hats. 

I made some pretty little baby blankets like the one pictured on the left. At the end of the day, I enjoyed sitting down with my crochet hook and crafting something special in the hope of bringing some warmth and maybe a touch of love to some small individual.

Then my dear friend told me there's a need for prayer shawls for women in the local hospital. I never made a prayer shawl but I decided to try it. She dropped off a huge skein of yarn, I found a pattern, and my fingers got busy.

In the Jewish faith, prayer shawls are part of a tradition. However, the modern prayer shawl ministry began in 1998. You can read about it at Shawl Ministry. In essence, the shawl is dedicated to giving comfort to those who need it. It's almost as good as a warm hug, but it also comes with prayers the crafter recites as the shawl is being made.  

If you knit or crochet join a local group and use your skill to comfort  someone in need. It'll make you feel good, too. :-)

Will It Work?

After our delightful cruise, I stepped on the scale at home and discovered all those wonderful, elegant meals had converted into blubber. Usually, I count calories to lose extra pounds, but I've grown tired of that method. So I decided to try something different.

I saw Perfect Portions in the "As Seen on TV" section in The Christmas Tree Shop today and I bought it. I have no idea whether or not this is the solution to my excess weight, but it can't hurt.

Since I'm a writer with a painting hobby, much of my time is spent sitting. I like to crochet, too, and that involves more sitting. My exercise is either cleaning the house, or cycling on my recumbent bike while reading a book. (Multitasking!)

Have you tried Perfect Portions? Did it work for you?

Is It Love?

Another wonderful Prism Book Group author is my guest blogger today. See what she has to say about romantic love. 

St. Paul took a whole chapter in I Corinthians listing various hallmarks of love. Rather than attempt a pat definition, he revealed some of love’s many facets, turning it over and over as one might a brilliant, perfectly-cut diamond.

Since love is such a broad topic, let’s zero in on one aspect—romantic love. When a special person makes the heart beat faster, regardless of the season of life, we begin to question our emotions. Am I in love?  How will I know when it happens? How can I be sure when it is the real thing? Living a few years teaches us romantic love is accompanied with tender feelings, but that “gushy” feeling alone is not enough to stand the test of time. Love is more.  Real romance involves two people who care enough for each to put the other ahead of themselves.  In a “me first” instant gratification world, that kind of commitment is rare.  Yet it is the kind of giving, sharing love we hunger for at our very core.

Do I love him? Does he love me?  A simple test would be to consider each of the characteristics of love from I Corinthians.  Are we kind to each other?  Are we patient with each other? And so on.   Many heartbreaks could be avoided by thinking through that Biblical checklist, and turning away from a relationship with too many “no” answers.  Another person’s love is not directly measureable.  We can’t take out a yardstick and see how it stacks up. Instead, we observe love by its impact.  Oscar Hammerstein II is credited with this little rhyme that captures a singular way of looking at love:   

“A bell is not a bell till you ring it. 

A song is not a song till you sing it.

Love in your heart isn’t put there to stay. 

Love isn’t love till you give it away.”

 Prism Book Group’s “Love Is…” series takes its inspiration from I Corinthians chapter 13.  Eventually there will be a short novel that takes its theme from one of the aspects of true love.  My contribution to this series is “Evidence Not Seen”, inspired by “Love keeps no record of wrongs.” Or, if you prefer the lyrical language of the old King James translation, “thinketh no evil.”  I hope those who read my story find it to be true to that sentiment.  

In the final analysis, we are left with faith, hope, and love.  What a marvelous trilogy!  And the greatest, of course, is love.  May we all practice it faithfully, daily, unrelentingly.  Love never fails. 

Check out Carlene’s contribution to Prism Book Group’s new Love Is series… 

 

Evidence Not Seen

“Love keeps no record of wrongs…” 1 Corinthians: 13:5

Although attorney Jeff Galloway’s career is in high gear, his personal life is a mess. Just before his father returns home from a 27-year stretch in prison, his girlfriend dumps him. When a chance encounter begins to blossom into new romance, soft-hearted Melanie Clark encourages Jeff to find a way to forgive his father’s long absence.

