Cheaters!

I'm like an absent-minded professor (without the PhD, that is). I have a very bad habit of losing things.  Mr. Lorna calls it "the drop and go" syndrome.  I'll be carrying something in my hand (glass of water, car keys, glasses, scissors, pens, pencils, camera, purse, and the list goes on and on and on) and because I'm thinking of something else, I'll set it down on my way to somewhere else . . . and forget where I put it.  This means I spend a lot of time looking for stuff.

One of the things I lose the most is reading glasses.  Now, if I only had one pair of them, it would be one thing.  But I have at LEAST six pairs of them around the house.  I keep them any place I like to plop down to read:  The dining room, the living room, my office, the bedroom, the enclosed porch, and the family room.  You'd think that with six pairs I would always have a pair available.

That would work if I didn't wear them on my travels to the kitchen, to answer the door, or wandering around looking for something else.  So I take them off, drop them wherever and keep moving.

To fight the syndrome, instead of becoming much more efficient I've bought four more pair of "cheaters" (reading glasses).  I have no idea where I'm going to put them (there are no safe places--I forget where I put stuff, remember), so it's a fair bet that I'll lose these in no time flat, too.  (I've found if I have a glasses case in a designated spot (like my office or the porch), I'm better at putting them away. 

Guess I'd better go buy some more glasses cases.

How about you?  Do you have drop and go syndrome, too?

A Major Award

Did you notice the "Top Blog Of 2010" award over there on the right?  I was awarded it just yesterday. I was flattered -- there were 45 different mystery blogs that were awarded these little nifty badges.

There was just one thing.  They came with a commercial.  When I loaded the badge, I noticed a link to a website shilling online PhDs.

Wow--I'd LOVE to have a PhD, but only if I earned it.  And while I was quite happy to accept the award, I'm not happy promoting for a company that buried a commercial along with their award.

I know a little HTML -- enough to remove the offending link.  So I'm keeping up there -- to see if I'm contacted about the missing link. (If you'll pardon the pun.)

And if I'm asked to take it down ... I will.  But if I'm not . . .  Hey, how often do I win a major award?

Busy as a Bee

Busy, busy, busy.  I need 48 hours in a day -- just to get normal stuff done, let alone the promotional stuff that needs to happen to juggle three mystery series.

Yesterday I was a guest at the World of Books blog.  Oops -- missed it.  So I'm giving it a plug today.  If you'd like to learn about Jeff Resnick's bumpy road to publication, it's all here.

Yesterday was errand day.  Oops -- forgot to hit the Post Office.  I also finished the revisions on A Crafty Killing (which means the copy edit can't be far behind).

Today is another busy day.  Already I've updated two of my web sites, answered a ton of email, and have saved yet another (or was it the same?) toad from the pool.  This little guy was in dire straits.  He was languishing at the bottom of the pool.  I thought he was already dead, but when I went to retrieve the body, he moved and swam to the top, where he gasped for air and then started to sink again.  Hopefully he's all dried off and will NOT make that mistake again.

My new blinds FINALLY ARRIVED and we're going to put them up.  I've got a radio interview (and I'm not even sure where it's going to play -- but I do know it'll play on August 4th.  A podcast maybe?). And last on the agenda -- yet another visit to the dentist.  (They love to see me and my checkbook coming.)

Tomorrow, I'll jump back into the second Victoria Square book (The Walled Flower).  Yipes!  Only five weeks before I have to turn it in.  And did I mention those 2100 postcards for Chapter & Hearse that need stamps and address labels?

I'm not complaining.  I like busy work.  I just like it to come in smaller waves.

What's keeping you busy today?

I knew the answer before she said it

Yesterday was my 19th Wedding Anniversary.  To celebrate, Mr. Lorna and I went out to lunch at the wonderful little restaurant around the corner from us.  (They make a pretty mean martini there, too.)

Anyway, I've been hankering for a piece of quiche for quite some time and thought -- that's what I'll have.  Mr. Lorna warned me that the quiche of the day would be broccoli and cheddar.  Why?  Because whenever there's a quiche of the day, no matter WHERE we go for lunch, it's ALWAYS broccoli and cheddar.

Now, I happen to be very fond of both broccoli AND cheddar, but for some reason, not in the same dish. Why or WHY do restaurants insist that this is the only quiche that people want to eat?

Is there a glut of broccoli?  If so, I hadn't heard about it (or seen it in the supermarket).  Has something happened to the cheese industry and now they're ONLY making cheddar?  (Hmm...maybe I should warn my friend Avery Aames, who writes the Cheese Shop Mysteries -- maybe her character can solve this mystery.)

As it happens, I had my back-up choice all picked out.  Mediterranean pasta, with artichoke hearts,  kalamata olives, sun-dried tomatoes, and a bunch of other good stuff. 

Eventually our waitress asked the dreaded question:  "Ready to order?"

"What's the quiche of the day?"

"Broccoli and cheddar.  And it comes with a wonderful salad all studded with strawberries and melon."

(Did I mention that I absolutely LOATHE strawberries and melon?)

Then she paused and added as an afterthought, and in a much more quiet voice, like it was an embarrassment.  "Oh, and we also have quiche Lorraine."

BINGO!

It was de-lish!

Is there something you like to order at restaurants but they never seem to have?

