Can I truly sign my name as Bethy Rose Wheeler, Author, since I'm writing and sharing my stories? MM says if you write, you are a writer. Miguel says if you share your stories, you are a writer. Jewel and Harold both agree that if people enjoy your stories, you are a writer. Isn't that neat!
I call my story, "Grape Saves the Day." It's like a fantasy story with a lesson about friends. I'll let you read it here but I can't hear your applause if you clap. If you don't like it, well...as Aunt Lutie would say, "Go stuff an egg! Get a life!"
Grape Saves the Day
In the early days of knights and castles, there were also dragons. Some of these dragons were ugly and spit out fire to kill everything in sight, including people. Others were tamed to help the workers in the field, or to go on patrol with the knights. But there was one dragon who was so different no one knew what to do with him.
Most dragons we've seen pictures of are green, or gray if real ugly. They're huge and their fire-breath leaps out with a roaring sound and spreads over a wide area. They are so scary everyone has bad dreams just thinking of them. This new dragon was small, the breath from his mouth was a wimpy flame with hardly any sound at all. He wasn't scary at all. And to make him feel ever worse about himself, he was PURPLE!
Grape!
So he just stopped doing the dragon things. Most all the adults still shunned him when he showed up. A few kids gave a nod to his "Hi!" But it was Kathy June who befriended Grape by walking right up to him one day when he spoke.
She looked way, way up to gaze into the big black eyes. "Hello to you. My name's Kathy June. What's yours?"
The dragon shuffled his huge feet, looked down, and mumbled something.
"I can't hear you. Bend down and tell me again."
The dragon spread his front feet and leaned toward Kathy June. "Grape. My name's Grape."
"Did you say Grape?" When he nodded, Kathy June clapped her hands together. "Perfect. Your color goes with your name. I don't know what a Kathy June is supposed to look like. Do you?"
The dragon was really surprised. "You like my name?"
"I love the color purple." She flung her arms wide. "Yes, I so love your name. Come on, let's go."
"Where are we going?"
"You've got to meet my friends."
"But no one likes me, " Grape protests.
"They don't know you." She led the way with her tiny hand on his ankle. "I'll bet you can play a mean game of kick-the-ball. And if a kite gets caught in a tree you can get it down for us. The kids around here will think you are so cool!"
"I don't know how to...play." He waited for Kathy to turn away.
She just laughed.
"It will be fun to teach you. And maybe you can teach us some new things, too, right?"
Grape couldn't think of much he could teach them but he was so happy, he'd find something to share with his new friend--and all the friends he was going to make. Cool!
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
INJURIES AND WRITING, HAND-IN-HAND
I really made a mess of things two months ago. People in town tell me that none of this is my fault. They remind me I couldn't have known any of this would happen when I called out to my two best friends. It's not that I want to talk about this now either because I do still feel awfully guilty, but the readers need an explanation as to why this blog has been silent for months.
You all know me--Jewel Tate--waitress/sometimes cook at the Blue Moon. A while back my best fella, Harold, who also works at the Blue Moon, surprised the heck out of me with some beautiful poetry he had written. Of course, I had to show it off, and MM got all excited about his writing. She went so far as to go on the Internet and find some places that might accept his poems. Sure enough, an online site, printed them and then a literary magazine contacted him to ask if he had more. They paid him $5 for every poem he submitted.
Before you know it, the whole town wanted to hear Harold's poetry. So once again MM got involved. She gave this reception, as she called it, at the Blue Moon one evening for everyone to hear Harold's work. It amazed them that he had notebooks filled with words. When had he found the time to write all those poems?
Town folks talked about their writing, too. Short stories, memories, and several books, completed and others works in progress, as they called them. There were some poets, too. It was amazing that all those people--kids, too--were Harts Corner writers.
Someone suggested we should have a monthly "Open Mike," a whole evening when folks could share their work. MM put up a sign-up sheet in the Blue Moon to see if there really was enough interest in such an event. Pretty quick signatures flowed onto the sheet. I've been making notes on family history for years but I wasn't sure I wanted to share it. I finally put my name down with a ? next to it. Bethy Rose has a funny story about a purple dragon she was ready to share. MM just wanted to listen. And so it went until it seemed we had an event to schedule and plan.
The school offered the auditorium and the date was set for July 23 at 7 PM. On that night I was running late (other than work, am I ever on time for anything?) and had to park at the far back of the lot. I rushed in among the cars toward the sidewalk. That's when I spotted MM, Bethy Rose, and Miz Barbara. I picked up speed and yelled for them to "Wait up." That's when both women jerked around and I stood there watching, astounded, as MM stepped off the curb and sprawled on the concrete. Miz Barbara, who reached out for her, copied her fall exactly. They both managed to get up but when I reached their side I could see neither one of them was going to be going inside that school tonight.
Blood dripped from scrapped fingertips. Both clutched an arm and hugged it to their chest. MM had a knot forming on her forehead. Miz Barbara's mouth was bleeding all over her pretty yellow blouse. Bruises formed before my eyes.
Someone ran inside for Gus who jogged two blocks to the ambulance parked at his Shamrock station. Both, protesting but not too vigorously, were carted off to Doc Barnes who had been called to meet them at his office. He x-rayed and, finding no broken bones, patched therm up as best he could, gave them pain killers, and set appointments for the next day at Orthopedics in Crockett. They are both having physical therapy now.
Neither of them could/can type on this blog and as you must know by now, those two ladies are the heart and soul of this thing. And, though we put our two cents worth in, we haven't had any time to do anything but keep the Blue Moon running. Blog? Forget it! MM can't even work yet and it's been two months. Another thing we do is spend part of our time sending MM back home (with Miguel threatening to lock her in a cell when he's on duty!). Sorry, we just haven't had the time to keep you folks informed. We'll try to do a bit better from here on out.
In the meantime, maybe we'll just post some of the writings of our town folks. Be ready for some good stories by amateur talent.
You all know me--Jewel Tate--waitress/sometimes cook at the Blue Moon. A while back my best fella, Harold, who also works at the Blue Moon, surprised the heck out of me with some beautiful poetry he had written. Of course, I had to show it off, and MM got all excited about his writing. She went so far as to go on the Internet and find some places that might accept his poems. Sure enough, an online site, printed them and then a literary magazine contacted him to ask if he had more. They paid him $5 for every poem he submitted.
Before you know it, the whole town wanted to hear Harold's poetry. So once again MM got involved. She gave this reception, as she called it, at the Blue Moon one evening for everyone to hear Harold's work. It amazed them that he had notebooks filled with words. When had he found the time to write all those poems?
Town folks talked about their writing, too. Short stories, memories, and several books, completed and others works in progress, as they called them. There were some poets, too. It was amazing that all those people--kids, too--were Harts Corner writers.
Someone suggested we should have a monthly "Open Mike," a whole evening when folks could share their work. MM put up a sign-up sheet in the Blue Moon to see if there really was enough interest in such an event. Pretty quick signatures flowed onto the sheet. I've been making notes on family history for years but I wasn't sure I wanted to share it. I finally put my name down with a ? next to it. Bethy Rose has a funny story about a purple dragon she was ready to share. MM just wanted to listen. And so it went until it seemed we had an event to schedule and plan.
