"Blowing in the Wind"

I just read on CNN news that one of my all-time favorite singers has died. Mary Travers, of the famed Peter, Paul, and Mary trio died from side effects of treatment from a bone-marrow transplant after battling leukemia.

The songs of Peter, Paul and Mary were as influential on the 60s and 70s as those of Pete Seeger, and called people to action as the civil rights and anti-war movements moved into full swing. In 1963, the trio performed its hit song "If I Had a Hammer" at the Washington march where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his famed "I Have a Dream Speech."

That was a profound moment for me, and the idealist in me believed that if people only paid attention to what the songs were saying, we could end all the evils in society.

That was especially true of "Blowing in the Wind." How could a person listen to those lyrics and not want to change their ways? That song spoke to my soul in ways few other songs do, and I still count it as one of my favorites.

It was also one of the first songs I learned to play on guitar, and when I sing it now it still stirs my soul.

Recently I was listening to a CD of Peter, Paul, and Mary all-time hits, and I realized I know every song on the CD. I learned them all when we used to do Hootenannies at church.

For those young folks who read this a hootenanny is an informal performance by folk singers, typically with participation by the audience. )

Recently, I've idly thought about getting a hootenanny going at a venue here in my little corner of East Texas, and maybe this is the impetus to make it happen.

Rest in peace, dear Mary, your music will live on.



The singer was born in Louisville, Kentucky, in November 1936 and grew up in New York's Greenwich Village. As a teenager, she performed in a Broadway review, but stepped on to the folk music scene in the 1950s. She emerged as an iconic folk singer while performing with Peter Yarrow and Noel Paul Stookey.

Peter, Paul and Mary came together while singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" in Stookey's New York City apartment. They went on to play gigs at coffee houses and later on the radio.

"As a performer, her charisma was a barely contained nervous energy -- occasionally (and then only privately) revealed as stage fright," Stookey said.

Their music reflected the 1960s and the 1970s, a time of turmoil as the civil rights and anti-war movements moved into full swing.

Travers applied her recognition to rally behind those progressive movements. In 1963, the trio performed its hit song "If I Had a Hammer" at the Washington march where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his famed "I Have a Dream Speech," her publicist said.

Cat Pornography

Some writers work to the sweet sound of their favorite music. I get to work to the sweet sound of my dogs bathing. They come into my office and decide it is time to take care of those personal hygiene needs, and the constant slurping can drive me nuts. Not to mention the fact that Poppy has to "talk" to her fleas while she is biting them.

I don't know what it is about my office that attracts all the animals, but they all love it. The cats are especially annoying when they decide they MUST be right in front of my computer, with paws and tails draped over the keyboard. I'm a terrible typist without that kind of interference, so working around furry appendages is really a challenge.

John, will usually just sleep when he gets to the favorite spot in front of my computer and keeps his feet to himself, but recently Orca has started claiming that spot. Not only does he nap here, he also bathes, which means he is moving around in front of the monitor. But that is not even the worst part.

After he has slept for a while, he decides he has to air out the family jewels, of which he has none, but he doesn't seem to realize that.

So I look down to type something and, well, there he is.

Monday Morning Levity

It's been a while since I shared something from my friend, Tracy Farr, and this one had me laughing out loud. Maybe it was just me, but chances are you will find it funny, too.

The pert-near truth about daughters


I have a daughter. Chances are, you have a daughter, too. There’s a special room in heaven just waiting for us. It has a sign on the door that reads: “Shell Shock Recovery Room. No Sudden Loud Noises!”

I’m not an authority on daughters. I only have the one whereas you may have a whole herd of them. But I’m starting to understand some things that I’d like to pass on to those of you who have no daughters, but who really want a few because you’ve heard they’re always polite and never belch at the table (which is a total lie).

So, here’s what I’ve learned so far. It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got:

1. All little girls want horses. They will not be denied. Sure, you could use the logical arguments of high cost, not having enough back yard to keep one, a horse’s pooper-scooper being called a shovel – but when it comes to horses, little girls don’t think logically. It’s best to buy them a subscription to a horse magazine and put off buying a real horse until they’re married and their husband can afford it.

If the subscription doesn’t work, maybe a stuffed animal or poster will do. If not, don’t blame me.

2. A daughter is born with a telephone attached to her left ear. You probably missed it on the day of her birth. Don’t feel bad, most parents do. But now that you see it, I would suggest subscribing to the “You’ve Got A Daughter” cell phone plan. Unlimited minutes, unlimited texting, no roaming charges, national and international coverage, nights & weekends, rollover minutes, and friendly customer service guaranteed for the life of your daughter. It will cost you $1.5 gazillion a year, but that’s a whole lot cheaper than if she “borrowed” your phone and sent her 30 best friends 1,000 text messages a day.

I guess you could get her a phone “only to be used in emergencies,” but a daughter’s definition of “emergency” is: “I haven’t talked to my BFFs for nearly 17 minutes. I must talk to them NOW or the world will come to an end.”

3. When your baby girl starts talking about needing to shave parts of her body, that’s when you need to start looking for a boat. It would be easier if you already had one, but sometimes it’s impossible to see the future through your daughter’s bright, girlish smiles and hugs that seem to say, “Daddy, I love you.”

WARNING: When your daughter gives you those bright, girlish smiles and hugs that seem to say, “Daddy, I love you,” she’s really setting you up for a trap. It’s just a ploy to get either a horse or to borrow one of your razors. Don’t fall for it. Be a man and buy the biggest boat you can afford. You’re going to be using it a lot, so you might as well be comfortable.

4. The menstrual cycle is a perfect excuse to go fishing on that brand new boat. If you have more than one “little girl” in the house, you get to fish twice as much. If you’re a man who has a hard time talking about “that time of the month,” join the rest of us out on the lake. We’ll be waiting for you by the dam.

5. One day your little girl is wearing pigtails, the next day she has boobs. Boobs attract boys; their brains short-circuit when confronted with cleavage; but boys understand shotguns and the damage they can inflict if they don’t steer clear of your little girl’s “blessings.” A daddy has to do what a daddy has to do – whether it be with .12 gauge or .24. And if the shotgun doesn’t do the trick, try the chainsaw.

6. Don't be sad when the day comes that you must “give your daughter away.” Just be thankful you don't have to pay someone to take her. Although, there are times when I think the dowry system of marriage should be revised. (Those times correspond to whenever the goats are out of their pen.)

Hear Ye! Hear Ye! all future suitable suitors for my daughter’s hand in matrimony. You are hereby informed that on the happy day of your union, not only will you receive my daughter and all the bills she’s run up over the years, but you’ll also receive three pygmy goats and their offspring, along with enough fencing material to keep them on your property and not on mine. I’ll even help load your truck at no extra charge.

-----
Tracy Farr is a musician and humorist, and in his spare time he drives a school bus. You can find more fun stuff at Stinky Creek , Texas

Let us not Forget

Sometimes as we are distanced from tragedy the memories dim somewhat. That's a normal human reaction, a way of dealing with pain and grief.

Now, nine years after that horrible day in September when we saw planes crash into buildings and thousands of people die, the images are not as crisp in my mind as they were a year or two years ago.