It makes a funny sound

There are some subjects one just doesn't discuss much.  Like toilets.  But we've recently been going through a bathroom "refit" and suddenly the subject of toilets became quite important.

Last week was kind of "the week from hell."  I stayed at our family's cottage while the bathroom refit happened.  That way I could do some writing (pipe dream) and be on hand to answer questions about the face lift.  Only it happened to be extremely hot and HUMID, making it uncomfortable for everyone.  (Yeah, where were those lake breezes the entire week?)

From day one, everything went wrong.  Old medicine cabinet also contained a light and a plug.  Light and plug had to be rerouted.  Medicine cabinet was a different shape.  Lots of problems there.  Well, at least we won't have to replace the toilet.

But we did.  Not only did it sweat a lot, but it was cracked.  So hubby bought a new one and brought it down.

That sucker was HEAVY--or at least too heavy for me to lift out of the backseat of Hubby's car.  I left it to the contractors and went back to work.  (Cough, cough.)  A couple of hours later, the guys were ready to leave for the day and asked me to come and look at the work done.  And -- whoa!  What was that tiny (eco-friendly) toilet doing in our bathroom?

"Go ahead, give it a flush!" he encouraged.  So I did. 

Instead of the WA-SHOOM! I was used to hearing, this thing went "Blurt!"

(So that's what I've named it, Blurt.  Hubby calls it toy-let.) 

Blurt's not very good at his job.  Old toilet (which had no name) went about his business (and very well, I might add) with a three gallon tank for at least 30 years.  Blurt's been a pain in the behind in just a week.  You see, Blurt doesn't like to flush anything but water.  Blurt's purpose was to save water, but when you have to flush two--three--or even four times, it seems to be using a lot more water than our old toilet.

I'm going to be watching our water bill to see if we actually do use less (hard to tell, they charge you a minimum whether you use that amount or not).

What eco-friendly things have you found that aren't as good as their predecessors?

And so little time in a day . . .

It seems like it takes forever for a book to be published.  Usually it's 12-24 months.  It's only two weeks and a day until Chapter & Hearse is released and it seems like that isn't going to be nearly enough time to get everything done that needs to get done.

What am I doing?  Interviews, writing blog posts, mailing out bookmarks and bookplates.  Next up are postcards (almost 2000 of them to readers and libraries), which means printing out lots of labels and sticking on lots of stamps.  (Oh, boy--I can watch movies (or at least listen) while I do that and not feel guilty!)

I've also got to update my web sites, and get ready for my book launch (On August 5th at 7 p.m. at the Barnes & Noble in Greece Ridge Center Mall, Rochester, NY).  I'm going to be handing out "goody" bags to everybody who shows up at the launch, so I need to get them ready, too.  (Hmm...what color ribbon should I tie them with? See, I have scads of decisions to make.)

Doesn't this sound like an awful lot of hard, boring work?

It is and ... I LOVE IT!

Some people thought I had the worst job in the world, at my last job in Corporate America, but I actually enjoyed it because there was lots of nit-picky work to be done.  For some oddball reason, I love digging into that kind of work.  So while on one hand I'm feeling overwhelmed (let's not forget, I have a a rewrite to hand into my editor this week, and finish a book by September 1st -- and hand in a synopsis by September 10th), I'm also quite happy to see all the little items on my things-to-do list get crossed off.

What weird stuff do you enjoy that other people might this is boring?

And, Voila! A New Web Site!

A long, long time ago, I hired a web site designer to come up with a charming little web site for me.  That was before I became published.  It didn't have much of a focus because there I was a writer who wasn't published--at least not in novel length.  So I pushed real hard to let people know that I had some street cred.  A whole bunch of short story sales.  The only problem was, most of the stories were sold to a confession magazine (True Love).  Not only that, they don't have "by lines," so no one knew it was me who actually wrote them.

Fast forward several years.  I sold my first novel.  Only it wasn't under my name, it was under the L.L. Bartlett moniker.  Okay, that meant I needed another web site, because I was just sure the book would do well and people would be hungering to search me out.

Nope.  Didn't happen (on either account).

Then in 2006, I got a contract to write the Booktown Mystery series ... the only problem was, it was under a pseudonym:  Lorna Barrett.  The first book came out in 2008 and Lorna needed her own web site.  So now I was juggling THREE of them.

*sigh*

But finally, FINALLY in 2009 I sold the Victoria Square Mystery series to Berkley Prime Crime and at last the first book (A Crafty Killing)  would be published under my OWN Name:  Lorraine Bartlett.  One snag?  The first book wouldn't come out until 2011.  *Yawn*  That's a long time to wait.  And the worst part -- Lorna has a LOT of readers because I've worked very hard to get Lorna's name out there, and had a lot of luck and support from Barnes & Noble and independent booksellers. But how am I going to get the word out that Lorna and Lorraine are the same person?

Well, revamping the old Lorraine web site wouldn't hurt, and with the enormous help of Glass Slipper Web Design, I've done just that, and I'm as proud as a peacock to show it off, too.

www.LorraineBartlett.com is now live.  There are a lot of pages to explore.  I'd love to know what you all think about it?

(P.S. Remember I told you about the picture of the candy jar--well there it is in the banner.  W00t!)