The school offered the auditorium and the date was set for July 23 at 7 PM. On that night I was running late (other than work, am I ever on time for anything?) and had to park at the far back of the lot. I rushed in among the cars toward the sidewalk. That's when I spotted MM, Bethy Rose, and Miz Barbara. I picked up speed and yelled for them to "Wait up." That's when both women jerked around and I stood there watching, astounded, as MM stepped off the curb and sprawled on the concrete. Miz Barbara, who reached out for her, copied her fall exactly. They both managed to get up but when I reached their side I could see neither one of them was going to be going inside that school tonight.
Blood dripped from scrapped fingertips. Both clutched an arm and hugged it to their chest. MM had a knot forming on her forehead. Miz Barbara's mouth was bleeding all over her pretty yellow blouse. Bruises formed before my eyes.
Someone ran inside for Gus who jogged two blocks to the ambulance parked at his Shamrock station. Both, protesting but not too vigorously, were carted off to Doc Barnes who had been called to meet them at his office. He x-rayed and, finding no broken bones, patched therm up as best he could, gave them pain killers, and set appointments for the next day at Orthopedics in Crockett. They are both having physical therapy now.
Neither of them could/can type on this blog and as you must know by now, those two ladies are the heart and soul of this thing. And, though we put our two cents worth in, we haven't had any time to do anything but keep the Blue Moon running. Blog? Forget it! MM can't even work yet and it's been two months. Another thing we do is spend part of our time sending MM back home (with Miguel threatening to lock her in a cell when he's on duty!). Sorry, we just haven't had the time to keep you folks informed. We'll try to do a bit better from here on out.
In the meantime, maybe we'll just post some of the writings of our town folks. Be ready for some good stories by amateur talent.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
CATCHIN' UP
I don't know where this month has gone but it is almost over. We all managed to get through the End-of-School picnic and the slumber party afterward without much trouble. Miguel had a few bruises after the baseball game and the humiliating loss to the high school baseball team. I think his and the others fellas from town's pride was the main bruise suffered. Bethy Rose and her girlfriends, with Cora's help, and Aunt Lutie's recipe, turned out a pretty good mess of fried chicken and a real tasty Key Lime Pie for the picnic before the game. Then Miguel and I managed to put up with giggling girls and, what they thought of as quietly, sneaking down to the kitchen and out on the back porch in the middle of the night; they finally settled down a little after one in the morning so we old folks could get several hours sleep before it was time to make pancakes for us all.
Jewel and Harold have been doing a lot of whispering among themselves in the cafe for the past week or so. I don't know what's going on but have tried not to be my usually nosey self and ask. I am wondering if they are going to surprise us by announcing a wedding date though. I keep looking for a ring on her finger, but then again maybe under the circumstances of the end to her last marriage (and not a day too soon as I was about to take a shotgun after Chester myself), Jewel won't want one. But then again, maybe Harold wants all the world...well, at least here in Harts Corner...to know she's been asked and said yes to his proposal, and will want her to wear his ring. These older folks can be so complicated.
Don't look at me that way. My life is complicated enough without getting involved with all that wedding bell stuff with Miguel just yet. We are both perfectly happy with the way things are going. It may not be legal as far as a piece of paper filed at the courthouse, but Miguel, Bethy Rose and I are a family. I know he is the only man for me and, I'm pretty sure, he knows that I'm not running off anywhere. I'm going to say yes one of these days. That is when I'm ready. And if Miguel asks me again.
Wouldn't it be a hoot if he never does ask again? Hmm, I wonder if he's changed his mind?
Jewel and Harold have been doing a lot of whispering among themselves in the cafe for the past week or so. I don't know what's going on but have tried not to be my usually nosey self and ask. I am wondering if they are going to surprise us by announcing a wedding date though. I keep looking for a ring on her finger, but then again maybe under the circumstances of the end to her last marriage (and not a day too soon as I was about to take a shotgun after Chester myself), Jewel won't want one. But then again, maybe Harold wants all the world...well, at least here in Harts Corner...to know she's been asked and said yes to his proposal, and will want her to wear his ring. These older folks can be so complicated.
Don't look at me that way. My life is complicated enough without getting involved with all that wedding bell stuff with Miguel just yet. We are both perfectly happy with the way things are going. It may not be legal as far as a piece of paper filed at the courthouse, but Miguel, Bethy Rose and I are a family. I know he is the only man for me and, I'm pretty sure, he knows that I'm not running off anywhere. I'm going to say yes one of these days. That is when I'm ready. And if Miguel asks me again.
Wouldn't it be a hoot if he never does ask again? Hmm, I wonder if he's changed his mind?
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Meringue and Limes
I'm still laughing about Cora's call. She was in panic mode about those girl's ideas for dessert to take to the After School Picnic. They had found one of the fancy cookbooks I'd bought while still in high school, thinking I might be able to cook my way out of Harts Corner, or at least find a job with some restaurant town far away, not a café in another East Texas town. In this particular cookbook, Bethy Rose found a "dream pie" as she called it, a recipe for Key Lime Pie with a tall meringue.
I calmed Cora down and assured her I'd be over on Friday afternoon before the picnic on Saturday. I'd gather up all the ingredients and help the girls make the buy. She wanted a copy of the recipe so she could make sure she had everything set out so the mixing and baking wouldn't take too long. I think she's really just curious about what in the heck kind of pie this Key Lime thing is. I dropped a copy off on my way home from the café.
Key Lime Pie
Make a graham cracker crust or buy one of the tasty ones already made up (9-inch). Set aside.
4 egg yolks 1 can (14-oz. sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup lime juice (fresh or bottled)
Whisk the yolks, condensed milk and lime juice together. In another bowl, whisk 2 egg whites until nearly stiff and fold into the yolk mixture. Pour into the crust. Bake at 350 degrees for 18 minutes, or until mixture is set but slightly jiggly. Let cool on rack.
Refrigerate, uncovered, at least four hours.
(I'll probably go over to Cora's with the girls right before we head for the picnic and have them create the meringue.)
Before serving, or carrying to the picnic, preheat the broiler.
Using an electric mixer, whisk together 5 egg whites and 1 pinch cream of tartar. Beat at medium speed, gradually adding 1/2 cup sugar, until soft peaks just begin to form. Beat at high speed until peaks are stiff, about 30 seconds.
Spread meringue in peaks on top of pie; make sure it covers to touch the sides completely.
Broil in the center of the broiler, rotating if needed, until the meringue is golden-brown, about 2 minutes.
And off it goes to the picnic or to the counter in your kitchen waiting for dessert time.
***
It's really not a hard recipe to follow. I'm sure the girls can do a pretty good job of mixing and even doing the meringue. I'll have them take turns because sometimes it takes up to five minutes to get those just-right peaks to form.
Come on and join us on Saturday for the End of School Picnic in Harts Corner, Texas, ya'all.
I calmed Cora down and assured her I'd be over on Friday afternoon before the picnic on Saturday. I'd gather up all the ingredients and help the girls make the buy. She wanted a copy of the recipe so she could make sure she had everything set out so the mixing and baking wouldn't take too long. I think she's really just curious about what in the heck kind of pie this Key Lime thing is. I dropped a copy off on my way home from the café.
Key Lime Pie
Make a graham cracker crust or buy one of the tasty ones already made up (9-inch). Set aside.
