And I Barely Caught My Breathe Before. . .

When you hold your newborn baby in your arms and gaze into the eyes that peer back at you in complete and utter surrender to the comfort and protection you offer, you aren't thinking about the week I just had.  The last thing you consider in that tender moment is hearing these words, 'I asked her to marry me and she said 'Yes!'"  But that is exactly the way my Wednesday afternoon began.

You cannot imagine the level of joy I felt at that moment because, my boy, my wise, wise boy is marrying up!  Not only has he chosen to spend the rest of his life with a woman who ticks all of the boxes of independence, intelligence and beauty, she is a proactive do-er and that, I quickly discovered, comes straight from her mother.  Boy hydee has my son hit the jackpot on mother-in-laws!  Less than 24 hours from their announcement, she was on the phone with me, extending her hand and offering to let me be a part of all the planning activities, something I have not practiced for almost 30 years.  I am sorely out of shape when it comes to being a girl or the mother of a girl and am wholly grateful that they are directing this rodeo and allowing me to ride the tethered pony along behind!

On Saturday, Moondoggy and I drove into Chicago to meet the Mother of the Bride (MOB) and, along with the happy couple, look at venues.  By all accounts, the events of the prior few days had hardly soaked in, and I was having a tug-of-war with the aging process which suddenly felt compelled to speed up as I realized I would be the Mother of the Groom (MOG). And there we were, being swept into what we will a year long process of planning.  

The MOB is a strikingly beautiful woman with an exuberant and vivacious personality and she can give her daughter as much grief as I give my boys - you gotta love that!  She is also a business owner who just happens to be an accomplished. . .LARGE EVENT PLANNER!  Have I got it made or what?  I am doing my thanking and praising all over the place about this.  There are simply things I don't even think about due to the lack of estrogen in the house that the Bride and the MOB knew to ask about and I could nod in agreement without looking to pathetically out of it.  But the BEST part of the whole day was when we met the wedding planner at one venue.  On introductions, she thought Moondoggy was the Bride's father and then asked if I was the SISTER!  Let me repeat that for you, she asked if I was the SISTER and when I laughed and told her I was the groom's mom, she said, "You look so young!"  Now, I hear a lot of things, but young has never been one of them.  Either she was a misguided but kind gal or she is the slickest of salespeople the wedding industry has ever produced.  Frankly, I don't care which because her comment sent my newly accelerated aging process into retreat.

Thankfully the MOB gave me a Chicago Wedding Planner Guide.  Now I have homework, but I am looking forward to rekindling my girly self and enjoying it.

And I say with pride, I am the Mother of the Groom!

Don't Call These Men Dogs - That Would Be An Insult To The Dog

Another book by an indie author.  I have been impressed with the plethora of excellent independently published books; books that may never have been available in the past.  As with all of the books I discuss, I'm not saying read this or don't.  I'll just leave it up to you.

Wrecker
by Dave Conifer.

The guy doesn't mess around.  There is nothing coy in the title.  Revenge takes an ugly form.  Wrecker is a novel replete with unexpected twists and turns and characters that seem like polar opposites, but essentially are the same.

Stuck in an unsatisfying marriage, Jane Havelock is busy mothering their young daughter, enduring the boorish and wholly unappealing attitude of her husband Steve.  Rarely have I readily disliked a character so quickly, but this guy is piece of work.  Stuck on himself in numerous areas, he, ever the shark for a bargain, hires a cut rate handy man to complete projects around the house.  Now I know what you are thinking.  You think that Jane will inevitably fall for the handy man who is always there when her egotistical, power hungry spouse isn't.  You think that, as the handy man endears himself to her young daughter, that a relationship will develop.  Well, don't think.

From there, the handy man takes them all on a wild ride filled with a case of "Roid Rage", revenge and self loathing that not only put Steve in a position of professional and financial ruin, but also in a position to find appreciation in Jane.  Too little too late if you ask me.

Conifer creates some despicable men to be sure, and just when you think the story will go one way, he turns it on a dime.  Unexpected.  Shocking.  Disturbing.  What more can I say?

Available through Amazon and on Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Wrecker-Dave-Conifer/dp/1456584537/ref=tmm_pap_title_0

Smashwords:  http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/35959
Barnes & Noble:  http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Wrecker/Dave-Conifer/e/2940012049049/?itm=1&USRI=dave+conifer+wrecker

The True and Real Story of. . .

Normally I don't take this space to rant. I don't feel normal today.