Buy it at AMAZON!

Creating Secondary Characters

Secondary characters are useful. Your heroine doesn't need to look into a mirror to describe her features. She's got a sidekick more than willing to point out her foibles. As Pinocchio relied upon Jiminy Cricket to become real, most heroines and/or heroes could use a confidante to guide them along on their journey--or sometimes point out the obvious when their rose-colored glasses obstruct the view.

Secondary characters are also great fun to bring to life. For instance, in my historical, PATRIOT'S PRIDE, Mrs. Ulery is the heroine's companion and chaperone on a long journey to England. The heroine barely knows the older woman, but it soon becomes obvious that Mrs. Ulery has an inordinate fondness for whiskey. While the heroine is horrified at this discovery, the heroine finds Mrs. Ulery's other hidden talents more than helpful.

Readers have enjoyed Mrs. Ulery. In addition to being a foil for the very proper heroine, she provides humor and a slight touch of wisdom, despite her love of liquor. In fact, it is that failing of hers which rounds out the older woman and makes her seem genuine.

Here's a great post about supporting characters and how to create them: http://io9.gizmodo.com/5896488/10-secrets-to-creating-unforgettable-supporting-characters

So have some fun with your secondary characters. Your heroes and heroines need some support!




Photo Credit: "A Woman Reading, The Chamber-Maid Brings Tea" via photopin (license)

A Sense of Direction

I've been married for nearly forty years to a man who has no sense of direction. He possesses many other fine qualities, but it would be helpful if he was able to distinguish north from south and east from west. He compensates for his deficiency by using maps. He prints out endless reams of paper when he must travel somewhere new. He maps out every turn. He always fears getting lost.

Many have suggested he should purchase a GPS. He just laughs and tells them I'm his GPS. And I am.

While it is true that I have taken a few wrong turns in my life, I am not afraid of getting lost. I've lived in New Jersey all my life. It's a peninsula. There's water on the east coast, southern coast, and western coast. Besides, no matter where you are in NJ, there's either a Parkway sign or a Turnpike sign to guide you along. Besides, sometimes a new road is the start of a wonderful adventure.

While we were cruising along on the Carnival Sunshine in the Atlantic Ocean, hubby always had the map of the ship in his pocket. I really didn't think he could get very lost on the ship, but he worried about it enough to carry the little map with him at all times.

Sigh.

How about you? Do you have a good sense of direction or not?

Talking Love with Gail Pallotta

Please welcome my guest blogger GAIL PALLOTTA! Her latest release is one of the "Love Is" series of books from Prism Book Group. 

When I was in college I used to run into an atheist in the small cafe where we gathered for Coca-Colas, hamburgers and French fries after class. I tried to avoid him, because he always hopped over to my table and started an argument about my faith.

Perhaps he comes to mind on the release day of Breaking Barriers for several reasons. One, he was angry at me because I am a Christian. Even though today I can’t recall which verses he used, he’d take passages from the Bible and try to make me say they weren’t true. When I wouldn’t, he’d retort with a scientific argument and claim it had to be right.

The second reason he comes to mind—it was the mention of God’s love that finally silenced him. One day I grew so frustrated I asked, “If there’s no God, where does love come from? Why don’t you mix me up a little bowl of it? If scientists could do it, they would, because they could sell a ton of it for lots of money.”

His mouth gaped.

He never trotted to my table again.

Since then I’ve read that we have chemicals in the brain that produce love. I’ve often wondered if he came up with that theory. Even if that were true, the chemicals in the brain came from somewhere, and that would still lead back to God. I hope it wasn’t him. I hope he thought about God’s great love for us and decided to read the Bible.