4 egg yolks 1 can (14-oz. sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup lime juice (fresh or bottled)
Whisk the yolks, condensed milk and lime juice together. In another bowl, whisk 2 egg whites until nearly stiff and fold into the yolk mixture. Pour into the crust. Bake at 350 degrees for 18 minutes, or until mixture is set but slightly jiggly. Let cool on rack.
Refrigerate, uncovered, at least four hours.
(I'll probably go over to Cora's with the girls right before we head for the picnic and have them create the meringue.)
Before serving, or carrying to the picnic, preheat the broiler.
Using an electric mixer, whisk together 5 egg whites and 1 pinch cream of tartar. Beat at medium speed, gradually adding 1/2 cup sugar, until soft peaks just begin to form. Beat at high speed until peaks are stiff, about 30 seconds.
Spread meringue in peaks on top of pie; make sure it covers to touch the sides completely.
Broil in the center of the broiler, rotating if needed, until the meringue is golden-brown, about 2 minutes.
And off it goes to the picnic or to the counter in your kitchen waiting for dessert time.
***
It's really not a hard recipe to follow. I'm sure the girls can do a pretty good job of mixing and even doing the meringue. I'll have them take turns because sometimes it takes up to five minutes to get those just-right peaks to form.
Come on and join us on Saturday for the End of School Picnic in Harts Corner, Texas, ya'all.
Saturday, June 8, 2013
END OF SCHOOL PICNIC AND SLUMBER PARTIES
Everyone who needs someone to watch their kids for a few hours, after school, or even for a day, knows they can call on me. "You know Cora just loves kids and doesn't mind them bringing mud into her kitchen, picking her flowers for "bookays" or eating all the cookies she just baked for the church bake sale." I'm smiling, folks, because even though they do these things, I do love them and enjoy having them around. I had four youngins of my own and now I have grandchildren to babysit and spoil.
The only time I draw the line on letting the kids into my life is when Leonard wants me to accompany him and the band on one of their gigs, or I just need some time to myself. Otherwise, this house is full of laughter, poutin', sometimes a few tantrums and, now and then, one or two of them sittin' in a corner for time out. I thought I'd give you a little background so you'd understand how I got roped into agreein' to allow Bethy Rose and my granddaughters talk me into lettin' them have a slumber party at our house the night before the End of the School Picnic. And for promisin' to help them cook up a bunch of food for the event. I think I have lost my mind or, as Lutie Mae Lucus would tell me I got "teched" in the head for a moment or two.
For those who didn't grow up in Texas (or the South), you probably don't know a thing about these picnics we have to celebrate the end of school. I don't know who came up with the idea but I have a thought that it was the male men in small towns who missed bein' baseball jocks and wanted to have their old dreams come true by playin' the high school baseball team once a year. They had to have a reason to call these games so they suggested all the women bring their tastiest dishes for a big picnic before the game of the year.
It's become one more of those things the town always shares. I don't anyone who would miss it. It keeps us connected. Sometimes it serves as a school reunion; those who moved away come back for the event in order to catch up with all their former classmates--and many times to do a little braggin' about their successes and to show off their families. That doesn't bother the ones who never left. They know it's a wonderful place to live, raise children, play, attend church--even if they have to drive twenty to thirty miles one way to a job.
Bethy Rose just showed up with one of MM's cookbooks. I hear her talkin' to the other girls about fried chicken and macaroni salad--that'll be easy for them. They've been hangin' around the kitchen with me and MM for a couple of years and are pretty good cooks of simple foods. No matter what they cook up, there will be so much food those tables lined up end to end will be groanin'.
What's that dessert she's talkin' about? Key Lime Meringue Pie? Doesn't she mean lemon? No, there she's repeated it again. She's explainin' it's a special pie made with limes from that Key West place. Does she think we're goin' to Florida to get the main ingredient for a podunk picnic?
I should have known this wasn't gonna be easy. And I thought agreein' to a slumber party was gonna be the biggest headache.
Help, Mary Margaret!
The only time I draw the line on letting the kids into my life is when Leonard wants me to accompany him and the band on one of their gigs, or I just need some time to myself. Otherwise, this house is full of laughter, poutin', sometimes a few tantrums and, now and then, one or two of them sittin' in a corner for time out. I thought I'd give you a little background so you'd understand how I got roped into agreein' to allow Bethy Rose and my granddaughters talk me into lettin' them have a slumber party at our house the night before the End of the School Picnic. And for promisin' to help them cook up a bunch of food for the event. I think I have lost my mind or, as Lutie Mae Lucus would tell me I got "teched" in the head for a moment or two.
For those who didn't grow up in Texas (or the South), you probably don't know a thing about these picnics we have to celebrate the end of school. I don't know who came up with the idea but I have a thought that it was the male men in small towns who missed bein' baseball jocks and wanted to have their old dreams come true by playin' the high school baseball team once a year. They had to have a reason to call these games so they suggested all the women bring their tastiest dishes for a big picnic before the game of the year.
It's become one more of those things the town always shares. I don't anyone who would miss it. It keeps us connected. Sometimes it serves as a school reunion; those who moved away come back for the event in order to catch up with all their former classmates--and many times to do a little braggin' about their successes and to show off their families. That doesn't bother the ones who never left. They know it's a wonderful place to live, raise children, play, attend church--even if they have to drive twenty to thirty miles one way to a job.
Bethy Rose just showed up with one of MM's cookbooks. I hear her talkin' to the other girls about fried chicken and macaroni salad--that'll be easy for them. They've been hangin' around the kitchen with me and MM for a couple of years and are pretty good cooks of simple foods. No matter what they cook up, there will be so much food those tables lined up end to end will be groanin'.
What's that dessert she's talkin' about? Key Lime Meringue Pie? Doesn't she mean lemon? No, there she's repeated it again. She's explainin' it's a special pie made with limes from that Key West place. Does she think we're goin' to Florida to get the main ingredient for a podunk picnic?
I should have known this wasn't gonna be easy. And I thought agreein' to a slumber party was gonna be the biggest headache.
Help, Mary Margaret!
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
MOTHER'S DAY ACCORDING TO MM
Bethy Rose says I'm the bestest mother in the whole wide world. That covers a lot of territory I say and I remind her that I never gave birth to a child so I'm not a "real" mother. She understands that when her mother died and things got rough with her dad not being there and into some illegal behavior, that I was only too glad to go to court to seek acceptance as a foster parent. We both agreed that she would become my foster child and I would be a stand-in mother. At the end of my reminder about what brought us together is when she put her hands on her hips (I wonder where she got that?) and informed me that it takes more than having a baby to be a mother. This child is far too wise. Is she only nine years old?
Thinking this conversation over, I have to admit that for all intents and purposes when I was six and my "real" Mama died, Lutie Mae Lucas, maiden aunt, certainly without child, became my mother. She was there to hold me as I cried over the loss of the only parent I had left. Aunt Lutie put her arms around me when I was so scared in the hearing that would place me in the custody of my aunt--I had been so scared that the state department in charge of orphans would take me away, that I threw up on the courthouse steps before entering. Aunt Lutie took me to the water fountain and wet her pretty handkerchief to wipe my mouth--and gave me a stick of gum so I didn't gross out the authorities. From then on she attended PTA meetings, baked cupcakes for special school days, helped me with homework, and made sure I went to Sunday School. She bought my clothes, gave me my own room in the tiny apartment above the Blue Moon, and my feisty aunt was always there for me.