I've about had it with a trend that has been sweeping the country for the last year or two and I simply must address this before more people throw their hard earned cash at what really is worth nothing more a dollar.  My beef?  The Wedge Salad. I did not realize how prevalent the hype about this phenomenon was until watching "Modern Family" (I DVR it so I am a week off episode order) the other day.  A knock down, drag out fight took place between a married couple all because of the Wedge Salad.
You've probably seen it on the menu of your favorite restaurant, priced between $8 and $10.  But, do you know what a Wedge Salad really is?

My sister invented the Wedge Salad back in the 70's.  It's true.  In a fit of famished creativity, on a day when our snack foods had been depleted, my sister, too hungry to make a traditional salad, just cut a head of lettuce in quarters, poured dressing on the cut edge and let it seep into the crevices.  Then, she stood over the sink and ate the entire salad without dirtying a plate or cutlery.  Genius.

We called it a Bachelor Salad, but it became a very real part of our food reptoire. A true WS consists of a head of lettuce cut into quarters.  You can get 4 salads out of a head of lettuce.  Cover one of the wedges with dressing.  In my sister's case, it was my mom's homemade Thousand Island dressing, which is to die for and I would have to kill you if I gave you the recipe.  A true WS is not something consumed at the table, on a plate with a knife and fork, a true Wedge is always eaten over the sink.  THAT is a true Wedge Salad.  This bastardized version is a disgrace to the meaning of the original.

I'm not sure who claims to have originated the restaurant version that has become so popular, but they are making a killing.  Figure four WS from one head of lettuce, a smattering of bulk dressing, some cheese and bacon to stick and your talking ten bucks for a dollar salad and they are calling it gourmet.  And so many people are lining up to pay for it.

So next time you sit in a restaurant and ponder the Wedge, remember, you can make it at home in about 2 seconds and save yourself the money.  If you really want to spend that money, send it to me - I'll find something better to do with it.

Rant over, go back to your lives.

The Butcher's Boy by Michael Robb - Trust Your Dogs!

The Butcher's Boy by Michael Robb is my latest Indie read.  And, as promised, I committed to write about the books of other indie authors that I read. So, here you go.  I won't rate or recommend - that would seem somewhat pompous on my part.  My taste might must be all in my mouth.  But, I will tell a bit about it and let you decide for yourself.



DO NOT consider buying a large, dark, uninhabited home that has a homeless guy hanging around in it no matter what the dollar deal and decorating potential are.  It's not worth it.  But, if you insist that it would be the perfect place to live and raise a child, then understand why I will never visit.

Chances are good that the house has a violent history that the seller failed to mention and the chances are even better that your child will know before you do.

No matter how typical that set-up seems for a ghost story, there is something irresistibly enticing about an old house with a history and so, I intrepidly opened the book.  Robb, not only writes a story that conjures up spirits, those spirits are as vividly painted as the the epic that made them ghosts in the first place.  In red.

There is violence, there are characters killed, and there are twists that yank you from one side to the next when you aren't looking.  And if I tell you that Lucifer changes the spelling of her name and saves the day, would that prospect creep you out?  Just a bit?  If not, you can find The Butcher's Boy here https://www.createspace.com/3547010 here. On Nook here http://search.barnesandnoble.com/books/product.aspx?EAN=9781452413655 and here for Kindle http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004FPYWKU   $3.69  - Not bad for a scare.

As for me, I'm going to take some Aleve and RUN.

Valentine's Don't

I'm going to risk irritating a lot of women here.  Tomorrow is Valentine' Day, the day set aside to show your spouse, partner, lover, crush just how much you really love them.  It's a day that involves lots of red hearts, cards, candy, special dinners and chocolate treats (ok, not a bad thing).  It is so entrenched in our society that even first graders know the importance of this day and spend time creating their own pink, purple and red mail boxes in anticipation of receiving handfuls of small printed "cards" with their classmates names on the back.

Valentine's Day?  I'm not a fan.

I know, you already think I am party pooper, right?  I despise going to the store and spending a ridiculous amount of  money on a card that, in our house, will be thrown away by the end of the week.  I don't need a card to remind Moondoggy that I love "Us" - if  I haven't made that clear by now, we would be in marriage free fall.  I sure as heck don't want him to go out and spend money on candy (I don't need it), we already dine out more than we should, and that $5 on a card would be better spent elsewhere.  Moondoggy is off the hook in our house.

We will wish each other a Happy Valentine's Day in the morning.  He will leave for work.  I will get chicken out for dinner.  That about does it.  We don't need to set aside a special day to proclaim our love.  At this point, that kind of holiday seems silly.

Now Mother's Day?  That's a different story.  And in case you are wondering, about 90 shopping days left.