On one hand that is a good thing, as that deep ache I used to feel is not as heavy as it once was. But on the other hand, I want to cling to the feelings of intense patriotism that tragedy instilled in me and people all across the country. We were united in our anguish and our purpose.

And that is what I wish we all could focus on in these troubled economic and political times. United we can do great things. Divided we will fail. And we do not honor the memory of the dead by failing.

Another Excerpt from my Book

Back in June I started posting excerpts from my new book , which is a humorous memoir titled A Dead Tomato Plant and A Paycheck. This latest installment is from a chapter tentatively titled, Socially Unacceptable. As parents, we reach a point where we are barely tolerated by our children......

It's an indisputable fact that as parents our intelligence ratio is in direct proportion to the ages of our children. The younger they are, the smarter we are.

I came to this profound realization the day my oldest daughter turned 16 and half my gray matter disintegrated. I could hardly believe that she was the same daughter who used to consider me the final authority on everything from why God made bugs to how the moon got up in the sky.

How fondly I remembered those good old days when she was four and I was smart.

She stood in awe of me because I could answer all her questions, not to mention that I could actually grow a plant from her watermelon seed.

Then she grew up and it reached a point where I would have given almost anything for just one brief glimmer of that old wide-eyed wonder. In fact, I would have given anything for a simple nodding acknowledgment that I might know something besides my name, address, and phone number.

It was a terrible shock to realize this was happening to me. I had years of education behind me. Not to mention all the accumulated wisdom from the intervening years, and I was reduced to pre-kindergarten status by one disdainful glance.

I, who used to be the most respected beauty consultant outside of Glamour magazine, suddenly knew nothing about hair care or make up.

I, who used to rival Chef Tell and the Galloping Gourmet in the kitchen, was now hard pressed to turn out a decent carrot stick.

I, who at one point could have started my own designer label with all the cute little dresses I created, had about as much taste as Miss Piggy.

Mind you, this was the same daughter who used to wear those dresses and tell everyone that her mommy made them for her. Now she wanted all the old photographs destroyed so nobody would ever see that she once wore a dress made out of pillow ticking.

It was a cute dress. Honest. With little yellow daisies on it that I hand appliqued. But did that matter? No. All she worried about was the fashion police and the fact that someone might decide she looked like a pillow.

This disdain for my mental acuity reached a point that I started wishing we could go back in time so I could bask in her adoration once again.

But then I had a second thought on the subject.

If we went back in time, this day of reckoning would still be lurking in my future, and I'd eventually have to face into it. Since I was already there, I might as well tough it out while I still had a small shred of intelligence left.

And, there were four other kids waiting in line.

Random Things

In honor of Labor Day, which is a holiday for all of us in the U.S., I just want to wish all my compatriots a happy and safe holiday. I was going to write a little reflection in honor of the day, but a friend, Joe Dan Boyd, who is also a journalist, sent me his essay and I couldn't top that. Here is a link if you care to read it.

I also received another funny piece from my humorist friend, Tracy Farr, so here is a link to his latest nonsense on WinnsboroToday.com. He has a new take on reality shows.

Last, but not least, my other regular columnist for WinnsboroToday.com, Slim Randles, has some dating tips on his latest offering. Here is a link to his essay.

Hope you enjoy these essays and columns. I am so thankful that these terrific writers share their talent with me and the folks who read WinnsboroToday.com

Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming....

More Pretty Pictures

Yesterday morning I was out early just as the sun was coming up. Needed to feed animals and do some trimming around the yard, but couldn't resist stopping for some pictures first.

I couldn't quite capture the sunrise in all it's glory. It's amazing how quickly a scene will change in the few minute it took me to walk back to the house and get my camera. But I did manage to catch some of the morning fog and a bit of the orange in the sky.

Then I noticed that dew was clinging to the ends of the pine needles. When I saw it, I couldn't help but think of the descriptions I've read in books of early mornings with dew glistening like jewels. Next time I read a description like that, this is the image that will come to mind.

And of course, while I had my camera out, I had to take a picture of some of the animals. Poppy couldn't understand why I had stopped throwing her ball, but was patiently waiting for me to resume her favorite pastime.

Orca was waiting in the grass for the gopher. He had a long wait.

What's Happening to the Neighborhood Library?

According to a story by John D. Sutter for CNN, libraries as we know them will soon be a thing of the past. Well, maybe not soon as in next week, but perhaps too soon for those of us who love going to the library, pulling a book from the shelf, and sitting at a table to read or do research.

Sutter writes:

Books are being pushed aside for digital learning centers and gaming areas. "Loud rooms" that promote public discourse and group projects are taking over the bookish quiet. Hipster staffers who blog, chat on Twitter and care little about the Dewey Decimal System are edging out old-school librarians.

I do embrace a lot of the new technology and love the fact that if I am doing a story and need to find a specific detail or check for accuracy, I can switch from Word and go on the Internet to find the detail or verify the fact. There was a time when I had to stop working and go to the library to do that.

On the other hand, I will miss the "old-school" librarians, like the one who presided over the little library of my childhood. She encouraged a young girl to read more than just the horse stories that were my first love, and when I'd exhausted most of the books that were in the children's section, she wrote a note to my mother asking permission to give me "select" adult books to read.

So I got to read Little Women, Jane Eyre, Moby Dick, Of Mice and Men and many other books that both charmed me and broadened my world view.

Will that same type of personal relationship and fostering be possible in this new age? I don't know. That remains to be seen. But I hope this same kind of magic can happen, because a love of reading, no matter how that love is introduced, can take a young person a long way toward success. Not to mention how much fun there is along the journey.

Just think of the books you have read in your lifetime and what they mean to you.

I want to take a moment to thank that lady, along with all the other "old-school" librarians who have touched my life and helped me with research through all the years I have been writing. New technology may dominate the future, but you will never be replaced.

Kreativ Blogger Award

Patricia Stolty honored me with the Kreativ Blogger Award and this came as such a nice surprise. Patricia has a wonderful blog where she talks about writing and things related to Colorado authors.

Thank you so much Patricia for this recognition. Coming from someone with such an awesome blog and blog site, I am humbled.

There are rules associated with this award.

*****Rule for Passing on the Kreativ Blogger Award

It functions as a meme---list 7 of your favorite things, 7 of your favorite activities, 7 things no one knows about you.

Seven of my favorite things: family, chocolate, puzzles, animals, hamburgers, spaghetti, cookies.

Seven of my favorite activities: writing, playing guitar, acting, gardening, riding horses, watching movies, quilting.

Seven things no one knows about me: This is hard since I am pretty much out there with what I think and how I act, but I'll try to come up with something. Hmmmm...... Some people don't know I used to work for a veterinarian. Other people may not know that I am a hospital chaplain.

Gotta give up on thinking of other things. It would be easier if the rule was seven things some people don't know about me, but there isn't much that no one knows.

Kreativ Blogger award. More rules:
1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.
2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.
4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting.
5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers.
6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.
7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they have been nominated.

For the Kreativ Blog I nominate:

Helen Ginger's Straight From Hel
Beth Groundwater's Blog
Ginger Simpson's Dishin' It Out
Lou Ann Morgan's Reading Frenzy
Terry O'Dell's Terrys Place
The Book Muncher
Marilyn Meridith's Marilyn's Musings

These are all blogs I visit frequently, if not daily, and all have great content and are very well done.