It's the thing on the steering column, buddy

 By Guest Blogger Mary Jane Maffini

Now look here, buddy in the Cadillac Escalade: if you can afford that car, you’d think you’d be smart enough to signal when you plan a sudden turn. Just sayin’ as I scrape myself off the dash. Unless you think you are above the law because you’re sitting so high up there. Guess you can afford the lawyer.

And as for you, mister with the hat. Are you really choosing to drive 35 in the 55 zone because you are safety conscious? I’m not buying that. Sooner or later, one of the ten cars behind you is going to make a break for it and try passing, safe or not. Think loud bang noises. I suppose you’ll shake your hat head disapprovingly. But never mind that. What’s actually bugging me about you (and I have lots of time to think about it because I’m stuck doing 35 in a 55 zone) is that you haven’t figured out what to do with that little stick thingie on the left hand side of your steering column. Here’s a hint: it’s called a turn signal. Turn. Signal. When you move it up or down, it will cause the appropriate signal light on your vehicle to indicate, well, turns.

I know. What a sensational new notion! As you might suspect, it is to indicate that you are going to turn shortly, say at the next intersection or into the driveway coming up.

Sorry. I couldn’t help yelling at those people. They just get to me. Then, there are the folks who use their signal to mean ‘Hey, look at me! I’m in the process of turning this second!’ Some of them like to let us know that they have already turned by giving us a couple of blinks. ‘Hey! Look where I just went!’

Or the ladies who come to a complete stop before making that turn. Sometimes in the middle of the road. As if they had no idea where they’d head off to next. Me? I had to stand on my brakes the last time. Really, that’s not what the little stick is about. It’s to give people information. When used correctly it can prevent collisions and near misses. Imagine my surprise when a confused gentleman changed lanes three times today and didn’t signal a single one. Shoulder check? I think not. I spotted a couple of drivers give him the finger but I guess he didn’t notice. He didn’t need to signal. He knew where he was going.

Maybe he’s grandpa to buddy in the backwards baseball cap driving the ancient souped-up Supra who just shot across four lanes of traffic at a right angle from the fast lane to get to the off ramp. Apparently there’s no need to signal there, because when you’re crossing four lanes of highway well above the speed limit, it should be obvious that you’re heading for the off ramp. Or with luck the nearest lock-up.

My friend Sue had an ancient auntie, Helen (a retired librarian a woman of strong opinions) who drove in a small Ontario town and refused on principle to use her turn signals. It’s none of their business which way I’m turning,” she continued to say as long as she was able to drive. The roads are a bit safer since she took that opinion to the great beyond. But I argue that where other drivers are going IS my business, not only because I missed a lovely green light due to someone else’s last minute turn, but because I have a life too, you know. I’d like to hang on to it.

So this summer, don’t make the rest of us peevish and if you see this license plate, make sure you signal!

Now that I have that out of my system, let’s hear from you. What annoys you most about the folks you meet on the road?
------------------------------

Mary Jane Maffini writes three (count 'em!) mystery series. They are: The Fiona Silk Mysteries, the Camilla MacPhee Mysteries, and the fabulous Charlotte Adams professional organizer series from Berkley Prime Crime. As it happens, Mary Jand has a new book out this month called CLOSET CONFIDENTIAL. You can get it (and the others in this series) at your favorite chain bookstore -- and many independents. Or just click on this link and order it online. Check out Mary Jane's website. You can also find her on the Killer Characters blog every 14th of the month. (Hey, that was just the yesterday!)

And everything will go smoothly . . . NOT!

Yesterday morning, I hit the road before 7 a.m. and headed to our family's summer cottage.  After thinking about it for five or six years, it was time for our bathroom to get a facelift.

The contractor and son showed up about half an hour late, but that was okay--as they had originally intended to start today.  Everything was going to go just as planned and the refit would be done by Thursday.

Okay, that was the dream.  The demo went fast.  Off came the old paneling, off came the old medicine chest (which had a light incorporated into it).  First fix, adding a plug.  (The old medicine chest also had a plug on it -- way up high, difficult to use because you couldn't SEE it.)  First problem, no ground.  A plug within five feet of a sink needs a ground fault interrupt (is that right?).  Off to the store to buy wire. (While that happened, the old wallpaper got scraped from the walls.) Next thing you know, holes being drilled, wire being strung.  Two hours later -- a plug that works and we won't get fried.

Lunch break--lunch break!

 In the afternoon, we looked at the mold on the wall from the sweating toilet.  I knew that toilet was a problem, but I didn't know HOW much of a problem.  Turns out there's an easy fix--IF I want the toilet to wear a sweater for the rest of its life or IF I can find a styrofoam insert to go in it OR if I can fashion an insert out of stryofoam myself.  That's for another day.  But we don't want mold on the drywall or to undermine the new floor (when it goes down).

Next up, framing in the new medicine chest (the old one was horizontal, this one is vertical), and adding the new light fixture, or at least putting in a new junction box.  Oops--major 2 x 4 in the way.  Smiling contractor says he'll find a way to get it in there.  It only took about 90 minutes.

Late in the afternoon, drywall compound went on the walls.  Contractor left an isolating fan to try the mud.  Why?  Oh, we're on water and the humidity was about 90% yesterday.  (BTW, it DID dry.  At about 3 a.m.)