Sometimes it Helps to be an English Major

One of the unexpected bonuses of writing a book is networking with other writers.  Seriously, since my book came out, I have spent time on some interesting forums and have had the opportunity of meeting other authors as well as reading their books.  The indie writer is a  unique animal.  The indie writer is not the “I want to write a book” vanity press author of old.  The indie writer/author often chooses to go that route because of the long lead time to publication (2 years), the freedom and control to write from the soul and not to a pre-ordained audience, and because it allows the author to make that book available in different venues (online, ebooks, Kindle).  It also requires that the author oversee his or her own marketing and therein lies the rub.  So, as promised, from time to time, I am going to review books from other indie authors.  I will not make recommendations however, that choice will be left up to you.

Larry Enright seems like a nice enough fellow.  He is clean cut, has a good sense of humor, and, although I don’t know this for a fact, is probably a younger brother.  I am basing that last observation on the main character from his book, “Four Years From Home”  - the character is Tom Ryan.

A mystery unfolds over the holidays at the Ryan house when all but one of the Ryan kids return to celebrate.  The youngest, Harry, the golden child, has been out of the house attending college out of state- never to return, as the family is informed by college officials that Harry has died in an unfortunate accident.  

Oldest child, Tom, is sent to find out what really happened.  Story enough in itself, except that Tom Ryan is one of the most self centered, egotistical bullies you could imagine. As the oldest child, Tom ruled his world with an iron fist and all those around him are but minions to complete his latest reign of terror, his own siblings obstacles to his supreme position in the family.  In his delusional world, Tom is the king and everyone and everything is designed around him, about him and for him.  The first clue into the depth of Tom’s ego is his ongoing conversation with himself.  Constantly arranging and rearranging his rules to suit the moment, loses are acceptable as long as the end result is a gain for Tom.  When Tom’s world enters Harry’s world, the collision of the mind in epic and unfolds into an act that only Harry could understand, and he’s not there to explain it.  

So is Harry dead?  Is Tom going to uncover what happened in the four years Harry has been gone?  

That will be up to you to determine if you read Four Years From Home, by Larry Enright.  It is available here:  Paperback  $12.95  http://www.amazon.com/Four-Years-Home-Larry-Enright/dp/1453867996/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1297082562&sr=8-2-spell

Kindle Edition .99 http://www.amazon.com/Four-Years-from-Home-ebook/dp/B0045OURSW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=books&qid=1297082681&sr=8-1-spell

Nook Edition .99 http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Four-Years-from-Home/Larry-Enright/e/2940011822100/?itm=1&USRI=four+years+from+home

And really?  For only .99 what have you got to lose?

All The Right Moves

You'll have to pardon me for the abrupt manner and delivery of this piece, but it just happened so it feels  a little like breaking news.

Moondoggy, my lifelong love, just made a pass at me for which he believes the end result will be unfettered bliss.

We've all been there.  You are sitting there minding your own business, when stud muffin walks in and gazes at you while you toil at whatever activity you are pursuing.  He is mesmerized.  He is enthralled as he watches you (and thinks you don't know he is watching) go about your life.

Gently, he approaches and lightly caresses your shoulders.  He lifts the hair from your neck and whispers into your ear, "Do we have plans today?" The shivers run down your neck and you reply, "No.  Why?"  Then, he lifts you from your chair and carries you off to the bedroom, spontaneous, wild and passionate.

Uh, huh.  Right.  In whose world?

This is how it really went down:

It's morning and I have been sitting in the living room watching CNN and writing.  I'm not dressed.  I'm wearing blue jammy shorts with little red strawberries all over them, a black tank top and a big ol' sweatshirt because the house is freezing.  I have just fixed myself a bowl of Kashi fibre cereal and am back in my comfy chair with an old quilt draped across my lap, a bowl of cereal perched on my chest, and my teeth yet unbrushed, hair uncombed and body unshowered.  A lurid and fetching sight apparently.

Up comes Moondoggy from his man cave for this third cup of coffee and he wanders into the living room.  "Do we have plans today?" he asks and I respond, "No, why."

"I think we should have sex."

I.
Think.
We.
Should.
Have.
Sex.

The funny thing is, he believes that should do it for me.  Oh sure.  I am feeling especially sexy as I eat my twigs and sticks.  My perfume has long ago dissipated and been replaced with bad morning breath, bed head and 24 hours without a good body soaping.  I feel like I just want to freakin sprint to the bedroom right this minute - Honey! Let's Go!

I have no idea what my facial reaction looked like as these thoughts were swirling in my brain, but I just realized Moondoggy has gone back down into his man cave.  I guess the mood has passed.