Liz Sez

Eldred Atkinson's Essay about Working in Africa with Building Solid Foundations

2012-02-18T17:46:00.000-08:00

Library dedication at ABC Methodist School

In sending out announcements about the book launch party for Cold River, I included a distant cousin I hadn't contacted on eight or ten years. Bless his heart, he responded, read the book, and we've been corresponding ever since. I sent him a link to SWAN, the charitable foundation I work with, and he told me about the work he does in Africa with Building Solid Foundations. (www.buildingsolidfoundations.org )

I asked him to write about his experiences as he traveled to africa to drill water wells for remote villages. This organization is a wonderful example of what can happen when just plain people get toether to try to make the world a better place. The pictures are from the web site. I encourage you to check it out.

Here is Eldred's (aka Ackie) essay:

MYSTERIOUS AFRICA, THE LAND WITH WHICH I FELL IN LOVE

In the middle of the night in September 2006, twenty-two of us, all with different preconceptions but same goals, were 31,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean on our way to Africa. Eighteen of us were going to the hospital in Apam, Ghana, and four of us were going into villages to drill water wells.

I turned to Dr. Bob and said, “If you want some special entertainment, stroll to the rear of the plane and look at the Africans. Some are sitting on seats with blankets pulled up around their heads like a bib, and are sound asleep; some are stretched out over two or three seats, and they sure are dressed strangely.” I said this because some of the women were wearing long multi-colored dresses with designs of brown, green, drab orange and red.

Dr. Bob said, “Those people in the back are saying, ‘If you want some special entertainment, stroll to the front of the plane and look at those white folks. Some are sitting on seats with blankets pulled up around their heads like a bib, and are sound asleep; some are stretched out over two or three seats, and they sure are dressed strangely.’”

Soon—a word that the Ghanaians use so that time frames take on different meanings—we could see the sun rising in the East. It was the most beautiful one that I had ever seen, not because of the red-orange-yellow coloration, but because I viewed it from 31,000 feet and I could see the entire curvature of the earth.

We landed in Ban Jul, Gambia to refuel. Since it was raining, we did not disembark, but stayed on the plane and took pictures though the windows. I wandered to the cockpit and asked the pilot if I could take pictures of the panel. He said sure, allowed me to sit in the captain’s seat, and gave me his hat to wear for a photo session. The pilots, the stewardesses, the stewards and the passengers were all fabulous. This is where my love for Africa and the Africans began.

A stewardess said, “ I must leave for a few moments to take care of the UMs.”

In my ignorance, I asked, “What is a UM?”

“A UM is an Unaccompanied Minor.”

“I think I am an UM. No, I am an AWD, an Accompanied Well Driller.”

A couple of hours later we were back in the friendly skies, and five hours later, we landed at KOTOA International Airport in Accra, Ghana, Africa. By this time I think I was starting to get saddle sores.

The stewardess announced, “The time here is “Zulu Time!” I didn’t know if she was jerking my chain or not, but I did find that the Ghanaians had a sense of humor, although we were not always on the same page.

On the wall was a sign with these words, “AKWAABA”, which meant “WELCOME.” It is a warm greeting with which the Ghanaians welcome you to their country.

After receiving our luggage and going through customs, we met Joseph Ntiamoah, the driver of the bus and Christina Maudie Pomary, our tour director. Christina was of a culture called Ashanti. She spoke Fanti, English, and later learned German.

I asked Christina, “Will we have trouble with the language?”

She laughed and replied, “Oh, no, the national language is English, so you can always find someone to translate for you.”

Outside of Accra, at the little seaport of Nungua, Joseph turned into the gated area of the beautiful Nshonaa Dutchotel. It gave me a strange feeling to be stopped at the gate by a security guard who had to check us to see if we were OK. We passed the test and everyone was wonderful to us, greeting us with open arms. One of the first things they did was give us bottled water, which is a custom of theirs.

My roommate, Ken Wood, owned a well drilling outfit in Maryland. I actually believe that he could walk on water, as he has done so much for the people of Ghana. This was his first trip, but since then has made dozens.

Sara, my wife, was to go to the hospital with sixteen others in the morning. The well drilling crew would stay in this village for a couple of days until we could get our equipment off the docks.

After a wonderful buffet of rice, fish, spaghetti, and vegetables, we went to a gazebo outside to relax. Pam, one of our nurses, said, “ Ackie, I have to show you the beach!”

She took me by the hand and we walked down the steps. What a beautiful setting: a calm, mild late-summer night, a full moon shinning over the waters of the Atlantic, the melodious sounds of the waves breaking over the beach, and a very good-looking blonde nurse walking hand-in hand with me onto the beach. Walking about 10-feet onto the sand, I was appalled. I had never seen anything like this.

No one, not even Christina, told me that over most of Ghana, and I assume much of Africa, is “open sewage.” I never got accustomed to it. A beautiful hotel and a polluted beach! When it rained, the water cascaded through the dump, bringing down body waste, old tangled fish nets, and junk in general. High tide flushed the beach, much as we do when we flush our commodes. Periodically, the hotel cleaned the beach, but next high tide, or next rain, brought more waste material.

The next day, the medical team departed for Apam, a fishing village of about 22,000 people. The hospital was to be our headquarters for many years to come. The well-drilling team stayed at the hotel so we could retrieve our equipment off the docks and start our own fantastic experiences.

The four of us, Ken, Steve, Jim, and myself, took in the local culture and learned some of African customs, such as never take pictures of police while you are riding in the back seat of a troe troe (Taxi). That was one of several police stories we added to our memoirs.

We saw people cooking meals over open fires. We saw vendors carrying pans on their heads, scurrying about selling very salty hard-boiled eggs in the shell, bread and small baggies of water. Some of the kids and young adults sat along the road, breaking stones into gravel that they would put into bags and sell. A couple of sows were rooting through the trash, with goats and chickens roaming everywhere.

I asked Joseph, our official guide for the day, “Do you have hogs running loose in your village?”

”Oh, yes, and chickens, goats and sheep, too. We, also, have alligators.”

“Do you eat the alligators?”

He was appalled that I would ask a question like that. He stood erect, rocked back on his heels, and very sternly answered, ”Oh, no, we worship them. We feed them dead chickens and put our hands in the mouths of the alligators, for they will not hurt you.”

Was he jerking my chain? I never knew, but I imagine they have a lot if one-armed people in their culture.

I asked Joseph, “Have you ever had Malaria?”

“Oh, yes, everyone gets malaria. I have had it three times.”

“Do you know anyone that has had the Guinea Worm Disease?”

“I know lot of people that have had it, including myself.” With that he pulled up his trouser legs, and showed me the scars. He continued, ”That is where the Guinea worms were. It is very painful and feels like a red-hot knife. You have to ease out the worm very slowly. ”

I told him, “That is one reason we are in Ghana, to drill for clean water to help eradicate the Guinea Worm and other water borne carriers.”

We went to the outback village of Dalikorpe and met the rest of our well-drilling team, six Ghanaians. It was a fantastic bonding, even though everything went wrong. The drive shaft on our water support truck twisted, we missed two wells before we hit the third, an idol was set up for us, it rained and flooded the village, the truck became stuck in the sand, and we had trouble with two of the locals who had been drinking swamp water. Eventually, all worked out better than could be expected.

This was my favorite village. Ye Ye wanted to be my wife. She offered me a goat and a cow. The chief offered to give me a plot of land if I would drill water on the land, and he wanted to make Sara, my wife, his queen. It is difficult to pass up offers like that, but I did. It was there I met my first young red-headed African girl. She was treated differently because she was a gift from God.

When many of the Ghanaians are born, the name that is given to them is the name of the day of the week upon which they were born. It seems strange, because one set of names applies to females, while another applies to males. Eight days later, you are given a first name of someone that is well respected, thus many have biblical names. My Ghanaian name became Eldred Kwasi Atkinson, because I was born on Sunday. Later, because I am so old, my African co-workers named me “Papa Ackie”, because they are my sons and daughters.

I loved roaming through the villages, mingling with people of all ages, working, dancing, singing and even playing the Talking Drums, (I did not make them talk, only a lot of BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.) We mingled with the school children, and one I time led them to school like the pied piper, doing the goose-step and playing a pretend kazoo. “Soon” the kids were doing the same, but we did manage to get to school. As they entered their classroom, we gave them a pencil. When you have nothing, a pencil is a big deal.

The stories here, all true, were indelibly written in my memory

Over a period of time, Ken separated from our group and formed his own Non Government Organization and has drilled close to 800 water wells. He now drills in Ghana and in Tanzania. He has asked me to go to Tanzania with him, but I haven’t done that, yet

Our group formed Building Solid Foundations and we are doing projects that are amazing. Our aim is to make the fishing village of Apam into a model city. We return to the hospital for two weeks every year in September. This September 2012 will be our seventh trip.

Each year we plant a vegetable garden consisting of six 100-foot rows of vegetables at the Apam High School, and we plan to form an Ag Ed course at the school. We dedicated libraries at the ABC Methodist School, at St. Jude’s Catholic School, and at The Salvation Army School, and we will go to at least two other schools in the area. All the schools are now increasing their education scores. We have enough equipment to help other schools in the outlying villages, but for many reasons, we cannot ship them all at once.

Eldred (kneeling in front) and well drilling crew.

We installed 2300 foot of pipe and four sludge tanks at the hospital, and it has the capabilities of being monitored in Williamsport, PA. We are bringing water and electricity into Apam. We have a large building in Apam that will be made into a fast-freeze plant and cold storage plant, and will make ice for the fishing boats. We are bringing in a small water filtration pod.

In six 9-day periods, our surgeons have completed more than 1,100 surgeries, and the hospital has grown from a small, very poor hospital into a very nice, highly-rated one. We have trained nurses and teachers in the community. We are trying to get one of our local colleges to allow some of their students do half of their student-teaching in Apam, and the other half near their college.

Our construction team has been there to help in all areas, but our agreement says “We will do it with you, but not for you.”

Why did I fall in love with Africa? Love is a feeling like you have never felt before. Walk hand-in-hand or in the footsteps of the Africans and you, too, will fall in love with the people in this mysterious land.

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And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

Retirement Quest, Make Better Decisions by John Hauserman

2012-02-01T15:08:00.000-08:00

Retirement Quest, Make Better Decisions is a valuable book.

I didn't realize how valuable at first, because my eyes glazed over in the beginning chapters. I began to wonder why I had been asked to read it, as it seemed to have been written for the monetarily initiated, people already conversent with financial planning. In fact, John Hauserman states in Chapter 5, "This book is intended for mature readers who have already achieved a reasonable level of financial security and responsibility, and for younger people who are in a wealth building mode."

However, my eyes unglazed when I hit Chapter 6, where Hauserman began explaining the basics of financial instruments, how they work, and the strengths and weakenesses of each. I didn't know, for example, about bonds and coupon rates, and how one of the primary determinants of a bond's coupon rate is the creditworthiness of the bond issuer. As Hauserman says, "This is a very significant factor, and responsible money management therefore generally dictates that one not necessarily choose the highest-yielding bond." Who knew?

The book is full of lots of sound information. Throughout, Hauserman preaches the gospel of diversification--even in your cash holdings. If you are wondering how you can diversify cash, read the book. He also stresses the need for discipline and regularly rebalancing, which he explains on page 54.

Hauserman points out that younger people need to step up to shoulder the responsibility for their own retirement, for, by law,"once the [Social Security] trust fund is exhausted--it is anticipated that this will happen around the year 2030--the benefit formula is to be rewritten based upon the economics of the program at that time. In simple terms, this means that we shouild expect, if all goes well, that around the year 2030 we will experience a benefit cut of about 50%."

Hauserman also makes the point that this is a way citizens can not only serve themselves but can serve their country, for the republic's economic well being is tied to the economic health of its citizens. He quotes John F. Kennedy's "Ask not what you can do for your Country" speech in this context.

This book is thoughtful, building on a solid philosophy. The writing is clear, but as I said, for someone like me, or for a young person in 'wealth building mode', I suggest starting at Chapter 6, reading to the end, and then going back to read Chapters 1-5.

You can order the book by clicking here. John Hausman's web site is at http://retirementquest.com/home.aspx

Steps Carved by Father Escalante at Crossing of the Fathers

2012-01-29T17:41:00.000-08:00

In 1776-1777 Father Dominguez and Father Escalante were sent by the Catholic Church to find a direct route from the mission settlement in Santa Fe, NM to the one in Monterrey, CA. They intended to head due west to make the connection, but instead, they made a huge, 2000-mile circle, ending up back at Santa Fe. It took them 6 ½ months.

Father Escalante and his comrads didn’t reach their stated goal, but they chronicled their journey and that has survived. They almost perished from cold and hunger several times, and when they got to the Colorado River at what is now Lee’s Ferry, they found they could not cross at that point.

They then searched upriver, and two weeks later, they found Padre Creek. There the river was wider and shallow enough to ford, and the canyon walls sloped down. However, this slope was what is known as “slick rock,” and with good reason. The picture below is of me and my friend Nayna Judd Christensen sitting on the slick rock as it slopes down to the river. Getting horses down without incident was a problem, but this was the only way to cross they had found thus far, so they cut steps in the rock so the horses could get footing.

These steps survived for almost 200 years. In fact, they’re probably still there, except that now they’re covered by Lake Powell, the lake that backs up behind the Glen Canyon Dam. My dad worked on that project, and one Easter weekend in the early 1960s we made the dirt-road drive out to see them.

These images surfaced a couple weeks ago when I was having my son sort pictures for me. Wondering if they might be historically valuable, I made an internet search. Though I found several pictures of early expeditions to the Crossing of the Fathers in the early 20th century, I didn’t find any of the steps Father Escalante cut into the rock. So, if you’ll pardon the intrusion of a younger me in the picture, I’m posting this for posterity.

You can read a good description of the Escalante-Dominguez expedition at:

http://www.desertusa.com/mag99/sep/papr/escalante.html

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Family By Design by Heather Justesen - Blog Tour

2012-01-18T18:29:00.000-08:00

Liz Sez is a stop on Heather Justesen's blog tour for her new book Family by Design. I'll start out by posting the blurb from the back of the book and then give my mini-review.

Keep reading because I'll tell you about some giveaways Heather is sponsoring on her blog in conjunction with this tour. I'll also list the other stops on the tour so you can check them out.

Cover Blurb
Before he could think better of it, he blurted out, “I understand your concerns. I’m going to speak to my commander about getting an early discharge. My girlfriend, Rena, and I have talked about getting married. There just hasn’t been any rush.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wondered what he was thinking. Yes, they had discussed marriage, but not to each other! He and Rena had never even dated.

Tucker’s on his way to the biggest challenge of his life. Rena already has it all—except a family of her own. But neither one expected their friendship would take such a dramatic turn.

When Tucker becomes the guardian of his newly orphaned niece and nephew, he knows he can’t handle them alone, not when he might be shipped out with the Marines at any moment.

Desperate, he turns to Rena for a major favor. His marriage proposal would give her everything she wants, but can she learn to live without the romance she’s always dreamed of?

As time, prayer, and a life-changing kiss work a little magic in her heart, Rena wonders if someone up there has a plan for her that’s better than anything she could’ve come up with on her own. And though it seems crazy at first, this could become her chance for a marriage that will last for eternity.

My thoughts:

Family by Design is a book with a sweet premise and a clever title. The premise: can it be a good thing when two best friends marry for expedience? The title is clever because the main character, Rena, is an interior designer by profession, and her family came by design rather than the usual way.

I would say this book is in the Romance spectrum, though not a true romance. It doesn’t end with a trip to the altar, as many romances do, as the trip to the altar comes in the middle of the book. But there is a lot of interior dialogue as Rena second guesses her feelings and decisions, and that is very Romance-ish. There’s the tiniest bit of a mystery or puzzle added in to spice things up. Though most of the story is told from Rena’s point of view, we do occasionally see things through Tucker’s eyes.

What worked for me:

*The premise. I think the subject of this book is very timely. It seems there are lots of single people Rena’s age out there who are listening to their biological clocks ticking as they associate with their circle of friends and look for Mr. or Ms. Right, thinking, “Should I settle for this one, or should I wait for True Love?”

*Heather Justesen’s writing style. It’s clean and flows nicely, making an easy read.

*The conflict. The problems Rena faced both at work and as a newly-married, suddenly-single mom aren’t improbable. Well, possibly the newly-married, suddenly-single-mom thing is improbable, but just as soon as I would say it is, I’d read about someone just deployed to Afghanistan who left a new wife with her new step children, so I’m going to leave it be. Also, since I have a friend who is facing a problem a work similar to Rena’s, where a formerly friendly supervisor has become suddenly hostile, that rings true, too.

Things that didn’t work for me:

*There was a bit too much interior dithering by Rena. However, I think that’s a matter of taste, and people who are avid Romance readers tend to expect this.

Even with that, it was a pleasant read.

Wait a minute. I just noticed there’s a subtitle in very small caps. The complete title is Family by Design, But Subject to Change without Notice. There you go. How could you not pick up a book with a title like that?

As part of the Blog Tour, as a special promotion for anyone who buys Family By Design before January 31, you can get a free ebook for Heather Justesen’s companion novella, “Shear Luck.” Once you buy a copy of Family by Design, go here to get your free copy of “Shear Luck.”

Here are the stops on the blog tour. Be sure to read through to the end to get the information for the host of giveaways Heather is doing on her blog throughout the week.

Monday, Jan. 16 Danyelle Ferguson
Tuesday, Jan. 17 Kim Job
Wednesday, Jan. 18 Nichole Giles
Thursday, Jan. 19 Liz Adair
Friday, Jan. 20 Susan Dayley
Saturday, Jan. 21 Keith Fisher
Monday, Jan. 23 Robbin Peterson
Tuesday, Jan. 24 Julie Bellon
Wednesday, Jan. 25 Cindy Hogan
Thursday, Jan. 26 Rebecca Talley
Friday, Jan. 27 Kathleen Brebes
Saturday, Jan. 28 Debbie Davis
Monday, Jan. 30 Maria Hoaglund
Tuesday, Jan. 31 Tristi Pinkston
Wednesday, Feb. 1 Joann Arnold
Thursday, Feb. 2 Christine Bryant
Friday, Feb. 3 Rebecca Blevins
Saturday, Feb. 4 Mindy Holt

Click on the link below for Heather Justesen's giveaway in celebration of her new book:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

FDR's Fireside Chat after Pearl Harbor

2012-01-14T21:36:00.000-08:00

My son is home on winter break, and because he's a poor graduate student, I've hired him to organize the trunks and boxes full of photos and momentos from three generations that are stacked in my office. I've found several things that I'd like to share.

The first is this map from The Daily Oklahoman, printed on Sunday, February 22, 1942. I was about three and a half months old, and it had been two and a half months since the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.

If you'll look at the picture, across the top it says: When the President Speaks Monday Night, 9 o'clock, Oklahoma Time, All stations, Use This Map.

This was before television, but the President spoke to the nation via radio. In this instance, he wanted to be able to have the populace realize the distances he was talking about, so these maps were provided in newspapers.

You can read the content of President Roosevelt's address by clicking here.

I'm impressed with how he laid it on the line to a country that must still have been reeling from Pearl Harbor. One of the things he said was:

This war is a new kind of war. It is different from all other wars of the past, not only in its methods and weapons but also in its geography. It is warfare in terms of every continent, every island, every sea, every air-lane in the world.

He also was blunt about the losses on December 7, 1941:

To pass from the realm of rumor and poison to the field of facts: the number of our officers and men killed in the attack on Pearl Harbor on December seventh was 2,340, and the number wounded was 940. Of all of the combatant ships based on Pearl Harbor -- battleships, heavy cruisers, light cruisers, aircraft carriers, destroyers and submarines -- only three (were) are permanently put out of commission.

Very many of the ships of the Pacific Fleet were not even in Pearl Harbor. Some of those that were there were hit very slightly, and others that were damaged have either rejoined the Fleet by now or are still undergoing repairs. And when those repairs are completed, the ships will be more efficient fighting machines than they were before.

The report that we lost more than a thousand (air)planes at Pearl Harbor is as baseless as the other weird rumors. The Japanese do not know just how many planes they destroyed that day, and I am not going to tell them. But I can say that to date -- and including Pearl Harbor -- we have destroyed considerably more Japanese planes than they have destroyed of ours.

Then he called on Americans to join the war effort:

We are calling for new plants and additions -- additions to old plants. (and) We are calling for plant conversion to war needs. We are seeking more men and more women to run them.

At the time FDR gave this speech, my dad was running a dragline for the Bureau of Reclamation in Altus, Oklahoma. They must have listened to what he said, because before the year was out, my parents had moved to Vancouver, Washington. My dad was doing something on submarines and my mother worked building aircraft carriers. He worked days and she worked swing. By 1944, Dad was in Puerto Rico repairing subs that put in for repairs.

I'm grateful my mom saved that newspaper. It must have meant something to her. Surely, the next five years were turned upside down by the war, but I know she felt like she and dad had been in harness with the rest of America, pulling their weight.

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Grey Gardens, the Documentary and the HBO Movie

2012-01-03T11:16:00.001-08:00

Grey Gardens sticks with you. I don’t know when I first saw the 1976 documentary, probably within the last couple years. I only got to see half of it, as something intervened, but the images I saw haunted me. Here were a gray-haired mother and her middle-aged daughter, both who had once led wealthy, privileged lives, living in a squalid, decaying 28-room house in the Hamptons with a myriad of cats and raccoons.

Albert and David Maysles are the unobtrusive documentary film makers who captured the images as the two women lived their daily lives and told their stories. In the documentary, the mother, Big Edie, constantly reminds us that she had been a singer, and when the daughter, Little Edie, lets us know she was going to be on the stage and gives us an example of her talent, Big Edie belittles her.

Did it make a difference that Big Edie was the aunt of Jackie Kennedy Onassis? I don’t know.

Little Edie reminds me of a dysfunctional Unsinkable Molly Brown. She’s lost all her hair and so uses an array of inventive head coverings—sometimes she uses a sweater, sometimes a shirt that she wraps around and ties with the arms. The rest of her wardrobe is equally inventive. She might wrap a tablecloth around her or wear a skirt upside down. She’s buoyant in the face of her mother’s caustic criticisms and upbeat in spite of the garbage and decay all around her. The mystery is that she doesn’t just leave, except that her mother won’t leave, and she won’t leave her mother.

