Bland up my kitchen?

My leftovers don't go bad as fast as they used to.  Why?  Because my 16-year-old fridge likes to pretend it's a freezer, and we all know frozen food has a much longer shelf life.  But when you go to pour yourself a glass of milk and get only shards of ice . . . it's time for a new fridge.

We've been waiting for February because NY is offering a Energy Star rebate.  Replace an old appliance and get back cold hard cash.  Truly, this fridge is sucking up energy like crazy.  The gasket has come away from the door and there's a BIG gap.  The fridge runs overtime, and -- you have a big electricity bill and frozen milk. (And frozen leftover potatoes, salad, celery, onions, and on and on . . . .)

I watch SPICE UP MY KITCHEN on HGTV on a regular basis, and in all the renovations not ONE consumer has ever bought a fridge that wasn't stainless steel.  (They also buy stainlesss microwaves, dishwashers, and stoves, usually with at least 6 burners and a grill.  How much energy do THEY save?)  Ever seen the inside of an autopsy room?  Okay, maybe not in person, but on TV?  What do the meat lockers look like?  Stainless steel.

No, thanks.  Not in my kitchen.

Of course, the options for anything but stainless are pretty slim.  In fact, there were only four "bisque" (used to be called "almond") fridges on the sales floor.  (They also had one white and one black one, too.)  Since everything else in my kitchen is bisque (except the microwave, it's white.  They didn't have any bisque ones), that's what I went for.  Wow--fridges have gone up in price in the last 16 years.  But a bisque fridge costs at least $400 less than a stainless steel one, and as we're recycling the old fridge, we're going to get a total of $105 bucks back.  It's still a bite for someone who gets paid twice a year (April is a l-o-n-g way away), but it's time.  Still, for all the price, there aren't a lot of bells and whistles.  (No ice maker.)

The best thing is the door will whole gallon containers.  I don't have to buy my milk in a half gallon jug anymore.  (Yup, I drink a gallon of it a week!)  And this fridge is 4 square feet larger than our last one.  Plenty of room for all those half jars of of jam, pickles, mustard, and chutneys.

I was in and out of the appliance (I bought locally--yea me!) in less than an hour.  (It would have been shorter, but I had to wait while my mother bought an Energy Star washer and dryer.)  Now to wait for delivery.  It's going to be ten days.  Why?  Because just about everybody else in the area was waiting for the Energy Star rebate.

What was the last major appliance you bought?

Haunted by MSDS

If you've ever read my bio, you know it says (and rather cheerfully):  "She's done it all, from drilling holes for NASA to typing scripts in Hollywood."

Yes, I did type scripts, but technically I was in West L.A., not Hollywood.  And I did drill and tap holes for NASA, but it was in a stinky, dirty, horrible little machine shop where the men leered at every one of the woman and spoke to us in sexist terms that today would be the basis of a lawsuit.  Everyone swore worse than sailors, using the F word as nouns, verbs, and adjectives (and often three or five times in each sentence).

For years, every time I'd get stressed out, I'd dream I was back in that hell hole with aluminum chips in my hair and cursing the day I ever entered the New York State Unemployment system that sent me to that grubby machine shop.  At the time, I was living with my parents and was dead broke, so I took that production job and stayed with it for 18 long months. 

I often worked on a Cincinnati milling machine where I'd have a full two minutes and forty-nine seconds between parts and could write.  I kept a little notebook in my green apron pocket and scribbled notes, snatches of dialog, and often entire scenes.  I wrote quite a few short stories and most of a novella during my tenure.  I quit that job to take one as a secretary at a large local college.  Eleven months later, I quit that to head for California and the movie studio. 

What's all this got to do with stress?

For years afterward, whenever I felt totally stressed out, I'd fall asleep and dream I was back in the dirty machine shop, tapping holes on a drill press.

As time went by, the dreams came less and less, and then stopped all together ...

Replaced by my LAST day job.  I worked for a former Fortune 500 company as a clerical worker for almost 26 years.  Now when I'm stressed, I end up in my last office, working on MSDS.  (Material Safety Data Sheets.)  Mind you, I didn't mind the actual work.  What I minded was one or two particularly nasty (two-faced) people who mentally abused the majority of us in one way or another. 

In my dreams, I've been working on MSDS a lot lately.  I'm mired in stacks of them (we're talking up to a foot high--which was actually what the shelf across from my desk often held).  Is this an 8-part MSDS or a 16-part MSDS?  Where's the specific gravity?  I'll page through the documents over and over again, searching for a certain piece of information that is never there.

Why was/am I stressed?  Because stuff keep happening that keeps me from writing.  The book is about a third finished and I'm falling behind.  I need a few stress-free days to catch up.

Oddly, during the most stressful part of my recent life (when my Dad was in the hospital/nursing home), I was able to write straight through it.  writing was my respite.  Even when my Dad was dying, he'd ask, "did you get your words today?"  Work was therapy.  Work got me through it.  Now . . . stupid stuff keeps interfering. 

Are you ever haunted by dreams of a past job?

No More Mail for YOU!

The other night I couldn't sleep, so I dragged my sorry butt into my office at 2:42 a.m. to check my e-mail.  I logged on to find a messages from AOL:

You have hit 1,000 messages in your in box.

Naughty, wicked, YOU!

We will now bounce EVERYTHING that comes into your in box.

(EVIL AOL.)

I quickly started deleting messages.  But the thing is--I've saved almost 900 of these messages for a pretty good reason.  Or, at least it seemed like it at the time.  Okay, so a couple of them go back to May 2009.  I keep stuff I think I might need.  Or that I might want to revisit.  Stuff like the many kind notes I received when my Dad died in October.  Fan letters.  Invoices.  Backed-up files.