Promotion

Sylvia Dickey Smith is a Texas author and also the hostess of an Internet radio show Murder She Writes where she interviews women who write mysteries. I'm going to be her guest this evening from 5-6 Central Time.

Previous guests have included Betty Webb, Elizabeth Gunn, Linda Faulkner and a whole list of ladies who make me proud to be in their company.

If you are interested and have time, come on by and give a listen. I've listened to other shows there and Sylvia is really good at keeping the show interesting and fun. I will be talking about all my books, as well as what is coming next for me. And maybe we'll even talk a little bit about music, theatre and acting.

This show will be archived on the blogtalkradio site for several months after today, so you can always catch it later if you are busy tonight. Here is a link to the show: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/MurderSheWrites

Book review - Red Hot Internet Publicity

In this revised edition of Red Hot Internet Publicity: An Insider's Guide to Marketing Your Book on the Internet, Penny C. Sanservieri gives the author all he or she needs to successfully network and sell in the virtual marketplace.

The book is packed with useful information such as:
* The secret to getting thousands of hits on your web site and then converting them into sales!
* Top internet promotion techniques that won’t cost you a dime!
* The Virtual Author Tour™, how you can “tour” yourself on the net
* How to get print media from your Internet campaign
* Learn how to expand your platform and sell more books!
* How to create a campaign that will last for months, not days
* How to create a web site that sells your book
* Podcasting and blogging demystified!

In fact, there is so much information, it can be a bit overwhelming for an author who has not done very much Internet marketing. And I'll admit that I was beginning to feel an "information overload" as I continued to read. The smart thing to do, I decided, was create a marketing plan and calendar for promoting my next book, and plug in the tips and resources from this book where they apply.

When I mentioned that to my husband, he laughed. "You? Making a plan? Writing it down? Sticking to it?"

As you might have guessed, I am not a great planner. I don't even outline my books. But the business side of publishing has gotten so demanding, an author does have to be organized, have a marketing plan of some sort, and schedule time during the work week to carry out the plan.

And this book is going to be of tremendous benefit to any author wanting to increase sales through Internet marketing. It is very well organized, written in a comfortable, easy to read style, and has helpful blocks with bullet lists of important reference points.
Particularly helpful are the links. When Penny makes a suggestion, such as checking to see how your Web site ranks in popularity, she provides a link to do so. And should you find your site is not highly ranked, she offers ways to improve the standing.

Penny C. Sansevieri is the founder and CEO of Author Marketing Experts, Inc., a company that offers marketing and publicity services for authors. She has also written other books on marketing, and shares tips freely on the Web site and via a newsletter.

I am really looking forward to using this book and the newsletter for future online promoting.

The End of an Era

Our country mourns the passing of Massachusetts Senator Edward Kennedy, who died late last night after battling brain cancer. With him, went the end of an era.

Love them or hate them, the Kennedy brothers, John, Robert, and Ted were an important political force in the United States for fifty years or more. Some pundits have even considered them the closest thing to a royal family we have had. The most obvious being the reference to Camelot when John was president.

As a young person just old enough to vote in 1961, I was caught up in the magic and excitement that seemed to surround John Kennedy, and I cried in 1963 when he was shot. I cried again in 1968 when Robert Kennedy was shot.

Both men appealed to the idealist in me who wanted a champion to tackle the tough issues on the country and challenge the status quo. They won me over with their ferver and their speeches and their call to patriotism.

Today, I was saddened to read that Ted Kennedy died. It didn't bring the same strong wash of emotion that I had when John and Robert died, but then I think the awful circumstances of assassination played into those scenarios. Plus, I think we all, including Ted, were preparing for this for some time. Just a few weeks ago he asked Massachusetts Gov. Deval Patrick to change state law to allow him to appoint an interim successor to the senate seat.

In politics, Senator Ted Kennedy took more of a middle road than his brothers, but he still had an impressive term of service. He served on the Senate Judiciary Committee, which he once chaired, longer than anyone else in history. He also served at various times as chair of Senate committees on labor, education, and health issues, where he had key influence on issues related to education, housing, health care and the civil rights of women, minorities, gays, immigrants, and the disabled.

I extend my heartfelt sympathy to the Kennedy family for their loss, especially as it comes so soon after the death of Eunice Shriver, Ted Kennedy's sister. In some ways Camelot may be over, but the spirit of that era lives on in the hearts of those that were touched by John, Robert, Edward, and Eunice.

Was Anyone Even Thinking?

Ellen Goodman of the Boston Globe is one of my favorite columnists. I don't always agree with her, but that's okay. It isn't a columnists job to write only what people will agree with -- if that were even possible. A columnist's purpose is to stimulate discussion and civil debate -- the operative word here being "civil".

This past week, Ellen announced the Equal Rites Awards "to those who have done their best over the last 12 months to set back the cause of women."

One item in particular had me put down the paper, look at my husband and ask, "Are you believing this?"

The Fashion Victimizers' Citation went to Barneys in New York "for the store's display of battered and bloody mannequins posing as upscale assault victims. Ah, yes, blood is the new black, and violence is soooo chic. "

I thought I was beyond being shocked at the crazy ideas some people will act on, but this one shook me to the core. Was there not one person in the marketing department of the store who stopped and thought, "Gosh, maybe we shouldn't do this."?

Not only does it glorify violence, it debases the people who are victims of that violence.

It's a good thing I don't live in New York City. I would have been arrested for breaking and entering and vandalism.

Enjoying the Day

It is a beautiful summer day, and this morning was very cool for Texas in August. I spent the morning outside cleaning the pasture, trimming tall grass along the fence line, and clearing the tall growth around our mailbox. I'm sure our mail carrier will appreciate that the next time she comes by and can actually SEE the mailbox.

At one point, I stopped, well actually I stopped often as my poor old back was yelping, but this one time I stopped and looked across the road at the hay meadow. There were no egrets today, but the view was still stunning, and for the millionth time I thanked God, or Mother Earth, or whatever higher power is responsible for the gift of such beauty.

Book Review: The Dark Horse by Craig Johnson

It’s always a delight to find a new author whose work makes you want to read more and more. That is the case for me with Craig Johnson. I received his latest book The Dark Horse for a birthday present, and once I started reading it, I could hardly put it down. And this is another book that will have a permanent home on my bookshelf.

Being a horse lover, I was intrigued by the title and the cover when I read a review of the book in the Dallas Morning News. The story is set in Wyoming, home of Sheriff Walt Longmire, who was first introduced in Cold Dish and has appeared in three other novels before The Dark Horse.

In this latest story, Walt investigates what looks like a clear-cut murder case, but becomes increasingly complicated. Mary Barsad confessed to killing her husband, Wade, after he set fire to their barn and killed all Mary’s horses. The crime is out of Wade’s jurisdiction in a neighboring county, but he can’t help thinking there is more to the crime than what Mary said. He poses as an insurance agent and goes to the small town of Absalom, where the main attraction is the fights at the local bar, to investigate. That investigation has him digging deep into the history of that forsaken town and unearthing secrets that would have been better left alone.