I was marginally aware that HBO had done a movie based on this documentary starring Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange. We don’t have HBO, but when I saw it on sale in Costco, I picked it up, wondering how they were going to do anything that could be better than the original documentary. It’s not better; it’s different in a wow! kind of a way.

Michael Sucsy and Patricia Rozema have written a great script, weaving pre- and post-documentary story lines in with scenes from the documentary. Michael Sucsy directs. Drew Barrymore plays Little Edie and nails it, and Jessica Lange embodies Big Edie. They both age thirty-five years in the picture. The story lines showing them as young, vibrant socialites sent me to the internet to see if I could find actual pictures of the women when they were young. I did, and the movie got them right.

I’m of two minds about which a person should see first, the documentary or the HBO movie. I think the documentary. There are snippets of the documentary on the special features portion of the movie, but a person needs to see the whole thing to really get to know and care about these ladies. After seeing the documentary, the movie reveals the pathos in the way Big Edie talks about Mr. Beale and lets you know who her accompanist and ‘that married man’ were. The movie also shows Big Edie’s redemption and Little Edie’s triumph.

Yeah, watch the movie second.

Below are pictures of Big Edie Beale (in what looks like a wedding veil) and Little Edie. I found them on the internet.

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And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

Two Souls are Better Than One by Karen E. Hoover, a Review

2011-12-19T18:28:00.000-08:00

This is a review of Karen E. Hoover's book Two Souls are Better than One, Book one in the Adventures of a Teenage Wizard series. Reading this book was a new experience for me because, for one, I don't read YA Fantasy. Ever. Secondly, this was my first experience reading on a Kindle. I haven't even wanted one. I like the heft of a book in my hand, the tactile feel of paper, even the smell of a book. However, I needed a copy right away, so I borrowed my husband's Kindle and took the plunge.

I found this a positive experience with both the Kindle and the fantasy. It took me a while to get drawn into caring about what was happening to a teenage boy, but when I was hooked, reading became a pleasure rather than a chore.

I won't try to outline the plot, as it's convoluted, twisted, intricate and full of cliffhangers. At the core, it's about the battle between good and evil and about a boy, Jeremy (also known as JJ), rescuing his father who has been taken prisoner in a parallel universe.

What worked for me:

I'll say this for Karen Hoover, she has an inventive mind. JJ no more than saves himself from one tight spot than he is thrust into another.

The title, Two Souls are Better than One (I'll call it TSABTO for convenience) was enegmatic to me at first, but fit the premise of JJ sharing his body with a Mage (singular of Magi). The souls of both are imprisoned in the teenager's body. This premise makes for lots of physical and verbal humor.

TSABTO is written in first person, and Hoover's voice is spot on for a teenager.

What didn't work for me--very nit-picky. Almost insignificant. I hate to even mention them.

First, the flying car incident wasn't explained as to how it was possible. Every other bit of magic or unexpected ability or happening was explained very well, except for how the car happened to take on almost personality and superpowers. I kept waiting for it, because Hoover had done such a good job of making everything else believable--as much as a fantasy can be believable, anyway. But, it's a short passage and the flying car isn't pivotal. Like I said, nit-picky.

The other thing that pulled me out several times was the improper use of the verb "to lie," meaning to recline and the verb "to lay," meaning to place or situate. I'm the lie/lay lady in my critique group, and I'm sensitive when the wrong verb is used. However, it's such a common error that I fear the day may soon come when the words will be used interchangeably, and probably few readers would be pulled out as I, the nit-picky one, was.

This would be a great book to read aloud to kids. I can just picture stopping at the end of a chapter and having everyone moan and beg for just one more chapter so they can find out what happens next. I can visualize that because I was doing the same thing.

Two Souls are Better Than One is available in several e-formats at http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/110865

You can find it in Nook format at Barnes and Noble, as well and for Kindle at Amazon. Wherever you buy the E-book, you'll find it a bargain at less than $3.

For those traditional souls like me who love the tactile feel of a real book, Two Souls are Better than One is available in paper-and-ink format at Amazon.

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In God Is Our Trust, Volume 5 of the Free Men and Dreamers Series, a Review

2011-12-04T16:54:00.001-08:00

Wow. Laurie Lewis, writing as L. C. Lewis, completed her five-volume Free Men and Dreamers series. Volume Five, In God is Our Trust was published this fall by Walnut Springs Press.

This series chronicles the lives of the Jed Pearson family and friends who live at the Willows Plantation along the Patuxent River in Maryland before and after the War of 1812. As Les Edgerton says, “When the trouble is gone, the story is over.” Given the setting—the beginning of the industrial revolution when long distance communication consisted of letters that took weeks to arrive, when medical knowledge was still very basic, and great social inequalities were commonplace—there’s lots of potential for trouble. Factor into that a war with England and the political aftermath, and there’s plenty of action and adventure to move the plot along.

I’ve noticed several things as I read through In God Is Our Trust:

1. L. C. Lewis knows her American and British history and is skillful at weaving it into her narrative. Very seldom does the reader get the feeling that they’ve just been the recipient of a data dump.

2. Ms. Lewis also knows how to put familiar historical facts we’ve always known into a wider context, like showing how the climate reaction to the eruption of Mt. Tambora affected the crops of northeast United States in 1816 and, by extension, how it affected the people we care about.

3. L. C. Lewis manages a full cast of characters handily. The way she does it reminds me of my mother knitting argyle socks, with lots of little bobbins hanging down. If mother neglected to knit in the yarn from a particular bobbin at the proper time, the line would be crooked. L. C. Lewis never misses a bobbin. All her characters’ lines are straight.

4. L. C. Lewis lets us see undercurrents forming that we know will bear fruit later in American History. Of particular interest to me was to see the beginning of the abolitionist movement decades before the Civil War. Also, L. C. Lewis shows us the beginning of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon). This was an American phenomenon that had its roots in the time and place that Lewis chronicles with the Pearson family, and it goes on to have a profound influence on American Westward expansion. I remember that unit from when I taught fifth grade.

5. L. C. Lewis does a masterful job of letting us see how events in American history affect the lives of American people of different social strata. Though Jed Pearson, as a landowner and senator, moves in exalted circles when he’s at the capitol, at home in his farmer clothes he works with common people who are his lifelong friends. We get to know and care about both exalted and common.

6. L. C. Lewis’s villains have some redeeming qualities. We see them as the products of the world they live in, and they are believable and true in their villainy from book to book.

I enjoyed the Free Men and Dreamer series and highly recommend it. I particularly enjoyed getting to see how the historical figures were viewed by people of their own time: Dolley Madison, Andrew Jackson, Francis Scott Key, and Joseph Smith, Jr. L. C. Lewis gave me a glimpse of each of these people from a different perspective than my 5th Grade Teacher’s Guide. In God is Our Trust was a nice ending to the series. We saw both Jed and Hannah Pearson as mature, responsible individuals and, though we knew the trouble wasn’t gone yet, we felt confident that they could handle anything that came along.

Blog Tour for Cold River Starts December 1

2011-12-01T11:12:00.000-08:00

Tristi Pinkston, blogger extraodinaire, set up a blog tour for me during the month of December. Rather than give the whole months' worth of stops, I think I'll do it by weeks. That should complicate an already complicated month, but that's just the kind of gal I am.

This is an impressive lineup of bloggers. I've been to each of them and I'm blown away with how articulate and well written all the posts are. These are serious bloggers.

As you check out each of these blogs, I hope you'll sign up to be a follower. And, if you're not already a follower of Liz Sez, I hope you'll click on the 'Join This Site' button on the sidebar.

Heidi Thomas, novelist and Willa Award winner already highlighted Cold River on her blog. You can find it at http://heidiwriter.wordpress.com/2011/11/28/liz-adairs-new-novel-cold-river-a-hot-read/#comment-2876

Mary Trimble, another award winning novelist (she was a Spur finalist, and I have Spur envy, as Counting the Cost was entered in that competition), reviewed Cold River on her blog around Thanksgiving: http://marytrimble.blogspot.com/2011/11/book-review-cold-river.html

Julie Coulter Bellon, author of six romantic suspense novels, was another Thanksgiving reviewer. You can find hers at http://ldswritermom.blogspot.com/2011/11/thanksgiving-book-reviews-cold-river.html

Cami Checketts, another romantic suspense author, is doing a book giveaway on her blog today. Hop over there and sign up! http://camicheckettsbooks.blogspot.com/2011/11/cold-river-book-giveaway.html Cami solved a problem for me. Cold River has been nominated for a Whitney Award, and the process is that the chairman asks the author to declare what genre the book should be judged in as it goes to the committee who will winnow all the nominees down to five finalists. In this case the question was, is Cold River a suspense or romance? I wrote it as a romance, but the description on Amazon makes it sound more like a suspense. Thanks, Cami, for validating my intentions.

Jenny Moore also has a review of Cold River posted on her blog at http://www.shesgotthewritestuff.blogspot.com/2011/12/cold-river.html

On December 2, Lynn Parsons will review Cold River. I'll be interested to see what she has to say, as there's educational stuff--Dyslexia and an inventive way of teaching math--in Cold River. Lynn, in addition to being the co-author of (dis)Abilities and the Gospel: A Guide for Families and Teachers, is an educational diagnostician. Lynn's blog is at http://lynndeniseparsons.blogspot.com/

Laurie Lewis, author (as L. C. Lewis) of the five-volume American History series Free Men and Dreamers will be reviewing Cold River on December 3. Laurie's blog is http://www.laurielclewis.blogspot.com/

Also on December 3, Danica Page will review Cold River at http://danicapage.blogspot.com/

On December 5, Autumn Weber takes over the review reins at her blog Queen of Chaos. http://www.queenofchaosandjoy.blogspot.com/

Alice Gold gives reviews at her upbeat blog http://imsofunny.blogspot.com/ on December 6.

There are two reviewers on December 7: Power blogger Rebecca Rodriquez reviews Cold River at http://www.ifonlylifecouldbethatsimple.blogspot.com/
and Lynnea Mortensen posts her review at http://www.lalasbooks.blogspot.com/

Planning my Book Launch!

2011-11-17T11:08:00.000-08:00

So, who likes carrot cake? Who likes apple pie? I'm having both at my book launch--at both my book launches, actually.

We are celebrating the publication of my new romantic suspense, Cold River at two different venues.

Thursday, December 1, at 7 PM, I'll be at Village Books in Bellingham, WA. Village Books is an awesome independent bookstore located in the Fairhaven District. Besides greeting old friends and making new ones, I'll talk a bit about the setting of Cold River, which is in a town reminiscent of Concrete, Washington. I'll serve carrot cake, read a few passages from the book, and then we'll have the drawing for door prizes--home made apple pies and books.

Then, on the next Thursday, December 8, again at 7 PM, I'll be at the Sedro Woolley Public Library at 802 Ball Street. Same agenda as at Village books: carrot cake, reading, door prizes. I'll have books at the library for anyone who wants to buy one, but I've also donated a copy to the library, so, if you're so inclined, you can read it there.

Mostly, both nights are a celebration. I hope you'll come celebrate with me.

~~~~~~~

Follow this blog. I remembered I haven't posted my method of cooking a healthy fried egg, and I didn't do the promised custard pie--soooo easy and so good. For anyone who wants to learn how to make an applie pie, google "Liz Adair's World Famous Apple Pie" and my blog posting on it will come up.

Meet Jo Ramsey, YA Author

2011-10-14T10:48:00.000-07:00

Jo Ramsey is my hero. She's a writing machine, beginning from the time she was twelve when she finished her first book-length manuscript. Through high school and college, she continued writing (in longhand, mind you), turning out nineteen more finished manuscripts. By the time she got around to looking for a publisher, she had cranked out forty-four more. She likes to write urban fantasy, like the two books below. Both are the first in a series.

Reality Shift 1: Connection- Can Shanna Bailey trust herself enough to help her new friend Jonah Leighton banish a demon before it possesses Shanna's worst enemy?

The Dark Lines 1: The Black Bridge- Something dark has taken over the bridge beside Topher James's home. Can he stop it from destroying his friends--and him?

Below is an interview I had with Jo.

LIZ: I love your blog. Did you design it yourself?
JO: Thank you. No, I’m not that technologically advanced, unfortunately. It’s a free template that I found. A friend of mine, Lex Valentine, who has done most of my book covers as Winterheart Design, did the text in the header for me.

LIZ: I’m amazed at your output of books. Tell me about that first book you wrote when you were 12.
JO: The book I wrote when I was 12 was about a girl who was picked on at school, although the boy she had a crush on was crushing right back. She becomes friends with a new girl who turns out to be from another planet. The friend invites the main character to visit her home planet, where the two of them foil a plot to assassinate the planetary president.

LIZ: You say on your blog you weren’t writing to try to get published. What made you keep writing?
JO: I loved writing. It helped me keep my sanity during some very rough times in my life. It was both an escape and a coping mechanism.

LIZ: What are the challenges to writing fantasy that happens in the ‘real’ world?
JO: When I use real settings (which I do in all my books, even though I usually don’t name them), I have to be accurate. I might not think that my readers will know about the public library in Poland, Maine, but it’s a pretty safe bet at least one will, and will tell me if I get it wrong.

LIZ: How do you get your ideas for turning your main character’s world on its ear?
JO: I wish I knew…Ideas are fickle beasts and tend to show up whenever they choose instead of when I need them. The plots of the books in my Reality Shift series came from a series of conversations with a couple of friends; those are really the only ones I can pinpoint a source for.

LIZ: Why did you choose to write for Young Adults?
JO: I’m kind of stuck in my teen years, I guess. They weren’t very enjoyable, so I’m constantly trying to make better teen years for my characters, as I can’t go back and redo my own. Plus it’s just plain fun to write about that age group in my opinion.

LIZ: You have written several series. Is it easier to write the second in a series than the first?
JO: I think it’s harder to write the subsequent books in a series. Not only do you have to pay attention to the plot of the given book, but you also have to make sure you’re staying consistent with the book or books that came before. I keep pretty good notes from each book that I refer to for the consecutive books, but I invariably forget something that I hadn’t written down. Also, if the first book met with good reviews, as an author I’m trying to keep the subsequent books at the same level of awesome, and if the first book got poor reviews I have to improve with each subsequent book.

LIZ: Do you have a goal as a writer?
JO: My goal is to inspire teens to read—and maybe to write.

Thanks, Jo, for being my interviewee today. Readers, you can get to know Jo better by visiting her web site/blog at http://www.joramsey.com/

Liz Adair's Tilapia Recipe

2011-10-07T19:19:00.000-07:00

I love tilapia. I loved it even before I could pronounce it. I tried to say ta-la-PI-a instead of ta-LA-pi-a. The first time I ever heard of it was a few years ago, and now I find it everywhere. The truth is, it's been around for thousands of years. Ancient Egyptians had a hieroglyph for tilapia. There were tilapia in the Sea of Galilee when Jesus walked along its shores.

Why did I only just now find out about it? I guess until a few years ago there wasn't anyone telling us we needed to be eating it. It's an easily-farmed fish. In fact they have been farming it on a small scale in several countries since ancient times. Now it's being farmed on a large scale, and they need to find a market for all that fish.

I used to buy tilapia at Costco in the fresh fish cabinet, but with just Derrill and I eating it, I'd always have to freeze three quarters of what I bought. Then I found vacuum-packed, flash-frozen fillets at Wal-Mart for a great price. They are wonderful. I can't tell the any difference from the fresh, except that the Costco tilapia are larger. I don't find that a problem.

Here's one way I fix tilapia:

First, put the top rack down to the middle of your oven. Preheat to 450 degrees.

Spray the bottom of a cookie sheet with Pam. (I line it with foil first and spray the foil. It makes for easy cleanup.)

Take the fillets out of the vacuum pack and put them on a paper towel to dry.

Mix breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese in a 5 to 1 ration, breadcrumbs to cheese.

Put about 1/4" oil in a shallow bowl.

Dip each fillet first in the oil and then in the breadcrumb mixture and place in the pan. I put the flat side down.

When all fillets are in the pan, place it on the rack in the preheated oven. Turn the oven to BROIL.

By the time you put the fish in the oven, you should have the rest of your meal pretty much ready, because it doesn't take long for the fish to cook.

Keep an eye on it, and when the fish is brown, turn off the oven. If your fillets are large and thick, let them sit in the oven until the flesh flakes when you lift it with a fork.

Take the fish out of the oven and serve with lemon and/or tartar sauce.
~~~~~~~~
And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

I've got a new book coming out!

2011-09-24T17:15:00.000-07:00

My new romantic suspense, Cold River, will be in stores next month! It's my valentine to the little hamlet of Concrete, Washington, where I taught school more years ago than I care to think. One of my former students is soon to be a grandmother.

The year I was there, the townsfolk took a dislike to the school superintendent and made life so uncomfortable for him that he didn't return the next year.

The area around Concrete is heavily forested, and many of the people, when I taught there, decended from settlers who had come from neighboring counties in North Carolina in the early part of the twentieth century. When I was there, the town was quite isolated, and many of the customs the people had brought with them as they moved west still survived: bluegrass music, hounds, and even whiskey stills. I remember one of my students asked me with a definite twang to her diction, "Miz Adair, do I sound like a Tarheel?"

Though logging isn't the industry that it used to be nowadays, there are still lots of people who claim a Tarheel heritage.

Cold River is set in contemporary times, but I've used my memories of how it was in Concrete to fashion a story about twenty-nine-year-old Mandy Steenburg, who thinks her doctorate in education has prepared her to run any school district—until she tangles with the moonshine-making, coon-dog-owning denizens of Limestone, Washington.

When the petite dynamo leaves her fast-track position in Albuquerque and takes over a tiny school district in remote Pacific Northwest timber country, she's armed with the latest educational ideas and determined to make a difference. She finds the local populace—descendants of loggers who moved west from North Carolina during the Depression—have kept many of the old customs, including a mistrust of strangers. What's more, they still look to the former superintendent for leadership.

When Mandy lands in the middle of an old feud and someone keeps trying to kill her, instinct tells her to run back to the southwest. Though she has to literally swim through perilous waters, she finds a reason to stay and chance the odds.

I'll be announcing my publication party soon.

Remembering Alaska

2011-07-10T08:31:00.001-07:00

Lucius Stebbins, in the third book of his Remembering My Life series of poetry (see my previous post introducing these poems), writes of Alaska and Alaskans:

Alaskans seemed to live on dreams
A land it was
Where dreams must never end
For if they did, they'd know
That dreams were all they had to sew
The fabric of their life
Which often was
A strife against the wild.

At left is my mother, standing on the highway that went from Palmer to Anchorage, probably in the vicinity of The Butte. We lived on the flank of the mountain behind her.

We lived in Alaska from 1951 to 1956, and it was a magical place to live, but we were cushioned a bit against what Luke Stebbins calls 'the wild,' as we had been brought up by the government to work on a hydroelectric project. There were lots of people there, Lucius's aunt and uncle included, who were homesteading, dealing on a daily basis with the Alaskan wilderness.

Our house was provided by the government, but there were many people who lived there, at that time, who lived in basements--subterranean houses with nothing on top--because it was quick, inexpensive and easy to heat. Later, when they had proved up on the homestead and could afford it, they could build a regular house on top of the basement.

I used to beg my dad to return to Alaska, but he would always remind me that I wasn't the one out trying to start equipment at forty below. Ah, yes. Lucius mentions the road from Anchorage to Fairbanks in the winter:

Five hundred miles the span
Attached by one thin road
In winter narrowed down to snowy tracks
Between two icy banks
That sometimes rose
Ten feet above the cars
How perilous the drive, the wind,
The snow and icy fog
Easy to be lost at fifty five below

Luke writes of other things that I remember, of moose and bear wandering freely. I never met a bear, but we had moose aplenty around. One slept under my bedroom window.

He writes of riding the train to fish or hunt and having the train let him and his party off in the middle of nowhere and pick them up days later--only they were stranded because of a flood that kept the train from running for several days. My dad used to fish and hunt in that manner, but he was never delayed in his return.

Luke Stebbins' poems are treasures to me because they unlock memories, things I haven't thought of for years. I'm reminded of a beautiful land and tough, resilient people that I count myself lucky to have lived among over half a century ago.

Remembering My Life by Lucius Stebbins

2011-07-05T19:49:00.000-07:00

Luke Stebbins moved to Alaska in1956, a couple years before Alaska became a state. Luke came from New England to stay with relatives in the Matanuska Valley. One of his Alaskan cousins was a good friend of mine, and he married another.

Luke’s entry to Alaska coincided with my family’s exit, and I met him for the first time last year. It was great to reunite with his wife, Joan, who had been my classmate in grades five through nine, but it was interesting to talk to Luke, too, and to discover that he is a poet.

This is especially interesting when you understand that Luke, Dr. Lucius Stebbins, one of the founding faculty members of the University of Lethbridge, is a scientist and has published some serious scientific papers. Google his name and you’ll find pdf versions of “Seasonal Variations in Circadian Rhythms of Deer Mice, in Northwestern Canada” and “Some Aspects of Overwintering in the Chipmunk, Eutamias amoenus.” Not much poetry there. I know about his poetry because he very kindly sent me the seven slim volumes entitled Remembering My Life, for he has chosen this literary form to write his personal history.

Because of the Alaska connection, and because he’s telling his life’s story, I expected something Robert Service-ish, something like “The Cremation of Sam McGee,” with a rolling rhythm and standard rhyme scheme. But the poetry of Lucius Stebbins is nothing like that. I find it masculine, visual, evocative, and full of un-preachy nuggets of wisdom. In spare strokes and little vignettes, he shares memories with his reader.