Check out Gail’s contribution to Prism Book Group’s new Love Is series…

Breaking Barriers

“…love is not easily angered …” 1 Corinthians: 13:5

Gunshots ring out as Ann Jones enters the church. She hides in the bathroom until they stop, then stumbles into the sanctuary. The congregation lies dead in pools of blood. To rebuild the church, she starts True Light Guardians. At the first meeting, she’s attacked by a terrorist, but rescued by James Crawford. He melts her heart, cold from her father’s abuse, and they fall for each other. She’s afraid to commit to love that might grow angry later, like the type she knew as a child. James yearns to stop other attempts on Ann’s life, but can’t. Tormented by her constant risks, he breaks up with her. When an assault sends her to the hospital, an unlikely ally shares Ann’s plight with James, but he reveals a lead that puts all three of them in even more danger.

http://amzn.to/28VWW48

www.prismbookgroup.com

Cruising--Then and Now

 Thirty-nine years ago, hubby and I went for a cruise on the Oceanic to Nassau in the Bahamas. We were celebrating our first anniversary. The ship could hold 1,600 passengers and 560 crew. We stayed in a small cabin with two narrow beds--separated from each other. There was a very small closet and small bathroom. Of course, we didn't spend much time in our room. There was plenty of entertainment and plenty of food--six meals a day, which included a fancy midnight buffet.  There was gambling, too, but hubby and I don't gamble.

This year, for our fortieth anniversary, we booked a cruise on the Carnival Sunshine to see the town of St. John in New Brunswick, Canada.  The Carnival Sunshine can hold 3,006 passengers and 1,150 crew, making it huge in comparison to the Oceanic.

Our cabin was compact but larger than the one we had on the Oceanic with a lot more storage space along with a bed big enough for the two of us together.

One of my daughter's friends compared it to a floating mall because in addition to lots of entertainment, the ship also has plenty of shops--all with sales, of course.

In the past 39 years, the cruise industry has perfected the art of parting you and your money. The key card used to open the door of your cabin is connected to your credit card. You swipe it for every beverage you drink along with every extra service or purchase you make. I purchased the Wifi for $35, which was the "value" Wifi. If I wanted a faster connection, it would have cost much more. But the value Wifi was all I needed to stay in touch via Facebook Messenger with my daughters.

Since it was an anniversary cruise, we were granted several extra amenities--a free bottle of wine with dinner, a meal at one of the exclusive restaurants, a free photo, and spa services. I didn't use the spa services, but everything else was great. :-)

While the Oceanic boasted six meals a day, the Carnival Sunshine offers twenty-four hours of food. The Sunshine also has more of everything and many, many options. My favorite places on the ship were the quiet places--like the Serenity deck or the Library. The Lido deck was always noisy--though in the evening there were movies on the big screen, which was awesome. Hubby and I enjoyed the Piano Bar where every evening Jimi played popular songs and everyone sang along. However, some nights the Piano Bar was too crowded--so we didn't venture in.

Our trip on the Sunshine was only four nights long--far too short. I think a longer cruise which stopped at a few more ports would have been more interesting. As it was, we were in St. John for a very brief amount of time.

Thirty-nine years ago, on the Oceanic, when we were in our cabin we could hear the engine grinding away all the time. On the Sunshine, we didn't hear the engine in our cabin. However, I did feel the bed chug-chug-chugging along with the movement of the ship. There wasn't much swaying back and forth, but the ocean was fairly calm. I'm sure there would be more swaying if the ocean was rough.

All in all, it was a nice diversion spent in pleasant company and it was over far too soon. It was wonderful to be pampered for a while.

New Cozy Mystery!

One of the Prism Group authors, Julie B. Cosgrove, is writing a new cozy mystery series. Here's the book blurb:

As Janie and Betsy Ann go for their morning jog, the city sanitation vehicle follows its normal five-mile Tuesday morning route through their retirement community of Sunset Acres. The two Bunco-playing biddies spot a leg dangling out of the dumpster when the truck lifts the trash container high in the air. Someone diced up one of their newest residents—a grouchy loner named Edwin Newman. Did he unpack too much of his dicey past when he moved in last weekend? 