Refitting the bathroom is kind of a bittersweet thing.  My Dad built the bathroom.  When he bought the place, there was a toilet on a little screened porch.  That's it.  Dad and my brothers added two decent sized bedrooms and converted the toilet on a porch to a real bathroom with a shower.  Dad didn't have a lot of money back then and "it's only a cottage," so the bathroom wasn't exactly pretty, but it was functional. 

Dad didn't like the idea of changing things, so I didn't feel comfortable even painting the bathroom (I had the color picked out six years ago).  Now that Dad's gone, we decided we would replace the paneling with beadboard and paint the wall above it.  It kind of escalated.  Oh, let's put in a plug.  Oh, lets get the new medicine cabinet (which necessitated the light).  And now ... we have to address that sweating toilet.

The original estimate was two-three days.  Now we're looking at four to five.  And if you're wondering why I don't have any pictures, I did bring my camera, but don't have the software on my laptop to download them. 

But I've been asked by Facebook friends to show lots of pix, and I'll probably just upload it all to facebook sometime next week.  I'll keep you posted. 

Is there a room in your house that needs a facelift?
--------------------------------------------------
UPDATE:  Not only was the toilet sweating, but it was cracked, too.  Luckily, Hubby was no the way with some other supplies and he picked up a toilet, too.  So that'll get installed today (thank goodness.  It's a long walk to my neighbor's house in the middle of the night).  And wasn't it nice of my neighbor to let me use her facilities during the l-o-n-g day our bathroom was out of commission.  (Yea, Cindy!)

Hope it works this time

The long hot summer seems to be getting longer and HOTTER.  Not only that, but the lack of a blind saga continues.  Back on June 22nd, I wrote about how I was about to be spared being fried every afternoon in my home office.  We bought a black-out blind and all I had to do was install it.

Well, THAT didn't work out.  The window was too shallow and the decorative molding on the casing prevented installation.  What did that leave me with?  A useless blind I couldn't take back (it had been cut to size).

But, one of my readers (Hi, Julie!) suggested we try a place online--and that they'd even send samples for color.  So, we ordered one -- and today it SHOULD arrive. (It was shipped last week.)  The blind was at LEAST $100 cheaper than the ones we saw at Home Depot and with free shipping. 

Oh, how I'm looking forward to that installation. You see, I've had my desk pulled away from the wall and a stepladder standing in front of the window since June 22nd.  That means I trip over the chair, the printer, the fan and my little work table on almost an hourly basis. 

Yup, when the UPS man arrives today I may just throw my arms around him and kiss him.  SWAK!

I just know I'm going to love my new blinds!

See what I found in my yard

For the last week or so, every time I look out the kitchen window, I've seen a bird fly into the arborvitae. Yesterday, I saw why.  Baby birds in a nest.

 This morning, I ventured out with my camera to take a look.  Mama bird (Robin?) had done a good job with camouflage, even covering the babies with a small branch. Surprisingly, Mama built her nest only about four feet off the ground, and there are at least five or six feral cats roaming the area -- at least they were during the winter.

I hope the babies make it!

Happy Book Day To ...

Holy Hole in a Doughnut, Batman--it's the first Tuesday in the month, and you know what that means?

NEW BOOKS OUT TODAY!

And even better, three of the new books out today are by friends of mine.

CLOSET CONFIDENTIAL by Mary Jane Maffini
Fourth in the series featuring organizer and amateur sleuth Charlotte Adams, following Death Loves a Messy Desk. A friend hires Charlotte to organize her closets and prove that her daughter's accident was murder. And now Charlotte has to get a house-and her suspects-in order.

My personal connection:  Mary Jane and I met because we have the same editor, and though we've only known each other a year, it feels like a dozen.  She's a great pal and her love of her dachshunds, Daisy and Lily, is legendary.  (They are the cutest things.  Check out MJ's Facebook page to see the little darlings.)

THE LONG QUICHE GOODBYE by Avery Aames
Welcome to the grand opening of Fromagerie Bessette. Or as it's more commonly known by the residents of small-town Providence, Ohio-the Cheese Shop. Proprietor Charlotte Bessette has prepared a delightful sampling of bold Cabot Clothbound Cheddar, delicious tortes of Stilton and Mascarpone, and a taste of Sauvignon Blanc-but someone else has decided to make a little crime of passion the piece de resistance. Right outside the shop Charlotte finds a body, the victim stabbed to death with one of her prized olive-wood handled knives.
My personal connection:  Avery and I were critique partners for a time, and we've been members of the same Sisters In Crime Chapter for at least a decade, so we're old pals.  I was thrilled to give a blurb for Avery's debut novel (it's right on the front cover, too!).

DELICIOUS AND SUSPICIOUS by Riley Adams
Here's what Publisher's Weekly said:  In this sassy first in a new series from Adams (the pseudonym of Elizabeth Spann Craig), Lulu Taylor, owner of Aunt Pat's, a Memphis,Tenn., rib eatery, is all aflutter because the Cooking Channel has sent food scout Rebecca Adrian to check out Lulu's down-home specialties for a future show. Too bad Rebecca's searching for dirt as well as the best BBQ in Memphis. She quickly insults a number of people, including Lulu's daughter-in-law, Sara, and Lulu's son, Seb, who happens to be Rebecca's former boyfriend. When Rebecca's poisoned, chaos reigns. Lulu later uncovers the corpse of Mildred Cameron, an elderly bookseller and aspiring romance author/sleuth, who was also offended by the tart-tongued Rebecca. Aiding and abetting Lulu's investigation are the Graces, docents at Graceland, whose devotion to Elvis adds some goofy firepower to this sometimes poky paint-by-the-numbers cozy.