I particularly liked, in Book 1, the story of how his father (whose weakness for drink seemed to hamstring the family financially) helped an adolescent Lucius save loose change to buy the horse he longed for. In his poem “A Kindness For a Horse,” about halfway through, we hear him approach his father and say he’s saved sixty-four dollars, and his father replies:

"I’ve saved a little more,” he said
He showed me where
He’d also hidden all his change
Forty dollars coin within a metal chest
Every day his pocket change
Sequestered when he did not roam
When of a sober mind
How loving he could be.
“A little here, a little there,” he said
“Makes just a little more.”
A twinkle in his eye, I thought
He happier than me.
We drove, just he and I
Miles across the mountain gap
Then down a country road
A place I didn’t know
A valley I had seen
From high upon a mountain top
When forests I would roam
While on a hunt.
The young man in the woods
Eighteen, drafted into war,
So sad to leave
Would sell his spotted horse to me
We counted out our coin
And I could ride him home
I knew the forest trails
To find my way
Instant buddies, he and I
Two creatures of the day.
The kindness of my Father then
Can never be repaid
Though I have tried until his death
When even as his final breath he drew
I tried to pay
Once more to pay
That wondrous debt I owed.
I like to think he knew
How then I learned
Through reckless drunken ways to sift
To find the worth of man
Which always ‘neath the surface lays
If one can understand
Ignore what on the surface may reside
One must look within
Beneath the alcoholic ways
For nature’s plan inside.
Another way he touched me
With his saving act
From then to now
I never spend my coin
I hide it in a tin
Hundreds in a sack becomes
One way I honour him.

Next time I blog I’ll post part of a poem about Luke’s introduction to Alaska that resonated with me.

Five Favorite Lines

2011-06-26T18:23:00.001-07:00

I've been asked to participate in a blog fest where we put down five favorite lines from a work in progress. Here are five lines from Cold River, my new book that's coming out this fall.

Sherry closed her eyes and let the music flow through her fingers, not from the memory of a printed page, but from somewhere deep inside. She played night sounds and loneliness, leaden skies and dark-haired strangers; she played far-away, starry, desert nights and someone whispering Cheri in her ear.

As she played, just after the bridge, something under the muted rhythm began to swell, and she was swept along in a cascade of tones that became an elegant, soaring counterpoint. She glanced for the first time at Rael. He sat in the dim corner with Jake's guitar in his lap, and as the melody sprang from his fingers, all moody passion and smoldering intensity, it ripped the scab off her heart. Tears beaded up on Sherry's lashes as they played through another chorus, and she felt inexplicably tied to this surprising man because she could hear through his music that love was a raggedly painful subject for him, too.

If you want to read other 5-line selections, go to Jolene's blog at http://www.jolenesbeenwriting.blogspot.com/

And, I'd love to have you follow my blog. I'm still promising to let you in on my slick and easy way to cook a healthy fried(ish) egg. And I'll soon be posting my new book cover, so click on that little 'follow' button!

Pieces of Paris by G.G. Vandagriff

2011-06-17T12:49:00.000-07:00

I promised Whitney Award winner G.G. Vandagriff way last fall that I'd read and review her book, Pieces of Paris. That promise, along with others, got chewed up in the non-blogging reasons I bored you with a couple of posts ago.

I'm now ready to redeem myself, even though G.G. has a new book out. My feeling is it doesn't hurt to have stuff about previous books bouncing around in the blogosphere. At least it sounds good to say that since I'm six months late.

But, on to GG's book.

The cover of Pieces of Paris hints at thing that are not first evident as the reader begins the book. What's Paris got to do with a backwater southern town or with a young lawyer and his wife scraping along, trying to build up a practice and a little farm and bumping up against powerful local forces as they try to do good in the community?

The answer to that question is an interesting one, and G.G. Vandagriff lets us in on it through points of view of both Dennis Childs and his wife, Annalisse. Annalisse carries the secret of Paris within her, but the shadow it casts is so long that it darkens both their lives.

There's a parallel secret in the town of Blue Creek, one that is as toxic for the residents as Annalisse's is for her family. Both secrets are finally brought to light but not without pain and loss.

G.G. writes from personal knowledge of how past tragedies can blight the future. Pieces of Paris seems to be her testament that healing is possible and that love is the key.

G.G.'s new book is Foggy with a Chance of Murder. I haven't read it yet, but I love the title.

Wowee! We've got a Landscape Agate.

2011-06-13T19:37:00.000-07:00

If you read my posting in September of 2011, you know that Derrill and I have become rockhounds. Well, that's not exactly right. He's become a rock hound, and I'm his sidekick. We've done a couple of field trips, but mostly we go to rock shows and buy from people more able to climb around on hot, dusty rock piles.

As with all our new passions, we accumulated stack of books about different kinds of rocks. I particularly love our agate book. It has lots of spectacular pictures, including a couple of fabulous landscape agates.

Landscape agates are just what they sound like--agates that are colored like a picture. There's no way of knowing before you cut into it what an agate's going to be like on the inside.

So, we got this Brazilian Agate at a rock show silent auction. We probably paid $2.50 for it. About the size of a small grapefruit, the outside was scabby and brown. When we got home, Derrill stared at it for several days before he started cutting.

He brought the first cut into the house as soon as it came off the saw. We marveled at it and thought we were lucky to have such wonderful banding, and we loved the little circle that looked like a sun, hovering in a blue sky.

This was the second cut. I called it 'Crystal Mountain' and thought it was spectacular.

When he brought the third cut in, I couldn't believe it. It looked to me like a seascape, perhaps with the cliffs of Dover in the distance.

The sun in the blue sky was back and stayed for the rest of the cuts.

The fourth cut looked to me like Grand Canyon in the evening, when the colors go all blue and purple, and the clouds are tinged with the pink of a dying sunset.

<

The Fifth cut, mostly white, reminded me of a snow avalanche I saw roaring down the mountain at Juneau, Alaska. It plunged across the road and into the sea.

The sixth cut reminded me of a cubist's painting of a seascape with a steamship steaming along.

< There was one more that was like an abstract painting, but I managed to delete it, so can't hang it here.

But, you get the idea. I smile every time I see it and wonder at the beauties of the earth hidden beneath an ugly, scabby exterior. I never thought I'd see a landscape agate, much less have one sitting in my living room. I feel truly blessed.

~~~~~~~~~~

And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

Preaching the Gospel of Neo

2011-06-11T11:20:00.000-07:00

Gospel means 'Good News,' and the Neo is good news for busy writers.

The Neo is put out by Alphasmart. It's a word processor that has a regular-sized keyboard and a monochromatic screen that will hold four lines of text. It weighs less than 2 pounds and is extremely rugged. As soon as I got mine, I bought a purse it will fit in so I can carry it with me. I've used it on car trips, in doctor's offices, at jazz festivals, sitting in the car outside of Hardware Sales (a marvelous hardware store in Bellingham, WA that my husband loves to frequent), at the beach, and while babysitting.

To me, the Alphasmart has 4 strong points.

First is battery life. Alphasmart says you can get 700 (that's 2 zeroes) hours on 3 double A batteries. I've had my Neo for about 3 years, and I'm still running on the original batteries I put in. A battery indicator comes up when I turn it on, and it shows I've used about 1/20 of the battery life.

Second is carefree-ness. I don't have to worry about cords or a case or dropping it or anything I might worry about if I had my laptop. I don't even have to worry about whether I use it or not. It's light enough that if I take it and don't use it, I haven't wasted a lot of effort for nothing. However, if I have a thought hit and I've got my Neo with me, I can easily grab it and get the thought down. The older I get, the more valuable that becomes, because thoughts don't stay too long any more.

Third is that my Neo interfaces with my computer. If I write a blog post on my Neo, I simply open a new document on my blog, connect the cable, hit 'send,' and what I've written scrolls out on my computer. Same with a word document or an email.

Fourth is that it doesn't hook up to the internet. Some may see that as a minus, but for me, it's great not to have the temptation to check my email.

I don't do much editing on the Neo. That's better done on my computer. But for composing, it's great.

The Neo has 8 files, each with its own button. Hit the button for File 1 and File 1 comes up. Hit File 2 and File 1 closes and File 2 appears. You can't get much simpler than that. Clearing the file is just as simple. Hit 'clear file' and then answer yes when it asks you if you really want to do this. The text disappears.

Each of the files holds 25 pages of text, so you have the capability of writing 200 pages of text before you have to transfer to your computer.

The Neo won't replace a computer, but it's a great, modest-priced add-on, allowing a writer greater flexibility about where and when she can write.

If you want to find out more about the Neo, go to www.renlearn.com/neo . Renaissance Learning donated a Neo as a door prize for the Storymakers Conference (see previous post). Looking around the room, I could tell the Neo owners among the writers present. They were excited for the prospect of someone winning this marvelous tool.

The winner was Peggy Grimes. Lucky gal.

Excuse #2 For Being Such a Blogging Slug

2011-06-05T22:25:00.000-07:00

The second reason I neglected my blog for so long was because of the writers conference hosted by LDStorymakers in Salt Lake City on May 5-7 at the Sheraton Hotel in Salt Lake City, Utah. I was up to my ears in conference prep, as I not only was on the planning/production committee, but I helped with the First Chapter contest, guided a table at the 6-hour-long Boot Camp on Thursday, and was in charge of sponsors and door prizes. Oh, and I taught two workshop sessions.

Storymakers were very generous with donations of books for doorprizes. They were so generous that I had to limit them to one copy per title and three titles per author. I had a tight time budget to get the books out, but I wanted to make sure that each author received good exposure. To do that, I made a PowerPoint slide for each book so that, as the emcee read the blurb, conference attendees could see the name of the author and the cover image.

One attendee suggested that we have a list of the books in the order they'd be given out in the syllabus so people could circle ones that they would be interested in buying. If they trust me to do door prizes again next year, I'm going to do that.

I called on nine minions to help me in the presentation process. What a great bunch of ladies! They not only wore the hats that designated which presentation team they were on with good grace, but they streamlined the process and problem solved as we went along.

Above are Laurie Lewis, Joan Sowards and Ronda Hinrichsen. Other team members were JoAnn Arnold, Rebecca Talley, Tanya Mills, Wendy Swore, Janette Rallison and Debbie Davis.

Kim Grant won a copy of Janette Rallison's My Double Life. Here's a picture of Kim with Janette after the presentation.

JoAnn Arnold, author of Prince Etcheon, stands with Christine Bryant, winner of a copy of JoAnn's book.

Dennis Gaunt, winner of The Stone Traveler, is pictured here with the book's author, Kathi Oram Peterson.

Bethany Kitchen (on the right) won Tanya Mills' book The Reckoning. Here she is with the author.

My book, Counting the Cost, was won by Marta Smith.

There were about 500 people in attendance at this conference. Countless hours were volunteered as members of the writers' guild, LDStorymakers, put this conference together. There were 9 breakout sessions, each with 8 or 9 workshops covering craft basics, advanced craft, genre, and marketing/career development.

There were also national market agents and editors there, and if you want to find out about the classes or the agents and editors that were there, go to http://www.ldstorymakers.com/ , click on Conference and then click on 2011 highlights.

But this blog isn't about that. It's about the hours I--and lots of others like me--put in to make this conference a success.

I think we did all right.

But, on my to-do list next year is to have some blog posts written and ready to go before I get up to my eyeballs in conference prep.

Excuse #1 For Being Such a Blogging Slug

2011-05-30T11:25:00.000-07:00

I hate to even look at the date of my last posting. I have neglected my blog for so long, but for two good causes.

The first good cause was my regular work. Newly published writers are given the advice, "Don't quit your day job." I've been published for several years, but I still haven't quit my day job.

I work as a forensic scheduler. It's not a regular-hours, all-the-time job. When I have a project, I will often work six days a week, ten to twelve hours a day. Then I'll have a stretch when I don't have anything day-jobbish to do.

I work for a consultant who does CPM scheduling for large construction projects. He also does schedule delay analyses. A construction project of any size will be required to have a schedule, and that schedule is usually required to be updated througout the duration of the project, often monthly. If a contractor is using the schedule to the greatest advantage, he will be able to identify delays as they happen and will also be able to document where the delay occured, whether it was caused by a subcontractor, by a procured element not arriving on time, by weather, by the owner, or by the contractor's own inability to perform.

Often, schedules are provided only to meet the owner's specification--they aren't used by the contractor except as a basic guide or a wall decoration. If a project like that is seriously delayed and a claim results, a schedule delay analysis is a mighty tool to have. But it is much harder to come by than it would be if a schedule was properly used.

That's where I come in.

My first job is to take the baseline schedule, the one that was submitted to and accepted by the owner at the beginning of the project, and put in actual dates for each of the activities on that schedule. If the schedule has been properly kept, the dates will be there. If not, I've got my work cut out for me.

Next, I go through the project's documents--correspondence, submittals, requests for information, meeting minutes, change order proposals, superintendent's daily reports, and, if necessary, workers' time cards and truck tickets. From these documents and any others provided me, I determine a list of possible delaying factors and construct a timeline for each one.

Then I create a mini schedule for each of these timelines in the Primavera software we use. This mini schedule is called a fragnet, and each point on this timeline is tied to both a predecessor and a successor in a continuous chain.

As I create each fragnet, I also write a narrative for each one. I joke that this is where my fiction writing ability is valuable, but there's an element of truth to that, for each issue has a beginning, a middle, and an end. In my narrative, I have to make it so someone who knows nothing at all about the project can understand what happened in this instance. I also have to write from an objective point of view, revealing what I have discovered without trying to skew the information.

When I have finished with the fragnets and narratives, the consultant I work with begins his analysis, inserting the earliest fragnet into the baseline schedule, testing to see what that does to the schedule, comparing it to actual dates and the contractor's original strategy for building in the order that he built. Schedules are intricate networks of connectedness, and there's no way of knowing all the things that will be affected when a fragnet is inserted and connected to a logical successor in the original schedule.

As the consultant tests a group of fragnets falling around the same time frame, he uses my narratives and adds his findings to it. Each fragnet's effect is documented. If there is a delay, the responsibility for the delay is assigned. The schedule is updated, and the next cluster of fragnets will be inserted into this updated schedule.

When that is finished, the final report is written and is accompanied by backup documentation--the documents that I used in composing my fragnets. The report from one of my last reports filled five 3" binders.

So, that's the process. I'ts probably more than you wanted to know about schedule delay analysis, but I'm still explaining why I didn't blog for ao long. I had two projects, back to back, that took me from November to March to complete. Each overran the planned schedule by about two years, so there was quite a bit of research to do.

I love my day job. As I sit there, clicking away, inserting data to tell the story, I consider that lots of gray-haired ladies my age are crocheting or quilting. I, on the other hand, am creating fragnets.

Or, considered another way, it's like writing a mystery, laying out all the clues so the reader can find out whodunit.

Tomorrow--or next week, probably--I'll write about the second reason I haven't posted in so long.

Blog Tour for OH, SAY CAN YOU SEE by L.C.Lews

2010-12-21T12:03:00.000-08:00

Before I turn you loose to read about L. C. (Laurie) Lewis's blog tour for her newest from the Free Men and Dreamers Series, I want to write short review.

Reading the List of Fictional Characters in the front of Oh, Say Can you See is like going to a high school reunion and reading the sign-in sheet, because you notice names that you had forgotten and all of a sudden you remember your past interaction with these people and wonder how they're doing.

And then you remember, Jed Pearson wasn't doing so well. When we last saw him, he was a prisoner of war, accused of killing someone under a flag of truce, and on his way to England to answer for this crime. He was also pretty bunged up from tangling with an explosive device as he was trying to defend Washington from the British attack.

Jed, a young man of twenty-five, is head of the family and circle of friends who live at or gravitate to The Wllows, the Pearson plantation. As Jed endures imprisonment and torure aboard ship, he finds a sliver of hope during a hurricane.

At home at the Willows, Jeds family worries about the impending invasion of Baltimore by a British force flush with the success of burning the capitol. Marcus O'Malley is called to accompany Francis Scott Key on a mission to seek the release of Dr. William Beanes, held prisoner by the British. In her inimitable style, Lewis gives us a ring-side seat to a pivotal point in American History, the shelling of Fort McHenry.

If you're like me and have sung "The Star Spangled Banner" hundreds of times, it's great to know more than the two-line explantion of how the poem--quickly set to music--came to be written. In Lewis's hands, what we find out that is that it's written by this friend, because she helps us get to know Francis Scott Key. His name is on the signup sheet at the reunion, too.

Though this book is number four in the series, it can be read as a stand alone book. L. C. Lewis handles all the story lines deftly, and again, she leaves us knowing there are more thorny problems to be solved for these young Americans. We'll be sure to read book five in the series.

So, with that, read on down and see what others have to say about L.C. Lewis's newest book. You can enter to win a necklace by posting a comment about what "The Star Spangled Banner" means to you.

It's blog tour time for

Oh, Say Can You See?
L.C. Lewis

Set against the War of 1812 and the penning of "The Star Spangled Banner," Oh, Say Can You See?, the latest novel in the FREE MEN AND DREAMERS series by L.C. Lewis, brings this often overlooked period to life.

THREE people will win a copy of Oh, Say Can You See? One GRAND PRIZE WINNER will win this beautiful patriotic necklace!

Blog tour runs from December 13th--December 22nd.

It's easy to enter.
1. Visit the fabulous reviews and leave a comment letting us know why "The Star Spangled Banner" means so much to you. Remember to include your email address.
2. If you tweet about the blog tour, or post about it on your blog or facebook, leave the link in the comments section and you'll receive an additional entry.

Good Luck! Entries close at midnight (MST) on December 31.

December 13
">Braden Bell

December 14
Marsha Ward

December 15
Rachelle Christensen

December 16
Anna Del C. Dye

December 17
Stephanie Abney

December 18
Lynn Parsons

December 20
Susan Dayley
Marilyn Bunderson

December 21
Liz Adair
Valerie Ipson

December 22
Kathi Oram Peterson

****
Though the capital smolders, the battered Constitution and the presidency have survived. But the British left the struggling government no home. Gone are the symbols of America--the Capitol Building and the President's House, and nearly every relic of the infant nation. Britain's next target is the port city of Baltimore, but has the raid on Washington stiffened the Americans' backs? As the Willows women mourn their absent men - gone to war, or wounded, or captured - they await the birth of a blessed child. Miles away, attorney Francis Scott Key embarks on a diplomatic mission that will leave an everlasting mark on America. Proving that the pen can indeed by more powerful than the sword, Key records the fears and hopes of his embattled people. His epic poem soon set to music and titled "The Star-Spangled Banner," rallies a shattered nation to rise from its knees to claim the dream of "one nation under God" during the closing hours of the War of 1812.

Postum's Gone, Inka's Here

2010-12-07T22:10:00.000-08:00

Postum was introduced as a coffee subsitute in the late 1890's by the maker of Post Cereals. Made of barley and corn, it had a robust taste and full body. During the second world war it became popular as coffee grew scarce. My mother was a coffee drinker, and when she gave it up, she tried Postum, but it wasn't coffee, so she drank hot water instead. I, on the other hand, loved the stuff. On a chilly winter evening, there was nothing better than a hot cup of Postum with sugar and cream in it--a healthy, non-caffeinated beverage.

Post Cereals discontinued Postum in 2007. About a year ago I was lamenting again the fact that you couldn't buy it any more and decided to go on line and see if maybe someone was selling off old stock. I didn't find anyone with a garage full of outdated Postum, but I did find a Postum Lovers site where people were venting about Post's decision and trying to figure out how to coerce this huge corporation to reconsider. I couldn't believe how many people had commented. Literally hundreds had taken the time to post something (pun unintended) on the site.

I was thinking about Postum on a recent chilly day, wondering if I should use up the last few teaspoons from the jar I've had in my cupboard since 2007 (if I can chisel it out, that is). My son Clay is coming home for Christmas, and I thought I'd better save it for him.

And then, this morning, my daughter brought me a Postum subsitute. It's called Inka. Made of rye, barley, beets and chicory root, it tastes very like Postum...though it's been so long since I've had a cup of Postum, the resemblance might not be as close as I think it is.

My daughter buys it at the local food co-op. You can also buy it on line.

So, if you're a Postum Lover, and if you happen to be strolling through the aisles of your grocery store and see Inka in its bright orange can, give it a try. I think you'll find it's a pretty good second best.

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And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford - A Review

2010-10-23T17:11:00.000-07:00

I posted a week or so ago about hearing Jamie Ford speak about writing Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. I promised to post a review after I read it, figuring it would be several weeks before I'd have time.

I have to regulate the fiction I read because I have no will power. Once hooked into the story, I let everything else slide until I'm finished with the book. Since I still have a day job, and if I want to keep up with my writing, I have to ration the amount of fiction reading I allow myself to do, or else I never get anything done.

However, Jamie Ford's book sat on my bedside stand tempting me, and I made a pact with myself that I could read it now, but only after I got my assigned daily list of tasks done each day. What a concept! I should have tried that years ago.

Not only that, but I think Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet--which I'll just call Hotel for the purpose of this blog--is better read that way, because it's a narrative that will stay with you, and you get to savor it, to think about each part in the intervals between .

This is the story of a young Chinese American boy, Henry Lee, on the cusp of adolescence just before the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Henry attends a private school where the only other Oriental is a Japanese girl named Keiko. They become fast friends, and when Keiko's family is uprooted and sent to an internment camp, Henry must not only deal with his loss, but he also must deal with his father's attitude toward the Japanese in general and this girl in particular.

This book reminds me of a gold filagree brooch. Gold, because gold doesn't tarnish, and this story is as old as time. Filagree, because the strands for Henry, his father, and his son, Marty, all follow parallel lines as they wind around, echoing the aspirations, unspoken love, and cultural gulfs each father experiences as he deals with his son. And the ones each son experiences as he deals with his father.

Jamie Ford said that Hotel is a love story, and it is. But it's more than Henry and Keiko's story. Love is there in abundance, and we see it through the lens of Henry's young heart, mind and memory.

We see the deep bond of friendship between Henry and Sheldon, a jazz musician who busks on a corner in the international district of Seattle.

We see the love Henry's mom has for him as she strives to mitigate her husband's unbending rules for bringing up their son.

We see the love of Keiko's family for each other and for America, in spite of the raw deal America has given them.

We see the love of Ethel, the absent character who appears in the flesh only at the end of the story. I wonder about Ethel. I won't give anything away, but I wonder, was Henry was too innocent and naive? Was Ethel too biddable as a young Chinese woman? Or, was her appearance on the hotel steps perhaps her own little rebellion? If so, I like her more for it.

Hotel is a haunting story, beautifully written. As a writer, I'm blown away by the way it's plotted. Jamie Ford has done a masterful job of structuring the story to give you clues that you accept without even knowing the significance they will have as the story goes along. Like the everpresent I Am Chinese button Henry's father makes him wear as protection against the anti-Japanese phobia existing on the west coast right after Pearl Harbor. You realize it has implications far beyond that stated purpose. And the jazz theme. A whole essay could be written on that alone.

Each character is drawn with care--mostly with love, even though they might not be completely loveable. I would say that Chaz is the only one Henry doesn't remember with affection. I particularly liked the way Jamie Ford drew Mrs. Beatty, a minor character that we never even get on a first-name basis with but who has a knowing, pivotal role in the playing out of this love story. Bless her husky heart, she's a good woman.

I thank Jamie Ford for this bit of Seattle History. I live in Northwest Washington, and I'll never think about the Puyallup Fair Grounds in the same way again. Yes, there was bitter along with the sweet.

Finding Your Inner Matryoshka

2010-10-20T18:20:00.000-07:00

Looking back on my progression as a writer, I can see that I've gone through several different stages. I've thought about it a lot, and I call the process the Matryoshka Syndrome, after the round Russian dolls that nest one inside the other. Each doll represents a stage.

Stage 1 is the Clueless Stage.

Here are some of the symptoms:

1. You write loooong letters but seldom mail them.

2. You love crossword puzzles, puns, clever dialog in movies.

3. You scribbled stories or poetry as a child.

4. You always have your nose in a book.

5. You carry on a mental narration of things you see and do.

6. You dream in narrative.

7. You're the one picked to write the Christmas Pageant or office skit.

Stage 2 really isn't a stage. It's more of an epiphany.

This is when it hits you: you're a writer.

It's like everything is divided into Before Writer (BW) and After Writer (AW)

My Stage 2 hit when my mother died. Before then, I thought all the little narratives I did during the day were because I was always composing a letter to her. My epiphany came as I was mentally looking for words to describe the pool of yellow blossoms under a palo verde tree. I came up with saffron shadow, but I also came up with the realization that I was a writer.

Stage 3 I call Rosy Closet Dweller.

You've discovered you're a writer, and even though you never use the word to describe yourself, you think you're good at it.

You churn out stories, but you're not ready to share with anyone.

It's kind of like a nestling bird. She knows she's going to fly someday, but first she has to grow the right kind of feathers. Only with the writer, in order to grow those feathers, she's got to leave the safety of her nest.

The closet writer has to leave her rosy closet.

Stage 4 is called First Sharing.

This stage is the most crucial in a writer's development. It's like presenting your baby to view, expecting everyone to find him beautiful, and they say to you, What an ugly baby. We're so sorry."

If criticism is too harsh or not balanced with praise and encouragement, the writer may never advance to the next stage. My writing group has a maxim that we follow in giving criticism: 2 positives before the first negative. For this stage, that maxim has to be observed.

This is the time when the emerging writer needs to discover that there's more to learn. She won't want to learn if her spirit is crushed by criticism that is beyond her capability to understand. If she makes it through this stage, she's ready to tackle Stage 5.

Stage 5 is the Apprenticeship.

Like a carpenter's apprentice, you've got to learn the skill before you can buld the forms that are constantly in your head.

The way to learn to write is by writing. This is the time to write and put it out there for people to criticize. But, the writer at this stage needs to choose her critics wisely. This is the time to find a supportive writing group, people you trust who will teach without trying to quash your unique voice.

A writing group is great for several reasons.

1. You're associating with people who understand what it's like to have to write.

2. It pushes you to write. Like Weight Watchers, if you have someone to report to, you're apt to be more productive.

3. You can set critiquing standards.

4. You'll be learning the craft by lessons and practice.

5. You'll grow more used to criticism, and criticism is what will make you a better writer. It's like a pruner's shears or a refiner's fire.

Stage 6 is the Armadillo Stage.

By this time, you've grown a thick skin, and you're ready for a Critique group. The same criteria that applied to your writers group should be applied to your critique group: you need to find a circle of people you can trust. But in this instance, they need to be people whose writing you admire.

In stage 6, when you share your work, you say:

Don't pull any punches, because I want this to be good.

Tell me when it's not working.

Tell me when a passage, no matter how brilliantly written, is superfluous.

Tell me when my characters are cardboard.

There aren't any hard and fast rules about critique groups. Here is mine. It consists of Tanya Mills, Terry Deighton, Ann Acton, Christine Thackeray and me.

We named ourselves Writeminded, and we wrote bylaws governing the number of members (5), frequency of meetings (weekly), who would be chair (we rotate, each taking a 2-month stint), how much each can offer per meeting (5 pages), and how long sessions will last (2 hours).

We meet each Thursday. On Tuesday, everyone emails that week's passage to the other members, so by Thursday we're all ready to discuss. With five people we only have time to read 3 submissions each time, but we critique all. We don't read our own work. The chair gives out the assignments ahead of time of who will read whom.

Though we're great friends, we don't do any visiting. This is work time. We get right to it, and when we're done, we each email the marked-up passages back to the author.

Two of my critique group are members of my writer'group. The other two I met at a writers' retreat. Tanya lives in Eastern Washington, Christine lives near the Oregon border, and Terry, Ann and I live near the Canadian border. However, distance isn't a barrier, because we meet by Skype.

We all have our strengths:

Tanya is great with dialogue and with paring away excess verbiage.

Terry is the grammarian. She not only knows what punctuation or usage to use, she knows why.

Ann is our emotion lady. If she doesn't feel it, she lets us know.

Christine sees the big picture. She sees themes and lets you know if you're straying from your theme or defaulting on your contract with the reader.

I think my strength is vocabulary--recognizing when a word isn't quite right for the context.

I remember that inner Matryoshka when one of my group says, "I don't buy that. You haven't offered motivation." I don't get offended. How can I when she's doing me a favor? If she doesn't buy it, the reader (or agent or publisher) isn't going to either.

The Photo I Didn't Get of Jamie Ford and Me

2010-10-13T10:16:00.001-07:00

Jamie Ford, New York Times bestselling author of Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, spoke in Stanwood, Washington yesterday, and I drove the 45 minutes to that small town way off the interstate to hear him.

I hadn’t any idea what to expect, but the ad in the newspaper—tiny and more than a week before the fact—announced the gathering to be on the third floor of the Norgaard Cultural Center, a century-old building that used to be an I O O F hall. I thought there might be thirty or forty people there.

My first clue I was wrong was when I couldn’t find a parking place in any of the parking lots within two blocks. I didn’t worry about finding my way to the Cultural Center, I just followed the two ladies discussing Jamie Ford’s book as they walked purposefully in a northerly direction.

After reaching the center, I climbed two sets of stairs and found Jamie in the lobby. He and I almost shared a podium at the Whitney Awards where he won Best General Fiction when Counting the Cost won in the romance category. I attended. He didn’t. Last night he explained that he was traveling at the time, and we chatted about that until it was time for him to speak.

By that time the room was so full that I had to carry my own chair in from a stack in the hall. There must have been 200 people—and remember, Stanwood is a small town. When Jamie asked how many had read his book, probably three quarters raised their hands. Wow! What would an author give to have that response?

Jamie gave a wonderful talk, full of humor and gentle good sense. He spoke of being drawn to love stories and used Casablanca as an example, saying that half of the story was played out off screen. He explained that the viewer wasn’t privy to the most intimate moments, but that absence only made the story more poignant and powerful because the viewer’s own experience and imagination filled in the blanks. I was thrilled to have this nationally acclaimed writer speak out for restraint in sexually explicit prose. Less is more, he said, and I agree.

The kicker of the evening was to find what had prompted this bestselling author to be in out-of-the-way Stanwood. Each year Stanwood Public Libraries hosts a community read. Books are nominated and a committee selects a book to be read by everyone in the community. Then they invite the author to come and speak, first at the high school and then at the cultural center. Jamie said he was impressed with the process-oriented questions asked by students. The community had lots of good questions, too.

All the way through, I was cursing my senior memory for forgetting my camera. A picture with me and Jamie Ford would be wonderful for my blog. But wait—I had my phone! I stood in a loooong line to have Jamie sign my book and asked if I could have our picture together. He graciously assented, and I had a lady behind me take our picture with my phone…and then I didn’t save it. Not only my memory, but my technical maladroitness betrayed me here. Ah well.

But it was a great evening. I wrote a few weeks ago about the state of flux the publishing world is in right now, with ebooks and self publishing on the rise, but last night only reinforced my conclusion that the story’s the thing. People will always welcome a well told story.

I haven’t read Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet yet, but luckily I’ve dealt with all my promised reads and have a clear slate to begin. I’m looking forward to it, and I’ll review it here when I’m finished.

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Follow this blog! I'll soon be posting my review of Jamie Ford's book, and I'm going to post my healthy fried egg soon. You won't want to miss that gem. Plus, I'll be writing about the Northwest Writers Retreat.

Liz and the Limb Cast

2010-10-01T16:50:00.000-07:00

I had never heard the term limb cast until the day before I found one. It all started when my husband, Derrill, and I sent for a DVD course on geology. Shortly after that, he bought a rock saw and began cutting rocks in two. After that, he got a polisher, and soon we decided we'd try rockhounding when we took our fall ramble to see our son in Nevada.

We loaded the 2quads on the pickup, hitched the trailer on behind, and headed out.

Nevada is a rockhounds' mecca, and we were wildly successful when we went looking for wonderstone and jasper around Fallon.

On our way back to Washington, we decided to stop in Central Oregon and spend a day there. But what to look for? That's when I read about limb casts in the guide book.

A limb cast is a particular type of agate. Agates are formed in volcanic voids. Water percolates into the void and silica dissolved in the water crystalizes into agate. Other trace minerals give agates their color. With limb casts, the void is created by a tree being covered with hot volcanic ash. The tree limb burns away, but the volcanic material around it forms a mold of what the limb used to look like. Agate forms inside the cavity, and aeons later, some rockhound finds the treasure.

So, flush with our success at the wonderstone site, we decided to go look for limb casts. The guidebook used discouraging words at some sites--it's been picked over, you might only find chips, etc.--but not at the site around Palina. That's where we headed.

I might mention that the time we picked to go to Nevada and Oregon, they were having record Indian summer temperatures. Derrill and I both are athritic, so walking for a long ways isn't an option. Add to the fact that we're used to walking at sea level and this is 4500 feet.

What I'm trying to say is that searching for limb casts on the hillsides around a ravine was tough, hot, going. I was carrying a rock pick and a spray bottle of water to wash off stones with, but mostly I used the spray bottle on myself to cool me off.

I found some small chips and a larger piece about 4" by 1/2". Derrill used a pick and shovel to mine the bank of the ravine and found nothing. By mid afternoon, we finally decided to pack it in and head back to town where the guidebook said we could see an agatized pinecone that was beautiful.

We loaded the quads and headed back on the very primitive road. Derrill stopped to check the tiedowns, and I looked down at the ground by the side of the road and saw something shiny peeking out of the dirt. Thinking it might be another chip, I got out and picked it up. Lo and behold, it was a limb cast. It was pink agate and weighed about 2 pounds.

As soon as we got back to the RV park I went on line to look up limb casts. I found out that pink limb casts are highly prized. Well, I'll tell you, I highly prize this one. Never mind that I found it while sitting comfortably in an air conditioned pickup. I had sweated and panted, stumbled and creaked for the five hours previous, and I smile every time I look at it.

I didn't take a picture of it, but you can see the marks of the bark on the outside of the pink agate.
~~~~~~~~
And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