But some of these notes can't be filed because they're still pending, like a note from my agent two weeks ago on something she's trying to negotiate with my publisher.  Or a web site a colleague has told me I really need to check out/join.  (I just haven't had time to do so.)

There are several lists I follow where I get the individual messages instead of the digest.  (Hi Guppies, Cozy Authors, Cozy Armchair pals and Cozy Chicks!)  I estimate that to go through all my messages and file them, I'd need 6-8 hours to do so.  As it is, I spend up to four hours a day going through my email and answering fan mail, taking care of bookmark/bookplate request, and commenting on other posts.

My god, it's waaaaay too easy to put myself in Leonardo DiCaprio's place as Jack at the nose of the Titanic and think:  I AM THE KING OF THE WORLD...and we all know what happened to HIM!

Something has GOT to go.  And I'm seriously thinking of going digest on at least one of my lists.  Of course, I rarely "play" on the lists where I get messages as digest., but something's gotta give.

Have you ever had the same problem?

I knew there were still Edgar Allan Poe stamps available!!!

I sent out a LOT of mail.  That means many trips to the Post Office, or at least it did.  I recently discovered the joy of ordering online.  I tried downloading software to print my own postage, but that didn't work and I just gave up and ordered stamps.  I ordered a LOT of stamps.  It annoyed me that they charged me a buck surcharge, but I figured it was actually worth it because I would've made more than a dollar's worth of trips to the P.O. for all the postage I bought. 

I don't like boring stamps.  I mean, the forever stamp has got to be one of THE most boring stamps every printed.  (Okay, I'm pretty sick of the generic flag ones, too.  Even the 50-coil 44-cent flags of the US only have 14 states and the US flag interspersed.  BORING.)

I like interesting stamps.  For a while there, I was buying tropical fish stamps, but lovely as they were, there were only 10 to a sheet, and it was kinda hard to find the fish among all the sea weed and stuff.  And it turns out that our little P.O. just doesn't have the variety that's out there.  Shopping online I found 17-cent goat stamps.  How cool is that.  (Okay, I have this thing about goats.  Hubby and I look for our goat of the day, on TV, in books, online, and especially when driving around in the car.)  What the heck.  I bought a page of them. [UPDATE:  Okay, it turns out that's not a goat, it's a sheep.  Can you tell I was not brought up on a farm?]

Last year, I bought a LOT of Edgar Allan Poe stamps.  I mean, how cool is that for a mystery author to put a stamp (and it's a very nice stamp, too) of the father of the modern mystery on every single letter.  I was very disappointed when our local Post Master told me there were no more Poe stamps to be had.  Gone.  Everywhere.  Ah, not so I discovered online.  They're there for the asking.  So I bought three sheets.  And I wondered if maybe I should have bought more.  Okay, they're 42 cents and I have to use a 2-cent stamp along with it, but still, I'm back to being cool when I mail out bookmarks.

But it seems to me that compared to other countries, we have some pretty boring stamps.  I love it at Christmastime when I get cards from my relatives overseas and can see the beautiful stamps their country has issued.  The non-religious X-mas stamps this year looked ... well, like a high school art project.

As a kid, I collected stamps and I was more aware of the wonderful stamps from other countries.  Canada has always had lovely stamps.  And they issue them on on a variety of wonderful subjects.  The Internet is a wonderful place to find all kinds of oddball stuff and I came across these wonderful cat stamps from Sweden.  Now, why can't we have cool stamps like that?  (Okay, I might be biased because I have black cats.)

Have you ever had a favorite stamp?  (Elvis counts!)

What's with the stinky magazine inserts?

By Guest Blogger Sandra Parshall vents on today's Pet Peeve Thursday

All I wanted to do was read a magazine article about the movie Nine. But the magazine was Vogue, and I could smell it from twenty feet away. If I ventured closer, my eyes would tear up and I would start sneezing. If I opened it, I ran the risk of asphyxiation by perfume.

Vogue probably has more perfume advertising inserts than any other magazine on the planet. You know what I mean – those glued-down flaps you’re supposed to pull open to experience the rapture of the scent. Trouble is, you can smell the perfume long before you open the flap, and when a magazine has half a dozen inserts in one issue, the rapture-inducing scents combine to form one unholy stench. I can almost see the fumes rising from the pages.

Why do advertisers think this is a good way to introduce potential customers to a particular perfume? It isn’t, but that’s their problem. Our problem – I speak for those of us who are sensitive to chemical odors – is how to make use of a magazine that sets off a massive allergic reaction. I once knew a woman who tore out all the inserts, threw them in the trash – outdoors – then left magazines lying open in the garage for a week to air out before she even tried to read them. I could do  that, but I don’t want to throw paper in the trash. It belongs in the paper recycling bin. The bin, however, is in the basement, and I know the whole house will reek of perfume if I ditch the inserts anywhere indoors. Paper is biodegradable, but ink isn’t, so I can’t bury the things in the garden (although the stench might get rid of the mole that’s been tunneling under my daylilies).

As you might guess, I pass up a lot of magazines because I can’t stand the way they smell. I know some people love those perfume inserts, though. I read in the “Hints from Heloise” column that they make dandy “fresheners” for linen closets and underwear drawers. From the amount of perfume that assaults my respiratory system every time I’m in a crowd, I have to assume the  majority of women douse themselves with fragrances. Men also contribute to air pollution, although to a lesser degree – do guys who overdo the cologne and aftershave think they smell sexy? – and male-oriented magazines probably have their share of stinky inserts.

I know from experience that women who wear perfume don’t like the suggestion that they refrain when they’re going to be in a closed, crowded space such as a theater. Perfume companies, I’m sure, wouldn’t appreciate the suggestion that they stop placing inserts in magazines. So I will continue to steer clear of magazines that reek, even if they contain something I want to read. I have come to expect a headache and runny nose every time I see a movie or stage performance or go anywhere a lot of people congregate.