But most of all, she set me on the right path to become the woman I am today--with good parts and a lot of warts, too. Lutie Mae offered me her wisdom, her experiences in life, her dreams, even ones unfulfilled, and she gave me the courage to follow my dreams--though somehow she saw to it that her dreams became my dreams, too. She was my moral compass in all things.
Bethy Rose says I do all the things a "real" mother should do. I'm not sure I do, but I do know that Aunt Lutie did.
Aunt Lutie, you've been pretty quiet lately, but I hope you are near enough to hear me. I want you to know how much I love you, how wonderful I thought you were while growing up (though I never said so). I miss you. I could sure use your help with this mothering stuff. But I do have one great memory for our tradition on Mother's Day. We went to brunch (Miguel is taking us) and I always made you some useless pretty as a gift (Bethy Rose has been closed up in her room a lot so is probably doing the same thing). Then we'd make something in the kitchen later. I'm going to add that to our traditions, my dear Aunt. We're going to make Peanut Butter and Jelly Fudge. I'll save you a piece.
PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY FUDGE:
4-1/2 cups sifted confectioners sugar
2 cups graham cracker crumbs
1 cup creamy peanut butter
1 cup margarine or butter, melted
1 (10-oz) package peanut butter chips
1/3 cup strawberry preserves
In a large bowl, combine sugar, graham crackers, peanut butter and butter; stir until well blended. Line a 9X13-inch pan with two layers of aluminum foil, extending it over ends of pan; grease foil. Press mixture into pan.
To prepare topping: Place peanut butter chips in microwavable bowl; microwave on high power one minute; stir. Continue to microwave until chips are melted; stir every 15 seconds. Stir until smooth. Spread melted chips over peanut butter mixture. Using edges of foil, immediately lift from pan. Spread jelly over melted chips. Cool in refrigerator. Cut into 1-inch squares and store in airtight containers in refrigerator.
Thinking this conversation over, I have to admit that for all intents and purposes when I was six and my "real" Mama died, Lutie Mae Lucas, maiden aunt, certainly without child, became my mother. She was there to hold me as I cried over the loss of the only parent I had left. Aunt Lutie put her arms around me when I was so scared in the hearing that would place me in the custody of my aunt--I had been so scared that the state department in charge of orphans would take me away, that I threw up on the courthouse steps before entering. Aunt Lutie took me to the water fountain and wet her pretty handkerchief to wipe my mouth--and gave me a stick of gum so I didn't gross out the authorities. From then on she attended PTA meetings, baked cupcakes for special school days, helped me with homework, and made sure I went to Sunday School. She bought my clothes, gave me my own room in the tiny apartment above the Blue Moon, and my feisty aunt was always there for me.
But most of all, she set me on the right path to become the woman I am today--with good parts and a lot of warts, too. Lutie Mae offered me her wisdom, her experiences in life, her dreams, even ones unfulfilled, and she gave me the courage to follow my dreams--though somehow she saw to it that her dreams became my dreams, too. She was my moral compass in all things.
Bethy Rose says I do all the things a "real" mother should do. I'm not sure I do, but I do know that Aunt Lutie did.
Aunt Lutie, you've been pretty quiet lately, but I hope you are near enough to hear me. I want you to know how much I love you, how wonderful I thought you were while growing up (though I never said so). I miss you. I could sure use your help with this mothering stuff. But I do have one great memory for our tradition on Mother's Day. We went to brunch (Miguel is taking us) and I always made you some useless pretty as a gift (Bethy Rose has been closed up in her room a lot so is probably doing the same thing). Then we'd make something in the kitchen later. I'm going to add that to our traditions, my dear Aunt. We're going to make Peanut Butter and Jelly Fudge. I'll save you a piece.
PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY FUDGE:
4-1/2 cups sifted confectioners sugar
2 cups graham cracker crumbs
1 cup creamy peanut butter
1 cup margarine or butter, melted
1 (10-oz) package peanut butter chips
1/3 cup strawberry preserves
In a large bowl, combine sugar, graham crackers, peanut butter and butter; stir until well blended. Line a 9X13-inch pan with two layers of aluminum foil, extending it over ends of pan; grease foil. Press mixture into pan.
To prepare topping: Place peanut butter chips in microwavable bowl; microwave on high power one minute; stir. Continue to microwave until chips are melted; stir every 15 seconds. Stir until smooth. Spread melted chips over peanut butter mixture. Using edges of foil, immediately lift from pan. Spread jelly over melted chips. Cool in refrigerator. Cut into 1-inch squares and store in airtight containers in refrigerator.
Friday, April 26, 2013
THE BOOK IS A HIT, OR SO JEWEL SAYS!
You know that I, Jewel Tate, don't write here much but I want to toot Mz Barbara's horn for her a little bit. A book is a hard thing to write and I do know she and Mz Regina had a lot of work to do to make it so presentable. We folks here in Harts Corner thought that book was never gonna come out and when it did, I do believe everyone in town bought a copy. We all wanted to know if we were in the book and, most of all, if Mz Barbara had written the truth about us and our town and all the good and bad things that happened here.
Well, although I don't read a whole lot--just have too much else to do than to take the time out--I want to tell you I read every word. And I listened to people here talk about the book, 'cause they read it really quick like. It's that kind of book. You can't put it down. You just have to turn those pages and see what's gonna happen next. Then we all started hearin' from folks all around the country:
"I was right there sitting in a booth in the Blue Moon, listening to the stories and seeing the happenings and feeling like I knew each one of those characters."
"Barbara Mims Deming has brought the true south of the '60's to readers."
"No matter where you grew up, you feel like you're with folks you know in Harts Corner."
"Barbara Mims Deming is the new Fanny Flagg."
The book is a success. Now, don't you think that is the greatest news?
But what really makes a book a success is for more and more people to read it. Now, you know me, I am not a person who speaks up for much of anything, even though I am much more able to stand on my own two feet since Mary Margaret Butler took a chance and hired me to work at the Blue Moon. But I want to get on my soapbox about this "Aunt Lutie's Blue Moon Café" novel.
If you like southern literature, you'll find a good example here. If you've never read it, you need to get educated. If you want romance, it's right here. If you want erotic sex, you ain't gonna get to read about it in this book. If you love small towns and down-home folks and love-your-fellowman tales, you're gonna love this read. If you enjoy mystery and playing detective, dive in to these pages.
Don't wait for the movie...although if Ron Howard or Eastwood or one of those other producers is reading this, you need to take a look. Until it is discovered and hits the big screen, you need to read this book.
Come on by the Blue Moon and we'll let you sit all day in one of our booths to read the book to your hearts content. We might even slip you a piece of Banana Cream Pie to go with it.
Well, although I don't read a whole lot--just have too much else to do than to take the time out--I want to tell you I read every word. And I listened to people here talk about the book, 'cause they read it really quick like. It's that kind of book. You can't put it down. You just have to turn those pages and see what's gonna happen next. Then we all started hearin' from folks all around the country:
"I was right there sitting in a booth in the Blue Moon, listening to the stories and seeing the happenings and feeling like I knew each one of those characters."
"Barbara Mims Deming has brought the true south of the '60's to readers."
"No matter where you grew up, you feel like you're with folks you know in Harts Corner."