Awakening Avery by Laurie Lewis - a Review

2010-09-25T08:11:00.001-07:00

You may know Laurie Lewis as L C Lewis, a name under which she writes for her wonderful Free Men and Dreamers series set in the years leading up to and during the War of 1812.

Last year, Laurie took a break from her well-researched portrayal of how this war affected two families and turned her attention to a more personal matter in her most recent book, Awakening Avery.

Laurie usually writes her main characters a few decades younger than she is--lots of us do that, especially those of us who write books with a little romance in them. In Awakening Avery, Laurie Lewis has moved away from that pattern, for her main character is Avery Thompson, a middle-aged, recently widowed lady.

I love how Laurie introduces us to Avery's discovery of the nitty gritty details of a solo existence:

She smashed the television first, though she hadn't intended to. She had fumbled with the remote for ten minutes, trying to figure out how to record an NBC special, and when the TiVo brought up the screen with the list of programs to record--his list filled with westerns and mysteries and classic comedies--she lost it. She hurled the remote across the room, not intending for it to hit the center of the screen, but it did.

I can relate to that. In my house, my husband handles the remote. Laurie goes on:

There was something surprisingly cathartic about the sound. The cracking glass and the sprinkling shards of glass sounded familiar to her, like the inward sounds of her long denied heart, which broke into a thousand pieces every morning when she woke up in an empty bed and went into the bathroom where only one toothbrush hung in the holder.

That's how we meet Avery, still bruised and crippled by her loss. As we spend time with her, we watch her begin to heal, and as she heals, she begins to reach out to others. It's through this reaching out that she finds love a second time around.

Don't get me wrong. This isn't a romance. It's more like a coming-of-age story, but not really like that, either. Maybe you could call it a 'coming-of-middle-age' story. It's a sweet read for a lazy weekend, a good winder-down after a stressfull week.

Leatherwood Press publishes for the LDS market, and though Avery is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that is only one side of her character. This book could be read and enjoyed by a member of any faith, because the challenges that Avery meets in her journey are common to us all.

Laurie Lewis changes to L. C. Lewis and returns to early America for her forthcoming book Oh Say Can you See. I'll review it here when it comes out.

Terry and the Bear

2010-09-09T09:53:00.000-07:00

Whoever thought up this parenting thing, anyway? Oh sure, children are cute when they're babies, but they grow up to go hiking alone and get attacked by bears. Who needs that kind of worry in her life?

So, my daugher (pictured at left with Chango) has this particular rigorous hike she makes several times a week. Sometimes a neighbor hikes with her, but most often she hikes solo. The exercise, along with the vista from the top of the hill, helps her keep emotional equilibrium.

I have to digress here and explain that, when I wrote Snakewater Affair, Spider Latham came face to face with a cougar, and I found in my research that, with a cougar, you are to make yourself as large as possible--hold your coat over your head--and make lots of noise. Terry remembered that. Unfortunately, that's not what you're supposed to do with bears.

Here is the story in her own words.

It was just me, my Ipod, and my Great Dane, Chango. Willoughby was confessing his true love of Maryanne to Eleanor. I couldn't believe it! They had left that part out of the movie. I was just about to reach the overlook of my five-mile hike at the juciest part of Jane Austin's Sense and Sensibility.

I was drawn away from the story when I heard the dog bark and saw, about 100 yards away, a big black bear. I was surprised but not alarmed. In fact, my emotion was more dissappointment that I wouldn't get to enjoy the view of Skagit Valley from that vantage point, as that was the purpose of the hike. I had seen black bear on hikes before and found them harmless as long as I kept my distance.

As I headed downhill, I heard a scuffle and turned to see Chango running away and the bear charging toward me! I was thinking, "I don't believe this." My eyes saw a cuddly, furry, black teddy bear, but my brain assured me this wasn't going to be pleasant. I tried to make myself look as big as possible and made lots of wild screaming noise, but the bear wasn't deterred. As he got within arm's reach, I walloped him on the head with my Ipod/cell phone case, which sent my phone flying. So much for my chance at 911.

The bear knocked me down and proceeded to claw at me. All the while, I'm thinking, "This is stuff you read about in the newspaper and can't be happening to me." Chango came to my rescue and pulled the bear's attention from me. I was relieved to see the bear running away from me as he chased Chango down the hill. But my relief turned when the bear did, and I found myself again waving my arms, screaming, and trying to look ferocious as the bear tore back up the hill to assault me afresh.

I have always thought Chango a dumb and obnoxious dog, though I love him dearly. But that night he became my hero as he tore up the hill and attacked the bear before she could attack me again. (I figure the bear was a 'she' and was probably protecting her young, so I could not fault her.)

With Chango wrestling the bear, I took that as my cue to run as fast as I could downhill. I fear I must have been quite the sight, becaue I did not leave off the screaming and arm flailing. I am sure I did not look ferocious on retreat. The dog got free from the bear, and the three of us--the bear, Chango, and I--went tearing down the hill.

The bear finally stopped, but I didn't. I ran about halfway down the mountain, and when I was quite sure that I was safe, I went back to Willoughby's confession.

I came away from the incident with claw tears on my jacket that left scratches and bruises on my arm and a scratch on my face not worthy of stitches (I was hoping for an excuse for plastic surgery.)

So I now have steri-strips and a story to tell, but I'm hindered in sharing, as my phone is on the mountain, guarded by a bear.

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And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

King David and Ebooks

2010-07-22T10:08:00.000-07:00

There has been a lot of discussion on the writers’ email loops I belong to lately about the fate of the book as it exists now, about publishing in general, and about how all this is going to affect us as authors. I tend to be one of those oblivious souls who stagger through life unaware that great things are happening all around, and I haven’t apportioned many gray cells to focus on this subject.

However, yesterday, I had a breakthrough thought. Let me explain how it came about, and then I’ll share the thought to anyone who’s still with me.

This year in Sunday school, the course of study is the Old Testament. Right now, we’re covering the story arc of King David, and a couple of Sundays ago we discussed the Bathsheba portion of that arc.

If you remember the story, David’s sin wasn’t just that he lay with a married woman, but when she found she was with child, he called her warrior husband, Uriah, home from the front for a conjugal visit so the baby would appear to be Uriah’s. When Uriah, unwilling to enjoy the comforts that his fellow soldiers couldn’t have, sleeps in the doorway instead, David has to go to plan B: send Uriah to the front lines in a battle where he is sure to be killed. When the plan is successful, David is free to take Bathsheba as (another) wife.

Nathan the prophet finds out what’s been going on and comes to call David to account. He doesn’t storm in and denounce David in a stirring oration. He doesn’t sermonize. He sits down and tells David a story. It’s a wonderful story that I may have embellished somewhat, but it goes like this:

There were two men who lived in the same city. One was rich; one was poor. The rich man had vast flocks and herds, but the poor man had only a little ewe lamb that he had raised on the bottle. It was more of a family member than livestock. It ate scraps from the table and even drank out of his cup, and it slept by his master’s bed at night.

One day a traveler came to visit the rich man, and the rich man wanted to give a great banquet with roast lamb as a centerpiece. He set about ordering preparations for the gala, but instead of calling for one of his own lambs to be slaughtered for the feast, he instructed his henchmen to take the poor man’s lamb and dress it and put it on the spit to roast.

David, hearing the story and thinking Nathan is speaking of the actions of one of his subjects, is incensed and pronounces judgment:

The man that has done this shall surely die, but first he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did the deed without pity.

And then, and this is the great part, Nathan says to David, “Thou art the man.”

So, there we have it, a story within a story, both beautifully told in the Old Testament. Nathan got David’s attention by a story. He wouldn’t have made such an impression with a sermon. He would probably have got either a yawn or a knee-jerk defensive reaction. But he sucked David in with the story and taught a great lesson.

And that’s my breakthrough thought: the story’s the thing. We will survive in some format, whether paper and ink or digitally or in a hologram. Storytellers are a necessary part of the moral fabric of our culture and civilization. I might add that we’re also a big part of the immoral fabric—but that’s another breakthrough thought for another blog.

Counting The Cost Wins the Whitney Award, is Finalist for Others

2010-05-18T19:02:00.000-07:00

I'm almost a month late making his announcement, but between the time I won the Whitney Award and now, I managed to incubate a virus that took me right down. All I could do was lie in bed clutching my award and sleep. I didn't even want any tomato soup, which is traditional when I'm sick because it's the only thing Derrill knows how to cook.

So, now I'm well, and I'm having a hard time conjuring the walking-on-air feeling I had at the Whitney Awards.

Maybe I'll start by describing the process of selection:

The Whitney Awards were set up five years ago by LDStorymakers, a writers guild composed of published writers, to recognize excellence in literature written by LDS writers, both for the LDS market and for the general market. Books are nominated by the reading public. Simply go to the Whitney site, click on 'nominate' and go through the steps on the page.

Nominations are closed on December 31. Then, a panel of judges--all published writers--reads through the nominations and selects four as finalists in each of the genres.

These finalists are voted on by the Academy. The Academy is composed of LDStorymakers, bookstore owners, other published writers, prominent literary bloggers, and publishers. In order to vote for any book, an Academy member must certify that s/he has read all finalists in that genre. In order to vote for Best Book of the Year, the member must have read all books in all categories.

Awards are presented at a gala at the completion of the two-day Storymakers Writers Conference.

I went to the gala completely relaxed because I had no expectations of winning. I didn't prepare a speech, and enjoyed a delicious meal, listening to Christine Thackeray, Tanya Mills and my son Clay talk about the Middle East. Christine is writing a trilogy with King Herod as the main character, and she's a walking encyclopedia of all things Herod. Fascinating. Did you know he spent his early years at Petra? Clay has been to Petra several times, Tanya camped there with her family as a teenager, and I've seen the Indiana Jones movie that's set at Petra, so we were all interested in the subject.

So then it was time for the awards.

My book was a finalist in the Romance category. One of the reasons I didn't feel I had a prayer of winning was because Counting the Cost, though it's a love story, isn't really a 'romance.' The book doesn't end with a sigh, a kiss, and orange blossoms, so when they read out my name as the winner, I amost dislocated my jaw, it dropped so far.

I hot-footed it to the podium, wondering what I was going to say. I was the first one announced, and I didn't attend last year, so I had no idea what was protocol. I think I dedicated the award to my Uncle Curtis. He's the young cowboy whose life is shadowed in the book. This book is different from all my others. They were carefully plotted, but Counting the Cost was a gift. I feel as if I was given stewardship over the story, that I was chosen to tell it. It's kind of been my quest.

It was great to have my son Clay as my escort for the evening.

It was also great to have the support of all my ANWA sisters. ANWA stands for American Night Writers Association. It's a writers group made of LDS women, and it's my association with them that has helped me hone my craft to the point that I'd be winning this award. In the picture at the left, we're 'showing the love.'

The Whitney award itself is classy. It's in the shape of a book which opens and closes and has the name of the book and what the award is for etched on it. I smile every time I look at it. Who'd a thunk it?

My editor, Cecily Markland, was dealing with family issues and couldn't be at the Whitney Awards, but she held down the fort at the Arizona Publisher Association's 2010 Awards the next weekend. Counting the Cost was a finalist in two categories: Literary Fiction and Regional Fiction. It didn't win either one, but being named finalist is pretty good, too.