This is what one Amazon reviewer said, "Living in a retirement community is supposed to be quiet and peaceful. When bunco loving friends happen upon a dead body, they decide to ensure their community is safe by solving the crime in this delightful book, full of humorous situations."

Check it out at the links below. 

http://amzn.to/21aW5Pa

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6oj0u3kJzNk

Flowers in My Garden

Evening Primroses

I love flowers but it takes a lot of effort to create a beautiful garden. I've been trying for years. My sister, the horticulturist, has helped me by giving me hardy perennials that are difficult to kill. The Evening Primroses she gave me bloom faithfully for the entire month of June and a patch of Brown-Eyed Susans perform equally well as summer wears on--though the deer like to munch on the Brown-Eyed Susans.

My sister also gifted me with Dames Rockets, an invasive weed that resembles phlox but blooms during May. Dames Rockets have a lovely fragrance and the deer don't eat them, which is a good thing in this part of the country because the deer feast on flowers, vegetables, and anything else that pleases their palates. Deer are voracious.

In another section of the yard, I have Soapwort, also known as Bouncing Bet. My sister tells me these plants are difficult to eradicate once they get started, but in my case that's a good thing. I need plants that do well without much encouragement.

A patch of hardy, thread leaf coreopsis doesn't seem bothered by drought, attracts butterflies--but not deer,  and blooms for a long, long time.

Do you have any suggestions for a brown-thumb kind of gardener? Any flowers that never fail you?

The Best of Heroes

My father passed away. He was ninety-four years old. A World War II veteran who became a journalist and worked for over forty years at the Jersey Journal in Jersey City. He rarely took a day off from work. He helped form the newspaper guild and was president of it. 

He loved to talk politics. He was funny, smart, and honest. 

He supported my mother and four children on his salary. That involved becoming a Do-It-Yourself expert in household repairs. He made sure all four of his children went to college. When he retired, he bought a camper. He and Mom traveled to Florida in the wintertime and Canada in the summer. 

When Mom's health declined, he took care of her. When she died, Dad became my responsibility since I lived closer to him than my siblings. When he broke his hip, we sold his house and moved him into a senior apartment complex very close to our home. 

For several years, he remained fairly independent. He walked to the grocery store and bought all his food. He made new friends in his building. He made even more friends online. He kept up with the family and all his grandchildren on Facebook. 

Then he had a stroke. After two months of rehab, he was back in his apartment--this time with live-in help. His aide cooked for him, did his laundry, and made sure he didn't fall down, but he dressed himself and spent plenty of time online detailing his experiences as a young man during World War II. I became his editor and computer guru. He called his aide his associate. 

He was happy. He kept up with all his friends, went to the movies every Wednesday night and attended the Friday breakfasts as he had before his stroke. We took him out to restaurants on the weekend and he went to all the family get-togethers along with his aide.  

Meanwhile, I worried about Dad's finances. The money from the sale of his house rapidly depleted in paying the aide's salary. I applied for the Veteran's Aide and Attendance Benefit. I was told it would take twelve to eighteen months. I contacted my congressman. He didn't have any success in getting the Veteran's Administration to move any faster. 

Dad began to get very weak. He didn't care about Facebook anymore. He didn't go over every item on his bank statement anymore. 

He didn't read the newspaper. 

One day he had a seizure. After an MRI, we learned he had metastatic brain tumors. The oncologist wanted to treat him with radiation. We said no. 

We brought him back to his apartment with his trusty aide by his side. We called in the Visiting Nurse Association's hospice team. Dad had more visitors than ever before. 

A reporter from the local newspaper interviewed him for a Memorial Day article. 

Then Dad took a turn for the worse. I was by his side as he took his last breath. 

He was given military honors at the gravesite, which was nice but it would have saved me a lot of sleepless nights if he had received the Aide and Attendance Benefit from the Veteran's Administration. Nevertheless, there was enough money left to bury him next to my mother. 