"Barbara Mims Deming is the new Fanny Flagg."
The book is a success. Now, don't you think that is the greatest news?
But what really makes a book a success is for more and more people to read it. Now, you know me, I am not a person who speaks up for much of anything, even though I am much more able to stand on my own two feet since Mary Margaret Butler took a chance and hired me to work at the Blue Moon. But I want to get on my soapbox about this "Aunt Lutie's Blue Moon Café" novel.
If you like southern literature, you'll find a good example here. If you've never read it, you need to get educated. If you want romance, it's right here. If you want erotic sex, you ain't gonna get to read about it in this book. If you love small towns and down-home folks and love-your-fellowman tales, you're gonna love this read. If you enjoy mystery and playing detective, dive in to these pages.
Don't wait for the movie...although if Ron Howard or Eastwood or one of those other producers is reading this, you need to take a look. Until it is discovered and hits the big screen, you need to read this book.
Come on by the Blue Moon and we'll let you sit all day in one of our booths to read the book to your hearts content. We might even slip you a piece of Banana Cream Pie to go with it.
FORGET THOSE VACATIONS!
There’s been a lot goin’ on in the Butler/Kinkaid household.
And it all came to a head when the family was on vacation and Bethy Rose asked
Mary Margaret to help a local woman find her daughter. Let me tell you, even I,
Lutie Mae Lucas, tried to tell Bethy Rose that this wasn’t somethin’ any of
them should get involved in. I mean to tell you that even Mary Margaret tried
to not get involved, telling Bethy Rose she really couldn’t get messed up with the police in another state on behalf of
a story she had no way of knowing was real or not. Then that darlin’ child used
her ace in the hole—she’d go to Miguel and get him to help.
Needless to say, Mary Margaret didn’t want Miguel to even
know what Bethy Rose was proposing. So she reluctantly went to see this Mz
Candy and hear the story. The mother cried and of course, that got to my dear
niece. So she agreed to check around. Now, I ask you, how does she check around
in a foreign place—yes, I do believe Florida is a foreign country when you
compare it to our lovely state of Texas—and not ruffle lots of feathers? You got it. She asked so many questions and
followed so many leads, headed down blind alleys, and stirred up a hornet’s
nest. The Chief of Police pounded on their motel door one night and Miguel was
questioned about his being out of his jurisdiction and stickin’ his nose in
somethin’ he knew nothin’ about.
You do know, that all hell broke loose at that point. As
Mary Margaret had predicted, Miguel was so hot under the collar he told
everyone to pack up. Bethy Rose cried and carried on, tellin’ him she was the
one who caused all the problems. Mary Margaret told Miguel to suck it up; she
reminded him that she had a mind and a will of her own—and, besides, he didn’t
own her! The Chief later admitted he had been wrong when he got Mz Candy to
admit her latest, worthless live-in was absent, too. Maybe he could use some
help. And, peace maker that he was, the Chief thought it would be a good idea
if Mary Margaret was allowed to help Miguel and him in the search for Mz Candy’s
daughter, Faylene.
I’m not gonna tell you the entire story here just in case Mz
Barbara wants to write about it but I will tell you that Faylene came home, Mz
Candy threw a picnic on the Boardwalk for everyone involved before my family
made their way home, and somehow (and I didn’t look nor ask how) Miguel and
Mary Margaret arrived back here all lovey-dovy.
Mary Margaret said she is never takin’ another vacation. She’s
satisfied to be right here livin’ her own life in Harts Corner. Isn’t that
funny comin’ from someone who tried so hard to get out of town for so many
years?
Monday, April 8, 2013
AT THE BEACH, WAHOO!
I can’t believe we actually had a vacation. More remarkably,
after the first two days of angst or withdrawals from the worries about whether
or not Jewel and Harold could run the café without me, I enjoyed myself one
hundred percent. Miguel reminded me that I was only a phone call away and if it
was an emergency, there was no reason to call me as I couldn’t do a darned
thing to help them. At first, that made me panic and then I remembered how
skilled at handling crisis my two wonderful employees were, and I relaxed.
Bethy Rose, who has become a more outgoing personality in
the last year, bloomed out even more during these two weeks. Before we knew it,
she had a name for half the people on vacation and most all the owners and
employees of little businesses, not to count the hotel where we stayed, and
they treated her like she was the shiniest penny in their pocket—which she was.
Calling the office seemed to be off limits to Miguel as well.
Of course, he probably did but made sure we gals weren’t aware of it. He’s
always pretty calm about things (except when I get involved in HIS business, as
he calls weird or illegal events in Harts Corner) but I saw a difference these
two weeks—he was really relaxed and funny and even more attentive to me than when
at home. The routine of daily life was put aside and we learned to enjoy just
being together.
Bethy Rose, as I said, knew everyone and she wanted to
involve me in a mystery of a local disappearance. Those of you who have read of
my adventures understand that most of what I stick my nose into turns out to be
misadventure. I was stretched out on a lounge chair near the pool reading a
book (how long had it been since I had found time to do that?) when my darling
foster child hurdled herself onto the end of the chair.
“MM, you’ve got to come and listen to Mz Candy’s story.”
“Who’s Mz Candy?”
“I told you about her, don’t you remember? She cleans our
room.”
Her name sounded more like she should be in a show along the
boardwalk. “Oh. And what kind of story will she tell me?”
“Her daughter disappeared about two months ago. The police
here say she’s just a runaway but Mz Candy swears her daughter never missed
school, always came in before her curfew, and would never run away. Can you
talk to her?”
“Honey, I don’t see how I can help. I don’t know anyone here
like at home and it would be very difficult to find out anything. This is a
police matter.”
“That doesn’t stop you from helping Miguel out at home.” Ouch.
Miguel would have a fit—more than a temper tantrum, for
sure. More than that—he’d probably cancel the rest of our vacation. I hated to
disappoint this child who cared for everyone’s problems more than a little
person should but I have managed to stay in Miguel’s good graces involving his
line of work for about a year now. He preferred it that way and I love him
enough to keep him happy. But it sure was hard to let Bethy Rose down.
“Take your story to Miguel. See if he can’t help, honey. I
don’t want to do anything that he can do better. Okay?”
For a moment I noted the disgusted look on her face, like I
had somehow managed to abandon the helpless. Then she jumped up, gave me a big
grin, and turned to search for Miguel. But not before spearing me with her
haughty tone.
“I’ll see if he’s got more guts than you, MM.”
Drats and double drats!
Thursday, February 28, 2013
MY FIRST VACATION!!!
Can you believe it? We're going on a trip--a short vacation, of sorts. I've never been on a vacation, never been outside of the state of Texas in all my nine years of life. And now I'm going to walk on the beach, play in the waves, fish from something they call a jettie, and sleep in a place they call a bed and breakfast looking out over the warm Gulf of Mexico. And I won't miss but two days of school because we're doing this on Easter break.
At first, when Miguel said he'd made all the arrangements for us to go to this beach in Mississippi, MM was mad. She doesn't like anyone to make plans for her life, as she says. I do know she hates surprises but I think she's beginnin' to get over that. Miguel is always full of surprises and he does silly things and some mushy things, too, that soon has her either laughin' with him or kissin' him like sweethearts do. This time it took her a little longer to forgive him, especially when he told her he had made all the arrangements for her employees to run the Blue Moon Cafe for her while she was off havin' fun. Whew! That was not a good thing to do--no one takes care of her business but her. It took a lot of apologizin' and makin' nice before the smile was back on MM's face. I knew everythin' was gonna be okay though when we went shoppin' for new clothes. Both of us got bathingsuits, sandals, shorts and cool tops. We need to go on vacations more often, don't you think?