Thanks to all who nominated Counting the Cost for a Whitney. I don't know who you all are, but you're fellow questors with me in helping tell the story of the young cowboy, Heck Benham.

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Have you missed me? I've missed writing, and I'm back among the living, which means that I've got things I've got to write. I'm going to do healthy fried eggs, an article on face blindness, and I've got a couple of books I've read that I want to review, too. Oh, and a wuuuuunderful video I just saw. So, sign up as a follwer!

Could You Be an Angel Today? by Christine Thackeray

2010-04-09T18:44:00.000-07:00

Mother’s Day is coming on May 9. This year I’m asking for Legos. I bought some on Ebay to have for when the grandkids come over, and I got some awesome pieces, but not enough of the regular blocks.

Now, Legos aren’t terribly sentimental, and they don’t say, ‘You’re an Angel, Mom.” I wouldn’t recommend you assume other gray-haired ladies in your life would like Legos for Mother’s Day just because I’ve put the word out that’s what I want.

I do have something to suggest that says that, though. It’s a darling little booklet containing a poem by Christine Thackeray about a mom who gets asked to stand in for a guardian angel named Gladys.

The angel in charge of scheduling who asks for help says,

“It’s just for one day. See, I have here a list.”

And then the mom goes on:

I frowned at the thick scroll he held in his fist,
“All right.” I took it. “I’ll do your bidding.”
Then I read the long page and laughed. “Are you kidding?”

But, she takes on the challenge of being a guardian angel, in addition to her other motherly duties. For one day she flies from one need to another, until at the end of the day:

When at last I collapsed in my bed close to one,
Knowing full well that the list was all done,
I expected some trumpets or heavenly choir,
But I was out cold before it could transpire.

Christine Thackeray is mother of seven children and knows all about covering bases while reaching out to others. She has a wonderful sense of the sweetly ridiculous, and it shines through here as she tells how Gladys gets her day off.

Christine sent me a copy, and I was so tickled with it, I figured I’d blog about it.

This booklet is a mere dozen pages, just the right size to tuck in an envelope and send across the country to a mother figure in your life with the note, “This reminds me of you.” Or, go to Amazon and order it and have them send it for you. I guarantee the recipient will smile.

The New Testament Documents, Are They Reliable? by F. F. Bruce

2010-04-03T11:30:00.001-07:00

I love used book stores. I love the idea of people buying used books. It's as if each dog-ear and flex of the spine adds something to the book--not power, necessarily, but maybe a patina of warmth and goodwill because of those who have carried the book, turned its pages, invested their time.

This may seem funny coming from an author who makes no royalties from the sale of used books, but if I had a choice between someone reading my book or buying my book with no intention of reading it, I'd choose to have it read.

But I digress.

I was just about to tell you about this wonderful rabbit-warren of a used book store in Bellingham, Washington. It's called Michael's Books, and I used to go there and wander the mystery and historical fiction aisles while my kids were at piano lessons. I always left time to gravitate back to the Christian book section.
That's where I found a little gem of a book by F. F. Bruce called The New Testament Documents, are they Reliable?

This book was first printed when I was two years old.

Whoa! you say. Did they have printing presses back then?

I chuckle politely and reply that, yes, they did have printing presses in 1943, and that the book has been updated six times since then. Moreover, the book is still in print.

I bought my first copy of this book twenty years ago. Since then I've bought four more. I keep giving my current copy away, and then I have to order a new one.

So, who is F. F. Bruce? He began his scholarly life as a classicist, branching out from this foundation to acquire scholarly expertise on Judaism and Christianity, and especially the New Testament and the world that surrounded it. He held the post of Rylands Professor of Biblical Criticism and Exegesis at University of Manchester, England, and, over his career, wrote more than forty widely-used books about the New Testament. The one I bought at Michael's Books is his first.

The New Testament Documents, Are They Reliable? is written for someone like me. I'm conversant with the New Testament, but I don't know a lot about how it came to exist. Bruce takes us briefly through the formation of the canon and then demonstrates why he believes these documents are reliable from a historical standpoint.

N.T. Wright, who wrote the forward to the edition I used to write this posting, describes what F. F. Bruce shows us:

For a start, the documents themselves--the manuscripts from which our knowledge of the New Testament comes--are in far, far better shape than the manuscripts of any other work from the ancient world, by a very long way. Think of the great classical authors--Homer, Plato, Virgil, Horace, or whoever--and you'll find that our knowledge of them rests on a small number of very late manuscripts, often as much as a thousand years after the author's day. Examine the New Testament, and you'll find that our knowledge of it rests on a very large number of manuscripts, several hundred in fact, which go back as far, in some cases, as the early second century, less than a hundred years after the books were first wirtten. There is better evidence for the New Testament than for any other ancient book.

Bruce's intent isn't to convert. Rather it is to expand the reader's already-held faith. And, he suggests that, prior to reading all his information about the reliability of the New Testament documents, it might be advisable for you to read the New Testament first, if you haven't already done so.

Reading Bruce's book is a treat. It's like spending time with a brilliant but kind uncle who takes the time to explain the wonders of his world to a willing but primer-level student.

The names of the chapters are a window into the book:

1. Does it matter?
2. The New Testatment Documents: Their Date and Attestation
3. The Canon of the New Testament
4. The Gospels
5. The Gospel Miracles
6. The Importance of Paul's Evidence
7. The Writings of Luke
8. More Archaeological Evidence
9. The Evidence of Early Jewish Writings
10. The Evidence of Early Gentile Writers

Included in Chapter 5 is the Resurrection, the event all Christians celebrate tomorrow as Easter. I really appreciated F. F. Bruce's treatment of it and for this learned man's expression of faith in that world-changing, eternity-changing event.

If you want a scholarly, non-threatening, faith-enforcing book on the New Testament, I recommend this book to you.
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And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

The Second Annual SWAN Century Ride

2010-03-17T15:42:00.000-07:00

Are you a cyclist? If not, do you know a cyclist? My blog today is about a Century Ride and I hope you’ll let all your cycling friends know about it.

For the uninitiated (which was me, last year), a Century Ride is an organized, 100-mile bike ride. It’s not a race, but participants register, pay an entrance fee, and wear numbers. Many times, these rides are fund-raising events for charity.

I’m going to tell you about a Century Ride that’s happening June 5th. But first, I’m going to tell you about the charity that will benefit from the ride.

If you’re a follower of my blog, you know my favorite charity is SWAN. SWAN stands for Serving Women Across Nations, and it’s a non-profit humanitarian outreach organization that brings tools of change to impoverished women and children in Kenya and Bolivia. Microcredit is one of the tools SWAN uses. Small-business training and microcredit (small loans) are provided to poor women to enable them to start up or grow a small business to earn money to provide for their families.

SWAN sponsors the ride in connection with Sedro Woolley’s Blast From the Past town celebration. Sedro Woolley is a Norman Rockwellish, small town set alongside the Skagit River in northwest Washington State.

The SWAN Century encompasses a mile century as well as a metric century (62 miles), and a family fun ride that’s 13 miles long. The metric century follows the Skagit River east, crosses it, and follows it back west to the lunch stop. Those going on for the mile century then ride out to Padilla Bay, a part of Puget Sound.

Last year was the first annual Swan Century, and I was in charge of lunches for cyclists. The riders were enthusiastic in their comments when they rolled in. They thought the scenery was gorgeous, and they said the course was well laid out, and it was all very well organized. And they liked the food, too. There were home-made Monster Cookies (the one with M&M’s in them) at the rest stops, and for lunch we served meatball sandwiches, a huge green salad with avocado dressing, and carrot cake.

We’ve already heard from several of last year’s participants saying they’re coming back this year and bringing friends. One of the returnees is coming from Central California.

We had 90 participants last year. With those 90 participants, SWAN was able to fund eight microloans. It’s interesting that one of the recipients of those microloans was a Bolivian woman who has a bicycle repair shop.

Her name is Justa, and her loan enabled her to buy an inventory of repair parts so she didn’t have to take time away from fixing bikes to run to the store and buy the part she needed right then. Justa paid off that loan and has taken out a second one that will let her buy bicycles in kits that she can then put together and sell.

We’re hoping to double the number of riders this year. If you’re not a hard core, 100-miles-at-a-time rider, then consider the family fun ride. It’s for a good cause, and your heart will thank you, not only for the cardio-vascular workout, but for the good feeling deep down that comes from helping someone less fortunate than you.

So, save the date. It’s June 5th, 2010. Tell your friends. Maybe get a team together at work. If you’re not into cycling, you can help spread the word. Send some emails. Post the logo on your blog with a link to the web site, which is at http://www.swancentury.org/ .

And, if you come, let me know you heard about it on my blog at lunch time. I’ll make sure you get an extra meatball on your sandwich.

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Follow this blog! I've got a dandy kettle-cornish popcorn recipe to share. My husband, Derrill, was gone for a few days, and one night that's what I made for dinner. I ate the whole thing, and I thought, I need to share this with my followers. And, I still have to do the healthy fried egg post. So, stay tuned.

Keeping Tabs on Numero Uno

2010-03-09T19:16:00.000-08:00

You know how, when the class picture comes around, the person you always look for first is yourself? That's the way writers are. They've got their little Google Alert Antennae out, checking for cybervibes that might sound like their names.

My antenna picked up some fun information this week that I thought I'd share.

The first is from someone who took one of the classes I taught at the Western Reserve Writers Conference last September. She was venturing out of her comfort zone and blogging, and she mentioned that she had taken my class on Raising Your Internet Profile 101. She wrote a great blog on how to avoid procrastination. (You go, Alanna! Great job.) It has to do with eating a frog--a powerful image that gets the point across. Click here if you'd like to check it out.

Next, Jennie Hansen, author and book reviewer, who had already reviewed Counting the Cost on Meridian Magazine , wrote another mini-review on her personal blog. Here's what she said:

There's a great Western included in the Whitney's Best Romance category this year. I'm not sure why it was put in the Romance Category, possibly because there isn't a Western category and the General category was already pretty full. There's a relationship between a cowboy and some other dude's wife, but I wouldn't call it a romance; they're both in love with the same person--her.

But forget the romance elements, Counting the Cost by Liz Adair is the best Western I've read in a long time and as I've said before I'm a Western fan. This one is gritty, but not profane. There's an illicit relationship, but it's not in our face and the cowboy is painfully aware it's not right. The life and actions of the cowboy are heartbreakingly realistic. And though I didn't care much for the woman in the story, I could still sympathize with the hardships her cowboy's life inflicted on her.

I think most readers, Western fans or not, will agree Liz Adair is a particularly talented writer and I personally think her understanding of the early twentieth century cowboy is one of the best I've run across

Well, that made me feel pretty good. And then, I got word of another review. This was from Rick Huff's Best Of The West Reviews. Here's what Rick Huff wrote:

He is Heck Benham, a striking handsome young cowboy with barely more than his saddle and his Levis to his name. She is Ruth Reynolds, a lovely and free-spirited woman, caught in an abusive loveless marriage with the "bean counter" hired by Heck's respected rancher boss. Maybe the passion that builds between them was never meant to be, but certainly it was never allowed to be in the straight-laced, southern New Mexico ranching society of the 1930s depicted in Liz Adair's Western romance novel, Counting The Cost. Will they decide to throw caution to the whistling Western wind? And could they weather the consequences...

Westerner Liz Adair is the best-selling author of the Spider Latham mystery series. In her first Western novel, the plot moves at sort of a Bridges Of Madison County pace. Mostly the inevitable is played out against the leisurely, but with the staccato points of a lightning strike, a bucking horse or a fist to the face. You nearly feel the remote silence, the single bird off in a field, or a distant slamming door.

Moreover, Adair displays an intimate knowledge of the cowboys' work, gear and lives. It's revealed in the details. For instance, there's a description of Heck and the hands working the remuda by forming a living corral with their ropes stretched between them that I don't recall ever before seeing in print or alluded to in song.

So there you go. You can see why I'm grinning today. Not only that, but reading Rick Huff's review made me remember sitting with my Uncle Clay--it wasn't long before he died--and having him tell me how the cowboys would make that living corral when the wrangler brought in the remuda. That was a sweet afternoon. Thanks, Rick, for reminding me.

That's my Uncle Clay in the picture above, taken when he was a young cowboy working cattle on the Jornada in southern New Mexico.

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Follow this blog! Did I promise you a healthy fried egg? Dang. Every morning when I cook them I don't have my camera. I'll try to get it done this week. It's so quick and easy and good for you.

My Solution to Dirty Dancing at School Dances

2010-02-28T19:43:00.000-08:00

We had an article in our local newspaper the other day reporting that local school officials were at wit's end at how to deal with 'dirty' dancing at school dances.

According to a report in the Skagit Valley Herald:

One Mount Vernon High School dance chaperone says the current dance craze, called “grinding,” looks to her as if students are having “sex with their clothes on,” and she’s tired of looking the other way.
“Every kid was either dancing like that or not at all,” said Carolyn Nichols, 49. “The kids who weren’t brave enough to dance like that were standing in circles talking.”

The article goes on to say that most county schools have forbidden suggestive dancing and have also threatened to stop having dances if it continues to be a problem. The article indicates that the problem is widespread in the country.

As the title of my blog indicates, I have a solution: teach the kids something different. Give them an alternative.

Since the 1960's--just after I got out of my teens--our culture has ceased to pass down our dances as part of our lore. Knowing the basic dances helped us out socially during the difficult teen years by giving us a way of interacting where we knew the ropes.

As a Native New Mexican, I not only learned the waltz, foxtrot and swing, but also the specialty dances like Cotton Eyed Joe, Put Your Little Foot and the Schottish. I was taught the dances by my parents and grandparents.

What's wrong with teaching recreational dance in P.E.? I think it's more important than pickleball.

I had this revelation this last weekend when I attended a Traditional Jazz Festival at Oceanside Oregon. Most of the people who attend these festivals have gray hair, like me. We grew up on this music, and we love to dance to it.

However, over the last few years, I've noticed more and more young people coming to dance. We call them the Lindy Hoppers, because they come to practice the Lindy Hop. There's a group from Seattle and one from Vancouver BC that come to the northwest jazz festivals. They begin dancing at ten a.m. on Saturday morning, and they're still going strong when the last band has played, thirteen hours later. Four year ago there might have been half a dozen Lindy Hoppers at the festival. This year, I judged there to be about a hundred.

The beautiful thing about it was the cross-generational connection. Young and old were sharing the same dance floor, grooving to the same music.

I've posted a couple of videos I shot of the dancing at one of the venues at ten a.m. The Lindy Hoppers follow different bands, and these were dancing to High Sierra at one of the smaller venues. One is slower, the other is up-tempo.

Here's what I've noticed as I've watched these young people dance:

There's lots of camaraderie among them. They change partners lots, making sure everyone gets a chance to dance. The more experienced dance with those who haven't yet completely clued in. Over the years I've noticed how several two-left-feeters have miraculously grown an opposing right foot. It's because of the coaching they got from their peers.
These kids are tremendously fit. Look at the videos. Each band plays an hour-and-a-quarter set. There are fifteen minutes between sets. The Lindy hoppers dance solid all day long.
These dances are not suggestive. There's lots of finesse, lots of inventiveness, to them, lots of athleticism, but sex with clothes on? No.
The kids have gone beyond learning just the Lindy Hop. One of the bands played a waltz and the dance floor (this was a very large one at the biggest venue) quickly filled up with senior citizens twirling around the room. But I also noticed about half of the Lindy Hoppers were twirling around, too. It was a beautiful moment.

I know there are those who would say that the kids wouldn't want to have a dance class in P.E. Well, I don't know. What I'm seeing with the Lindy Hoppers seems to be a ground swell, a grass roots thing. I think the kids may be hungry for that kind of knowledge: a truly American dance form danced to truly American music. A dance form that says, this is who I am. This is part of my heritage, part of my American lore.

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Follow this blog! I promise to quit philosophizing and post how to cook a healthy fried egg, soon. And I want to talk about swans and SWANs.

Parenting Tip #2 - Time Out for Difficult Children

2010-02-22T18:57:00.000-08:00

Before I share this particular parenting tip with you, we need to define what I mean by a 'difficult child.' Being a novelist, I can't do that without telling a story, so here goes.

In the late1960's my husband and I and our two sweet children lived in the Los Angeles area. We had a struggling business, so to take up the economic slack, I taught for several years in an elementary school that was located in a poverty pocket in an otherwise middle-class city. My own children attended the school where I taught, and each evening as we would drive home, I would grieve for the circumstances of my students.

My husband and I talked it over, and we decided if the opportunity arose, we would adopt an 'unadoptable' child, one that wouldn't have a chance for a happy, middle-class existence. It was to be our little mite at saving the world, one child at a time.

We were terribly naive. But, as often happens to simpletons, we got lucky. Or, at least, we got our wish. Before the year was out, we had another child. She was seven, had been a foster child for the five years since she was wrested from her negligent mother, and had been in several homes already. A fellow teacher had taught her in head start, and that's how I found out she needed a home.

This daughter came to us with a small paper bag of clothes but trunks, suitcases and duffle bags of emotional baggage. However, we wobbled along, thinking that love and structure would conquer all.

Love and structure conquered a lot. In fact, about five years later, things were going along so well that we thought we might try another rent-a-kid. We had a family council and talked it over, and the kids agreed. The state adoption worker kissed us on both cheeks and presented us with a seven year old boy.

The fact that he went to day classes at the regional mental hospital should have told us something, but his foster mother said he was teachable. Knowing that love and structure could conquer all, and having had success with our first rental, we said we'd take him. So we did.

And, it wasn't too bad. He was a sweet boy. He brought a suitcase full of clothes and a bicycle when he came, but the emotional baggage he brought was immense. He was the result of a fling his mother had with another man. She didn't leave her husband, and she waited until this son was six to give him up (there were five other siblings). During those six years he had landed in the hospital twice with parent-inflicted injuries. One day she simply took him to DSHS and said she didn't want him any more.

So, we wobbled along with that addition, too. Love and structure, you see, will conquer all, and I was the master of structure. My husband, Derrill, called me The Commandant. Sometimes the structure came easier than the love.

By the time a year had rolled around, things were going so well that we started thinking we were wonderful. We had the magic touch. Love and Structure R Us. Let's have another kid, only let's get one a little younger this time.

In no time at all we had a three-and-a-half year old boy. The adoption worker, the same one who had brought us our previous child, felt he was meant to be ours, and we thought so too. He had brown eyes, curly hair, and a dossier two inches thick. We said we knew what we were in for. We were prepared. Love and structure, after all, etc., etc.

We had some pretty good years until puberty hit first one and then another and knocked the props out of our love and structure thing. The emotional baggage all spilled open and there was no way to get everything folded neatly and put away again.

Our saving grace was our old farmhouse. As sturdy as it was ugly, it had one beautiful thing about it: nine bedrooms. Each of our children (seven by the time I was making use of this parenting tip, because we had two surprise cabooses after our last adoption) had his/her own bedroom, so I was able to send whichever of the children was acting out to his room for a time out.

There was a problem, though. Quite a few of the bedrooms were in the basement. There was also a family room down there with a TV in it, and I found that several times when one of the boys was sent to his room, he would go downstairs, slam the door, then sneak out and watch TV until I sent word that he could come up again.

It made me so mad that I had the desire to screw the bedroom door shut, or at least put a dead bolt on it. As satisfying as that would have been, it wasn't safe, so I did the next best thing. I taped it shut.

Now, the tape didn't do anything to hold the door closed. It simply let me know if the door had been opened during the period of banishment. There was no more sneaking out, because there was no way he could get back into the room, close the door, and replace the tape.

I knew I was onto something when I arrived a little early to a family counseling session and heard our therapist telling another parent about this time-out technique. I had shared it with her several weeks before.

I know none of you have difficult children. But, if you know someone who does, they might like to add this to their bag of tricks. I've got others I'll share as the spirit moves me.

The Reckoning by Tanya Parker Mills - a Review

2010-02-14T17:05:00.000-08:00

I was in grade school when a teacher introduced me to the idea that matter can neither be created nor destroyed. Even my non-scientific mind was wakened to all sorts of possibilities, and a lively classroom discussion ensued. That was over fifty years ago, and I still remember it.

As I grow older—and I am growing older; has anyone noticed? As I grow older, I have begun to see that matter isn’t the only thing that hangs around forever. The consequences of our actions do, too. They reverberate through time and space and wash back to us at unexpected moments and in the oddest of places. It’s almost like a cosmic economy. The smallest action—a look or a word—can be carried in someone’s heart or memory, and, years later, you’ll find that a throwaway line you uttered had deep significance to that person, and you reap either satisfaction or shame, depending on the memory.

A variation on that idea is one of the themes of Tanya Parker Mills’ multiple-award-winning book The Reckoning. Set in the months just before America’s invasion of Iraq, it’s the story of Theresa Fuller, a journalist who lived in Iraq as a child and who sneaks across the northern border to write the story of Saddam Hussein’s humanitarian crimes against the Kurdish people. Captured, she is jailed as a spy.

Most of the book deals with Theresa’s time in prison and the privation and torture she endures there. Taut and beautifully written, it’s sometimes hard to read, but never dull and never unbelievable. It’s hard to read because we care about Theresa. Tanya Mills has done a good job of letting us know the realities of Abu Grabe when it was still in Iraqi hands (and there’s an irony!) without being unduly graphic.

Captain Tariq al-Awali, an Iraqi officer, is put in charge of Theresa’s imprisonment, and he becomes the only buffer between her and the cruel Colonel Badr’s repertoire of tortures. It is through her association with, and her growing attachment to, Captain al-Awali that Theresa learns a secret about her own father and, by extension, about herself. Cosmic economy reverberates through the last half of the book, echoing still on the very last page.

Tanya Mills writes what she knows. Her father worked for the United States Government, and she grew up overseas in Greece, Turkey, Iraq and Lebanon. Did I already say The Reckoning is beautifully written? Wuuuuunderfully written. Tanya Parker Mills’ prose is the kind that a writer reads and thinks, “Why can’t I write like that?” The Reckoning was a 2008 Whitney Award finalist and a 2009 Indie Book Award winner.

I recommend The Reckoning most highly. It’s a window on the Iraqi people in the pre-Saddam era as well as a primer on how he came to power. But mostly, it’s a great story.

Check out the book trailer here. You can purchase The Reckoning on Amazon, either in hard copy or Kindle edition. Do it!