These problems are just the tip of the fragrance iceberg, though. I haven’t even mentioned perfumed soap, shampoo, detergent, cat litter, furniture polish, glass cleaner....

And what's bugging YOU today?
------------------------------------
Sandra Parshall is the Agatha Award-winning author of the Rachel Goddard Mystery series. Her current book, BROKEN PLACES, is hot off the press.  For more information on Sandra and her books, please check out her website.  Sandra is also a regular at the Poe's Deadly Daughters blog.

In the bleak mid-winter . . .

My blog posts would a lot more interesting and fun if I actually led an interesting and fun life.  It's hard to have much fun when you're squirreled away for a very L-O-N-G, D-A-R-K winter in Western New York.  There's a lot to do around here if you don't mind getting frostbite on some appendage (skiing, skating, sledding, etc.), but us writer types tend to hole up in our garrets and write.  So instead of actually living an interesting and fun life, I'm writing about somebody else's interesting and (possibly) fun life (and/or lives).

Of course, I don't actually have a garret--one of the problems of living in a one-story home, but when I get up in the morning, it's usually 59 degrees in my office (and takes approximately 6 hours for my little heater to pull it up to 70 at eye level--I have no hope of warm feet until July), and I pretend I'm Sarah Crewe as I pull my shawl (or in this case, a sweater or two) a little tighter around me and make believe it's summer in New Hampshire, where my characters are running around in short sleeves and admiring the geraniums.  (How's that for one helluva run-on sentence?)

The book was just starting to really MOVE, and then came to a screeching halt as I had to put it aside for the copy edit of the last book.  I hate copy edits.  I never get the same copy editor twice.  I don't like to make waves, so I accept a lot of the crap they toss at me.  This one wants a comma after "she said, and" -- the last one didn't.  But this one is also tossing in all kinds of exclamation points where they aren't needed and look how she changed one particular sentence:

My version:  "I must admit, I had the same idea," Tricia said.

Her version:  "I must admit, I had the same Idea, Tricia admitted.

ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!

(There's a reason authors need high-blood pressure medication during copy edits.)

Okay, end of rant for today.  I'm off now ... to do something interesting and fun.  Like laundry.

What are you doing today?

A Dish To Pass

I collect Syracuse China Americana dishware.  It all started when I visited a bed and breakfast in Stowe, Vermont.  They served their magnificent breakfasts on that dishware.  When I saw a piece at a yard sale, I decided then and there that I would like to use the same dishware at my family's summer cottage--a place I've come to call B&B Cottage.

Ah, but finding pieces of this restaurant (think diner) quality china has not been so easy.  In the past 10 or 12 years I've managed to find:

2 dinner plates
14 cake (or sandwich) plates
6 cups and saucers
4 soup cups
1 salad bowl
3 relish dishes
1 coffee mug
2 roll plates
and an assortment of odd-sized plates.

I traveled to the Syracuse China outlet store on a number of occasions, but in all my searches I only found one piece (the salad bowl).  I was told it was no longer a popular pattern and had a limited run.  Since then, of course, the company has folded.  So now my only option is to buy used pieces. 

I bought most of my pieces at yard sales, antique stores, and thrift shops.  I have yet to really look online--mostly because restaurant china is so darned heavy the shipping charges would be out of this world.  (Okay, I did peek on Replacements Inc. (which sells odd pieces of china) and would be a
good source--if I wanted to pay astronomical prices.  That's not my goal.)

I have other dishware (Stoneware--that chips like crazy), but because I so enjoyed my time at that Vermont inn, I long to eat off the same tableware at my own B&B Cottage.  I wonder how long it will take to find/accumulate all these place settings.
Is there something you collect that seems like an impossible dream to find?

Dear Susan Branch

I'm not one to fall for celebrity.  Back in my 20s, I was secretary to a woman who was married to the biggest newscaster in town.  I worked for her for six months before I decided that "Cal-if-or-nia was the place I wanna be" and on my last day the big cheese asked me (after speaking to me every work day for those six months) if I was "the new secretary."

Then I worked for 20th Century Fox for almost six months.  During that time I got to see and meet a LOT of celebrities and downright TV and Movie Stars.  (Including Alan Alda, David Ogden Stiers, Harry Morgan, and even Sigourney Weaver.)  But after my brush with Mr. Newscaster, I was no longer impressed with celebrity.  Which made it a lot easier for me to leave that job and come back home to Western New York.

In my time as a published author, I've met quite a few big-name authors at mystery conferences.  Believe me, I haven't gone out of my way to meet them, either.  I'm always afraid that people whose work I've admired might end up being like Mr. (now fallen from grace) Newscaster (who doesn't even come up with a Google search).  (Take that, Mr. Arrogant Has-Been!)

So why have I been so tickled to make the virtual acquaintance of author Susan Branch on Twitter? 

I've have LONG admired Susan's watercolor-illustrated cookbooks.  The first of her books I received was Christmas from the Heart of the Home (which is now out of print.  Oh, that STUPID publisher. How could it ever deprive the world of the best Christmas cookbook (with lots of extras) that (wo)man kind has ever known? ).

When I first saw that Susan was on Twitter, I was quick to follow her.  But how thrilled I was when I retweeted one of her posts and she thanked me for it.  Me.  Right here.  In backwoods old Western New York!

Since then, we have corresponded maybe six or seven times.  The other day, I commented on one of her Tweets and we went back and forth three times.  Wow!  How wonderful it is to "talk" with someone you've long admired and she was just as nice as I'd always imagined.  (And even more cool--that we'd recently both reread a favorite book.)

I have no illusions that Susan and I will ever be friends.  But I love to hear about what she's working on.  (Like when she posted about finishing her 2011 calendar.)  And I love just about everything she draws and writes.  It it just so cool to have had the opportunity to let her know how much I admire her work. 