There is much to enjoy in reading this book: the characters who are well-defined and engaging, the twists of the plot that keep you guessing, the atmosphere of “old west” that permeates the setting, and some of the best narrative I’ve read in a long time.

Here is just a sample: “One strike of lightening followed another in succession and I felt the tingling of intimidation in being the tallest point on the big mesa; then I slipped a boot into the stirrup and made myself taller.”

Johnson has received both critical and popular praise for his novels The Cold Dish and Death Without Company with starred reviews in Kirkus and Booklist. Both novels were named Booksense selections by the Independant Booksellers Association and Killer Picks by the Independant Mystery Bookseller's Association . As a Penguin paperback, The Cold Dish had a six-week run on the Barnes & Noble top-fifty best-selling mystery list, and made the Booksense Paperback Summer Pick List of 2006.

Wow. No wonder I was so impressed with the book. And now I have to start this great series from book one.

# Hardcover: 336 pages
# Publisher: Viking Adult (May 28, 2009)
# Language: English
# ISBN-10: 0670020877
# ISBN-13: 978-0670020874

Socially Unacceptable

Today I'm fulfilling the promise I made last Saturday to post the next section of one of the chapters of my new book that I introduced HERE This chapter is titled "Socially Unacceptable" and first deals with the fun of social groups in high school. Here is the next section....

People may grow up, but they don’t really grow up, and it seems we are destined to play these silly little social games until the day we die. The way we play them just becomes more subtle and harder to figure out.

I realized that one day when my oldest daughter was lamenting the fact that her best friend had suddenly qualified for the Popular group, while she was still relegated to something closer to Outcast. Overnight it had become socially unacceptable for said friend to associate with Anjanette. I was in the middle of my Mommy Speech 112, telling her to buck up, that this, too, shall pass, when I realized it wouldn’t.

It certainly hadn’t for me. And I think my brother-in-law summed it up aptly one day when we were looking at homes in a “tony” part of town. I mentioned one that I particularly liked and he said, “You can’t buy this house. You wouldn’t fit in.”

I looked at the woman jogging past in her designer track suit – she wasn’t even breaking a sweat in the 90 plus temperatures – and realized he was right. My blue jean cut offs and penchant for doing my own yard work would not make it in this neighborhood.

I amended my talk to Anjanette that day and told her that nothing was going to change. “So you can either learn to thumb your nose at them or figure out how to operate within the system.”

Later, I would tell a variation of that sermon to each of our kids, and it is interesting to see how they have chosen to respond. Some of them followed in my footsteps and opted out of the social games, while playing just enough to be successful in their careers.

Luckily, they figured out the subtle nuances of social interaction quicker than I did.

Nuance number one: People don’t always mean what they say.

Gosh. I always thought they did. I do, so I figured everyone else did, too, as evidenced by the time I dropped in at my neighbor’s for coffee. This was when I first moved to Texas and I had just met this neighbor. As I left after our first meeting she said, “Y’all come back, now, ya hear.”

So I did. A week later I was lonely for friends in Michigan, so I decided to visit my new friend down the street. I rang her doorbell and when she answered her expression clearly indicated that she did not expect “drop by” company. To her credit, she was gracious and invited me in, but the chill could have cooled a small stadium.

Nuance number two: People can smile and treat you like a dear friend while secretly wishing you would drop off the edge of the earth.

I won’t even go into how I learned that fact. Suffice it to say, I did. But I haven’t learned how to do it myself and I’m sure there are times it would come in handy. Like the time I tried to work on a PTA fundraiser with the woman who had reported David to the principal for pushing her Timmy into the mud and ruining his Izod shirt. Of course, she didn’t report that darling Timmy punched David in the nose first.

I could have happily gone the rest of my life without having to see that woman again after our shouting match in the principal’s office, but, no, she had to volunteer to man the cake-walk booth with me.

Nuance number three: Despite the old adage of not judging a book by its cover, people judge you by how you look all the time.

Oh, they won’t come right out and say, “Where on earth did you get those jeans and that shirt.” Or, “Would you like the name of my hairdresser.”

Okay, some women might. But most will simply smile politely when you try to join their group at a party and tighten up the ranks. It’s a very similar to what happens with nuance number two, and some people must practice for years to perfect the smile and the slight.

Changed my Mind

I know on Saturday I said I would post the next excerpt from my new book today, but something else grabbed my attention. Last night I watched the interview with Michael Vick on 60 Minutes eager to hear him fully acknowledge his participation in the dog fighting enterprise that sent him to prison for two years and maybe show real remorse.

That didn't happen. The PR team he has hired to help him scrub his public image has done a good job in scripting what the man says. He didn't admit to the horrible things he did to the dogs -- hanging them in trees and electrocuting them, holding them down in his pool until they drowned, using pet dogs as bait to make the pit bulls blood thirsty, throwing them into arenas where they tore each other to shreds. Those are the horrible things he did, but all he admitted to was "not standing up to the people around me who were doing things that I'm not proud of."

Huh?

Appearing on the show to support Vick were former NFL coach Tony Dungy, who has been asked by NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell to mentor Vick, and Wayne Pacelle, President of the Humane Society of the United States. Dungy talked about how people like Vick who make one mistake deserve a second chance, and Pacelle talked about how important it was not to just punish Vick, but to use him to help educate young people about the horrible business that is dog fighting. Both possibly valid points depending on how you look at it.

However, I don't think Vick would be getting this second chance in his career -- he was just signed with the Philadelphia Eagles - if he was anything but a star athlete. It seems we will let athletes get away with almost anything just because they are so good at their sport. Think about all the "bad boy" football players who have disgraced the game in the past 20 years or so.

And I don't care how much money Vick gave to the Humane Society, I am disgusted that he is even associated with an organization that I have been an avid supporter of for years.

Just for a minute think about what might have happened if the dog fighting enterprise had never been discovered and Vick had never been arrested and put in prison. Would he still be abusing those poor dogs just for the fun of it, or would he have come to his senses without legal incentive?

Unfortunately, I think the answer to the first question is yes, and no to the second.

All of these "bad boy" athletes say all the right things after they are caught, just so they can get that second, or third, or fourth chance to prove that they are really redeemed. I truly believe that had Vick not been caught, he would still be running his Bad Newz Kennels and people who knew about it would just look the other way because he is such a talent on the football field.

Well, it takes a hell of a lot more than just talent to hold my interest, and I used to love the game and the men of character who played it.

Another Book Excerpt

Here is another excerpt from my latest creative effort that I introduced HERE back in June. This is the beginning of Chapter Two; SOCIALLY UNACCEPTABLE: Otherwise Known as the Crazy Things We Do.

We all remember those horrible days of middle school and high school when our social standing depended on who we were friends with and what kind of clothes we wore. Other than a change of setting and a change of attire, I’m sure the social posturing started in ancient times when Garthea was kicked out of the clan for inappropriate use of a bear skin and continues unaltered through present time.

When I was in high school, I was in the Outcast group. You remember that group. It was made up of kids who didn’t belong to the Popular group, the Jocks, or the Nerds. Among the many things that made us socially unacceptable was the fact that we were a bit lacking in the looks department. Not that any of us had faces that would make little kids run away screaming, we were just plain, ordinary, and some of us wore glasses. That alone was a severe stigma in high school in the 60s.