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Follow this blog! I've got more reviews, interviews and recipes for you. I'm going to teach you how to do a healthy fried egg. Soon.

An Introduction to the Whitney Awards

2010-02-07T18:25:00.000-08:00

As with most of the things I plan, when the time comes to execute my plan, I'm out of the mood, and what I thought would be fun or exciting has become a chore.

That's what has happened here. I was walking on air two days ago when I heard that my latest book, Counting the Cost, was a finalist for the Whitney Award, and I wanted to explain to the world about the Whitneys. However, I had said I would blog about pancakes on Saturday, so I put off sending up Whitney rockets.

Now I've come down to earth, and I realize that I have to exercise my brain in order to do what I've promised, and I'd lots rather go take my Sunday Afternoon Nap. However, here goes:

I belong to a writers' guild called LDStorymakers. To belong to this guild, you have to be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and be a published author. With online email loops and writers' conferences, this group encourages us all to become better writers. It's a very pro-active, dynamic group and there's lots of camaraderie, support, and mentoring going on.

One of the aims of the group, though not necessarily stated, is to raise the level of writing in fiction published for the LDS community. Or, maybe I should say, the aim is to challenge the perception that all writers who write for the LDS market are less talented and skilled than those who write for the general market.

To that end, LDStorymakers created the Whitney Awards. Here's the process:

1. Anyone, you or me or the person down the street, can nominate a book for a Whitney. The criteria are that

The book is written by an LDS author. It can either be written for the LDS market or the general market.
The book is fiction.
The book is published in the year it is nominated. Self published books are eligible.

2. Nominations are closed at the end of the year. Then a panel of five judges reads all the books that received at least five nominations and selects five finalists in each category.

3. After the finalists are posted, the academy--made up of LDStorymakers, publishers, other authors, some high-profile bloggers, and bookstore owners--votes.

In order to vote for a winner in in any of the categories, the voter has to have read all five selections.

In order to vote for Best Book of the Year, the voter has to have read all thirty selections.

4. Winners are announced at a gala at the end of the Storymakers Writing Conference at the end of April.

So, there you go. Counting the Cost was nominated and selected to be a finalist. I don't mind waiting until April to see the next step. I'm not looking to win. Not crossing fingers. I consider it an honor to be a finalist, and I'm willing to leave it at that.

I hope you'll check out the finalists for this year. You might find something you'd really like to read.

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Follow this blog! Next week I'll write a review of Tanya Mills' book The Reckoning, which was a finalist in two categories in last year's Whitney Awards, and deservedly so.

Liz Adair's world Famous Pancakes

2010-02-06T11:30:00.000-08:00

After I promised to post about how to make pancakes, I got notification that my book, Counting the Cost, was a finalist for a Whitney Award. So, I'll keep my promise to blog about pancakes, but you have to promise to come back tomorrow when I blog about the Whitneys.

So, back to pancakes:

I have never understood why people use pancake mix. Pancakes from scratch are cheap, simple, and they taste so much better than Crusteeze or Bisquick pancakes that I'm sure you'll never go back to a mix after you try these.

Here's the formula for pancakes for 2 people, and you're not going to measure. That's what makes it so easy.

1 cup flour (white or whole wheat)

1 tablespoon baking powder

salt--about as much as would cover a dime. Just put it in the palm of your hand and say, "That's about right," and dump it in.

oil--I'll tell you how much in a minute

1 egg for white flour pancakes, 2 eggs for whole wheat--or use two eggs for either.

Milk--I'll tell you how much in a minute.

Simply double the flour,baking powder and eggs as you increase the people, and the rest of the ingredients will take care of themselves.

After you've mixed the flour, salt and baking powder together, make a well in the flour clear down to the bottom of the bowl and expose a place about the size of a fifty-cent piece.

That's how much oil you're going to put in. Fill up the well with oil. It probably is a scant 1/4 cup, but we're not measuring.

Then add your eggs and milk.

The amount of milk you will use is about the same amount of flour that you use. If you used a cup of flour, you'll probably use a cup of milk. But just pour in the milk and start mixing with a whisk. You want to end up with a smooth batter about the consistency of...pancake batter. If it's too runny, add a bit more flour. If it's too thick, add a bit more milk. You'll get the hang of it.

Have your griddles heating while you mix your batter. I have an old electric stove, and I heat them on high for a while and then turn the dial to just above low, on the way to medium. If you're working with whole wheat flour, you want them to cook slowly, because otherwise they'll get too brown before they get done.

If you don't have a good temper on your griddle, or if it's not teflon, spray it with Pam and then wipe it off.

I have a 1/2-cup ladle that I use to pour the batter onto the griddle to cook. You'll see bubbles form--but if they form immediately, your griddle is too hot. When the pancake has 'risen' and kind of solidified around the edges, it's ready to be turned.

Turn it over and let it cook a little longer--this is something you've got to learn to judge. If you want to see if it's done, you can break the crust and look inside, but you'll soon get the hang of it.

So there you go! As I said, try them, and you'll never go back to a mix.

And...I promised home-made syrup. Here it is:

2 cups sugar

1 cup water

Bring to a boil, stirring until all the sugar is dissolved.

Turn off the heat and add 1/2 tsp to 1 tsp (depending on how you like it) Maple flavoring.

A dollop of Kayro syrup added as you're cooking it helps keep the syrup from sugaring as you store it between breakfasts.

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An Interview with Rachel Rager

2010-02-04T14:44:00.000-08:00

I love Rachel Rager's web site, Clean Romance 4 You. It's uncluttered, easy to navigate, clever, and let's you know what this lady is all about.

Rachel was gracious enough to let me interview her about her newest book, By Love or By Sea, so we'll get right to it:

LIZ: Tell us a bit about yourself: where you're from, about your family.

RACHEL: I am the oldest of three and grew up in Casper, Wyoming. In college I majored in Vocal Music Performance and loved participating musical theater! I married my husband, who also grew up in Casper, almost nine years ago and we have three beautiful daughters. Beautiful and a handful! A couple months ago, we moved to Provo, UT and I am blessed to be able to stay home with my children and write! I love to sing, write, read, ride bikes, play basketball, have picnics, and spend time with my family!

LIZ: That sounds like a busy life. What is your writing schedule?

RACHEL: The easiest time for me to write is either during nap time in the early afternoon, or in the evening, after the girls have gone to bed. (My husband has really begun to enjoy several TV shows!)

LIZ: Ah, yes. It's been a lot of years, but I remember the gift that children's naptime is. How long have you known you wanted to be a writer?

RACHEL: I never wanted to be a writer. When I was young, I couldn’t spell and disliked English in general. In fact, I didn’t even like to read and was not good at it. I sometimes would have great ideas, but after a page and a half of extensive details, I would grow tired and end the story in a half page! When my oldest daughter was about eight months old, I woke up from a dream and decided to write it down. I just wanted to see if I could do it. That was eight years ago. I finished it and it was terrible! But I did it! I began another one and that one was better. By Love or By Sea was actually the third story that I wrote but it was the first one published.

LIZ: Wow! You're the first writer I've ever asked that question who didn't say they always wanted to write. We're glad you had that dream. So, with that kind of a beginning, how have you learned the craft?

RACHEL: Mostly, especially in the beginning, I was self-taught. After I was married, I began reading more and more, and when I started writing, I simply wrote in the style of the books I’d been reading. The more I wrote, the better I got. Several years after I began writing, I joined ANWA, which was one of the best things I’ve ever done as a writer. Those women have helped me more than I could have imagined. Support, encouragement, and constructive criticism has been an invaluable tool for me!

LIZ: I'm with you, Rachel. I'm a much better writer because of all I learned in ANWA, and I had already published two books when I discovered that marvelous writer's group.

Do you plot your books ahead of time or just begin writing and see where it takes you?

RACHEL: Even though I’ve only published one book, I’ve written several more. And depending on the story, will depend on how I write it. Some, like By Love or By Sea, I just sit down and see where the adventure takes me. Others, I actually map out on paper before I begin. However, in almost every story I’ve completed, I always write several scenes out of order. They’ll come to me and I write them down and then work them into the story as I go along. That’s always fun!

LIZ: I would find it really hard to write scenes out of order. What do you find is the hardest thing about writing?

RACHEL: Wow. There are so many. I’d like to say that I can just sit down and write the perfect thing all the time! But I can’t. Perhaps at the top of my list would be editing. I find editing tedious and boring. I’d much rather be creating! But editing is creating too. But I find it much more challenging. Sometimes, sitting down to the computer and staying focused is the hardest part of writing. Correspondence with friends is sometimes much more gratifying, especially if I’m not certain what to write that day or where the story might be going. Other days, writing is the hardest part. I am often surprised how challenging it is to just start writing, sometimes!

LIZ: I feel the same way. To me, sitting down at the keyboard is an act of faith. By the way, I love the cover of your book. Tell us what By Love or By Sea is about.

RACHEL: Alice Lind Frank never forgot the boy she loved when she was just six years old, even after he was lost at sea. Now a young woman, Alice has found happiness in living and working with her grandparents, and in the affections of Clarence Hielott, the wealthy shipyard owner who intends to make Alice his bride.

When a ragged sailor appears in town, Alice is reminded of the young boy who once held her heart. Upon learning that the sailor is in fact her childhood love, Caleb, she finds herself falling for him again.

But Clarence refuses to let this ghost from the past destroy his plans for the future. He exposes the secrets of Caleb’s past, and Alice realizes that the boy she once knew is now a man with a dark history. Soon Caleb and Clarence are locked in a fierce competition for Alice’s heart.

Alice must decide if she could overcome her fears and surrender her heart to Caleb or marry Clarence.

LIZ: I'm interested in why you, an intermountain-west lady, set this book by the sea? Do you have an affinity for sailing?

RACHEL: I’ve always liked the sea but have never spent tons of time there. Still, I enjoy the smell of the salty air and the sound beneath my toes. There’s something magical about the sea. And there’s something about someone being lost and then returning that has an appeal for me. Therefore, I put the two together!

LIZ: What do you want the reader to take away from this book?

RACHEL: I want readers to be able to set the book down with a sigh of longing for the simpleness of days gone by. I want them to feel a renewed sense that there can still be good in the world and they can still be happy. I want people to be able to lose themselves in the past for a brief moment and feel refreshed when they emerge and once again join the sometimes mundane tasks of today’s world.

LIZ: I know what you mean. I always feel that a good book is like a mini-vacation. Have you begun your next book?

RACHEL: I’m polishing up one with a working title of A Dress to the Heart.

LIZ: What is it about? Can you give us the story line?

RACHEL: Ivy Lewis is both provider and nurturer for her seven younger siblings. Plain and poor, she works as an apprentice to a seamstress, yearning for scholastic knowledge and finding her true love. Her social standing places her as an outcast among many, namely the arrogant Eleanora Key, who can’t seem to torture her enough. And like Miss Key, Ivy has her eye set on Lord Sterling Bennett; the contrast lying in that Ivy can never hope to capture his attention, let alone aspire to gain his admiration.

When Ivy meets a mysterious man on the road, Mr. Alan, her entire world shifts. She is no longer invisible to the world. Amid trying to care for her ill mother and her siblings, she finds herself kidnapped, courted by two wealthy men, and demoralized by Eleanora Key. Through it all, she learns her worth as a woman and the importance of maintaining the values she’s always believed in. But she must discover the secrets of Mr. Alan before it is too late.

LIZ: It sounds like you've got lots of things going on in that one. I already don't like Eleanora Key.

RACHEL: I’m also doing some rewrites on The Tiger, Unleashed, set in the 1800’s in California and A Cold Heart, which is a historical romance based at Platte Bridge Station just outside of Casper, Wyoming.

I’m also considering writing a book about Betsy Winter’s journey. (Betsy is the sour, old woman in By Love or By Sea.) I have heard so many things about her. Everyone just loves her! So, I’m thinking about that.

LIZ: You certainly made her a vivid character. I can see that it would be fun to tell Betsy's story and let us see her as a young woman.

RACHEL: I have probably a dozen stories in my head and no time to put them on paper. So I hope that you will see many more books from me in the future!

LIZ: I hope so, too! Thanks, again, Rachel for allowing me to interview you.

So, Readers, you can see Rachel's book trailer by clicking here, and you can buy By Love or By Sea at Amazon and take a mini-vacation to a rustic seaside town.

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Follow this blog! I promise my world famous pancake recipe by Saturday so you can have them for Sunday supper. Both regular and light, fluffy whole wheat.

How to Make Navajo Tacos

2010-01-27T08:02:00.001-08:00

Navajo tacos are a tradition when we go camping. They're easy to make and you can feed a passel of people with little fuss.

Navajo tacos consist of fried bread dough (called fry bread) topped with chili, cheese, lettuce and tomato. If you wish, you can add salsa and sour cream.

You can use your own bread dough--and that reminds me. One day in the future I'll give you my recipe. However, when we camp, we buy frozen dinner roll dough from the freezer section of the grocery store.

If we're having Navajo Tacos for dinner, I set the bag of rolls out to thaw about mid-morning. When they're squishy but still cold, I mash two together and set them on a pan I've sprayed with Pam to rise.

When the rolls have risen to double their bulk, I heat the chili. You can simply buy canned chili, or you can make your own. (There's another blog!)

Heat about 2 inches of oil in a large skillet on medium high heat. When you drop a piece of roll in it and it bubbles around it, it's hot enough. If it bubbles furiously, it's too hot. Turn the heat down and cook one of the rolls just to bring down the temperature, and try again. After one or two, you'll learn to read the temperature of the oil.

Before you drop the roll in the oil, you need to flatten it to about the thickness of a pancake. It will puff up again as it fries.

Cook the bread until it's golden brown on one side and then turn over to cook on the other side. If it's turning brown on the outside but it's still doughy on the inside, your oil is too hot.

Remove the bread and drain on a paper towel.

These are best if eaten right away. We usually cook two or three and then have people start coming through the line. We give them a piece of fry bread hot out of the oil, then they put on their own toppings that we have laid out buffet-style. If your crowd is big, you can have two or three people cooking fry bread. However, if that doesn't work out, you can hold them in a warm oven until you have enough cooked to begin.

We also have butter, powdered sugar and honey set out so everyone can have a piece of fry bread for dessert.

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And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

2010-01-19T21:42:00.000-08:00

I 'met' Ronda Hinrichsen on line a little over a year ago and continued the acquaintance in person at a writers conference we both attended last April. We had breakfast together, and, as we talked, I was struck not only by her fine eyes and poise, but also by how dedicated she is at honing her writing skills.

Ronda’s first novel, Missing, was published last fall, and she has generously agreed to let me interview her on my blog.

Liz: Tell us a bit about yourself: where you're from, about your family.

Ronda: I’m the oldest of seven children. I was born and raised in Rexburg, Idaho, but I’ve lived the past 22+ years in Utah. I currently have a son about to return from his mission, and another son who’s been in the mission field for about 7 months.

Liz: You’re kidding! You don’t look old enough to have sons out on missions! Writing must keep you young. What is your writing schedule?

Ronda: I write almost every morning as well as throughout several evenings when the house is quiet. I do my best work in the quiet, but since solitude isn’t always possible, I also write whenever I get the chance—waiting at the doctor’s office, etc. About ten years ago, I used to have a set schedule, and that worked well for me at that time, but now. . . let’s just say I adapt writing to my changing schedule.

Liz: That’s another example of your dedication. How long have you known you wanted to be a writer?

Ronda: I was in the 6th grade. My teacher was reading S.E. Hinton’s THE OUTSIDERS to the class, and when she reached the section where Johnny urged Ponyboy to stay “gold” I realized I wanted to write "golden” words just as Hinton had. More than that, I wanted those words to encourage the "golden" in others.

Liz: It’s marvelous that you knew that early what you wanted to do. How have you learned the craft?

Ronda: I always learn a great deal about the craft of writing when I’m edited. However, I studied English in college, and I’ve read/studied TONS of “How to Write” books. Also, about 20 years ago, I started writing for magazines. I had young children and little time, so the relatively short structures and specific formats of stories and articles taught me how to use precise language and gave me the opportunity to build my portfolio of published credits.

Liz: Have you transferred what you learned in formatting of stories and articles to your novels? I guess I’m asking, do you plot your books ahead of time or just begin writing and see where it takes you?

Ronda: Both. I initially gather ideas as they come to me in a notebook, and then I begin to outline the important points of the story. I absolutely have to know my beginning and my ending or I can’t write. However, as I write from point to point, a lot of “waiting to see what happens” takes place.

Liz: What is the hardest thing about writing?

Ronda: Constantly drumming up the courage to submit my work, have it read by others, and ultimately critiqued. When it comes to writing, I have a great deal of the perfectionist in me, so I’m always afraid my work isn’t quite good enough. That said, there is nothing like the thrill I get when I learn others have enjoyed and/or been blessed by my words. That success—joy—more than compensates for my fear.

Liz: Good for you! Tell us what Missing is about.

Ronda: Missing is about a BYU-Idaho student who’s on a college choir tour in British Columbia when she sees and then searches for a child who was kidnapped from her own hometown in Rexburg. That’s the exciting part, but underneath the plot, it’s also about sacrifice and a mother’s love for her child.

Liz: I had an affinity for Missing because it’s set in the Pacific Northwest, near where I live. Why did you set this book on Vancouver Island, B.C.?

Ronda: Honestly? Because I wanted a romantic setting that hadn’t been overused. My husband and I went there for our anniversary one year. I thought it was one of the most beautiful places I’d seen. And yes, it was very romantic.

Liz: Well, that last scene in the book where Stacie is driving through the winter weather, trying to save the child was more than romantic. It was exciting, and you captured the feel of Vancouver Island in the winter very well.

Music also plays a big part in this book. Does it play a large part in your life, too?

Ronda: Yes! In relation to the use of my talents, music is second to writing. I love it. Like Stacie Cox, the main character of Missing, I’m a soprano soloist. I also teach beginning piano. In my opinion, music and words are two of the most powerful media we have. My desire is to mold those powers to influence the good in all who read or hear my work.

Liz: That already partially answers my next question: What do you want the reader to take away from this book?

Ronda: I hope readers will experience the story almost as closely as Stacie Cox (my main character) does. I hope they will enjoy it. Most of all, I hope they will feel that the time they spent with Missing will have been well worth the effort.

Liz: Have you begun your next book? What is it about?

Ronda: I’ve actually just started my third novel, but I’m also making “final” edits on my second novel, tentatively titled Trapped. I’m really excited about it. Like Missing, it takes place in an exotic location—Salzburg, Austria—and is filled with mystery, suspense, and romance. But it also has an element of fantasy. The basic premise? A young woman discovers she and her entire bloodline are under a devastating, centuries-old curse only she can end.

Liz: We’ll be looking forward to it! Thanks so much.

Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen’s book Missing can be purchased at Amazon.com or Deseretbook.com

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Follow this blog! I promise Navajo Tacos THIS WEEK! Well, maybe I'd better temper that, as I'm expecting a new granddaughter tomorrow and I'll be taking care of the new one's siblings. However, I'll bet I can make it happen. They don't call me SuperGrandma for nothing! Actually, they don't call me Supergrandma at all. They call me Grandma Tudy, but that doesn't fit the situation. I'll give it my best shot, and if I succeed at posting my Navajo Taco recipe, you can all call me SuperGrandma.

2 Chances to Win a Copy of Counting the Cost

2010-01-19T15:25:00.000-08:00

I'm going to post an interview with Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen later this afternoon, but I thought I'd better post where people can put their names in the pot to win a copy of my latest book Counting the Cost.

The first one is at Cami Checkett's blog. Click here to go there. In fact, she's giving away books all during the month of January.

The other opportunity to win a copy of the book is at Pistols and Petticoats, a site hosted by women who write about the west. Click here to go there.

In both cases, you have to comment in order to have your name in the drawing.

Good luck!

Four Rules for Setting Goals

2010-01-12T11:35:00.001-08:00

I was lucky enough to spend five years as Director of Education at a Sylvan Learning Center. During that time, I not only took care of all the administrative work, but I also often got the chance to teach at the table. Because I never had more than three students, those hours were most enjoyable.

One of the courses we offered was a Study Skills Program, and one of the components of that course was goal setting. I learned a lot from teaching about goals, and it was interesting to see the successes of the students who were willing to implement this component into their scholastic lives.

That was a lot of years ago, but four things about setting goals have stuck with me:

1. Goals need to be achievable.

2. Goals need to be measureable.

3. Long range goals need to be able to be broken down into short-term and intermediate-term goals, which in turn must be achievable and measureable.

4. Goals need to be written down and posted where they will be visible to the goal-setter constantly.

In our family we often tell the goal-setting story about my mother. In early January, 1977, while on a self-improvement kick, Mom declared that she would read six uplifting religious books during the year. An avid reader, she read at least a book a week, but it was mostly fiction.

When the year was over, Mom had read nary a religious book. On January 1, 1978, she announced that this year, she was going to adjust her goal: she would read twelve uplifting, self-improvement books.

So much for being achievable.

With the four goal setting rules in mind, I’m posting my writing goals for 2010:

1. Blog at least once a week on Liz Sez and at least once a month on Make Me a Story, LDStorymaker’s writing-oriented blog.

2. Complete a new novel this year. This goal is broken down into these shorter-term goals.

A. Have the book completely blocked by January 31.

B. Have a detailed outline by February 28.

C. Have chapter thumbnails finished by March 31.

D. Write one complete chapter per week during April, May, June, July and August

E. After the manuscript sits for two months, re-write and edit during November.

Okay, folks. I think these goals are realistic and achievable, though it will take organization on my part. I've got them taped to the closet door in my office.

I’ve also got some family history goals, some exercise goals, and some religious, self-improvement goals set, but I won’t bore you with those.

I’ve got a little more than two weeks to get this book blocked out. I’ll let you know how I do. It’s going to be lite fare—more like The Mist of Quarry Harbor than Counting the Cost. There'll be some romance, some adventure, some intrigue. I'm excited about it. By posting this for all to see, I feel like I'm sure to make my goals.

But then, I think that's what my mother thought, too.

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Follow this blog! I've got interviews coming up with writers Rachel Rager and Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen. I've got my world famous pancake recipe and how to make Navajo Tacos in the queue, and I'm going to review Tanya Mills' taut novel about a journalist imprisoned in modern-day Iraq.