Have you "met" anyone online (or in person) who you were really impressed with?

No Super Bowl For Me

It rankles me that the NFL has trademarked the words "Super Bowl" and that no commercial use of those two words can be made without paying a licensing fee.

So, for the past few years, even the little convenience market down the street has had to call the (usually not so) Super Bowl--THE BIG GAME.  Wouldn't you just like to slap upside the head of the idiot corporate lawyer who came up with that gem?

Of course, I haven't (wasted my time and) watched the Super Bowl since the last time the Buffalo Bills (home team of all Western New York) played.  But I'm not sure I'd watch "THE BIG GAME" even if a miracle occurred and the Bills actually made it there again.  (It would have to be a really BIG miracle with the coaching staff they've had these past few years.  And the I-can't-be-bothered-to-give-a-crap players, either.  Oh, how we miss you Jim Kelly.)

But come on--THE BIG GAME?

Give me a break.

The thing I DO regret missing out on is the Super Bowl (oops, THE BIG GAME) junk food.


 In years past, BIG GAME watching included pizza, Buffalo wings, and rye boat.  Oh, how I love rye boat.  (Made with Wegmans caraway seeded rye bread.)  This year, we have no intention of watching THE BIG GAME.  We'll probably watch an episode of Midsomer Mysteries (that I received on DVD for Christmas).  So, no rye boat.  But, I've got making it on my agenda for March 5 or 6th, after hubby has his knee replacement surgery.  On the day he comes home from the hospital, we'll have a lot to celebrate.  What better way than with fattening dip and lovely rye bread?

Rye Boat
1 1/3 cup sour cream
1 1/3 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoons dried onion
2 tablespoons dried parsley
2 tablespoons dill weed
6 ounces dried beef, chopped
2 loaves round rye (or pumpernickel) bread

Slice off the top of one loaf rye bread, and scoop out the middle, leaving a thin shell. Cut up scooped out bread and that of second loaf into one-inch squares.

For dip, combine all ingredients and mound it in the center of the hollowed out loaf.  Dip bread.  Eat.  Enjoy!

My Wish For Fish Come True?

If there's one thing I've given up ordering in restaurants, it's soup.  Why?  Too salty.  But for the last year or so, I've been making soup like crazy.

I am not a huge fish fan.  I like cod and haddock, and that's about it.  (Although I've heard raves about deep sea bass.  I'm just too cheap to order anything "market value" in a restaurant.)  But several years ago, on a trip to Maine, I got brave and ordered fish chowder.  It was DE-LISH! 

I've been thinking about that fish chowder for a l-o-n-g time.  The last time we had lobster, I kept the skeletons (what other word is there for it?) and boiled them up to made lobster broth, and then I froze it.  Now every time I see that container of broth, I feel like i ought to make the fish chowder.  The problem?

I can't find a fish chowder recipe I like.

The chowder I had in Maine was not milk-based, but every recipe I've found in books or online is.  I suppose I could just make a milk-potato-fish chowder and would probably enjoy it.  But what I guess I'm leading to is this:

Does anyone have a good fish chowder recipe?

Lunch Break!

Too often these days, my working day (where I actually sit down to write) starts about 12:39 pm -- after lunch. To me, lunch is the best time of the day. It's always filled with possibilities. Will it be leftovers? Sandwiches? Aloo Matar (curried peas and potatoes) with naan? Still, I think I love to have a sandwich best.

For years, I had lunch with my Mom and Dad on Tuesdays. The menu was the same for a long time. Dad's egg-salad sandwiches. Nobody on Earth made egg salad like my Dad, with just the right amount of mayonnaise and chopped green olives. Yum!

I like crunchy stuff in my sandwiches. That was also because of my Dad. I'd come for lunch on a Tuesday and there wasn't much in the fridge. We used to joke that he could make half a dozen chicken salad sandwiches out of one wing and an onion and celery. Yup, the meat to crunchy ratio was pretty low, but I got to like them that way, and now when I eat out, I try to order extra onions because they NEVER put enough in the chicken or tuna salad.

Lately, we've been eating ham sandwiches on rye bread. Or rather, I have. My husband buys a ton of cold cuts--ham, cheese, salami, hot capicol, and mortadella--then only eats the mortadella. I don't like to waste food, so guess who eats the rest of it? But I've got to have crunchies in my sandwich--and here's where the green leaf lettuce comes on. I like it. A LOT of it. In fact, Frank says, "Have some ham with that lettuce sandwich," but I think it tastes just fine.

What's your favorite lunch?

A seat at the table

In the olden days, the kitchen was the heart of the home.  They cooked there, the fires kept the room warm, it was the central gathering place.

My kitchen is NOT the heart of my home.  It's this little square room that's kind of an afterthought.  When we bought the house, we were so enamored with everything else about it, we didn't notice the kitchen until we started moving furniture and--HELLO!--where are we going to put the kitchen table?  The kitchen was so small, there isn't even room for a tiny bistro table.  So, we've eaten every one of our meals in the rather cramped dining room.  (The original owner added a 4-foot bump-out on the south side of the room, otherwise, we'd be sitting in each others laps for meals.)

The dining room set is mission style, with two Captain's chairs and four regular.  I sit on a regular chair facing west; hubby sits on a Captain's chair facing south.  These chairs are HEAVY, and I'm just as glad I don't have to sit at the Captain's chair.  When we eat lunch, my cat Fred will often sit on the arm of Frank's chair.  He knows he isn't going to get anything to eat, he just likes to watch.

But I do sit on the other Captain's chair when I write.  For the last two years, I haven't been able to write in my office.  It's became a different kind of workplace where I send out correspondence, take care of e-mail, and do everything related to my writing career--except write.  Go figure.