I remember meeting a former classmate a year out of high school, and laughing at his reaction. “You’re not THAT Maryann,” he said. “You can’t be. She was… uh… well… You sure have changed.”

We in the Outcasts were also not quite good enough athletically to be on a sport team, and some of us just hid our brain power because we didn’t want to be with the Nerds. In our minds, that group was lower than ours, even though most folks thought otherwise.

One of the things I liked best about belonging to the Outcasts, was I could pretty much do anything I wanted and it wouldn’t affect my standing. Think about it. I was already on the lowest rung of the ladder. So I just clung to it the best I could and looked forward to the day when I would be out of high school and this silliness of social groupings would end.

Ha.

People may grow up, but they don’t really grow up, and it seems we are destined to play these silly little social games until the day we die. The way we play them just becomes more subtle and harder to figure out.

Come back Monday if you get a chance and see how we play some of those silly games.

Something Different

It's been kind of a crazy day. Was waiting most of the day for people to come and install new flooring, and they got hung up on another job. Kind of disconcerting when you make plans and arrange your life around something that doesn't happen.

Plus, I was offline most of yesterday due to cable that had gotten cut somewhere between here and Dallas, so today I've been scrambling to get my office work done -- updating winnsborotoday.com writing a review and talking to folks about advertising. Then I realized I hadn't updated here in a couple of days.

With nothing new to add from me, I decided to post a link to a new feature my friend and fellow humorist, Tracy Farr, has started. He's doing podcasts he calls The Bathrobe Monologues and here is a link to his latest about beer.

To read more of his funny stuff, or connect to other humorous and musical offerings visit Stinky Creek Texas.

One Lovely Blog Award

My friend and fellow author, Ginger Simpson, surprised me with the One Lovely Blog Award yesterday. She made the announcement on her blog, Dishin' It Out.

I was really touched by the reason she chose me and this is what she wrote about me: A great friend and confidante, and a very smart lady. She has some amazing articles on her site. Maryann is one of those people who comes into your life for a purpose, and she's certainly served hers well in mine.

So it is with the same gratitude that I pass this award to three authors who have enriched my life with their friendship and support.

Helen Ginger -- who has a terrific blog and newsletter packed with helpful information for writers. She is so generous with her time and expertise, and I really admire her for that. She is also a terrific editor.

Dani Greer -- another lady who shares her expertise graciously and frequently. She was the founder of The Blood Red Pencil blog, and can also be found at Blog Book Tours blog. I also chose Dani because she so appreciates my humor.

Morgan Mandel -- I chose Morgan primarily because I admire her courage in publishing her own book, Killer Career. Not only did she take the publishing bull by the horn, so to speak, she did so with an attention to detail and professionalism that I respect greatly. She shares advice, resources, and book reviews on her blog.

All three of these ladies also manage to do more in 24 hours than most people I know. I stand in awe of all of them. So ladies, I pass the honor along to you.

Here are the rules:

1) Accept the award, and don’t forget to post a link back to the awarding person.
2) Pass the award on.
3) Notify the award winners.

Guest Blooging Today

I'm a guest today at the blog for Backspace.org, which is a site filled with good articles, resources and advice for writers. The blog site is called and my topic today is tenacity.

A long time ago I learned that tenacity is as important for success as a writer as talent. So many writers get discouraged and give up, and I understand the temptation. The rejections, the steep uphill climb to get published, the demands of promoting, and all the other not-so-glamorous aspects of the writing game can wear anyone down.

I have been lucky to know some writers who have persevered despite even greater challenges, and their examples have kept me going when I was ready to throw in the towel.

Change of Pace - A book Review

Thought I would share with you a review I did for a book that was released early this past spring. River of the Arms of God was written by Irene Sandell, who is a retired Texas History teacher in the Dallas area. This is her second novel, and it was just nominated for the 2009 Willa Award, given by Women Writing the West.

River of the Arms of God is a story of two women held against their will in the harsh Texas frontier. Sarah is held by Eli along the Butterfield Stage Line in the mid 1800s, and a hundred years later Kate is the emotional prisoner of a rancher in those same Texas plains. She thought Colby loved her, but he only wanted her to bear him a son. When she failed to provide him one, he lost interest in her.

Against great odds, Sarah manages to survive in the isolated cabin for almost two years and makes a daring escape with her son, Edward. She leaves behind a diary and some stone carvings that Kate eventually finds. Reading about Sarah’s courage gives Kate the courage to demand a divorce.

As the story unfolds, the parallels between the two women become more obvious, as does the emotional connection that Kate makes to Sarah. It is written in a style that captures the look and feel of cattle country in Texas, and the characters are well-drawn and endearing. In introducing Kate, the author explains how she came to call herself that. “The people in Wheeler, Texas, would have been shocked to know that shy Kathryn Rowley had defied her father and chosen her own name. It was her secret and an uncharacteristically rebellious decision on her part. It hinted at strength that even she could not imagine.”

This is an enjoyable tale of two strong women who fight against all odds to escape the tyranny of their men and their circumstances.

---------------

Ms. Sandell is a fourth-generation Texan and has written and produced 16 documentaries on Texas history.

Pretty Flowers

I've been having fun with my camera again. The first flowers pictured here are Mexican Petunias. I have a bunch of them in my back flower bed. I had no idea that they multiplied like bunnies.

The other flower grows wild on vines that stay pretty close to the ground. I have no idea what they are called, but they sure are pretty. Looks almost tropical. They are native to East Texas, so if anyone out there knows the name, do let me know.

Join us in the Blog-A-Thon

There's a Blog-A-Th0n going on at Ginger Simpson's Dishin' It Out blog, where a bunch of us writer-types are talking about promoting. Some good tips being shared there, as well as little touches of humor.

The blog is running all day today, so stop by when you get a chance and see what all the talk is about.

Hope you find something of interest there.

More Nonsense From My Latest Book

Here again is another excerpt from my book in progress A Dead Tomato Plant and a Paycheck. It is a mix of humor and memoir, and this offering is from a chapter "The Silly Things We do."

Enjoy......

While I may not be the brightest intellectual around, I’ve always considered myself intelligent, educated, and capable. As a parent, I’ve handled situations that call for ingenuity, like explaining to a five-year-old what keeps the moon up in the sky -- l told her God glued it up there and figured her teacher could explain all that scientific stuff after she got to school -- and talking my way out of hosting a slumber party for15 young teenage girls.

The fact that I even survived raising the twins speaks for itself.

So, I wonder. Why is it that I can't open a simple "easy to open" package? I faced the most demanding jobs of motherhood from potty training to summer vacation, but I m reduced to a 97-pound weakling at the sight of "press here and pull back along dotted line."

The last time I opened a box of detergent, I had to get a hammer and chisel, and I ended up with soap powder all over the floor and a smashed thumb. It was not a pretty sight, or a pretty sound.

Considering the highly technological society we live in, along with truth in advertising, shouldn't an "easy open" package be just that?

We shouldn't have to wrestle our way through boxes of cereal and individually-wrapped cheese slices.