In Praise of Antibiotics

2010-01-07T15:28:00.001-08:00

Thank heaven for antibiotics! After suffering through my post-Christmas cold and thinking that I had finally rejoined the living, I was hit with a secondary infection that really walloped me. I am so grateful for those little two-tone pills.

I have always had a reverence for antibiotics. My mother instilled it in me as a child. Before I was born, she lost a child to pneumonia just before his first birthday because the newly-discovered ‘wonder drugs’ hadn’t yet made their way from the East Coast to provincial New Mexico.

I have a shadowbox hanging in the hall. In it is the blanket my grandmother made for this grandbaby of hers out of material from flour sacks. She gathered wool that had stuck on barbed wire fences at my uncle’s angora goat ranch and carded it for the quilt batt. Up in the corner of the shadowbox, above the picture of this brother, is a little soft-leather, high-button shoe. Bemis, the operator of the village store, gave the shoes to my mother. They were in the inventory when he bought the store, probably left over from the turn of the century.

I wrote about my brother’s death in my book, Counting the Cost:

In the early part of the twentieth century, an up-and-coming German woolen manufacturer was looking for a mordant that would bind dyes more tightly to wool. His company experimented successfully with a chemical that bore the formidable name p-aminobenzenesulfonamide. Apparently, it caused pigments in the dye to adhere to the protein in the wool.

No one remembers just how it happened, but the parent substance, sulfanilamide, came to the notice of scientists researching infectious diseases. It looked promising, and laboratories in England and the United States took up the work.

By 1936, it was known that a group of sulfonamides had a profound effect in the treatment of many deadly diseases. Known as wonder drugs, they were used successfully against scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, meningitis, gonorrhea, and pneumonia. Doctors at the hospital of the Rockefeller Institute in New York City published accounts of a dramatic drop in the mortality rate when these drugs were used.

Dr. Colbin, the aged general practitioner who cared for the poor of Sierra County, subscribed to medical journals and read them faithfully. Two months before the evening that Jimmy Swank came looking for him, he found out about sulfapyridine and its effectiveness in treating pneumococcic pneumonia.

But, knowing a drug exists and having it in your medical bag are two different things. There was no sulfapyridine available in New Mexico, no dramatic drop in the mortality rate in Sierra County, no wonder drug to save Little Emory as he burned with fever and struggled for breath.

He died in the evening of January 6, a week before his first birthday. It was so sudden. Monday he had a runny nose. Tuesday he developed a cough and a fever. Wednesday night he was dead.

My mother told me once that that was how quick it was. She had bought a little wagon in anticipation of his first birthday and kept it hidden under the bed. When she went somewhere and left my father to baby-sit, Dad got out the wagon and let the baby play with it all evening. She was mad that Dad had spoiled the surprise, that is, until the birthday came and the baby was gone.

So, thanks be to God for antibiotics. I know there are people who don’t realize we haven’t always had them, but I’m not one of them. I just had a refresher course in gratitude.

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Follow this blog! I'm going to post about setting goals next time, and I've also got my world famous pancake recipe in the queue. And, I haven't forgotten that I've promised Navajo Tacos and a how-to on flour tortillas. I have to have the mood strike me to make tortillas, though. When it does, I'll be sure to take pictures and write down the recipe. I'm a 'little of this, little of that' cook. It really hampers me when I have to write down a recipe. But, I'll do it for you, dear readers!

Non-alcoholic Beverage to Toast the New Year

2009-12-30T13:57:00.000-08:00

I'm late getting this posted, but I've been, if not at Death's door, then at least in Death's zip code. It kept me from getting this to you on the 28th as promised.

I intended also to have an elegant stemmed glass to show it off in, but we're doing what we can, here. I doubt if anyone would want to drink the pictured glass, refreshing though it may seem, because I coughed all over it.

However, you can make your own.

The non-alcoholic beverage is...(drum roll)..Fresh Limeade!

You will need to purchase:

1. Limes--figure two limes for each guest.

2. Club soda--Figure 8 oz. for each guest.

3. Marischino cherries for garnish

4. Sugar.

Step number 1 is to make the simple syrup. This needs to be made several hours ahead of time so that it can cool in the refrigerator.

The ratio is 2 cups sugar to 1 cup water. (This will be enough simple syrup for about 6 8-oz glasses of limeade. )

Mix the sugar and water together and bring to a boil, stirring until all the sugar is dissolved. Pour into a jar and refrigerate.

Making the Drinks:

When the syrup is cool, squeeze the limes. Mix 1 cup of lime juice to 2 cups of simple syrup, stirring well. You'll have 3 cups of this mix that you can keep in a quart jar or plastic container.

For each drink: In a 12 oz glass, add 1/2 cup of the syrup/lime juice mixture. Add 1/2 to 3/4 cup of club soda. Add ice and gently stir.

Add a slice of lime and marischino cherry for garnish.

Enjoy.

This is a great summer drink as well, but it's suited for New Year's celebrations because the limes are so plump and juicy at this time of year.

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Follow this blog. Click on the follow button to make sure you catch the recipes, parenting tips and other information I cast into cyberspace. I miss you if you're not here.

Merry Christmas to All

2009-12-24T11:20:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas, all you good people! This is my Christmas Card--trying to make up for almost fifty years of non-sending. Do you think it will work?

Thanks to all my followers for sticking with me. I've got more recipes, parenting tips and philosophizing that I want to post in the New Year. Starting with a jazzy non-alcoholic New Year toasting beverage that I'll post by the December 28th so you'll have time to prepare. Okay, so I'm sharing that with you in the old year, but who's counting?

May you have love surrounding you tomorrow, Christmas day 2009. I wish you peace and joy in your heart, whatever your circumstances.

As we give gifts to each other this Christmas, I hope we pause to remember the greatest gift of all, given two millenia ago, but planned for before the foundations of the world: the baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

Merry Christmas.

Liz

A Matter of Principle - A Christmas Review

2009-12-20T20:57:00.000-08:00

A Matter of Principle is one of my favorite Christmas programs. Running about an hour, it first aired on PBS in 1984, and my husband and I still quote lines from it.

Set in what looks to be the early 1960's, it's about Flagg Purdy, a man with a slew of children, high principles and lots of ideas that probably seem old fashioned to those born and raised after women's lib.

Flagg's family is forced to live without electricity because he won't pay certain taxes included in the bill. "I voted agin' 'em," he says. He loves his children and is very invested in their lives, and because his upbringing was hard, he feels that they will benefit from a hard upbringing as well, especially as they see that their father is a man of principle.

Tied up in this is his unwillingness to have a Christmas tree. His father never allowed that frivolity, and he won't have one in his home.

Alan Arkin plays Flagg Purdy and even though we groan at the things he does 'on principle,' we like the man. As his wife says of him, talking about how life wears people down: "Flagg just don't wear smooth."

It's a joy to see the family pull together to show their dad another way to look at his principles and to make it so they have a Christmas tree after all.

You can buy the program in VHS format, in DVD, or pay-to-download from Amazon. The customer comments say they were disappointed in the quality of the DVD.

If you'll click here, you can see a couple of minutes of the movie. If you've got kids from middle grades on up, they'll really enjoy it. It's a great family film.

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Follow this blog! I've still got to redeem my promise to give you a wonderful non-alcoholic beverage with which to toast the New Year. And Navajo Tacos are on the horizon as well. And I'll have some more reviews, too.

Liz Adair's Holiday Fudge

2009-12-19T11:32:00.000-08:00

This fudge has been part of my Christmas celebration for over 60 years. My mother made it every year from the time I was a little girl, and I continued the tradition after she died.

You will need:

1 pint marshmallow cream
1 1/2 pounds coarsely chopped walnuts
1 can evaporated milk
4 1/2 cups sugar
1 cube butter
2 7-oz hershey bars (the Giant ones--or enough
smaller bars to equal the weight.)
1 12-oz bag semi-sweet chocolate chips

First, in a large bowl, combine the chocolate chips, the Hershey bars broken into 1/2 inch chunks, the marshmallow cream, and the walnuts. (If you have a Kitchenaid mixer, you can use it--the ingredients will just barely fit into the bowl, but it makes it easier to mix it up. Use the paddle, and put the marshmallow cream in the middle of the ingredients.)

Next, combine the sugar, milk and butter in a large, heavy pot and heat on medium high until it comes to a boil. When the boiling can't be stirred down, turn to medium and start timing, and boil for an additional 4 1/2 minutes

Take off the heat and pour over the chocolate, nut, marshmallow cream mixture. Beat it until everything is mixed together and the candy is losing its sheen.

Pour into a pan somewhere around 10 x 15 inches in size that you've buttered or sprayed with Pam. Or use 2 smaller pans. Or pour into individual, gift-sized pans.

Let cool and then cut into pieces and cover tightly with saran.

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Tomorrow I'm going to write about one of my favorite Christmas videos--a very off-the-beaten path little story that is wry and funny and heart-tugging and has a you-go-girl ending.

Also, in the wings (and on my camera card), is Navajo Tacos. And, I'll be reviewing some books, too.

And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

North and South, the BBC Miniseries; a Review and Christmas Gift Suggestion

2009-12-13T20:42:00.000-08:00

I don’t know how I happened to order the BBC-produced miniseries North and South, but I’m glad I did. I just watched it again the other night and felt I had to blog about it and suggest to any male readers out there who are looking for an idea for a Christmas present for your sweet lady: this is it.

Giver her North and South and then watch it with her. She’ll love you for it and you’ll like it, too. My husband, who judges every movie against The Guns of Navarone, thought it was great.

Taken from a book of the same name written by Elizabeth Gaskell in 1855, North and South is about Margaret Hale, the daughter of an English cleric. Her gentle, south-England existence is changed forever when her father leaves the church because of matters of conscience and moves the family to a northern manufacturing town where he barely scrapes together a living as a teacher.

Margaret has had a London season at the home of her wealthy aunt, and, though she is not totally comfortable with London manners, her social graces cause the northern mill owners’ wives to think her a snob. One mill-owner, John Thornton, falls in love with her.

Margaret’s first introduction to John Thornton is just after she sees him beating up a mill worker. Taking him to task for it, she immediately sets herself apart from the upper-echelon social fabric of the town. The gulf is widened by her south-England ways, and, in her loneliness, she befriends a millworker’s family. It doesn’t help that this worker is a union organizer who precipitates a strike.

In the BBC miniseries, Margaret Hale is played by Daniela Denby-Ashe and John Thornton is played by Richard Armitage. They both do a great job.

When Mr. Thornton was a lad, his father committed suicide because of financial ruin. As he says, “I taught myself self-denial,” in order to pay off his father’s debt and to build up a successful textile mill. When he is around Margaret Hale, he feels very keenly his lack of education and polish.

Margaret Hale struggles to make the best of the situation when life continues to dissolve around her. Part of that struggle is to maintain her independence and to stand for what is right. She finds herself being drawn to Mr. Thornton even as she must do things that set her at odds with him.

There are lots of twists and turns in the plot, some great character studies, and plenty of action. Also, John and Margaret do finally end up together in a beautiful train-station scene.

I would say you need to be prepared to invest eight hours in this 4-hour miniseries, because most of it is in northern dialect, and it takes a while for your ear to become attuned. I love the broad vowel sounds, especially as voiced by Richard Armitage and Sinead Cusak, who plays Thornton’s mother. If you’ll watch it first time through for the story line and next time to catch all the dialogue, I guarantee you’ll enjoy it both times.

You can order North and South from Amazon.

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A Mellow, Out-of-the-Ordinary Christmas Candy

2009-12-04T13:42:00.000-08:00

Date Nut Roll

This is a way easy candy to make. It's one my mother made when I was a child, and I took over the process when I was in the 5th grade.

Here's what you'll need:

3 cups sugar

1 cup canned milk

1 cube butter

1 to 1 1/2 cups dates, pitted and chopped

1 to 1 1/2 cups pecans, chopped

Put the sugar, milk and butter in a saucepan and heat to boiling, stirring constantly. Lower heat to medium and add dates.

Cook, stirring often, until candy reaches soft ball stage.

Remove from heat and add nuts, beating until it starts to set up.

Form in a log on a sheet of waxed paper. Roll up and store in a cool place until it's cool and set.

When ready to serve, unwrap and slice.

This recipe is foolproof. When I was making it for this blog post, I inadvertently added a can of evaporated milk rather than a cup. I simply increased the dates to 2 cups and cooked it longer. It turned out wonderfully. A little more chewy than the original recipe, but great.

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Dawn's Early Light by L.C. Lewis - a Review

2009-11-29T15:42:00.000-08:00

Wow! Laurie Lewis has done it again. Writing as L.C. Lewis, she has just released another action-packed, stuffed-full-of-American-History novel. This is the third in the Free Men and Dreamers series, entitled Dawn’s Early Light. Set during the War of 1812, it’s a continuation of the story of Jed Pearson, plantation owner, member of the Maryland Militia, and man of principle and action.

If you read my review of the two earlier books, you know that in them we met Jed and his wife Hannah as young people, and we followed their rocky courtship, hoping that she would choose him in the face of her parents’ disapproval. In this Early American setting, Ms. Lewis let us see the incidents that were shaping not only Jed and Hannah’s destinies, but also the destiny of their young country.

The brilliant thing about this series is that it lets us see how intertwined the affairs of England and America were at that juncture. We see how the lives of families on both sides of the Atlantic were colored by the same incidents, only in different hues because they were seen through a different lens.

Ms. Lewis has also brought the War of 1812 battles surrounding Washington D.C. to life. As a writer, I marvel at her foresight to have written the minor character Marcus O’Mally into the first book and let us get to know him better in the second so that in the third, we can follow his exploits as a bargeman and understand this part of the naval strategy. That’s plotting at its very best.

I also appreciated the glimpse of Dolly Madison. After finishing Dawn’s Early Light, one of the things high on my To Do List is to get her biography and read it.

Though this is one of a series of books, it can stand alone. Ms. Lewis has provided a list of the cast of characters, and as they are introduced into the narrative, she unobtrusively reminds us who they are and how they have been important to our main characters.

You can buy Dawn's Early Light on Amazon, Deseret Book, Seagull Books or order it from your favorite book store.

I can’t wait to read Number Four in the Free Men and Dreamers Series. If you read Dawn’s Early Light (and you must), you’ll know exactly why.

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Follow this blog! I have yet to make good on my promise to teach you how to make flour tortillas, and I'm also going to blog about Navajo Tacos, so hang around.

Regolith, Orthoclase, and Other Lovely Words

2009-11-24T19:43:00.000-08:00

I love rocks. I could spend hours in a dry stream bed, stumbling along with head bent and eyes on the ground. It’s time that should be spent with a companion, though. Not only so you’ll have someone to help you when you turn your ankle, but also so you can share the things you find: a whimsically shaped rock or one with a streak of exotic color or one that has been worn so smooth and round that it looks like it’s been polished.

Derrill and I try to bring back a rock or two whenever we travel. I have a one from Beartooth summit to commemorate the day we crossed that almost-eleven-thousand-foot pass on our way from Yellowstone to Custer’s Last Stand at Little Bighorn. I have another from Panaca summit, where we went to see the charcoal kilns. I have a beautiful hunk of rose quartz from South Dakota, and a much uglier piece of regular quartz from a mountain near Concunelly, WA (left). I’ve got lump of lava from Idaho, and a rectangular slab of red sandstone from St. George, Utah.

Little wonder, then, that when Derrill mentioned a geology course he had found on the internet, I agreed it was something we should do and ordered it from The Teaching Company.

This course consisted of eighteen hours of lectures in half-hour segments taught on DVD by Professor John J. Renton of West Virginia University. Sporting a curly handlebar moustache and with a genial manner and sly sense of humor, Dr. Renton made sure the lectures weren’t dry. The information was basic, which was good, because when Derrill and I were last in a college classroom, Plate Tectonics wasn’t yet being taught. We had lots to learn, including new vocabulary words. Two of my favorites were orthoclase and regolith.

Toward the end of the series, one of my sons called to visit, and as we talked about how much we were enjoying the class, I was going to impress him by dropping one of the terms into the conversation. But I couldn’t for the life of me remember it! I could remember the definition. I knew it started with an R, but I couldn’t summon the word. I went through the evening with a Grrr attitude, upset because I had forgotten my lovely new word and thinking that just as soon as it popped into my brain, I’d write an email to my son, telling him what it was and what it meant. The wow factor would be gone, but I would have redeemed myself.

I was just drifting off to sleep at midnight when the word came tiptoeing in to my brain. Regolith! That was the word.

“Are you awake?” I whispered to Derrill, wanting to share with someone the fact that I had remembered. He didn’t reply, so I turned over and muttered the word several times to myself to make sure that I’d have it when I woke up the next morning.

It didn’t work. I had to look it up in the lecture notes.

But that doesn’t matter. We’re on to Complexity now. It’s a math class, sorta. It’s only twelve lectures. And when we get through with that, we’ve got a short course on the history of the American Constitution, one on the history of the Bible and the making of the New Testament canon, one on the rise and fall of the British Empire, and one on the life and writings of C. S. Lewis. That should take us through the winter in fine shape.

These courses are quite reasonable if you buy them on sale, and there are always lots of them on sale. Check out the web site. You’ll find their Great Courses are a good workout for the gray cells. Except for vocabulary words beginning with R.

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Follow this blog! Click on the "Follow" button on the side bar to become a regular reader. Remember, I'm going to blog about how to make flour tortillas, and I've still got a pie recipe or two or three to share, too. And...a killer fudge recipe for Christmas.

Liz Adair's World Famous Apple Pie Recipe

2009-11-15T13:58:00.001-08:00

A long time ago I blogged about making pies for homeless shelters and food banks for Thanksgiving as a service project of youth groups. In parts 2 and 3 of that series, I taught you how to make a flaky pie crust. Click here to go to Part 2. It will have a link to Part 3. The filling recipe I gave in that series was one that was good when working with a lot of squirrely teenagers. It's the one you will usually find in recipe books.

Today I'm going to give you one that is far, far better. It's one I came up with myself, so you'll have to remember the old saying: self praise is half scandal. (Though I never was sure of exactly what that meant.)

You can make the filling first, using the recipe here and then go to the crust posting and follow the instructions there. For one two-crust pie (top and bottom), use just one batch of the 3-cups-flour, 1-cup-shortning, 1-tsp.-salt recipe. You'll use about 1/3 to 1/2 cup cold water for one batch.

First, you have to select the kind of apples you're going to use. If you're using fresh apples, you'll need 5 or 6 apples per pie, peeled, cored and sliced into thick slices. I usually end up with chunks about 1" x 1/2".

Or, you can use the apples you home canned using the instructions I posted last month. Use one quart of apples per pie.

Or, you can buy pie-sliced apples that are packed in water. I know you can get them in #10 cans at Costco and at restaurant supply houses. Some times you can find smaller cans of them at grocery stores, but last time I looked, all my local market had was apple pie filling. (You don't want that. This filling is much better.) A #10 can will make three 9-inch pies.

Here is the recipe for filling for one 9-inch pie:

1 1/2 cup apple juice

1 cup sugar

1/4 cup cornstarch

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp allspice

pinch of cloves

Bring 1 cup of the apple juice + 1/2 half cup of sugar to boiling.

Dissolve the cornstarch into the remaining 1/2 cup apple juice and add to the boiling liquid, stirring quickly with a wire whisk so it doesn't get lumpy. When it is thick, pull it off the heat.

Add the spices to the remaining 1/2 cup sugar and mix. When the spices are evenly distributed in the sugar, add to the thickened juice and stir.

Add the apples (drained, if you're using canned apples) and mix.

Set the filling aside as you make your crust and roll it out according to the directions in the links I gave you above. Remember, if you'll follow the instructions about cutting your crusts larger than the pan, moistening the bottom crust, and rolling them under before crimping, you won't have any leakage into your oven.

Bake these pies at 400 degrees for about 45 minutes, or until nicely browned.

With this filling recipe you won't have the voids between the top crust and the filling that you get with other filling recipes that use only dry ingredients.

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I realized I haven't blogged about custard pies yet. Custard pies are simple, understated deliciosity. When I was teaching an early-morning class to a bunch of teenagers, I used to defy the Friday Donut tradition by taking a custard pie instead. They loved it, and it was so much better for them. And, it's sooooo easy. Watch for it!

Wayne and the Waffle

2009-11-11T21:01:00.000-08:00

This isn't the first time I've lifted something my son Wayne has posted on Facebook about his autistic child and namesake, Wayne Jr. I'm proud of both of them, dad and son, so I thought I'd share.

Here's what Wayne Sr. said:

I had the opportunity this year to have two of my children graduate. The first graduation was pretty much what you would expect. My oldest daughter, Elizabeth, graduated from high school. Liz is a fantastic student, is loved by all her teachers, and is respected by her peers. She graduated as a member of National Honor Society, and I was very proud to see her walk across the stage and get her diploma.

The second graduation was not what you might expect. My son Wayne Jr. graduated from preschool. This was my first child to go through this rituaal, and I didn't know what to expect, especially since Wayne was one of two children with autism in a class of 15 students.

The class was a wonderful setting for Wayne. I had worried that he would be ridiculed by the children in the class because of his disability, but in fact, the opposite was true. The kids loved him. They were able to see him for the sweet boy that he is, and they figured out ways to deal with the tics that come with autism.

The parents of the class made a big deal out of the day. They made caps for the children to wear, there were diplomas made up, and the children had been practicing a song that they would perform for the parents.

All parents are apprehensive about their children being on stage. As we sit there watching, I think we are convinced that if we put enough body English on our thoughts, we can WILL them to success. As the class walked up on stage, I spotted Wayne in his blue shirt and gold tie, and I saw that he had a Lego toy in his hand. I felt myself wilt. Mine was the only child that was carrying a toy. I wanted to leap up and explain: HE HAS AUTISM!!! Instead, I thought to myself, "Please let him do well," and I hoped people wouldn't notice the thing Wayne was carrying. I knew why he was carrying it. His routine was very out of sorts; school that day was different from what it normally was, and it was frightening to him. A familiar toy soothed him.

The music started, and I got to see my sweet autistic son march with all the other normal children and sing, "We Are the Dinosaurs." He did all the motions, and he roared, and when they were done, he clapped his hands and cheered with his classmates. All my fears about him failing were totally unjustified.