In the summer, I love writing in the dining room because nature is so close. Being surrounded on three sides by windows, I can see a part of the garden, the birds are flying around, and there are flowers to be seen.  In the winter, I can check the winter while I freeze my tootsies off. (They're great windows (no drafts), but all that glass makes it hard for the furnace to keep up.) 

Bottom line:  I get a lot of writing done there.  And I should quite writing this and go fire up the laptop right now.  I've got a book to finish.

How about you?  Got any rooms you don't use for their intended purpose?

The Magical Little Beige Pad of Paper

Back in December, I had a wonderful signing at The Book Shoppe in Medina, NY.  (You can read about it here.)  While there, I wanted to take some notes for a future story, and the owner, Sue Phillips, gave me a little beige pad of paper with THE BOOK SHOPPE on the top, with address and phone number, and the things they sell on the bottom.  At the end of the signing, I tried to give the pad back, but Sue insisted I take it.

Well, am I ever glad I did!  That little pad has been a terrific source of ideas.  Okay, maybe IT didn't have the ideas, I did.  Why is it every time I go to write down and idea for a blog or the new book on that little pad, suddenly I have many, MANY ideas?  We're talking scribbling over every square inch of paper, turning it over, and scribbling there, and then--maybe even ripping off another piece to keep the flow of ideas going.

Of course, now I realize that I can't keep ripping off another piece so cavalierly.  I mean, there's only so many pieces of paper in this little pad.  What happens when they're all gone?  Will my ideas suddenly dry up, too?

Gad.  I might have to take a trip to Medina and beg Sue for another pad as it seems to be my new lucky charm. 

What do you have that brings you luck?

Retailers discover startling fact: not all women are size 6 or smaller!

Last week in the USA Today's Money Section, they featured an article about plus-size women's clothing.  It seems retailers have JUST DISCOVERED that plus-size woman want to buy clothes that, get this, ACTUALLY FIT and might even be somewhat stylish! 

Talk about a Homer Simpson "Doh!" moment.  Here fashion designers and retailers have been trying to lure skinny Minnie's into buying clothes when most of the country is --- SURPRISE -- overweight.  In this time of recession, when nobody is buying much of anything, retailers have decided they might as well try to sell clothes to overweight people.

Then there's something that's just as annoying to me as a consumer.  I'm sure you've all seen this Lee Rider Jeans ad in various magazines.  Why does a woman without an ounce of fat in her body need tummy control jeans?  And there's the equally skinny designer looking smug.  Wow--that's something to be proud of.  Making some skinny broad look -- well, the same.  Come on, Stacy London, why don't you design something that will make, say, the size 12-18 crowd look halfway decent?

All I can say is:  Grrrrrrrrrrrrr!

How about you?
===========
UPDATE: I've been contacted by Lee Jeans.  They offered to send me (and of course I accepted) a pair of the tummy-tuckers.  I'll let you know when they arrive and how they fit.

Pet Peeve Thursday--Don't Call Me Mr. MOM!

By Guest Blogger Jeffrey Cohen


It's been more than twenty years, and I still hear it every once in a while: "You still playin' Mr. Mom?"

Man, that burns me.

When my wife and I were first married, I swear, the issue of child rearing never really came up. Before you have kids, you can't imagine what it's like, to have kids. Not really. So we just bounced along and let nature take its course. Which it did. And two years after we were married, we introduced the world to our son Josh. Three years after that, we came back for seconds, and launched the good ship Eve.

Even then, it was never a question about how things would proceed. I was (and remain to this day) a freelance writer, at that point a mere thirteen years from publishing my first mystery novel. I worked--and still work, six days a week) out of our home. And I earn about as much as the average fast food employee, assuming the tips aren't all that good. My wife, on the other hand, is an attorney working for the government (first state, now county), and does somewhat better. Thank goodness.

I did not raise those children. WE raised those children. The fact is, you raise children until they're about eight or nine, and after that, you just help them raise themselves. But the fact remains that I was the parent who was home most of the time when they came home from day care (hell yes they were in day care--I had to work during the day, and those of you who do both: you're a better man than I am) and then school, and then middle school, and then high school.

Today, they have a collective age of 37. Come September, they'll both be living in college dormitories, assuming we can find a pile of money stuck in the couch. And I'm still hearing from people, casual acquaintances, who want to know when I'm going to stop "playing Mr. Mom" and get a REAL job.
Give me a break.

Those of us who were the "main caregiver" during the early years--and all that means is that we were home, not that we worked harder or less hard--are assumed to have it easy. We play with the kids and play at our jobs, and have the best of both worlds, right? Quality time with the children AND a (nominal, in my case) salary? Who wouldn't sign up for that?

All I can say is: Try it sometime. Conduct newspaper interviews with a screaming baby in the room. Postpone other interviews because you have to take your child to the pediatrician unexpectedly. Try to explain to your five-year-old daughter why Daddy can't make her kindergarten graduation because he has a chance to make $500 that day. Go ahead.

THEN you can tell me what I did all those years was "playing."

By the way, we did a damn good job raising those kids, too. I'm thrilled with both of them. They're good people and good company. I love my children, but you know what? I LIKE them, too. I'd rather spend time with them than with the vast majority of adults I know. THAT was a job well done.

And maybe the pay wasn't so bad, after all.


And what's bugging YOU today?
--------------------------------------------------
Jeffrey Cohen is the author of the Double Feature Mystery series, including the current A NIGHT AT THE OPERATION. If you want his kids to go to college, you might want to buy his books.  Check out his web site.  Jeff also blogs on Monday on Hey There's A Dead Guy In The Living Room.

My New Cover and BIG NEWS!

I've been bugging my editor for weeks now to show me the cover.  Yea--he did.  But then they couldn't decide if they wanted the title to have an AND or an ampersand.