I'm going to miss his daily morning phone calls, his presence at every family gathering, his lively conversations, his politics, and even his constant questions. The journalist's Who, What, Why, When, Where and How never left him.

Dad was the best of heroes. 

Chicken Italiano

My niece and her fiancé visited today. They'll be getting married soon. My southern sister gave them a cookbook as a shower gift. My niece said her fiancé has a lot of cookbooks. She usually pulls recipes off the internet--and I admitted I do as well sometimes, but there's nothing like an old-fashioned cookbook. I've got a nice collection and I dragged out some of my favorites. My new nephew-in-law was appreciative and took snapshots with his cellphone of several recipes I pointed out that everyone in the family loves.

One of my favorite cookbooks is The Texas Experience. Hubby brought it home from one of his business trips many, many years ago. (It's a 1983 edition.) 

After my niece and her fiancé left I glanced at one recipe I hadn't tried, Chicken Italiano. It was simple--my favorite kind of recipe! I doubled the sauce as I usually do because I love saucy recipes and I used only chicken breasts instead of cutting up a chicken.

Hubby really enjoyed it. I did, too. 

Give it a try! 

Chicken Italiano

1 (16 ounce) bottle of Kraft's Creamy Italian Dressing
2 packages onion soup mix
2 (4 ounce) cans of mushrooms, drained
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon oregano
2 pounds of chicken breasts, cut into chunks

Combine the Creamy Italian Dressing, onion soup mix, mushrooms, bay leaf and oregano. Pour over chicken. Bake covered at 350 degrees for 1 hour and 10 minutes. 

Yummy! 

Checklist for Heroes

Most of us have an certain mindset of what a hero should be. On the left is my hero, Wildon, from PRINCE OF THE MIST. He might not be your idea of a hero, but there are certain qualities every hero must have. Click on the blog post link below. You've got to see this one. It should make you laugh. :^)

Go to:

Thinking about heroes that I've recently read....

Enjoy.

My Books Are At the Library

If you like reading free paper editions, you should get a library card and visit the local library. It's a great place to discover authors! If your library doesn't have the books you wish to read, ask the librarian. Libraries also carry ebooks, too.

Libraries are cultural centers as well featuring movies, live entertainment, informative talks, and offering many other benefits for their communities. Visit your local library today.

The Process--or Me and Matisse

When I was in college I took an oil painting course. Oils were nothing new to me. In her younger years, my mother worked in oils. I grew up messing around with Ma's paints when she wasn't looking. I loved squishing the oils around and mixing colors. I love the smell of the stuff, which is probably not a good thing but the truth is it smelled like home. I could draw quite well--freehand. I was quite sure I would get an A in the oil painting class, but that was until I met the professor.

My oil painting professor had a fondness for Matisse. Yes, Matisse created some wonderful paintings, but I am a realist at heart. I want scenes on my canvas to have a close approximation to what things look like to my eyes. To do that, I need small brushes and I work very tight--section by section. I love details--grass, hair, and rocks. That makes me happy.

My professor insisted all his students own large brushes. I knew I had no need for a large brush and it was terribly expensive, but I had to buy it anyhow. The professor wanted all his students to work on all areas of the canvas during the process. He did not want me to work in one corner at a time.

He wanted my painting to look like a Matisse. I wanted my painting to look like a Penelope Marzec. We had some basic ideological differences. I did not get an A. :^(

What has this got to do with writing? Everything. I've read plenty of books about writing. I've sat through innumerable writing workshops. I've listened to scores of writers explain their process and I've learned that everyone has a different process. Beyond the great divide of plotters and pantsters, there are various ways to get to The End.

There isn't a right way or a wrong way. There's only what works--for you. It probably won't work for someone else, but that's okay.

Despite that one professor, I never gave up painting. I've gotten some fabulous reviews for my books and some awards, but there have been some reviewers who reminded me of that oil painting professor. Obviously, I cannot make everyone happy. Still, I have not given up writing.

The fun is in the creating. The fun is in the process.

The only real rule is to do it. Put your butt in the chair and write. Now.