Tag: MFRW author

A Virgo’s view of giving a little, taking a little #MFRWauthor

I have a big mouth and I’m (sometimes) not afraid to use it. Often to my own detriment. Like when giving advice. Or taking it. I’m a Virgo (as you might have gleaned from the title) and that makes me a bit stubborn when it comes to always knowing what’s best—for myself and others. Thus, I give advice much more easily than I take it. (See second sentence again.)

So, I would like to explain when I know (in my mind and in my heart) when it’s best to give advice: Only when my advice is in the very best interest of the person to whom I’m imparting my wisdom. And only in a very sensitive, insightful way. So… Rules for giving advice:

  • Do not share your opinion even though you’re sure the person will be so grateful once he/she sees the wisdom behind the words.
  • Do not share your opinion even when you see a situation as a teachable moment.
  • Do not share your opinion when sharing will make you feel better and the other person worse.
  • Do not share your opinion when the other person quite obviously is venting and not looking for advice. (I hate it when hubby does this to me but it hasn’t always stopped me from doing the same…)

Now when it comes to receiving advice, there is only one rule: Don’t give it unless I ask for it or am in such a state that you feel you must say something before I jump off the ledge. I’m kinda bad about saying I don’t like your suggestions but very good at ignoring it. This applies to face-to-face interactions and written advice. It applies to my mom, my friends, and my editors (although I usually bow to editors once I get past the markups). Being a Virgo is hell sometimes.

I hope that my feelings about advice don’t make people hate me. But you know, if it does and you have advice about how to fix that, please don’t bother. I’ll love you better for your discretion. 😉

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

5 Top Childhood Memories #MFRWauthor

My childhood is somewhat different than most of y’all’s in that I had polio as a baby. Most people nowadays don’t know what polio is—or was, since Shrinersit’s mostly been eradicated here in the U.S. I was lucky. One leg and my back were affected, and even luckier, my godfather was a Shriner, so as soon as I stabilized and reached the age the Shrine Hospitals would take me, he got me in. The Shriners were like my fairy godmothers throughout my life. I can’t think of a finer organization! So thank you Shriners! I mention all that because having polio is part of my childhood and my memories. So here goes…

  1. Going from Iowa (home) to see the doctors at the Shrine Hospital in Minneapolis. My great uncle Richard lived in Minneapolis, so Mom and I would stay with him when we went up, and we always went by train since it was a heck of a long drive and Mom only had a couple of days off work. Uncle Richard was a giant of a man who cussed worse than any sailor I knew but who but soft as a marshmallow inside. I loved him. He changed girlfriends often, and frequently we stayed in one of their apartments instead of with him (maybe why he changed girlfriends so often?). I remember staying in his place once and he told mom that he’d left fish in the refrigerator for dinner. When she opened the door there was a WHOLE fish, uncleaned in the fridge! Going up to see him was such an adventure, it made going to the hospital almost fun.
  2. Spending time with my grandparents. In Sioux City, we lived just across town from my grandparents—Mom’s mom and dad. My grandmother backed the best pies in the world, especially tart cherry from cherries picked in her backyard. But my grandfather—Papa—Papawas my favorite person in the world. He was my mom’s stepfather and I guess he’d always wanted children, and then he got me. I rode him around the living room like a horse, danced while standing on his feet, and watched TV with him while sitting on his stomach. Nothing I did was wrong or bad as far as he was concerned. I loved that man with all my heart!
  3. Moving to Philadelphia. When Mom married my stepfather, we moved to Philly where he took a training course for a few months. Having lived in Iowa, I’d never seen a black person before. I walked into my new classroom in the first grade and there were only three white kids in the class. Quite a shock. But such fun. I learned how to double Dutch jump rope in that class (even in a brace up to my thigh), and one of the girls introduced me to soft pretzels from a vendor who came by the schoolyard at recess. When my mom walked me to school, we met a boy in my class whose grandmother walked him to school. He was always dressed so well, with a beautiful coat and matching cap. We met up at one corner and he took my hand and walked me the last two blocks while Mom and his grandmother watched. The reverse happened after school. His name was William. I never knew his last name but I’ve never forgotten him and his kindness.
  4. Learning how to ride a bike. After Philly, we moved to Alameda, California. Dad’s duty took him to Asia on his sea tours, and on his last he brought back a beautiful blue bike. He was on the Midway and had First bikealready flattened the tired once by riding the bike all over the flight deck when he could. I was so excited over that bicycle I couldn’t see straight Soooo…he taught me to ride but not to stop. I used to run into things—fences, trees, etc.—in order to stop instead of using the brakes. Don’t judge. I’m a slow learner. We took that bike with us to Virginia, our next duty station, and I rode it for years.
  5. Going home. I had many stays in hospitals, going from hospital visits in Minneapolis to surgery in San Francisco and a stay for more than two months to several surgeries in Greenville, SC with stays more than two months for each. Once, when the stay was for more like three and a half, I had had surgery and therapy and was wondering when I might go home. We were coming back from the schoolroom when we rounded a corner and there were my parents! I dropped my crutches and started crying. They hugged me, helped me pack up and said I was going home right then, that day. It was the greatest feeling. I don’t think I stopped smiling all the way back to Virginia Beach.