The ampersand won!  And here's the cover.  (What do you think?)

But I have even MORE news.  (Sounds like one of those informercials.  But wait, order now and....)  I'm very pleased to announce that the Booktown Mysteries will soon (relatively speaking) be available as audiobooks (and downloadable).  The recording for the first book, MURDER IS BINDING, was to have begun last week.

It was very exciting to talk to the production manager at Deyan Audio about certain pronunciations.  (Who knew Squamscot soda pop was actually pronounced Squamskit?  And if you're in New Hampshire, why don't you try some of the local soda.  It's de-lish!) He also said I'd be hearing from him about other questions they have as they get read to record the other books.

And I already know who my reader will be: the lovely (and lovely voiced) Cassandra Campbell.  I've heard a sample of her work, and I think she'll do a great job performing the books.

I know I can't wait to hop in my car and spend lots of gas money listening to the book on CDs. 

Do you like to listen to audiobooks?

Where Have All My Classmates Gone?

For months now, I've been bombarded with messages from an Internet site telling me that former classmates are just dying to get in touch with me.  And for a low, low price of only $9.99 they will reveal just who it is that wants to contact me.

I almost fell for it before a friend told me she'd fallen for it.  And then she found it extremely difficult to get out from under them and stop them billing her credit card.  Another acquaintance said she'd gotten a computer virus trying to download a message from a classmate.

Smart move not to get tucked up with that lot.

And just why DO I want to get in contact with these old school chums.  The people who looked at me and rolled their eyes.  Yes, I was a geek, who walked around reading and writing Star Trek stories (even though the show had been canceled before I entered high school.  Ha!  Little did they know the franchise would be resurrected and live a long and happy life in syndication and on the big screen.  But I digress).

I had hair down to my backside that I usually wore in braids or a ponytail.  I dressed in sweatshirts, jeans, and baggy wool (Pendleton) shirts (Hey, I was cold!), love beads and sneakers.  I was no fashion plate.  I spent most of my spare time in the library reading biographies.  (They had four of Edgar Allen Poe--is it any surprise I became a mystery author?)

In all these years, I never went to a class reunion.  I never was invited, so I never knew when they were.  So why this burning desire to suddenly get in contact with people who had no time for me back in the day?
I met one of my classmates at a signing just before Christmas. She remembered me.  She bought two of my books.  She was very nice.  I don't suppose we exchanged more than a few sentences in the four years we were at Greece Olympia High School, but it was such a pleasant encounter, I suddenly wondered if more of my classmates had mellowed with age and might be more accepting of the geeky girl.

High school was not a fun time--at least for me.  I'd like to think that we all came away and became better people with happier lives.  It would be nice to know if that were true.

Have you kept up with your high school classmates?

Can One Learn To Love Wine?

There's so much romance connected to wine.  It's been celebrated in story and song for thousands of years.  And I just don't like it all that much.

My sister-in-law hit it on the head with her description of most wines:  "Tastes like shoe polish remover."

The problem is, I don't have an educated palate--and neither does my husband.  (Who, by the way, taught me to like whiskey and gin.  I like them both waaaaaay too much, too.)  My parents did occasionally drink wine when I was a kid.  Pink Catawba.  Not exactly high brow, eh?  But they liked it and offered us kids a sip now and then.  (Maybe that's why I don't like wine.) 

When we were courting, then-date (now husband) and I went to several wine tastings thanks to free tickets from our workplace.  Our reaction to most of the wines?  Tasted like shoe polish remover.

Taylor Wine Company used to have marvelous wine tastings, where they even served hot hors d'ouevers.  That's where I learned about cream sherry.  (Don't drink it very often anymore.  Drank too much of it once and then combined with pizza ... well, we won't go there.)

Red wine?  I have tried it on many occasions, but I remember the first time.  I'd been feverishly working on a novella the entire day and kind of forgot to have breakfast and lunch.  Had three HUGE glasses of wine with dinner and ... see paragraph above.  (God, nothing worse than a red wine hangover.)

That's not to say I dislike all wine, but I admit it, I like the sweeter ones, like asti spumante.  Champagne?  Never did much for me.  Too dry.  My current favorite wine is canei, which I first had at my aunt and uncle's home.  They always have wine for guests when they entertain, and it's not often I turn down a glass of canei.  (In fact, I think I've done most of my wine drinking at their house.  See paragraph above for red wine hangover.) 

Despite his uneducated palate, hubby is a faithful follower of the wine column in our local paper (mostly because it's written by the daughter of an ex-work buddy.)  In November, hubby read all about beaujolais nouveau and how marvelous it's supposed to be, and how it cannot be sold until a certain day in November.  Hyped up over the marvelous description, he bought a bottle and took it to my aunt and uncle's for Thanksgiving.  We cracked it and sipped.

It tasted like shoe polish remover.

We'd both like to learn more about wine.  Got any ideas on how to do it?

Happy National Pie Day!

Did you know today is National Pie Day?  Even more shocking, did you know there's a National Pie Council?

I didn't either, until I read about it in yesterday's USA Today.  Seems like it's a big deal, too, with pie championships, recipes, happenings, festivals, and even pie seminars.

Who knew there was a wonderful world of pie-dom out there?

The truth is ... I'm not a big pie eater.  One thing I learned from one of the many diets I've been on -- if you don't like something, don't eat it.  Therefore, it's quite easy for me to turn down pie.  Most pies.  Every once in a while I like a slice of lemon meringue pie.  At Thanksgiving, I'll eat a slice of mince pie.  Once in a blue moon, I'll have a slice of apple or maybe pecan pie, but that's as far as I go for dessert pies.  I'm a cake girl.