We shouldn't have to gnaw our way through potato chip bags or get tennis elbow from opening jars of peanut butter.

We shouldn't have to ask the same kid who gave us the blinding headache to open the bottle of aspirin so we can ease said headache.

And we shouldn't have to visit the local blacksmith with our canned ham.

Toning it Down Again

Seems to be a pattern here the last week or so, rant one day, and mellow out a day or so later.

The mellowing is so much better.

Yesterday, my husband noticed this bird standing guard at the nest in the birdhouse. He had seen this bird a number of times fly in and out of the nest and figured there were babies in there.

Sure enough, there are, but even with my telephoto lens -- which I am such a klutz at using I kept losing the birdhouse and would be focusing on our security light pole -- I couldn't get a good shot of the babies. For obvious reasons, I didn't want to get too close.

This morning when I was weeding the flower bed near the birdhouse, I could hear the little peeps. That was so cool. And the guard bird gave me a look that said, "Keep your distance, lady."

The birdhouse is one of several we have around our property, but the only one that is currently occupied. It was a present to my husband, who enjoys the birds a lot, and he has spent quite a bit of time watching this daddy bird tend to his babies.

We're not sure what kind of a bird it is. We think it may be some kind of finch. Do you recognize it?

Another Rant

I hate to go from the fun of talking about pets to another rant, but you know me, I can't help myself.

A proposed bill to ban texting while driving has been all over the news today and reading about it made me stop and wonder why we need a law to tell us not to do something that is so obviously dangerous. Are we all that dense that we can't figure that out for ourselves?

In another part of one of the news stories on CNN, the reporter quoted from a recent study that found that "drivers who text while on the road are much more likely to have an accident than an undistracted driver."

Again, I have to say, "Duh?" Did we have to pay for a study that came to the same conclusion a five-year-old would have for the price of an ice-cream cone?

When I first heard about the study on the national news the other night, I burst out laughing. There was Charles Gibson in all his earnestness giving the story his all, quoting the statistics and issuing the warning. Watching him, I couldn't help but wonder if under the facade of seriousness there wasn't a part of him that found the story as absurd as I did. Of course distracted drivers are going to have more accidents than drivers who are not distracted.

Now I want my ice-cream cone.

Writers and Their Pets

What is it about writers and their pets? I don't know a single author who doesn't have a dog or a cat or some other animal friend who is almost as important in their lives as their people friends. You'll note I said, "almost."

We do keep a distinct line drawn there, although that line sometimes gets a little fuzzy.

While I have not gone to the same extremes as some celebs who carry little dogs in fancy purses and bequeath millions to them in wills, I do love and enjoy my animals.

So do all the authors who are guests on a wonderful blog Pets and Their Authors. The blog is hosted by Amigo, a delightful golden retriever who owns author Mayra Calvani.

My cat, John, is the guest blogger today, so if you are interested he'd love for you to stop by.

Finding Old Friends

I've just recently started re-reading some of William Kent Krueger's books, as well as reading a couple of his newer ones. His books are some that I have enjoyed a lot, but then I'd forget to look for his latest and a few years would go by before I thought of how much I like his work.

In reading Blood Hollow, I realized one of the things I like most about the Cork O'Connor mysteries. They are set in Minnesota, in the land of the Anishinaabe and Ojibwe Indians, and Native American lore and spirituality are an important part of the characters' lives and the stories they are part of.

This morning I read the following passage and found it so fitting for a Sunday -- a day that many people consider holy.

"Whenever Cork entered the deep woods, he knew he was stepping into a sacred place. This was much the same way he'd felt entering the church. It was not just the peace, although it was truly peaceful. It was more than the incense of evergreen all around him and the choir of birds in the branches above and the cushion of the pine needles like a thick carpet under his feet. There was a spirit here so huge it humbled the human heart."

I am not in a deep forest like Cork, but I have felt the same connection to the spirit of the land when I step out into my little "ranch" and see all the beauty around me. It is certainly how I felt when I saw those egrets the other day. What a wonderful gift from God or Mother Earth, or whoever is responsible.

Right or Wrong?

What a tangled mess this whole situation is revolving around the arrest of Harvard Professor, Henry Louis Gates, Jr. at his home in Cambridge. In case you have been on a desert island somewhere for the past week and have not heard the news, Professor Gates was arrested for disorderly conduct by Sgt. James Crowley who was responding to a report of a break in at the house on July 16th.

Since then, the incident has been a topic of debate on national news, radio talk show, and on the Internet. People are weighing in on both sides, including President Obama who said he thought the police acted "stupidly." When he was taken to task for that comment, he defended it on ABC's Nightline, " I think it was a pretty straightforward commentary that you probably don’t need to handcuff a guy, a middle-aged man who uses a cane, who’s in his own home.”

Many people agree with that, and if there were no other factors to consider in the situation, the debate could end there. But on the other side of the coin is a police officer who has a record of being even-tempered, racially sensitive, and one of the highest commended officers on the force.

In Sgt. Crowley's official report, he states that Gates refused to cooperate with him and repeatedly accused him of racism. Allegedly Gates told the officer that he "had no idea who he was messing with" and was so loud that it disrupted Crowley's attempts to give information to dispatch when he was calling in.

So, obviously, this will play out in a case of "he said" "he said" , but what I would like to know is who called in the possible break in? Was it a neighbor who should have recognized Professor Gates as he was entering his own home? What made the neighbor suspicious? Is that where the real problem of racism exists?

This is also an example of how not to respond in a situation like this. It appears that Professor Gates and Sgt. Crowley both let emotions get out of hand. Granted, I'm not sure if I could have kept my cool if a police officer came to my door and started questioning me, especially if that officer brought any kind of attitude with him. But I also know that reason trumps anger every time.

What? No More Sears Tower?

Here's another bit of nonsense from my friend Tracy Farr, who when he is not writing or playing banjo or watching Oprah, drives a school bus.

I know that talking about the Sears Tower in Chicago has absolutely nothing to do with driving a school bus, but Chicago is in America, Sears is an American company, my bus was built by an American company probably using Sears tools, so indirectly, it all makes sense (and if it actually makes sense to you, can you explain it to me later?)

The Sears Tower, one of the most iconic buildings in America, was recently renamed The Willis Tower. The London-based Willis Insurance Company bought the naming rights for the next 15 years, painted a new sign, and that's that. But I don't like it. Why couldn't they have renamed Oprah instead?

Willis is a money-grubbing insurance company. Sears invented Craftman tools. They probably used some Craftman tools to actually build the tower. That alone should have been enough for the tower to retain its name. But I guess in the end, money always prevails.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, if you look out the left side of the bus, you can see The Tower Formerly Known as Sears! Some people call it The Big Willy, but...Oh, look -- there's Oprah!"

The Sears Tower has 110 floors. Willis will only occupy three of those floors. The American law firm of Schiff Hardin already occupies nine. If possession is nine tenths of the law, why aren't we calling it the Schiff Hardin Tower? And why doesn't Schiff Hardin know about "nine tenths"?

Finally, I believe that if foreign companies can come to our country, buy our stuff, rename it to what they like, then we should be able to do the same. We could see the changing of the guard at Sears Palace. We could sing, "The Sears Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down..." We could even listen to Big Sears as it chimes the hour.