I'm still tryin' to figure out what all I can get in my one suitcase. MM says I have more fun stuff, you know, like games, books, writin' tablet, than I have clothes. But she's wrong on that one. My suitcase will hold all my clothes and shoes. It's my new Hawaiian print duffle bag that Miguel gave me that's the problem. I'm tryin' to get all the fun stuff in that thing. I've packed and unpacked, taken out and put in, and now it's all out on the floor again. There are some things a girl just has to have and there's others that she thinks she can't live without--that's the hard part.
I know, it's still almost a month away. But I'm so excited, I have to make sure I have all my stuff together and don't miss a thing. Miguel says we'll be staying in a small town north of Pass Christian and he's not lookin' for a store at any time on this trip, so we gals better have all we need with us.
My friends say these bed and breakfast places are for honeymooners but MM and Miguel are not one of those so I guess they felt it was okay to take a kid--me. I think it's goin' be the neatest thing for MM to not have to cook, to eat someone else's cookin', and it will be wonderful for me not to have to do the dishes. There may be a big dishwasher at the Blue Moon now but at home, these hands are it. And Mrs. Lowery, that's my teacher this year, says I don't have to make up any homework for those two days--but she expects me to keep a diary of what I do on my vacation and share some of it with my classmates. No homework. Isn't that a miracle?
So you won't be hearin' from us for awhile. Well, there'll be nothing new for longer than that week we'll be off on the beach. It seems that Miz Barbara thought this was a perfect time to do some travelin' herself with her sweetie, as she calls Mr. Ray. They're not going to a bed and breakfast place though so I don't know if they will have as much fun as I will. Anyway, we'll be back real soon with tales of our vacations.
This is Bethy Rose Wheeler-Butler-Kinkaid signin' off. (How do you like my new last names?)
At first, when Miguel said he'd made all the arrangements for us to go to this beach in Mississippi, MM was mad. She doesn't like anyone to make plans for her life, as she says. I do know she hates surprises but I think she's beginnin' to get over that. Miguel is always full of surprises and he does silly things and some mushy things, too, that soon has her either laughin' with him or kissin' him like sweethearts do. This time it took her a little longer to forgive him, especially when he told her he had made all the arrangements for her employees to run the Blue Moon Cafe for her while she was off havin' fun. Whew! That was not a good thing to do--no one takes care of her business but her. It took a lot of apologizin' and makin' nice before the smile was back on MM's face. I knew everythin' was gonna be okay though when we went shoppin' for new clothes. Both of us got bathingsuits, sandals, shorts and cool tops. We need to go on vacations more often, don't you think?
I'm still tryin' to figure out what all I can get in my one suitcase. MM says I have more fun stuff, you know, like games, books, writin' tablet, than I have clothes. But she's wrong on that one. My suitcase will hold all my clothes and shoes. It's my new Hawaiian print duffle bag that Miguel gave me that's the problem. I'm tryin' to get all the fun stuff in that thing. I've packed and unpacked, taken out and put in, and now it's all out on the floor again. There are some things a girl just has to have and there's others that she thinks she can't live without--that's the hard part.
I know, it's still almost a month away. But I'm so excited, I have to make sure I have all my stuff together and don't miss a thing. Miguel says we'll be staying in a small town north of Pass Christian and he's not lookin' for a store at any time on this trip, so we gals better have all we need with us.
My friends say these bed and breakfast places are for honeymooners but MM and Miguel are not one of those so I guess they felt it was okay to take a kid--me. I think it's goin' be the neatest thing for MM to not have to cook, to eat someone else's cookin', and it will be wonderful for me not to have to do the dishes. There may be a big dishwasher at the Blue Moon now but at home, these hands are it. And Mrs. Lowery, that's my teacher this year, says I don't have to make up any homework for those two days--but she expects me to keep a diary of what I do on my vacation and share some of it with my classmates. No homework. Isn't that a miracle?
So you won't be hearin' from us for awhile. Well, there'll be nothing new for longer than that week we'll be off on the beach. It seems that Miz Barbara thought this was a perfect time to do some travelin' herself with her sweetie, as she calls Mr. Ray. They're not going to a bed and breakfast place though so I don't know if they will have as much fun as I will. Anyway, we'll be back real soon with tales of our vacations.
This is Bethy Rose Wheeler-Butler-Kinkaid signin' off. (How do you like my new last names?)
Sunday, February 10, 2013
If Wishes Were Horses, etc.
You haven't heard from me before but I have been keepin' up with this blog via the library computers. It's hard to think that it will be a long time before I'm able to walk the streets of Harts Corner again but I'm behavin' myself so I can do just that. My name's Tillie Treadwell. I used to have a little band that played at honky-tonks in East Texas and once even played for an admirer in a little town in England--those pubs are downright receptive to that old timey country music. The band is disbanded now and my home sits vacant waitin' for my return. But that's my own darned fault, which I am not goin' to get in here.
What I really wanted to talk about is Valentine's Day. Nah, I'm not going to give you the history of that guy who was executed and they named a holiday to be celebrated on the day he died. Nor that weird story of Cupid and his mother Venus and his girlfriend Psyche (what kind of romantic name is that, for gosh sakes?) I'm talkin' about all the hoopla MM does to make this day of love special for everyone.
I guess it started when Bethy Rose needed cookies for Valentine's Day and MM found that the poor child was pretty short on the receiving end of cards the year before. She managed to get folks to give Bethy Rose so many Valentine's the child could hardly tote them home. And, along with residents of our fair town and Bethy Rose doing the spy work, no child in any grade of school ever missed having a super Valentine's Day from then on. Everyone got into this love-day feeling and visited the shut-ins and anyone who needed a visit, with cards and those decorated sugar cookies Bethy Rose claimed to be her very own speciality.
Last year MM put on this neat party for everyone with great food and a special red punch. I don't know how that gal paid for all the stuff, much less found the time to make all the good things to eat, but she was right pleased with the turnout. I heard the people in town were so grateful to have somewhere to go other than the Grange or church, they dropped donations into one of the cake covers. She probably got enough to cover her expenses and then some.
Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against MM--other than the fact she is too nosey for her own good, ratted out some of her friends when the troubles started, and captured the most handsome, best men in the county for her very own. I'd like to see her fall off that high horse she seems to be sittin' high on but...well, I'm not supposed to have such thoughts, certainly wouldn't let the authorities here know I have moments when I feel that way, and can only hope they don't read this blog.
But, grudgingly I will admit, I must say I'd give anything for a slice of her strawberry pie. I can close my eyes and smell it, and my mouth waters when I think of the ingredients. Sure I have them memorized--it's really not a hard pie to make. Will I share the recipe? Can you hear me laugh? I'll gladly do it and just to rile MM up a bit, I'll call it:
"Tillie's Remembrance Strawberry Pie"
1 cup sugar
3 tbsp. cornstarch
1 cup water
3 tbsp. strawberry gelatin
1 to 2 pt. containers strawberries, stemmed
1 baked 8-inch pie crust
Whipping Cream whipped stiff (or Cool Whip)
Mix sugar and cornstarch in saucepan; stir in water. Cook until thickened, stirring constantly. Remove from heat; stir in gelatin. Pour into pie shell; refrigerate until set. Spread whipped cream or Cool Whip over top when ready to serve.