These aren’t all the childhood memories of course, just the ones that jumped out at me. Except for polio, I had a somewhat charmed childhood—no broken bones or broken hearts. I had people who loved me and people to love. It was a good time and I’ve been blessed.

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

How many disasters can one wedding have? #MFRWauthor

I don’t mean to imply that my whole wedding was a disaster after disaster, but it was a little weird and strange things seemed to crop up. But what did I expect? We’d been engaged nine days—yes, nine days from when I said yes to a strange proposal to walking down the aisle.

That said, I was not one of those girls who had imagined her wedding from when she was tiny. Except I did want a Cinderella dress that reached from I was not tall enough to be Cinderellapew to pew. Since I’m five feet two inches, such a dress was not in the cards. But I did find a dress I liked okay and I got it for $75, so I was happy. I made my headpiece and bouquet from silk flowers and a yard or two of tulle, and told my bridesmaid to wear whatever she wanted. I was not Bridezilla. In fact, I didn’t care all that much about the wedding—I cared only for the groom. Is that weird? Yeah, maybe, but I watch all those brides on Say Yes to the Dress and wonder sometimes if they care more for the wedding than they do the marriage. I didn’t have Simple and demurethat bridal moment when I first tried on the dress—I didn’t really care what I wore so much. It was white, it was long and demure, and it was cheap. ‘Nuff said.

The proposal was unconventional, though not really a disaster.
Me: I’m ready to get married.
Him: What are you doing next Saturday?
Me: Why?
Him: We can get married.
Me: Okay.
Was there a bended knee? No, we were driving at the time. Was there a diamond? No. I said I didn’t need one and he said, “I’m so glad you feel that way.” Is it any wonder I rushed to say yes to this man? 😉

So maybe not caring about the dress wasn’t a disaster. Having my mother say that she and Dad couldn’t travel from Wisconsin to Virginia for a wedding nine days away was. I cried. Mom cried. Dad called and said they would be there. Whew!

There was no wedding rehearsal the night before the nuptials—the only people available were hubby, his parents and me. My parents and maid of honor arrived late that night.

It rained. And when I say rain, I mean downpours. Everyone was wet coming into the chapel and I was petrified about walking down a wet aisle. (I made it.)

I cried a lot moments before the service. I begged my dad not to make me get married. His words of advice? “We drove all the way here from Wisconsin and you’re going to get married.” Truthfully, I think he believed I was pregnant. After all, why else would I rush to name a wedding date? I was not, but I always wondered if that was why he took such a strong stance.

I had told the minister and hubby that I did not want to kiss him (hubby) in Simple ceremonyfront of everyone. But when all was said and done, I kissed everyone except hubby—my maid of honor, the minister, the best man. Hubby said I was about to head for the organist when he turned me and took my up the aisle.Wedding rings

There were only about 70 people attending, and the reception was at my new in-laws’ house. I neglected to mention in my hurried invites that there would be no dinner, only cake and some kind of punch. A few of my friends came from Richmond and Fredericksburg and they were hungry by the time the event ended. We were married out in the sticks, and there was nowhere to eat for fifty miles once they left. I felt bad about that, but by the time I found out, there was no solution except a few cheese sandwiches.

This is probably the biggest mishap: I didn’t remember anything about the wedding. Nothing. Hubby had a good laugh telling me all about it the next day.

All that said, for a hurried wedding, the marriage has been good for over forty years. We had dated for years, but dating and married are two very different things! Fortunately, I chose well—and I’d like to say he did too. (Well, hell, I will say he did to.) We still laugh, still love, still enjoy being with each other despite the rushed beginning. And that isn’t a disaster!

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

My best dish in a dish #MFRWauthor

Dutch ovenI have to say, I am not a very good cook and I’ve become worse since being married. My family used lots of seasoning, so at one time I knew what I was doing with them. But Jack likes no seasoning—not spices, herbs, salt, or pepper. Nothing. He says he likes the taste of food as it is meant to be tasted. So I’ve learned to eat food the same way and that somewhat limits what one can do in the way of creativity. Consequently, my culinary acumen has suffered. I do still have a few dishes I cook and Jack eats them or he fixes a sandwich. (Okay, that’s not accurate. I fix his sandwich.) One of my favorite comfort foods is goulash, or what some call hamburger and macaroni.