 Still, I wouldn't say no to a meat pie.  (And no one on earth makes a better meat pie than my Aunt Sunny.)  I love the meat pies you get in British pubs.  (Yum-yum.) Although I've never been able to work up the courage to eat a steak and kidney pie.  (Kidneys process urine.  Enough said.)  I've got several pot pie cookbooks.  Maybe I'll make a pot pie for supper to celebrate the day.

Do you like pie, and if so, what's your favorite slice?

What Makes A Good Web Site?

My friend E.J. Copperman and I have been having an ongoing conversation.  E.J. needs a web site, and I need a refreshed web site.  We both have hired our designers, we both love their work, but there's just one problem, and E.J. said it best:  "I wish I knew what I wanted on the web site. I just know I want something ... else."

Pinning down that something else has proved problematical.

When I first set up my LorraineBartlett.com web site, I was unpublished and pretty discouraged.  I wanted a neutral background.  I had no kind of logo in mind, so my web designer came up with a pretty simple, yet dignified web site that I have not been unhappy with.  (Don't you love that little drop of blood on the L?)  But now, with a new cozy mystery series on the horizon, I just want something ... else.  And I don't know what that else is.

I know I want to keep my photo gallery pages, which are mostly devoted to my pets--both past and present.  But I'm not sure what else to keep.  FAQs don't seem as important as they did eight or ten years ago.  They should probably go.  Colors?  I'm not sure.  I probably won't see my cover until July or August.


"Here's how I look at it," E.J. said to me.  "What would make me stop and open pages on an author's web site?  Should I anticipate who my readers will be (this is, after all, my first novel), or make something that pleases me and hope that will carry over?

"My good friend Jeff Cohen has an interesting web site, but it's very much tied to the subject matter of his series. Should it be more about the author? What will stand out?

"There seem to be a million crime fiction authors out there, and now I'm told that web sites aren't as important as social networking. Do readers care about web sites? How do they find out about your web site?
"The cover for NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEED has been getting raves from everyone who's seen it. Should I emphasize that on the site? Should I include a lot of author information? Do readers CARE about author information, or are they just looking for a good book?

"It's a stumper, I'll tell you.

"I looked at a lot of web sites (including your excellent one, Lorna/Lorraine) to get ideas. But I don't want to have ideas that have already been used--that feels like cheating. I feel like the site should be a reflection of my personality and that of the books. Should it be more calculated, more geared toward an anticipated demographic? It's hard to know."

So, dear readers, what would YOU like to see on our web sites?

I love Shabby Chic ... but ....

I guess Rachel Ashwell gets the credit (or blame) for the shabby chic decorating.  Mind you, I like most  shabby chic decor.  Old picture frames, mirrors, vases of flowers, chandeliers, lots of white and pastels.  It can be very pretty.  And I really like the idea of rescuing old furniture, dishes, and pictures.  I've tried to incorporate it into my own home and our family's cottage.

I'm just not so keen on flaky furniture.

For one thing, who knows how old the paint is on this furniture.  Until the late 1960s, most paint was lead based.  That's not good.  Lead is a deadly poison, and at it's best, if you inhale or eat the stuff (I'm not saying grown-ups would, but children are attracted to lead paint because it has a sweet flavor), it can damage you.

That's only one reason I don't like flaky furniture.  The other?  It's kinda ugly.  I can't see why someone would want to incorporate something that looks like that dry sink on the right into their home.  Mind you, in all the books and magazine articles I've read on shabby chic decorating, I've only seen one that warned about the dangers of lead paint, and suggested anyone incorporating such a piece of furniture into their home should seal the piece with polyurethane.  Of course, the purists scream that ruins the patina.  Well, better that than brain damage -- but that's just my opinion.

Mind you, I do have a piece of flaky furniture in my house.  It's my second computer desk.  I bought the table my iMac sits on about ten years ago at a yard sale.  (Quite a coup at $8.)  I didn't buy it because it was shabby chic.  I bought it because I needed another computer table.  And I had every intention of repainting it.  The problem.

I'm lazy.

The thing really needs to be stripped, but that's a lot of work.  That said, I was worried about that lead paint, so I at least took lengths of sealing tape and pressed it on the entire surface, lifting off any loose paint.  I may yet strip it and take it back to a natural look--or paint it.  But I'm not in any hurry.  I have a lot of other stuff ahead of it on my to-be-done list.  And I'd kind of hate to lose the floral decal on the front of the table.

What do you think about flaky painted furniture and shabby chic decorating?

Dry, White Toast

When I order breakfast in a restaurant, I'm often given odd looks by my dining companions. Why?  Because I always order dry, white toast with my eggs.

"Ugh!  How can you eat that?"

Usually that is said by someone eating wholewheat bread, which is GOOD for them.  (And what about the greasy eggs, sausage and home fries on their plate?)

The truth is, I got used to eating toast with nothing on it back in my yo-yo diet days.  And I actually got to like the taste.  Same as I got to like skim milk.  In fact, I like skim milk so much, I drink at least a half gallon, if not a gallon of the stuff every week.  I was on vacation a few years back and ate cereal for breakfast.  (No hot breakfast in that motel chain.)  They only had whole milk.  Yikes!  It tasted like I'd poured melted ice cream on my corn flakes.  (And even 2% milk tastes pretty decadent to me.)

You'd think with no butter on my toast and fat-free milk I'd be a Kate Moss look-alike.  No such luck.  (It's portion control that's the key, and sometimes--okay, OFTEN--I need someone to slap my hand when I reach for that second helping.

Of course, I have a conference coming up at the end of April and I'd like to lose some weight--but I refuse to diet, since that only means I'd gain it all back and then some.  So portion control is the name of the game.

For toast, you can't do better than Wegmans Country White (it's especially good on BLTs), but it is a bit too much for regular sandwiches. (Those slices are FAT.)  So I've switched from the Wegmans ( bread (100 calories per slice) to Monks white bread (80 calories per slice) for toast, and have gone back to eating pumpernickel bread (more fiber) for most sandwiches.