Okay, this is just one bus driver's opinion, but the next time I'm in Chicago, I'm not going to let some stinkin' tour guide suggest I go see some stinkin' Willis Tower. I'm going to the Sears Tower. And that's that!

Read more of Tracy Farr's stories at www.busno6.com or www.stinkycreektexas.com

A change of Pace

After yesterday's rant, I decided to mellow out this morning. Got up early and did some gardening, then took my dog for a walk. There's nothing like a brisk walk in the countryside to give you a whole new perspective on life.

Across the road from us is a large meadow where a neighbor grazes his cattle, and the egrets were swarming. What a beautiful sight to see the birds lifting off en masse and then settling again in another part of the meadow.

Good thing I had my camera with me. Now if I could just figure out how to place the
pictures in blogger in some kind of order. :-)

Socialism Taking Over Democracy

Appearing on the NBC's “Meet the Press,” Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius said a tax surcharge on wealthy Americans is one of several options under discussion in Congress to help pay for overhauling the nation’s ailing health system.

That didn't exactly come as a news flash. The "tax the wealthy" option has been bandied about a lot in this whole debate over health care reform and how to pay for it, but this is not a good move. It is just one more step into the quagmire of socialism.

For some people, that might be okay. Let the government take over running everything in our lives, and we just have to sit back and enjoy the benefits. Nothing for us to worry about, right?

Wrong.

What little control we have over things that are important will be lost, and every facet of our lives will be handled with the same care and concern and efficiency as we now enjoy while dealing with the IRS, Medicare, Social Security, Veterans Affairs, and the good old Postal Service. When was the last time you settled an important issue with any of these agencies is a timely and efficient manner?

Reams and reams of documents are created to administer all these fine agencies -- documents rift with rules that cannot be bent, broken, or ignored even when they don't make sense. That means that we are pretty well stuck with whatever the government says, and if we don't like it, too bad.

According to some polls and public commentary, most Americans are in favor of the current health reform plans, as well as the idea of taxing the biggest earners to pay for it, but I question those results. Nobody I know is in favor of a government controlled health system. Nor are they in favor of imposing an unfair tax on a certain group, even though there are some members of that certain group who deserve having something stuck to them.

What do you think?

More From the Road Trip

Back in June I started posting excerpts from my new book and this latest installment is a continuation of the chapter dealing with one of our our family vacations. To read what precedes this click HERE


Everything was peaceful for an hour or so, then the kids started squabbling, which soon deteriorated into full fledged fighting, and parts of the car bingo game were flying around the back of the van. Danielle refused to take a nap, no matter how hard we tried to get her to lie down, so I went to the back of the van to keep game parts from hitting the back of Carl’s head. The twins took that as an open invitation to use me for a trampoline, so considering the noise, the jumping, and the crushed Cheetos all over the mattress, I quickly retreated to the front seat, leaving the mess with the kids.

By lunch time, we were all more than ready to stop for awhile to see if we could straighten our cramped bodies from the sitting position to a standing one. But somehow the kids weren’t nearly as anxious to run around and make noise as they had been in the van. In fact, meal times were the only real quiet times of the whole trip.

When we pulled into another rest area for supper, it was an instant replay of the lunch break. The kids sat quietly at the picnic table, ignoring all the grass that just called for little feet to scamper all over it.

After we finished eating, we tried to get everyone to get one last drink, and go potty so we wouldn’t have to stop again for awhile. No matter haw hard we tried to avoid frequent stops, nobody had to go potty when we needed gas, but fifteen minutes later one of them simply wouldn’t be able to wait another second.

We made two quick stops between six and ten, and then the kids finally fell asleep. Thank you, God.

Of course, at this point, Carl and I were too tired to have a meaningful conversation, and we avoided the music so we wouldn’t disturb the kids.

About midnight, we decided to do a drive-through for a cup of coffee. We realized we were hungry and wanted something other than stale Cheetos, so we decided to get hamburgers, too. We thought if we didn’t turn off the engine the kids would not wake up, but that was a short-lived dream. The cashier had just handed Carl the coffee and burgers when the kids popped up, one at a time like they were all trying to be a jack-in-the-box.

They also appeared to be quite wide awake.

Since we hadn’t planned to get them hamburgers, we tried to hide ours in the front until the kids went back to sleep. But that wasn’t happening.

“What do you have?” David asked.

“Coffee.” I answered. “We need caffeine to stay awake to drive.”

“What else?”

“Uh,,,” Do I lie so I don’t have to explain why we don’t have burgers for them? Or do I try to figure out how to share two sandwiches among seven people? I’m good, but not that good.

“I smell food.” Michael said.

I glanced at Carl for help.

“um… I don’t think so,” he said, hastily dropping his burger in the center console. “Must be your imagination.”

Keeping my eyes straight ahead, I slid the McDonald’s bag to the floor between my feet and leaned my head against the window. Maybe if it looked like I was going to sleep, the kids would take the hint.

Yeah, that would happen about the same time that cats would do what they’re told.

Uncommon Decency

A teenager wrote a letter to the Dallas Morning News recently defending the crassness of the new movie, "The Hangover". She wrote, "In today's American society, which is anything but conservative, it takes more than a dry innuendo to stir up a laugh. Vulgarity is natural and expected. If people are offended, they can choose to stay home."

Not long afterward, David Brooks wrote a column titled In Search of Dignity. He was referencing the code established by George Washington that was comprised of a list of 110 "Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation."

Among the many edicts in Washington's code were commands to "endeavor to put national interests above personal interests, never degrade intimate emotions by parading them in public, and to distrust rashness, zealotry, fury and political enthusiasm."

It's not surprising that the teen who wrote that letter hadn't heard of Washington's code. It is all but forgotten in modern society, and we are much poorer as a result. And I do mean that literally. We are a morally bankrupt society, and that debases us on all levels.

Anyone who doesn't believe that the current global financial problems were caused as much by greed as economic factors, raise your hand.

Anyone who doesn't believe that the increase in teen pregnancies is caused in part by a proliferation of movies and television shows that present sex as just another "game" to be enjoyed, raise your hand.

Anyone who doesn't believe that politicians care more about their party and re-election than the good of the people, raise your hand.

I could go on and on, but I think you get the point. I lament the fact that we no longer have a general consensus of right and wrong, civil discourse, or a sense of what is proper behavior in public. As David Brooks put it in his recent column, "Americans still admire dignity, but the word has become unmoored from any larger set of rules or ethical system."

Someone get a rope and tie us back up.

Away From My Office

I always wanted to be able to say that, "Maryann Miller is away from her office." Somehow that makes me sound so much more important than the person who leaves the room to clean a toilet or feed the animals.

But I digress. I'm out of my office today because I'm doing a guest blog at Christine Duncan's Blog . It's a piece about rejection -- as in an editor does not want my work, not a personal rejection. In the business of writing, it is important to make that distinction when an editor says, "Thanks, but no thanks."

If you have a minute and are so inclined, stop by Christine's blog and share with us how you deal with the rejection slips.