My personal connection:  Riley and I are members of the same cozy authors yahoo group, where we met online.  I've since met her in person at Malice Domestic.  She's a great gal and a wonderful writer.

I hope you'll head out to your favorite bookstore and give these authors a try. I promise--you won't regret it!

What's in a cover?

Covers sell books.  As a traditionally published author, I have little to do with the covers on my books.  I have been asked what I'd like to see, and sometimes I get what I want, but more often than not -- I don't.  (Same goes for titles.)  Big time publishers have whole marketing departments that study what people like.

For instance, my cover for A Crafty Killing is very nice.  It's pretty, and it's got a nice logo at the top right-hand corner.  But it's not what I envisioned, mainly because the cover artist painted something out of a New England village, and my story takes place in Western New York--two very different regions.  Will that matter to the average reader?  Probably not.  But it also features a ginger cat, when the cat in the book is a brown tabby.  Through the magic of Photoshop, one of my readers changed the cat -- whoa!  I wonder if my publisher can do a little Photoshop magic as well.  (I think I'll ask.)

I've put several of my short stories on Amazon.  One of them is doing really well.  (I've talked about it before here.)  The others?  Not so good.  And I think it's the covers that are holding them back.  Or at least, that's what I HOPE is holding them back.  So it's back to the drawing board time.

I thought the cover for What I Did For Love was kinda neat.  Sweet.  (It involves a woman falling for a man accused of rape.)  But apparently it's also boring for the reader.  I'm thinking of changing it to see if sales pick up.  Here's the current cover on the left.

I'd do something with this picture for the proposed new cover.  What do you think you'd like better?


(And if you need to make the decision based on the story itself, you can read it free here -- just scroll down the page to find the link.)

And while I'm on the subject, my friend author Doranna Durgin has the same dilemma and you could help her out, too.  Check out her blog post on the same subject.

Bottom line, how much influence does a cover--and the title--have on your decision to buy a book?

Christmas in July!

How's the heat where you are?  Baking from that old July sun?  How about a little something to cool you off?  A little Christmas in July?

I have just the thing.  "Bah! Humbug."  No, not Dickens' Christmas Carol, but a little Christmas story I wrote for one of my characters -- Jeff Resnick.
The story takes place the day after the end of Cheated By Death.  Jeff and Maggie spend Christmas dinner with Maggie's family, who are not receptive to her new significant other. It'll be a Christmas to remember . . . but who wants to?
Bah! Humbug is available on Kindle and Smashwords.  You don't need an e reader, either.  You can download to your computer and read on screen or print it out--it's that easy.

I hope you'll give Jeff (and yourself) an early Christmas present and read his story.

Now where's my fan -- I need to cool off!

What was it missing? The most important thing.

A couple of weeks ago, I bought a new printer.  I decided not to buy the most basic, El-Cheapo one because the time I did that it lasted a couple of weeks and poof!  Broken.  So this time, I bought a middle of the road one and paid (on sale) $129.99.

Low and behold I get this little printer home, go to set it up and -- hello!  There's no printer cord.  I spent $129 (plus 8% tax) to buy this sucker, and I can't use it until I go back to the store to buy a cord to hook it up to my computer.

Holy smoke--The prices were ridiculous!  It was $34 for a six foot cord.  I went for the three foot cord thinking that since the printer was going to be right next to the computer that it would do.  And it does--just barely.  The cost?  $24.99 plus tax.

That meant my $130 printer was really $155.  Grrrrrr!

And what has some cheapskate company gypped you out of lately?

All I Want For Breakfast Is . . .

When I worked at the Big Yellow Box at their world headquarters many moons ago, they used to staff their own kitchens with their own workers who made homemade delights five days a week.  Oh, they had a TO-DIE-FOR walnut cake that was out of this world.  Their homemade soups were stupendous.  And they also made all their own muffins.

Mind you, when I'd leave the building on any given night, the air would smell heavenly -- just like a bran muffin.  It was actually the brewery across the river, but it smelled like breakfast to me.

And what did I love most at breakfast time?  Their marvelous bran muffins with raisins.  Several times a week I'd buy a bran muffin for my morning meal and hope that the guy in the with the gray eyes would be up at the cafeteria taking a coffee break so I could wave to him.  (Yeah, I ended up marrying the big lug.)

Fast forward way too many years.  The company went down the toilet, and long ago let go all their kitchen staff, and the company that took over the eats tossed out all the old favorite recipes.  The food wasn't as good, and the company ... well, let's just say the stock options I have are worth dog poop.

But I remember those muffins.  And I recently bought a bag of bran flour in hopes of recreating them.

My first attempt was not satisfactory.  I think my oven runs a little hot.  But they also weren't sweet enough.  I got the recipe from a 1930s cookbook.  "Hmmm," says I, "I'll find a better recipe on the Internet."

NOT!

Every recipe I've found wants to use bran CEREAL, not bran flour.  Like the actual flour is something that became extinct back in the days of the dinosaur.

So, I guess I'll have to tweak that 1930s recipe (Angelica would be proud of me) until it tastes just right. 

In the meantime, has anybody got a bran muffin recipe that uses real bran flour (and without buttermilk or molasses)?  If so, will you share?