I remember having one of my characters eating toast as comfort food and a critique partner chiding me that comfort food HAD to be something decadent, like a hot fudge sundae.   That made me feel odd, because there's nothing like bread for comfort when you're feeling down, be it toast or a nice, thick slab of Italian bread slathered with a thick layer of butter.

But I'm trying to cut down, remember.  So...hand me another slice of that dry white toast.  Mmm, Mmm, good.

What's your idea of comfort food?

Found: 1 Potato Cookbook

The other day I was passing by my bookshelves in the living room.  This is where I keep most of my non-fiction:  cookbooks, decorating book, etc.  (And boy, are there a lot of books there.)  Something didn't look quite right so I bent down to a lower shelf and found a fat squat book:  SuperCookery:  Potatoes and Vegetables.

I have a LOT of vegetarian cookbooks.  Not that I'm a vegetarian, but I just happen to LOVE vegetables. (A lot more than my husband. In fact, I could probably BECOME a vegetarian and not miss meat (well, except for pork).)

When I say I found this little book, I mean it:  I found it.  I'd never seen it before, or at least I don't remember ever seeing it.  I took it into my husband's office and asked him, "Did you buy this book?"  He said, "Never saw it before in my life."

Hmm.  Do you think the book fairy dropped it off one night while we were sleeping in heavenly peace?

I opened the book and there was a yellow Post-It note inside that said:

Mom,
I knew you were looking for a book about cooking with vegetables.  I thought this one was pretty nice.

(Check is inside the book.)

~Allar

At least I THINK it was signed Allar.  While the note was printed, the signature was not and it was pretty incoherent.  More important, I flipped through the pages to find the check.  Darn.  Mom must have taken it out and cashed it!  And since there was a post-it note inside the book, there's a good chance I bought the book at a garage sale.  But if so, why don't I remember it? I usually devour cookbooks (not literally, thank goodness), and this one is just the kind of thing I enjoy.

And I did enjoy reading through it, and marked a number of recipes I'd like to try.

Do you ever forget you've bought a book?

I have seen my cover...and it is beautiful

One of the best parts about being an author (besides those lovely royalty checks that never seem to come often enough) is getting to see your cover for the first time.

My editor teased me back in December, telling me the cover was "gorgeous."  Did he send it to me?  No!!! At that point, all he had was the painting by the fabulous Teresa Fasolino.  It took a while for the Marketing Department to get around to having the cover graphics added.  (Hey, it was Christmastime.  Everybody was busy!)

So, I very patiently waited and occupied myself with other things...until I couldn't stand it any more.  On Monday, I heard from my editor about another matter (BIG EXCITEMENT--but I can't say anything about it YET--hopefully soon, which will be cause for another issue of my newsletter), and asked about the cover.  He said I'd see it later that afternoon.

Except I didn't.

I'll give him until Wednesday, I said. And then I didn't want to seem like a nag, so I waited until late Thursday.  He wrote back with apologies -- they (whoever they are) were arguing over the title.  It's Chapter and Hearse, what's to argue about?

No, no!  It MIGHT be Chapter and Hearse, or it might be Chapter & Hearse.  Did I have a preference? Nope.  I don't care. ( But I thought maybe it should be Chapter AND Hearse.  Maybe.)

Anyway, the version he sent was Chapter & Hearse ... and ... it looks pretty darn good.  In fact, the cover is MARVELOUS.  There are a few tiny errors -- like Miss Marple looking out the window of the cafe (she never leaves Haven't Got A Clue) but for dramatic effect--who cares!  It's a WONDERFUL cover.  And, hopefully it will SELL A LOT OF BOOKS!

Another marvelous feature?  Lorna's name ABOVE the title, and large enough one doesn't need to use a magnifying glass to find it. 

So am I pleased?  You better believe it.  And as soon as I get the final version--BOOKMARKS!!! 

PET PEEVE THURSDAY: Masked Bandits

By Guest Blogger Jennifer (J.B.) Stanley

No, I’m not talking about prowlers wearing pantyhose on their heads. At this point, I think I’d prefer that kind! My pet peeve revolves around a troupe of invaders coming into the house through our cat door, wreaking total havoc!

I love animals! All of them except for poisonous snakes, sharks, and caterpillars (don’t even ask).

I knew we had raccoons and opossums and other nocturnal critters living in our neighborhood and I’ve always kind of sort of fed them by tossing our dinner remnants over the deck. This way, the lucky creatures would dine on rib bones or pieces of steak or bits of potato. You get the idea.

I guess the raccoons weren’t satisfied with leftovers. Starting around Christmas, I’d come downstairs to find our pantry torn apart. And do you know what? These raccoons only wanted chocolate!  Over the past few weeks, those danged masked bandits have eaten four bags of semi-sweet morsels, a package of chocolate shavings, boxes of chocolate-covered granola and protein bars, and all the 100-calorie Oreos!

My kids were not pleased. I was not pleased.

I barricaded the pantry door (it doesn’t close all the way). They pushed aside objects I could barely lift, and each morning I go down to prepare breakfast only to find a new mess.  Finally, I got smart and bought an industrial-strength rubber doorstop. Wedged that sucker right in the crack below the door and stopped them from getting into the pantry.  In retaliation, they went for the garbage.

To make a long story less long, I’m no longer throwing food over the deck. Now I can only hope they’ll move to my neighbor’s house in the near future! :)

And what's bugging YOU today?

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

Jennifer (JB) Stanley writes the Supper Club Mysteries and the Hope Street Church Mysteries.  Her latest release is Stirring Up Strife.  Check out Jennifer's website.  And you can find her posts on Thursday's at The Cozy Chicks Blog.