Monday, November 28, 2011

pathetic pantyhose problems

I used to like Kate Middleton.  Then I heard that she's single-handedly responsible for bringing pantyhose back into style.  Now I'm not so sure about her.  I know, I know.  I've seen Princess Diaries.  Pantyhose are a princess thing.  I should be forgiving.

By the way, writing tip of the day--You don't spell them "panty-hoes."  (It must have been a Freudian slip in my first draft.  Sorry to anyone reading my ARC.)

Seeing as how pantyhose are back in style, I thought I'd be princess-like and wear a pair to church.  Now here's my problem with pantyhose--they're always falling down.  I guess that's because I'm tall.  Shorter women I talk to have confessed that the waist band comes up way too high on them.

Anywho, after putting on my pantyhose, I felt that something wasn't quite right, but I was in a hurry.  Before I sat down at my pew, I surreptitiously hiked up my pantyhose because they were already slipping down on me.  After the first meeting, I agreed to substitute in a primary class of four year olds.  By this time, the waistband was around mid-thigh.  It didn't stay there either.  Every time I moved, the waist band slipped lower until it was just above my knees.

About half-way through the lesson, the children figured out that there was a draft coming in through the window.  Normally, I would have said, "Don't worry about the window.  We're talking about really important stuff here."  But this time, I took advantage of their distraction to remove my pantyhose.  Before anyone turned around, my pantyhose were safely stowed in my purse.  All it took was a couple of yanks.  I figure if Anne Hathaway can put on pantyhose in the backseat of a limousine, I can take them off in primary.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Why I don't have a cooking blog

The Bad Caramel Apple
Last month, I found a recipe for caramel apples.  It looked good, so, even though it broke my rule that all recipes should be quick and easy, I printed it out.  Tonight, I decided to make it.

I followed the recipe exactly--including the part where it said the caramel should reach 335 degrees.  I was wondering why it smelled a little burnt and why it looked much darker than most caramel.  Hmmm.  Finally, before I dipped all the apples in, I decided to check that cooking blog again.  Sure enough, the 335 degrees was a mistake.  It should have said 235 degrees. 

So my family happily ate their uncaramelized apples on sticks.  I could teach Michelle Obama a thing or two about how to help kids avoid obesity.  Just give me a week in the Whitehouse kitchen.

In my defense I was once a pretty good cook.  It's not a coincidence my husband proposed on the same day he tasted my homemade rolls.  Then we got married and had two kids with gluten allergies, so cooking is a lot more complicated now.  (I also had better hair before I got married.  My hair hasn't looked quite right since I lost my favorite round brush on our honeymoon.)

That's why I like writing.  It's so much easier to fix my mistakes. 

I'm making orange rolls for Thanksgiving this year.  We'll see what happens.  Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm getting ready for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Valentine's Day.  Why Valentine's Day?  The release date for my book has changed again.  It's coming out on Valentine's Day.  And to think, two weeks ago I was chillaxin' and thinking I had until May. 

So I've been freaking out, trying to make sure the book's as good as I can make it.  I'm probably driving my sweet editor crazy.  Last week, for example, I decided I've used the word "just" too many times.  (I used it so many times that I was starting to sound like Mercer Mayer, the author of Just for You, Just Me and My Dad, etc.) 

Anyway, I definitely won't be celebrating one holiday at a time.  (Anyone know any good romantic Christmas songs?)  But I am determined to take time to be grateful during November.  And here's a  little of what I'm grateful for:

My daughter has turned sixteen.  I'm really proud of her.  She is very independent and hard-working.  And now she can drive, which would be very convenient if I were only brave enough to let her get her license.  She's also very patient with me and my writing eccentricities. 

Sometimes she'll stop in the middle of the conversation and ask, "Mom, are you listening or are you thinking about your novel?"  Last week, we were listening to some music in the car that we don't usually listen to, and she asked, "Can you do your research some other time, Mom?"  She knew I was researching even though I didn't tell her.  My children suffer so much, and I'm grateful they suffer because it makes them better people, right?

What are you grateful for?

Saturday, November 12, 2011

November Give-Away Winner

  Thank you to everyone who participated in the November Giveaway Hop!  Our Winner is: 


Monday, November 7, 2011

November Give-Away Hop

Thank you to I Am a Reader, Not a Writer and Tristi Pinkston for hosting this hop!

Fill out the form below for a chance to win a $15 gift certificate

Here are the other blogs involved in the giveaway hop:

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Nickname Dilemna

In my family, a nickname is a mark of affection.  My father gained the nickname "Herk" as a child because he was as strong as Hercules.  (At least his friends thought so.)  Everyone who knows him still calls him "Herk." 

When I was born, my mom named me Rebecca and told everyone in the family not to give me a nickname.  Much to her disappointment, my dad and brothers called me "Becky" most of the time.  They also came up with a bunch of other nicknames--Beck-boo, Rubuckuh, and Buppy were a few of them.

My mom didn't even try to fight the nickname tradition with my younger brother, who gained the nicknames Moof and Frog-face.  Or with my sister, whom we called Keeby, Kiwi, and Carrie.  I even give nicknames to some of the characters in my books.
When we had our fourth son, my husband and I had a lot of trouble agreeing on a name.  Finally, we decided to give him my favorite name as his first name, my husband's favorite name as his middle name, then call him by a nickname we both agreed on.  I'll admit we're a little demented.  I guess that's how you get when you're raising a bunch of boys.

The nickname thing worked great until my son got to kindergarten.  Before classes started, I told the teacher about my son's nickname and how no one ever calls him by his first name.  The teacher acted like she got it.  But on the first day of school, my son's name tag showed his first name.  The teacher explained that after all the children learned to write their first names, they would be able to go by their nicknames.  Well, it's been two months now, and everyone at school calls him by his first name. 

Now I'm wondering:  Are we just really weird to use nicknames?  Do you have any nicknames? 

Thanksgiving Skit

This is a skit that my mother-in-law wrote for Thanksgiving.  There are no speaking parts other than the narrator's. She has used it as an activity for nursing home residents and as a Thanksgiving activity for the grandchildren.  I have used a modified version in a class of second graders.  (I didn't have the second graders sing a hymn, and I shortened it a little.) My mother-in-law usually uses the following props:  pilgrim hats, a fish, toy guns, toy bows and arrows, sea shells, Native American headresses, pumpkins, squash, a piece of corn, and a piece of jewelry to be used as a gift.  


In scene one we see the puritans in one of their secret meetings, in defiance of King James I.