Lemonaide from Lemons

As I mentioned last week, I went out of town for a wedding over the weekend, and I was nervous because I was under deadline ... yada yada yada.

Well, it was a beautiful wedding.  The bride looked lovely; they were married overlooking a marina on Lake Erie and, although the skies were overcast, it didn't rain.  Whew!

I was worried I wouldn't have anyone to talk to -- but it turned out I did know someone, who was seated at our table.  Some years back, we had a "cat situation."  We'd adopted two adult males into a home that already had one adult male cat.  Trouble with a Capital T.  One of them attacked the other cats (George the tiny terrorist--you can read his story here) and after much soul searching (and not a few tears) decided we needed to find him another home.  We kept his brother, Fred (they were named after the Weasley twins from Harry Potter).

What's this got to do with the wedding?  We gave George to the maid of honor's mother.   George now runs her home and is absolutely adored.  We couldn't have asked for a happier solution.  So I got to hear all about George and his many adventures.

Also, I had a ringside seat overlooking the marina.  It just so happens, I have a story in the works (or, at least I'll get back to it some day) that involves a marina.  Hot dog!  I took pictures and made copious notes, and even had an entire scene show up in my head.  (Better write it down before I forget it.)

The cake?  There wasn't one.  There were eight!!! -- plus four Italian cookie trays!!!  I went for what looked like traditional white wedding cake, but it wasn't -- it was amaretto, and boy was it de-lish.

There was a live band.  I haven't been to a wedding with a live band in AGES.  No, we didn't dance (grrrr) but the band was terrific and played all kinds great songs.
All in all, it was a wonderful wedding.  And then I went back to the hotel and watched HGTV for an hour and again in the morning.

(I hated to have to come home.)

All in all, the whole thing was fun.  And the book got off on time--er, a month late, but on time for the new deadline.  (Whew, glad it's gone so I can get working no the next one.)

So, have you made lemonaide from lemons lately?

Oohh! Look what came in the mail

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I hope they don't get rid of Saturday mail delivery, because you never know what treasures will show up in your mailbox.

The other day, there was a little package in mine, and it came from a reader.  (Hi, Donna!)  Donna reads this blog and the troubles I've had with my bean crop.  In fact, an almost total bean failure (at least at the cottage--the third planting (with different seeds) seems to have taken at home).  So, Donna sent me some pole bean seeds from California.  Yee-ha!  How cool is that?

First of all, I think it's only the second present a reader has sent me.  (Ohhh, I LIKE getting prezzies!) And second, I'm sure hoping these seeds will grow in our cottage's bean patch.  Of course, planting at the end of June is a bit late, but hey, I'm more than willing to give these little guys a chance. (I also popped some in a container on my patio.)

The snow peas crop has been exceptionally good.  In fact, we can't seem to shut them off.  We've been eating sauteed mushrooms with pea pods for about two weeks now.  Hubby is getting sick of them, but I don't think I ever will.  In fact, I seem to enjoy beans (in any form) more every day.

This past year or so, I've been experimenting more and more with beans--particularly dried beans.  Until about a month ago, I'D never had black bean soup.  Now I've made it twice (and enough for an army.  Luckily it freezes well), and can't get enough of it.  I bought a package of mixed beans and am looking for the right recipe to use them in.  (Okay, I haven't yet tried hard enough.  Gotta eat all that black bean soup, first.)

I can't express how much pleasure I get out of my garden.  Right now there are flowers everywhere, and the Brussels sprouts have taken off.  (We've got flowers on the tomatoes and peppers, too!)  What's great, is I can see all this botanical industry right from my office window--the one without the blinds.  : )

(That picture on the right is of a smidgen of my out-of-control rosebush.  This year it's putting on quite a show.)

So what do you see out of your favorite window?

Save The Last Dance For Me?

I'm going to a wedding tomorrow.

I used to love weddings.  I mean REALLY LOVE them.  But these days ... not so much.

The wedding we're going to should be a blast ... for most of the people involved.  The parents of the bride are fun people.  Sadly, I will know about four people at the wedding, including my husband and mother-in-law.  (Yup, his side of the family.)  Mother of the bride will be so busy and happy, she'll have about 13 seconds to spend talking with wallflower me.  But it should be lovely (If the weather holds--it'll be outdoors on the water).

Hubby really doesn't like to dance, in public or in private.  Once in a while I can drag him up for a slow dance should "The Long And Winding Road" be playing somewhere, so my dancing days are essentially done.  These days it's confined to great news from my fellow writers (the Snoopy Happy Dance) or with the stereo turned up really loud on cold winter nights so I can get the circulation going and warm up.  And it seems to me that wedding DJs turn up the music sooooo LOUD that conversation is impossible.  (Maybe that's why I had a harpist at my own wedding.)

I'm sure the dinner will be fabulous, and the highlight of the evening for me will be the wedding cake.  Ahh...I love wedding cake.  At my own wedding, it was so hot (102) that most of the guests left just as the cake was being cut.  I took it home and cut it up and froze it in every large Tupperware container I owned and it took me a year to eat it.

The fact that this wedding comes when I'm on deadline makes me even more anxious.  I want to hand in my manuscript on Monday and hubby is my last reader.  He likes to stretch it out over a couple of days.  And as I've been on a writing retreat and out of town, I won't be able to print it out until later today.