You'll have an extra slice for me, okay?
What I really wanted to talk about is Valentine's Day. Nah, I'm not going to give you the history of that guy who was executed and they named a holiday to be celebrated on the day he died. Nor that weird story of Cupid and his mother Venus and his girlfriend Psyche (what kind of romantic name is that, for gosh sakes?) I'm talkin' about all the hoopla MM does to make this day of love special for everyone.
I guess it started when Bethy Rose needed cookies for Valentine's Day and MM found that the poor child was pretty short on the receiving end of cards the year before. She managed to get folks to give Bethy Rose so many Valentine's the child could hardly tote them home. And, along with residents of our fair town and Bethy Rose doing the spy work, no child in any grade of school ever missed having a super Valentine's Day from then on. Everyone got into this love-day feeling and visited the shut-ins and anyone who needed a visit, with cards and those decorated sugar cookies Bethy Rose claimed to be her very own speciality.
Last year MM put on this neat party for everyone with great food and a special red punch. I don't know how that gal paid for all the stuff, much less found the time to make all the good things to eat, but she was right pleased with the turnout. I heard the people in town were so grateful to have somewhere to go other than the Grange or church, they dropped donations into one of the cake covers. She probably got enough to cover her expenses and then some.
Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against MM--other than the fact she is too nosey for her own good, ratted out some of her friends when the troubles started, and captured the most handsome, best men in the county for her very own. I'd like to see her fall off that high horse she seems to be sittin' high on but...well, I'm not supposed to have such thoughts, certainly wouldn't let the authorities here know I have moments when I feel that way, and can only hope they don't read this blog.
But, grudgingly I will admit, I must say I'd give anything for a slice of her strawberry pie. I can close my eyes and smell it, and my mouth waters when I think of the ingredients. Sure I have them memorized--it's really not a hard pie to make. Will I share the recipe? Can you hear me laugh? I'll gladly do it and just to rile MM up a bit, I'll call it:
"Tillie's Remembrance Strawberry Pie"
1 cup sugar
3 tbsp. cornstarch
1 cup water
3 tbsp. strawberry gelatin
1 to 2 pt. containers strawberries, stemmed
1 baked 8-inch pie crust
Whipping Cream whipped stiff (or Cool Whip)
Mix sugar and cornstarch in saucepan; stir in water. Cook until thickened, stirring constantly. Remove from heat; stir in gelatin. Pour into pie shell; refrigerate until set. Spread whipped cream or Cool Whip over top when ready to serve.
You'll have an extra slice for me, okay?
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Sheriff's Report
We are now almost at the end of the first month of the New Year and, unlike my predecessor, I feel I am obligated to give a "State of the Safety" speech. Even though there's not much crime going on in our town of Harts Corner, Texas, there is always some mischief around. Last year was most unusual with the uncovering of drug runners and several murders so I won't even discuss that long story here. What I will touch on are a few events, both serious and humorous, that might give a clue to our citizens of what's right and wrong with this town.
We're not growing in population, that's for sure. I don't know if that's bad or good. We lost two citizens to murder, one to suicide, and two to the prison system. And we gained one--yours truly. That's not the way to grow a town. But we haven't given up hope. Harts Corner is still a great place to live in, raise a family, and share the community of friends. Maybe strangers would just upset the apple cart.
The community doesn't have a lot of money but the county helps out by being in control of law enforcement, the court system, and the roads. When it comes to help for individuals, these people circle the wagons and protect each other. Would that change if we had newcomers, "outsiders" as the old folks around here call folks not born and raised here (that includes me)? Or will we one day really need to rely on a larger population to pay our bills?
If I went through the log-in of dispatches I wouldn't find anything really serious since all that other stuff. Cows broke the fence down again and are in Cora Skaggs vegetable garden. Ranger is ordered to fix the fence and keep it fixed or face confiscation of cattle, sale, and retribution to Cora.Teenagers spray painted the barn on the old Tate place--again. Rounded up the usual suspects, made their parents pay for red paint, and Jewel Tate saved money on a paint job. Stolen stop signs at the exit and entrance ramps to the freeway. My deputy and I eventually tracked them down (by a tip from an angry girlfriend) to the bedroom wall of a high school senior. With agreement of his parents, he physically replaces the signs and relinquishes his driver's license for three months.
Well, you get the picture, don't you? Not much heavy duty stuff. I have to appear in traffic court now and then, and I see a reminder that I have to be in court next month for the trial of some yokel from Tyler who attempted to rob the Blue Moon Cafe. That should be a hoot. When my sweet, red-haired Mary Margaret Butler, gets through giving her testimony, the jury will convict. That is, if the poor fella doesn't decide to plead guilty when he gets sight of her; she swings a mean broom, has a left hook, and promised to shoot the guy in his family jewels with his own gun if he moved while waiting for the cops (me and my deputy).
I'm hoping for a year of as much quietness as we can manage. And if nothing gives Mary Margaret a hint of wrong doing and she doesn't go chasing around following clues, we'll do just that. Folks, could you sort of help me here? If MM comes poking around, asking odd questions, or you see her tiptoeing across your back pasture, would you give me a call so I can nip in the bud whatever she things she's doing?
We're not growing in population, that's for sure. I don't know if that's bad or good. We lost two citizens to murder, one to suicide, and two to the prison system. And we gained one--yours truly. That's not the way to grow a town. But we haven't given up hope. Harts Corner is still a great place to live in, raise a family, and share the community of friends. Maybe strangers would just upset the apple cart.
The community doesn't have a lot of money but the county helps out by being in control of law enforcement, the court system, and the roads. When it comes to help for individuals, these people circle the wagons and protect each other. Would that change if we had newcomers, "outsiders" as the old folks around here call folks not born and raised here (that includes me)? Or will we one day really need to rely on a larger population to pay our bills?
If I went through the log-in of dispatches I wouldn't find anything really serious since all that other stuff. Cows broke the fence down again and are in Cora Skaggs vegetable garden. Ranger is ordered to fix the fence and keep it fixed or face confiscation of cattle, sale, and retribution to Cora.Teenagers spray painted the barn on the old Tate place--again. Rounded up the usual suspects, made their parents pay for red paint, and Jewel Tate saved money on a paint job. Stolen stop signs at the exit and entrance ramps to the freeway. My deputy and I eventually tracked them down (by a tip from an angry girlfriend) to the bedroom wall of a high school senior. With agreement of his parents, he physically replaces the signs and relinquishes his driver's license for three months.
Well, you get the picture, don't you? Not much heavy duty stuff. I have to appear in traffic court now and then, and I see a reminder that I have to be in court next month for the trial of some yokel from Tyler who attempted to rob the Blue Moon Cafe. That should be a hoot. When my sweet, red-haired Mary Margaret Butler, gets through giving her testimony, the jury will convict. That is, if the poor fella doesn't decide to plead guilty when he gets sight of her; she swings a mean broom, has a left hook, and promised to shoot the guy in his family jewels with his own gun if he moved while waiting for the cops (me and my deputy).