Connecting to the Past

For years now members of my family have been telling me that I am a great deal like my paternal grandmother. I knew there were similarities, but the real connection didn't hit me until this morning, when I came in from working in the garden and had a biscuit for breakfast.

Let me explain.

My grandmother, Emma, had a great, huge garden sprawling up the hill in back of her house in West Virginia. Every morning during growing season, she would be out on the hill tending to the garden. She'd sit down on her heels and scootch down a row of beans weeding and picking at the same time. When she got to the end of one row, she'd stand up and stretch, then start down the next row.

In addition to beans, Emma grew tomatoes, peppers, corn, beets and all kinds of greens. She could have set up a vegetable stand in front of her house and made a small fortune. Instead, she canned what she didn't give away. Family and friends always knew where to come for fresh produce.

Emma spent endless hours in her garden, and when she broke for breakfast or dinner, her food of choice was always a biscuit. Not just any old biscuit, but a baking powder biscuit that she could make like no other, except for my Aunt Opal, Emma's oldest daughter.

Accompanying the biscuit for breakfast might be an egg or a piece of fruit. I had mine this morning with a peach. Dinner -- lunch to city folk -- was biscuits and beans. Supper, the biscuit might give way to a pan of cornbread with the beans and a sliced tomato.

Like Emma, I am drawn to the outdoors and to gardening. Even in this Texas heat I am out early in the mornings weeding, watering, trimming, or whatever needs to be done. And I have a pasture to maintain. Grandma never had large animals. Just a few chickens, and they don't leave great gobs of stuff that have to be shoveled and carted off.

My garden isn't as big as hers was, but every time I go out to do some weeding, I think of her. Sometimes I even sit on my heels and try the scootching thing. And this morning when I broke the biscuit into my bowl, the connection to her was so strong it stopped me for a moment.

What an amazing thing to know that people are never really gone forever. Some part of them still lives on through us.

I hope you enjoyed the biscuit, Grandma.

Internet Marketing

More and more authors are turning to Internet marketing for their books. They are doing virtual book tours, blogs, maintaining Web sites, and whatever else they can do to increase visibility on the Web.

This is all well and good, but according to Don McCauley at Free Publicity Group, many authors miss a major component of all this which is making sure that they are consistantly positioned high in search engines.

Some key ideas that he covers in his article are:

1. Over 70% of the population now PREFERS to get their buying information from the engines.
2. However, they do not sit around and wait to get hit with a commercial or an ad. When they go to the Internet, they have ALREADY DECIDED what they might be looking for and intend to purchase
3. They will look for that item using search terms
4. They will only purchase what they are made aware of through these engines
5. If you are not there - for a GENERIC SEARCH TERM, you will be invisible

Remember - your buyers will not Google your name. They will not Google your company name. They will not Google your brand. They will, however, Google words like 'book' or 'kids toys' or some other very generic set of terms.

That's why it is important to use the right keywords and labels on all that we post on the Internet. Anyone have any suggestions as to what has worked well in getting good search engine placement?

The Party's Over

The last of my company left today, so now I have no more excuses for not working. Darn. I sure was enjoying myself. I guess that is one reason that I like having my birthday on the Fourth of July.

I was playing the "It's my birthday" card all weekend until one of our sons reminded us that it was America's birthday, too. And since he is American, he could play that birthday card. Double Darn. .

In addition to lots of company and lots of good food, I got lots of neat presents. New books to read. An exercise mat so I can work off all this good food. Some lotions to make me all soft and pretty, and a new camera.

This is a Nikon Coolpiix P90, so I can no longer blame the quality of the pictures I take for WinnsboroToday.com on the old camera I was using.

One of the neat features this camera has is a setting for taking pictures of fireworks automatically. My daughter has that feature on her camera, too, so Saturday night we shot a whole bunch of pictures as the guys set off the fireworks.

Here are a couple of the better shots I managed.



My husband gave me the camera, and as I was shooting the pictures that night, I realized that he had given me a 35mm camera about 40 years ago, and one of the first things I did with that one was take pictures of fireworks.

I still have those prints in an album, and it was really neat to make that connection from so long ago to the present.

I'm A Yankee Doodle Dandy

Today the United States is celebrating a birthday, and so am I. The country is 233 years old, but I won't tell you my age.

For many years I thought all the parades and fireworks were in my honor, and it was quite a let down when I found out they weren't. To read all about that visit the Blood Red Pencil blog.

I've gotten over that fit of pique, but I still get all misty-eyed and goose-pimply when I hear the Star Spangled Banner and see Old Glory waving in a gentle breeze. And I drive my family nuts by singing "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy" off and on all day long.

Happy Birthday to Us!!!!

Another Excerpt From My New Book

Some of the readers here who have been following my excerpts from my newest book, expressed a desire to know more about our vacation, so here is the next segment of the chapter: ROAD TRIP - Or Are We There Yet, Papa Smurf....

To read the first part of this chapter, click HERE

By the time school was over for the summer, I’d saved up enough for gas – keep in mind that this was a long, long time ago and it didn’t cost a hundred dollars to fill the gas tank of a van. I even had enough to pay for one or two nights in a motel if I couldn’t talk Carl into camping along the way.

Yeah. Like that was going to happen. Carl has never been an outdoors man. His idea of roughing it is to drive a Winnebago from motel to motel, so it didn’t look promising for the camping idea. But I could talk him into picnics instead of restaurant meals, especially on the way to Michigan. We sure didn’t want to run out of money on the way home. Who wants to be stuck in the middle of Missouri with empty wallets? So my fist was tighter than Mr. Potter’s as we finished planning the trip.

The kids were bouncing off the walls with excitement for the entire week before we left. They made all kinds of plans for how much fun they were going to have, not realizing that hours and hours of riding in the car would precede that fun. The way they talked I’m sure they thought it would only take a half hour to get from Texas to Michigan. A thought I’m sure Carl wished was true. Driving with the kids is not his idea of a good time. Sometimes he doesn’t even fare well with a two-mile trip to church on Sunday.

Finally the day arrived. We packed the van, and created a place in the back for the kids to play, and when the time came, to sleep. (This was long before mandatory seat belts or car seats for kids, and lots of families traveled this way.) We had one bench seat across the very back of the van, and the rest of the space up to the captains’ chairs was empty. That’s where we put a small mattress and several sleeping bags, and all the kids.
We counted heads, to make sure we hadn’t left anyone behind, and headed out. I had this idyllic vision of the kids playing quietly in the back, while Carl and I listened to music and had a meaningful conversation.

Ha.

The kids were wild as Tasmanian devils, and we’d barely gone a mile before I started to wonder if taking five kids on a 1200 mile trip was really such a hot idea. Not to mention the fact that we would have to go another 1200 miles to get home again.

The thought of saying, “Oh, hell, let’s go home and paint the garage” was tempting. But I knew Carl would rag on me forever for changing my mind. Plus, one look at the eager young faces of the kids quelled any thought of abandoning the adventure.

I settled back in my seat, and we went another 30 miles before things got too bad. Then the kids started asking every five minutes if we were going to cross the Mississippi River soon. Then they wanted to know if we were still in Texas. Then they wanted to know if we’d be in Kentucky in time for dinner. We finally told them not to call us, we’d call them.