So while the bride and groom are dancing the night away, I'll be sitting there, wondering if I've filled all the holes, caught all the typos, and berating myself for missing my original deadline--especially when I have another book to turn in IN ONLY TWO MONTHS.

Yup.  I used to enjoy weddings a lot more.

How about you?

Ugh -- pass me a towel

I love summer.  I love to be outdoors in the garden.  I love the sunshine, the warm breezes.  The hummingbirds.  I love seeing the windsocks dance in the wind.

But I don't like humidity.  At.  All.

Humidity ruins an other lovely summer day.  Even when it's only 72 degrees out, if the humidity is high, the day is ruined.  (Hey, I once visited San Antonio, Texas and it was 98 degrees out with 98% humidity.  I'm surprised the suicide rate there isn't off the charts.)

This morning it's a lovely summer day.  There's a little tinge of pink along the clouds on the horizon.  The blue sky is nearly the color of my agent's eyes.  (She has the most gorgeous blue eyes like I've never seen before.)  And what's ruining it?  80% humidity.  Okay, I do happen to be "on the water" this morning, and you expect the humidity to be higher than in "the city."  But does it have to ruin my lovely writing retreat?

Back home, there's central air conditioning.  That's another thing I hate about humidity.  It drives me into the house and into what feels like canned air.  The temp might only be 72, but it feels like -22 and I end up wearing sweaters and sweatpants to keep the chill off.  (Don't tell me to turn up the temp -- I share the house with someone who likes it that way.  And I'm not the only one with this complaint.  I mentioned it on Facebook last week and a lot of ladies are living with the same situation.)

So, go away humidity.  Now.  Not tomorrow.  NOW!

And what's bugging YOU today?

SKUNKED!

I don't always sleep well, so I get a little irritated when "outside" events wake me in the middle of the night.  Annoying things like our neighbor's motion-sensor light.  Yup, RIGHT OUTSIDE OUR BEDROOM WINDOW.  Black-out shades?  Forgettaboutit.  This light is bright enough to search the heavens for incoming bombers . . . or a waddling skunk.

The light didn't go on last night, but the skunk did traipse through our yard--and apparently right under my open window.

Skunk.

Even the word is unpleasant.

Hubby likes to tell me that Chanel #5 is really just essence of skunk--watered (or rather alcohol-ed) down.  That most perfumes have behind them a really bad stink.  Okay, so how does one figure out that one drop of skunk stink in a hundred gallons of alcohol equals lovely perfume scent?

As I laid awake (for far to long) I kept telling myself ... the stink will go away soon.  The stink will go away soon.  Eventually, it did.

I sure hope Pepe Le Pew stays home tonight -- either that, or walks on the other side of our neighbors hour.  Yeah, by THEIR bedroom windows.  It's their turn to be awakened in the middle of the night.

Have you been skunked lately?

Fried no more?

My home office has the distinction of being the farthest room in the house from the furnace.  That means I freeze in the winter and fry in the summer.

In winter, I have a heater.  Okay, it takes a couple of hours to get the place toasty warm, but isn't that why God invented sweaters?

In summer.  I fry.  Of course, we thought we'd solved that little problem by buying a custom-made blind.  When the sun comes streaming in around 3 p.m., the blind was SUPPOSED to go down, block all the light/heat, and I would be able to see my computer screen.

That was the plan.  And then came Fred.  Chester (hubby's cat) had already chewed the cord on his shade.  Chewed it right off, in fact, so Hubby can no longer lower or raise his shade.  Luckily it was in the raised position, but his window faces North, so it's not a BIG problem. Mine faces West.  BIG PROBLEM.

Fred is a copy cat.  I knew what the term meant, but I never actually saw it in action until we got Fred.  Fred watches everything every other cat does, and if it's something bad, he will copy that behavior.  So, Fred saw Chester chewing Hubby's blind cord, came in my office and did the same thing.  Chewed it right off.

We kept saying, "We'll get new blinds," and even went to look at them at Home Depot.  To get cordless blinds costs an extra $100+ to add onto already NOT-cheap custom made blinds. (Because you KNOW our windows are not a standard size.)

While we wrestled with the "should we or shoudn't we" cough up that much dough TWICE -- the very down-to-earth sales person said, "Look, why don't you just go on the cheap and buy a room darkening pull down shade.  It'll save you about $150-$200 bucks.  It's ugly, but it works."

Hmm.  How much is beauty worth?  I'm the only one who ever uses this room, and I never entertain guests here.

Let's go for it!  And we did.  Only we did not reckon with decorative molding and a very shallow window casing.  Hubby to the rescue!  Using little blocks of wood, and a little Yankee ingenuity, he was determined to make the cheapie blind fit.

Ahhh...no more frying in the late afternoon.  (And did I mention that hot sunlight also keeps the office hot for HOURS after the sun goes down?)

I'm looking forward to sitting in the dark on blazing hot sunny days.

Ahhhhhhhh...comfort at last.

Except . . . that shallow casing seems to have defeated us.  We're still trying to jury rig something that will hold up the shade.  So . . . it looks like I fry a little while longer.

Or I go back and buy another custom made shade.

*Sigh*

And the weather report is for lots of hot days to come.

I feel fried.

Strawberry Shortcake Forever!

You know it's really summer when all the festivals roll round.