I'm hoping for a year of as much quietness as we can manage. And if nothing gives Mary Margaret a hint of wrong doing and she doesn't go chasing around following clues, we'll do just that. Folks, could you sort of help me here? If MM comes poking around, asking odd questions, or you see her tiptoeing across your back pasture, would you give me a call so I can nip in the bud whatever she things she's doing?
Monday, January 7, 2013
Miz Barbara's Recipes
Miz Barbara gave a small neighborhood open house right before Christmas. Everyone ate, drank, visited, ate, drank, visited and then hit the dessert table. But it was the "real" foods, if you can call appetizers that, that people seemed to enjoy more than anything. These two foods are something like Mary Margaret Butler would serve if she had the more-modern ingredients.
Miz Barbara wants to share them with you in case you're having a party one day and need a couple of quick, easily prepared, standbys.
Barb's Spinach Dip
1 small can of water chestnuts, chopped fine
1 8-oz container sour cream
Swedish/Stroganoff Meatballs
Ingredients:
you are serving—I used two jars with 40 small meatballs, for example.)
Right before
serving, stir in sour cream.
Miz Barbara wants to share them with you in case you're having a party one day and need a couple of quick, easily prepared, standbys.
Barb's Spinach Dip
Ingredients:
1-10-oz. frozen
chopped spinach, drained well
1 pkg. Knorr's
Spring Vegetable Soup Mix1 small can of water chestnuts, chopped fine
1 8-oz container sour cream
Mix all ingredients
together; chill for at least one hour.
Fill round bread
with dip; serve with favorite crackers. (Or you might want to skip bread and
serve with crackers.)
Bag of party-size
meatballs
you are serving—I used two jars with 40 small meatballs, for example.)
1 to 2 packages (McCormick's)
Beef Stroganoff Sauce Mix
1 to 1-1/2 cups sour
cream
I thaw/brown
meatballs on cookie sheet for 20 minutes in a 350 degree oven. Put meatballs in large crock pot preheated on low.
In large saucepan,
combine jars of Alfredo sauce and packages of sauce mix. Heat until very hot,
but not boiling. Pour over meatballs.
Cook on low for one hour, or on high for 30-minutes.
(These are
out-of-my-head recipes and a little difficult to put down a recipe. Enjoy!)
Miz Barbara's News
The author of "Aunt Lutie's Blue Moon Cafe" is here to announce (drum roll, please) that this marvelous book will be out this month! I'm going to throw a party at the equivalent of Aunt Lutie's Cafe when I have that first copy in my hand. But that's long after all the promotion has begun.
Do any of you non-writers understand how difficult it is for an independent press book to find the market that you and your awesome publisher know is out there? It is the hardest work that the author will ever do. You think writing a book is the hardest part, putting those well-described characters into the just-right scenes, and the rewrites, editing (did you know how much wasn't invented yet in 1966?), and more proofreading. That is not an easy task, you must know, but it is a lot of fun to get the story onto paper. To actually complete an entire book is a monumental task, one to be very proud of. But, again I will say, it is not the hardest part of this process. G
Getting your book into the hands of a whole lot of readers is mind-boggling.
Of course, when I first found Mockingbird Lane Press (www.mockingbirdlanepress.com) and they accepted my book for publication, I practically yelled out the news to anyone who would listen--friends, family, students, members of groups I belong too, even my neighbor who has supported my writing career by having me speak/book sign at every organization she belongs to. I also began to contact the news media. So much has changed in the area where I live that I wasn't sure how much of this source was viable any longer. It turns out my local newspaper, now the only newspaper in this large California county, is no longer accepting book reviews from authors. And, their reviewer/reporters are assigned by management what books they will review--only from the Best Seller list. Does that mean, I give up on the San Diego Union Tribune with it's multi-millionaires owner who has gobbled up all the newspapers in the area? No--they will get a press release anyway. But I'm also digging for other newspapers that will be receptive.
My address labels for postcards/press releases/letters are ready. The postcards, bookmarks (you have to purchase a book to get one!), and business cards are ordered. As soon as I get a definite release date and know orders can be taken, I will hit the road, talking circuit, phones to contacts, and go online to all of those forums, social media outlets, newsletters, etc. where I will offer a shot review of this book with ordering information--and, yes, a lot of those mean I have to put out money to advertise. Yes, dear writer, you must spend money to get people to read your book!
Does it sound daunting? Is it going to add up to a lot of hours spent away from writing that next book in order to promote this one? Yes and yes. Will it be worth it? Absolutely. Some people who never heard of me will purchase and read this book. Will I make money? Surprisingly but realistically, I am not expecting to make any money from the sale of this book. Not for my personal use anyway. If I pay for those postcards/bookmarks/business cards and the advertising I will feel like I've made a fortune.
When you get a chance, buy one of my books, please. Or you might see me standing on a street corner somewhere with the cover hanging around my neck and a nearby car trunk filled with my intriguing tale of murder in a small town.
Do any of you non-writers understand how difficult it is for an independent press book to find the market that you and your awesome publisher know is out there? It is the hardest work that the author will ever do. You think writing a book is the hardest part, putting those well-described characters into the just-right scenes, and the rewrites, editing (did you know how much wasn't invented yet in 1966?), and more proofreading. That is not an easy task, you must know, but it is a lot of fun to get the story onto paper. To actually complete an entire book is a monumental task, one to be very proud of. But, again I will say, it is not the hardest part of this process. G
Getting your book into the hands of a whole lot of readers is mind-boggling.
Of course, when I first found Mockingbird Lane Press (www.mockingbirdlanepress.com) and they accepted my book for publication, I practically yelled out the news to anyone who would listen--friends, family, students, members of groups I belong too, even my neighbor who has supported my writing career by having me speak/book sign at every organization she belongs to. I also began to contact the news media. So much has changed in the area where I live that I wasn't sure how much of this source was viable any longer. It turns out my local newspaper, now the only newspaper in this large California county, is no longer accepting book reviews from authors. And, their reviewer/reporters are assigned by management what books they will review--only from the Best Seller list. Does that mean, I give up on the San Diego Union Tribune with it's multi-millionaires owner who has gobbled up all the newspapers in the area? No--they will get a press release anyway. But I'm also digging for other newspapers that will be receptive.
My address labels for postcards/press releases/letters are ready. The postcards, bookmarks (you have to purchase a book to get one!), and business cards are ordered. As soon as I get a definite release date and know orders can be taken, I will hit the road, talking circuit, phones to contacts, and go online to all of those forums, social media outlets, newsletters, etc. where I will offer a shot review of this book with ordering information--and, yes, a lot of those mean I have to put out money to advertise. Yes, dear writer, you must spend money to get people to read your book!
Does it sound daunting? Is it going to add up to a lot of hours spent away from writing that next book in order to promote this one? Yes and yes. Will it be worth it? Absolutely. Some people who never heard of me will purchase and read this book. Will I make money? Surprisingly but realistically, I am not expecting to make any money from the sale of this book. Not for my personal use anyway. If I pay for those postcards/bookmarks/business cards and the advertising I will feel like I've made a fortune.
When you get a chance, buy one of my books, please. Or you might see me standing on a street corner somewhere with the cover hanging around my neck and a nearby car trunk filled with my intriguing tale of murder in a small town.
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