My mom made this dish when I was growing up because it was cheap and we were slightly below middle class and liked cheap. It also could be stretched to last several days so we often had it near the end of the month when money was about gone. Didn’t matter to me—I loved it! And I still love it, especially now that the weather has turned colder. Now we have itBeef and macaroni--goulash to me with a slice of crusty bread and maybe a salad. Doesn’t matter—it takes me back to my childhood. Funny thing. Years ago when I first started making goulash for Jack and me, it didn’t taste the same as when Mom made it. I asked her why and after relaying how I made it, she asked when I added the secret ingredient. Once I started that, the flavors were the taste of home. See if you can spot the secret ingredient.

Goulash
Prep time: about 15 minutes
Cooking time: about 30 minutes

2 lbs hamburger (mom used a pound or less but Jack is a big meat guy)
1 large onion, chopped
1 14.5 oz can tomato sauce
1 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes
8 oz elbow macaroni
1 cup secret ingredient (KETCHUP)
Season with salt and pepper to your liking. Of course you know, I use none.)

1. Cook macaroni for slightly less time than package recommends. The cooked macaroni will be sitting in sauce and will absorb some of it.
2. Brown hamburger with onion in a Dutch oven
3. Add tomato sauce and diced tomatoes. Stir well and let tomatoes heat through.
4. Add macaroni to hamburger-tomato mixture and stir well.
5. Add ketchup and stir.
6. Turn down heat and let simmer for about 20 minutes.
So good right when it’s finished cooking, but even better the next day.

I hope you try this recipe and that you like it as much as Jack and I do.

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Only a Good Man Will Do: Seriously ambitious man seeks woman to encourage his goals, support his (hopeful) position as Headmaster of Westover Academy, and be purer than Caesar’s wife. Good luck with that!

Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

Writing While Not Naked #MFRWauthor

I said in last week’s post that I don’t wear any special clothing when I sit down to write. That wasn’t exactly true. For instance, lookee here. This is Glamorous writeran example of how I look when I go into the office for a couple hours at the keyboard. Hair coiffed, mani/ pedi done to perfection, fuck me stilettos, and designer gown. And let’s not forget the special illumination that shows off the highlights in my hair.

Yeah…no!

My writing attire is not quite that glamorous. It’s closer to this: pajamas Comfort casualand bunny slippers. Because after all, what’s the point of working from home if you can’t be comfortable?? When I give up the pajamas, I like loose-fitting pants, a tee shirt, a wrap over my shoulders and upper arms, and yes, slippers. This is why I don’t hie off to Starbuck’s to write—they frown on bunny slippers.Bunny slippers

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

First Light a Candle, then… #MFRWauthor

I’m kidding. Incantations, invoking the muse, and even lighting candles aren’t parts of my writing ritual. And I don’t chant or dim the lights or listen to a particular song. In fact, I don’t really have a writing ritual. Usually I go back and read the last thing I wrote and then plan in my mind what would come next. In fact, this planning is so minuscule that it doesn’t even really count as planning.

Oh, God! I need some writing rituals!!

Maybe I should make a list of acceptable things to do each time I begin writing. It can’t have to do with music because I like to have it quiet when I write. Or read, for that matter. And it can’t involve eating or drinking because once I do start hitting the keys I forget food and drink. There’s no Candles as inspirationneed organizing particular things to wear (“clothes to write in…”) because that’s too much trouble. Surrounding myself with inspirational photos and books won’t work because there’s too little space in the office for such things. And besides, what about when I write in the living room using my Alphasmart or the laptop?

Now that I think of all this, I think I’ll stay ritual free after all.

Read the next blog in the blog hop by going here.

Dee
Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

Dr. Mel Crandall has quite a problem!

Meet Mel Crandall on RLFDr. Crandall is a great person. She’s smart, well liked and respected, has interesting hobbies. One problem. She was raised in the military (the Marine Corps, no less!) and has a firm grip on her decision not to live the wife of a military man. How sad then, that she’s let herself fall in love with a naval officer! Find out more about Mel in my blog post on Romance Lives Forever (RLF)!

Mel and David Stimson fall in love hot and hard in Weighing Anchor, Naval Maneuvers.

Thanks!
Dee
Naval Maneuvers: When a woman requires an earth-shattering crush of pleasure to carry her away, she can’t do better than to call on the US Navy. Sorry, Marines!

The Favorite Thing I’ve Written

Usually, I start writing with what I think is a good storyline. And usually it’s a storyline with characters I’ve let rattle around in my head for some unspecified amount of time. But (usually) by the time I finish off the book I’m ready to let those characters go and move on to the next thing that’s been rattling around. So by definition, my favorite thing to have written is that story I just finished and shipped off. Nothing like being DONE to make a piece my favorite.

I think that must indicate a short attention span on my part, right? Even as a child I was never all that patient. When my mom found out after the first book that I managed to stay put long enough to write a first book, she was kind of surprised. I never could have written a sequel to that book, however, or a series. I’d given those characters their happy ever after and they had to give up the stage to new characters in new settings. So now you know my dirty little secret.