I don't go to many summer festivals.  In fact, despite the fact there seems to be one on just about every weekend throughout the summer, I only go to one a year, and that's the Wolcott, NY Strawberry Festival, and I go despite the fact I absolutely despise strawberries.

Wolcott is a charming little village near Lake Ontario.  (Near being 5-6 miles.)  It's sorta near Sodus Bay and Port Bay (and Fair Haven) NY.  The festival is always the third Saturday in June (unless there's a monsoon, like last year, and it got canceled--that's last year's sign.  But as mentioned, it wasn't postponed, it was canceled.  Bah--Humbug)

The local school band plays.  There's always a martial arts demonstration (this year one of the participants had a split in his pants, and every time he tumbled on the mats you could see his white underwear under this black martial arts outfit--and it wasn't the guy in this picture).  Usually these martial arts demonstrations are kid heavy.  But this year there were four adult (males) and four children (two boys, two girls) and an enthusiastic contingent rooting for them.  (Wisely parked under the trees, sucking up the shade.  Man, it was HOT AND HUMID.)  Some of those guys have been going after their black belts (in various degrees) for between 17-27 years.  Whoa!  And I thought waiting 11 years to get published was a L-O-N-G time.

We always seem to time our arrival (around noon) in time for this demonstration, and this year was no different.

But that's not why we go.  We go for the food.  I always have the same thing:  salt potatoes and fried dough.   I posted about it on Facebook and was shocked to find out that a lot of my FB chums had no idea what salt potatoes OR fried dough was.  The festivals in their neck of the woods don't feature these delights.  Go figure! 
In case you're from another part of the country, I'll explain.  Salt potatoes are small, and round, and are boiled with lots of salt.  (Except these weren't.  I guess they're taking the Surgeon General's suggestion to limit salt intake seriously, because I, who am very sensitive to overly salted food, couldn't even taste ANY salt on these potatoes).  They're smothered in something that's supposed to be butter, but probably isn't, and they go well with clam bakes.  I like a LOT of pepper on my food, so I not only took my own pepper to the festival, I took my own fork.  It can be difficult to cut these little guys, and I knew a metal fork would do a better job than a plastic one.

And for dessert, delicious (and utterly un-nutritious) fried dough.  It's just what the name suggests.  Fried bread dough, dipped in cinnamon sugar.  Ooh!  Yum!

On the other hand, hubby goes for the Strawberry Shortcake.  It's a long story as to why I loathe strawberries (but in a nutshell:  childhood illness, strawberry Jello, and prodigious amounts of vomit).  Even the smell of them gives me the heebie-jeebies. But there sure were lots of folks chowing down on dessert and enjoying every bite.

The festival also features a raffle by the Historical Society (we visited their yard sale and I bought a Betty Crocker Pie and Pastry cookbook for a buck), some kind of bouncy (blown-up) thing kids enter (no shoes) and jump up and down in; wreck a car for a buck (yup--they give you a sledge hammer and you can bash away to your heart's content) crafters (heavy on jewelry and light on customers), baked food sale, and voter registration booth, with a demonstration on the new voting
machines.  (I passed on that.)  You can also buy everything you need (okay, maybe not the whipped cream or THE WORKS--ice cream--for your own strawberry shortcakes at home.  (Ick.)

All in all, it took about an hour.

I can't wait until next year's festival.

In all its purple glory

Last year we bought a clematis.  It wasn't our first one.  Or even our second.  Those were eaten by some rodent with fur and a twitchy nose.  So instead of shelling out the usual $5 -- we went for an ESTABLISHED plant and shot the wad at about $25.

Still, for the price, this little guy was kinda beaten up, thanks to a hail storm that had hit a few days before.  But we planted him and hoped for the best.  The best didn't happen in 2009.  Mr. Clematis existed.  Hubby was depressed.

This spring, we weren't sure Mr. Clematis had survived the winter.  It was slow to take off.  And then one day--WOW--it shouted, I WANT TO LIVE.  And see how it's blooming. (The arbor it grows on is at least 8 feet tall.)

Yup, I think he survived the winter.

And the ideas keep on coming . . .

For the past week or so, I've been thinking a lot about Booktown #6.  I'm really looking forward to writing it.  So much so, that I've started it!  Yes, right there -- hand written, a chunk of the first chapter, just waiting to be input into the computer.  And notes to be made because this sucker wants to be written.

There's just one problem:  I haven't finished #5, and I have another book to be delivered by September 1st.  (Whew, glad that one's already in 2nd draft.) 

I've been setting up situations in Sentenced to Death (#5) so that they'll play out in Murder on the Half Shelf (#6) and the story has been simmering on the back burner.

And did I mention that Sentenced to Death is late?  (So far only five days -- and I do have until the end of the month to deliver it.  Thank you, Tom (my editor) for giving me that extra three weeks.)

Actually, I'm hoping to finish the book before the weekend.  But it needs some time to gel (I'm thinking of a full 24 hours), and I need to send it to my beta reader (thank you, Colleen!), and then let hubby go over it for typos. 

Since the synopsis for Murder on the Half Shelf is due in September, I'm really happy to have all these ideas wwwwaaaaayyyy up front.  But right now, I need to be concentrating on its predecessor.

So, why are all these bright ideas coming now when it's not convenient?

(I guess I don't care--I'm welcoming them!)