This is my first time as the father of a special needs child, and I suppose the temptation is there to overprotect him and try to shield him from the possibility of embarrassment. I'm so glad I didn't, because he made me proud.

That happened last spring. The thing that got me thinking about it again was a conversation Shea and I had this past week. We don't talk much about Wayne's future, because we really don't know what to expect. We don't know if he will become a functioning member of society, or if he will be able to live in a group home, or if he will live with Shea and me 'til we are too old to take care of him. We just don't know. And the not knowing is frightening, to some extent.

Wayne gave us a treat this week that kind of helped show Shea and me that he is really a sharp little boy, and he has the ability to learn to care for himself. The act itself seemed simple, but it showed us a level of self-sufficiency. One morning, Wayne got up and was hungry. So, he went over to the fridge, opened the freezer door, and got out an Eggo Waffle. Then he opened the cabinet, took out the toaster, plugged it in, put the waffle in, and pressed the lever down. When the waffle was done, he unplugged the toaster and took the waffle and wandered out of the room.

That act showed that Wayne has the ability to comprehend a task that has multiple steps, and it gave Shea and me a great deal of comfort and hope.

I think that my little autistic boy is going to provide me many opportunities to be a very proud father.

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Follow this Blog! The next posting will be my World Famous Apple Pie. You don't want to miss that--it's just in time for your Thanksgiving pies.

Um...Counting the Cost Got This Award....

2009-11-08T17:39:00.000-08:00

So, I guess I need to make an announcement. Counting the Cost was a Finalist in USA Book News "National Best Books 2009" Awards.

Runner-up is good!

A 21st Century Rosetta Stone

2009-11-06T17:21:00.000-08:00

Most writers who have an on-line presence use Google Alert, which will tell them when someone in cyberspace has mentioned their name or a recent book title.

I'm no exception. I've got my alert set for Liz Adair and for Counting the Cost (a phrase I have found is overused).

The other day, I got an alert that a blogger had mentioned my name. I clicked on the link and found that someone had re-posted an interview that Heidi Thomas had done on her blog a month or so ago. It had apparently been translated into another language and, I assume, since Google knows my language is English, when it came up on my screen, it was computer-translated back into a language I could read. Sorta.

I'm going to post selected paragraphs of the twice-translated text in blue. Under each paragraph, I'll put Heidi's original questions (and my answers) in green. I suggest you read only the blue paragraphs and use the green ones if you get stumped. Some of the twists are hilarious, though if you think about each a bit, you'll see that, in a certain situation, this could be a synonym.

Hilarious or not, it is really miraculous that something could automatically be changed from one language to another and still carry a high degree of clarity.

Here's the posting. Remember, blue is how it came back to me. I've reproduced it faithfully, punctuation and all.

If you don't read anything else, read the last question and answer.

HEIDI: I'm happy to welcome Liz Adair to my blog today. Liz is the Pacific Northwest writer of five novels, including her new Western romance, Numbering the Cost, and she is co-editor of her mother's missives in Lucy Shook's Letters from Afghanistan Liz is besides cognized for her Spider Latham enigma series, for The Mist of Target Seaport, and learns shops on "Victimisation House History in fiction."

Counting the Cost is a marvelous, bittersweet narration that fall out in Land of enchantment in 1935. I take it this is slightly of a going from your usual composition. Say us what exalted this book.

HEIDI: I'm happy to welcome Liz Adair to my blog today. Liz is the Pacific Northwest author of five novels, including her new Western love story, Counting the Cost, and she is co-editor of her mother's letters in Lucy Shook's Letters from Afghanistan. Liz is also known for her Spider Latham mystery series, for The Mist of Quarry Harbor, and teaches workshops on "Using Family History in Fiction."

Counting the Cost is a wonderful, bittersweet story that takes place in New Mexico in 1935. I take it this is somewhat of a departure from your usual writing. Tell us what inspired this book.

LIZ: This is a leaving. My other books were totally carefully plotted, hold a spot of intrigue in them, are placed in modern-day times, and are lighter menu. Numerating the Cost but welled upwards inside me and coerced itself out my fingertips. I consider it was portion of my bereft procedure after my mother went, for the narrative discharge shadows her brother's life.

LIZ: This is a departure. My other books were all carefully plotted, have a bit of intrigue in them, are set in contemporary times, and are lighter fare. Counting the Cost simply welled up inside me and forced itself out my fingertips. I think it was part of my grieving process after my mother died, for the story arc shadows her brother's life.

HEIDI: I understand that you turned upwardly in Land of enchantment on a ranches. How makes that background influence your authorship?

HEIDI: I understand that you grew up in New Mexico on a cattle ranch. How does that background influence your writing?

LIZ: Really, it was my mother who turned au fait a spreads, but she conjoined a man who worked for the Office of Rehabilitation, so we were hydroelectric gipsies. Two of my uncles worked cowses all their lives, and trips back to Nm were full of cowhand narratives and horseback equitation.

LIZ: Actually, it was my mother who grew up on a cattle ranch, but she married a man who worked for the Bureau of Reclamation, so we were hydro-electric gypsies. Two of my uncles worked cattle all their lives, and trips back to New Mexico were full of cowboy stories and horseback riding.

HEIDI: How large a office makes placing drama in your books?

HEIDI: How bit a role does setting play in your books?

LIZ: Putting dramas a major function. One of my readers mentioned that I write on settlement people. I consider that Holds because I'm a settlement somebody myself, and it Holds a comfy voice.

LIZ: Setting plays a major role. One of my reviewers noted that I write about small town people. I think that's because I'm a small town person myself, and it's a comfortable voice.

HEIDI: You give shops on applying menage history in fiction. Is all of your fiction based on your house history?

HEIDI: You give workshops on using family history in fiction. Is all of your fiction based on your family history?

LIZ: All my fiction banks heavily on household history. I name it Viridity Fiction. Recycling, you cognise? It may merely be that I make n't hold any original thoughts. Or that I'm lazy. But, it works for me.

LIZ: All my fiction relies heavily on family history. I call it Green Fiction. Recycling, you know? It may just be that I don't have any original ideas. Or that I'm lazy. But, it works for me.

* * *
HEIDI: State us about Missives from Aftghanistan Were the missives pent to you?

HEIDI: Tell us about Letters from Afghanistan. Were the letters written to you?

LIZ: Yes. I was a immature mother when my parents attended Afghanistan in 1965. My mother and begetter both worked for the Office for International Develoment (Assistance). Pa was in charge of buying machinery and learning the Afghans how to hold it, and mother ran a little hotel/restaurant that catered to the American contingent and seing diplomatists. She holded fifteen Afghan manpowers working for her, and she got really regarded in their lives. She would indite long missives place about her interactions with them. Some missives were uproarious; some were affecting, but none were dull.

I was a busy ma and instruction school additionally, and I'd savor each missive and lay it forth. It was only geezerhood afterward, in 2001, when I attended redact the missives for the menange, that I observed what a treasure these missives were and what a window they were into the psyche of the Afghan provincials.

LIZ: Yes. I was a young mother when my parents went to Afghanistan in 1965. My mother and father both worked for the Agancy for Internation Development (AID). Dad was in charge of purchasing machinery and teaching the Afghans how to maintain it, and mother ran a small hotel/restaurant that catered to the American contingent and visiting diplomats. She had fifteen Afghan men working for her, and she became very involved in their lives. She would write long letters home about her interactions with them. Some letters were hilarious; some were poignant, but none were dull.

***
HEIDI: On the dorsum of your book is a indorsement telling that constituent of your book sales attend gain Portion Women Across lands (SWAN). Say us a trifle about this grouping.

HEIDI: On the back of your book is a blurb stating that part of your book sales go to benefit Serving Women Across Nations (SWAN). Tell us a bit about this group.

LIZ: SWAN is a humanistic outreach organisation that was started by my two girls, Ruth Lavine and Terry Gifford, and I the intention is to assist women and shavers through microloans, malaria medicine, mosquito nets and school supplies and uniforms. Terry is the motivating force, and it is she who visits Bolivia each year to superintend the microloan plan there, which includes a mini-business class and proceeding didactis as the women take out loans and go enterprisers.

Most of the support for SWAN comes from the Pattie Wagoon, Terry's grant laggard that you may see at ball games or at Sedro Woolley jubilations, and SWAN too patronize a Century Motorcycle Drive that cooccurs with Sedro Woolley's Blast from the Yesteryear. You can chance out more about SWAN by seing www.swanforhumanity.org

LIZ: SWAN is a humanitarian outreach organization that was begun by my two daughters, Ruth Lavine and Terry Gifford, and I. The purpose is to help women and children through microloans, malaria medicine, mosquito nets and school supplies and uniforms. Terry is the motivating force, and it is she who travels to Bolivia every year to oversee the microloan program there, which includes a mini-business course and continuing education as the women take out loans and become entrepreneurs.

Most of the funding for SWAN comes from the Pattie Wagon," Terry's concession trailer that you may see at ball games or at Sedro Woolley celebrations, and SWAN also sponsors a Century Bike Ride that coincides with Sedro Woolley's Blast from the Past. You can find out more about SWAN by visiting www.swanforhumanity.org

HEIDI: Thank you for sharing with us Liz.

LIZ: Thank you, Heidi. What luck to hold happend you manning your booth at the Sedro Woolley July 4 Jubilation. As I read your book about your gran, Cowgirl Dreams, I see that we hold much in common. We're kindred liquors.

LIZ: Thank you Heidi. What luck to have found you manning your booth at the Sedro Woolley Fourth of July Celebration. As I read your book about your grandmother, Cowgirl Dreams, I see that we have much in common. We're kindred spirits.

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Follow this blog! Remember, the recipe for my world famous Apple Pie is coming. You don't want to miss that!

Am I Not a Man? The Dread Scott Story by Mark L. Shurtleff - A Review

2009-11-01T20:50:00.000-08:00

It's been nigh on to sixty years since I was a fifth grader and first learned the name Dred Scott. So, it's not surprising that, before I read Mark L. Shurtleff's book Am I Not a Man?, the Dred Scott Story, I could not have told you (beyond a hazy, hazarded guess that it was about slavery), why the name was in my history book. I'm glad for the chance to renew my acquaintance with Dred Scott.

Mr. Shurtleff presents us history in an easily-assimilated form: in a tale or a fictionalized account of the events of Dred Scott's life. Though the word novel doesn't appear on the cover sheet of the book, it was described that way when I was asked to review it, and rightly so, for Mr. Shurtleff presents imagined conversations and actions of historical figures. The reader realizes that these conversations, and the unfolding events, though they spring from Mr. Shurtleff's imagination, are well grounded in history and the result of extensive research.

The book opens at a riveting point in the Dred Scott story: the Missouri Supreme court has just declared that Dred Scott is not free. Not only that, but through a twist of fate, in the intervening six years that Dred's case has been winding through the courts, his sympathetic former owner has died and ownership of Dred and his family has passed to a powerful, ardently pro-slavery family who demand restitution for the six years they have been deprived of profit from the Scott family's labors.

It is at that point that the book begins.

Mr. Shurtleff then takes the reader through the history of Dred's birth and how he arrived at the place where his suit for freedom was espoused by the family of his former owner and others willing to carry it to the Supreme Court of the United States.

Along the way, Mr. Shurtleff acquaints the reader with the currents of history that are flowing together to make the Dred Scott decision such a pivotal point in American History. I'm not going to reveal that here. If you don't remember it from your grade school or high school years, you need to read this book.

I teach workshops in "Writing Family History as Fiction", and one of the points I make, especially if I'm teaching at a Family History Conference, is that it's the stories that draw people in, that make people want to learn the names, dates, facts of what actually happened.

Mark L. Shurtleff has accomplished this here, because my readling list just expanded to include biographies of Chief Justice Roger Taney, a history of the Blackhawk War, and most of all, a biography of Dred Scott.

If you're interested in reading this book, click here to purchase in paper-and ink, here to buy in Kindle format.

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Follow this blog! Remember, before Thanksgiving I'm going to give you my world famous apple pie recipe.

How to Home-can Apples for Pie and Apple Crisp

2009-10-30T19:23:00.001-07:00

Years ago (we're measuring in decades, here), I did a lot of gleaning around the countryside. At that time there were lots of old, abandoned farmsteads that still had producing apple trees. Oh, the apples may have been kind of scabby, but that didn't matter. They were free and they suited my purpose, which was putting them up for the winter. The kids and I would gather half a pickup bed full and head home to start production.

We dried a lot and made gallons of apple juice and applesauce, but I was constantly stymied when I tried to can apples like the canned, pie-sliced apples I bought at the store. Invariably, when I put them in a water bath, the apples would swell and the jars would never seal.

A master canner told me the secret of how to can apples for apple pie. I've never seen this in any book about canning, but it has never failed me. Here's how you do it:

Peel and slice your apples. You can use the peeler-corer-slicer machine or do it by hand. I like chunkier pieces, but that's my own preference. As you fill a bowl, sprinkle sugar over the prepared apples--probably at about the rate of 1/2 cup of sugar to every 5 apples.

Cover the bowl with saran, foil, or a dishtowel, and let it sit overnight. The sugar will draw juice out of the apple.

The next day, sterilize the jars you're going to use. I used pints here, but that's because that's what I had on hand. When I had a family at home, I always put them up in quarts. One quart will do one apple pie.

When I'm ready to can, I stick my clean jars in the oven at 250 degrees while I'm getting everything else ready. I also put my lids in a pot of simmering water on the stove. I don't know if this is scientific or not. It's the way my mom did it, and so it's the way I do it. I never have a problem with a seal.

I fill the jars to within an inch of the brim with apples and spoon in some of the juice in the bottom. I use hot water for the rest of the liquid, put on one of the lids from the pot on the stove, and screw on the ring, making it finger tight. When I have a load for the water bath, I run them through and continue filling jars. The rest can wait on the counter for their turn in the water bath.

For pints, I process them for 20 minutes at a gentle boil; quarts go 25 minutes.

When I take the jars out, I invert them, leaving them upside down until they're cool. Like I said, it's the way my mother did it, and they always seal.

Use the apples as you would fresh apples in apple pie and apple crisp. Just decrease the sugar in the recipe by 1/4 to 1/2 cup.

I don't know if you know it, but for more than a decade I had a wholesale bakery supplying pies (made from scratch) to restaurants in Whatcom and Skagit Counties. Next week I'll share my world famous apple pie recipe--and no, it's not the one I used when I blogged about the apple pie service project. This one is way better--unless you're trying to involve a bunch of teenagers. In that case, the simpler one works.

So, if you want to make sure you get that apple pie recipe, follow this blog! Click on the 'follow' button on the left hand sidebar.

I Love the TV Show "Castle"

2009-10-28T18:59:00.001-07:00

I have a couple children who live more than a thousand miles away, and I really, really miss them. Both are good friends and I love to visit with them, even when they call during Dancing With the Stars. Luckily for the mother/son tie, both live in later time zones, and I've never had to choose between chatting with them and the newest segment of Castle.

Castle is an hourlong program that is billed as a drama, but it's witty and fun, and a 'can't-miss' for me. I don't watch much TV, but I never miss Castle.

The program is about Rick Castle, a successful mystery writer, who wangles his way into shadowing good-looking homicide detective Kate Beckett as she tries to solve her cases. She keeps telling him to stand back and keep his mout shut, but he's irrepressible and exasperatingly acute, even though the things he comes up with are pretty off-the-wall and quite possibly straight out of his latest plot line.

Nathan Fillion plays Rick Castle and Stana Katic plays Detective Kate Beckett. Both are believable and endearing, he in a sweet, roguish way and she in a strong-but-vulnerable way.

One of my favorite bits was when they went looking for an armed, dangerous susupect. The detectives put on bulletproof vests with POLICE written in large white letters on front and back, and Castle put his on, too. It had WRITER written on it, and when Beckett told him to take it off, he quoted, "If you shoot me, do I not bleed?" Naturally, when she got busy doing police stuff, he put the vest back on, followed them in, fouled everything up, but ended up saving the day after all.

Rick Castle is divorced and single-parents his teenage daughter, Alexis. She's well grounded and very mature for having a flaky actress mother and a will-o-the-wisp, writer father. Oh, and a flaky actress grandmother that lives with them, too. However, where his daughter is concerned, Rick Castle is conservative, protective, and willing to take the heat for an unpopular decision, as when he called Alexis's friend's parents after he had to rescue the two girls from a party where there had been teenage drinking and the friend got very drunk.

Maybe I like this program because I write mysteries, but I think it's more than that. Castle has engaging characters, witty dialogue, great puzzles, and understated sexual tension instead of torrid bedroom scenes showing a lot more than I would care to see.

Try Castle, and let me know what you think. It's on Monday nights on ABC, right after Dancing With the Stars, which turns out to be 10 p.m. here in the Pacific Time Zone. Or, you can watch it on your computer at ABC.com (complete with commercials).

Click here to read ABC's blurb about the show.

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Follow this blog! Coming soon--how to can apples to be used in pies and apple crisp. I learned this from a master canner after I had had umpteen failures. The apples kept swelling and breaking the seal. So, gather your apples and be ready, and I promise it by Sunday.

How to Make Sopapillas

2009-10-16T11:37:00.000-07:00

Today I'm making good on my threat to teach you how to make sopapillas, a type of Mexican frybread.

As usual, you don't get the recipe without wading through some of my family history: My father ran a dragline when I was little, and his oiler was a Mexican American fellow named Joe Gray (but with a Spanish pronunciation: roll the r and pronounce the ay as aye). His wife's name was Romelia, and if you've read Counting the Cost, you've read the description of this lovely lady.

One summer we were on a highway project in northern New Mexico, and we camped out all summer in the woods near Ojo Caliente. Every morning, Romelia would make tortillas, and mother would let me go watch her. I always came away with a warm tortilla, and ever since that time, tortillas have been comfort food.

But, back to sopapillas. Romelia made those, too. I called them sofa pillows and thought they were the most lovely thing I had ever eaten. I was disappointed to find, when we left New Mexico, that Mexican restaurants in Arizona and California didn't serve them.

They're simple to make. Here's how:

This recipe will make about 16 2" x 3" sopapillas.

2 cups white flour
2 tsps baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
2 tablespoons shortening
2/3 cup warm water

Cut the shortening into the flour. I used a food processor, but you can use the whip or beaters on a mixer. Add salt and baking powder and mix. Then add the water and continue to mix. Your dough should be soft but will make a ball that will hold its shape. Knead for a minute and then separate into four balls and let it rest for 10 minutes.

In the meantime, take a small pot or skillet and put 2 to 2 1/2 inches of oil in the bottom and heat to about 375 degrees. I don't have a thermometer, so I just put it on high and when the oil gets hot enough, I start turning it down. I usually end up with it between medium and medium high. The oil should bubble up instantly when the dough is put in. If the sopapilla doesn't fill with air, your oil isn't hot enough.

Roll one of the balls of dough out to about 1/8 inch thick. You should not have to flour your rolling surface or the rolling pin.

Cut your flattened dough into four diamond-shaped pieces and drop them into the hot grease. They should swell up into little pillows. If they don't immediately, hold them under the hot grease for a few seconds, and they should pop up and start swelling.

When golden brown on one side, turn the sopapilla over to brown on the other. When it's done, lift it out onto a paper towel to drain.

Sopapillas are best eaten warm with honey, jam or powdered sugar on them.

The two sopapillas pictured at the bottom left are ones that were cooked before the oil was hot enough. They are flat rather than puffed up.

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I've taught sopapillas, but I've got to teach you how to make flour tortillas. You'll need a rolling pin made out of a 1 1/2 dowel or a piece of conduit like the one pictured above. Make friends with an electrician and see if you can get one. It needs to be 6" long.

And...be sure you don't miss out on the next recipe, review, scrap of wisdom or pithy thought. Become a follower on this blog by clicking on the Join this Site button on the sidebar. Check out my books behind the Liz's Books tab at the top, or read reviews of my latest book under the Reviews tab.

The Eternal Corporation

2009-10-14T20:38:00.001-07:00

I’ve been married forty-six years. I think that qualifies me to philosophize about marriage, and I’m going to do that today.

I have come to the conclusion that there are two things that contribute to a happy and successful marriage:

1. The first is the makeup of the people who enter into the marriage. I think the most successful marriages are made up of two people who each have the capacity to be happy alone. A person who can be happy alone is not dependent upon another for contentment or fulfillment and so doesn’t look to her partner to provide that in her life. This also makes it so the union is a free-will offering on the part of each.

2. I feel that a good marriage results when two people realize that, when they marry, the two of them ally to form an entity that is made up of the two parts, but is different from either. It’s better, stronger, more than the sum of its parts. I call it The Corporation. Each is an equal shareholder, and each must be steadfastly loyal to The Corporation, because disloyalty to The Corporation means disloyalty to oneself. I would not lie to my spouse, because in doing so, I would be lying to The Corporation, and, by extension, lying to myself. If I cheat on my spouse, I’m cheating on myself, since both I and my spouse share equally in The Corporation. When I serve my spouse, I’m serving myself, because I’m serving The Corporation. It’s a kind of enlightened self-interest and does away with any 50%-50% or 60%-40% or 90%-10% propositions about who should give more to the marriage or who is the dominant personality.

Of course there are lots of other things that contribute to a good marriage: being equally yoked as far as intelligence, education and religion; having a sense of humor and being able to laugh at yourself—which are not necessarily the same things; being fiscally responsible. All these are important, but I think the two things I’ve listed above are basic to a lasting marriage.

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Book Trailer for Counting the Cost by Liz Adair

2009-10-05T10:08:00.000-07:00

Well, I just gotta brag.

My daughter, Terry Gifford, has always had a flare for the dramatic, and she has used it to good purpose as she put together a traveling audio-visual program called Letters from Afghanistan that she uses to raise money for her humanitarian outreach organization SWAN (Serving Women Across Nations).

I asked her to use these skills to do a book trailer for me. That's the newest promotional wrinkle authors use. It's like a movie trailer, only it's for a book, and it's posted on Youtube.

Here's a link to the trailer Terry did for my latest book, Counting the Cost. I hope you'll check it out. I think you'll agree with me that she did an amazing job.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moiORkCKbYM

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Follow this blog. You never know when I'll remember that sopapilla recipe. Did I tell you that when the Pepper Sisters Restaurant in Bellingham WA opened, I was the one that told them how to make sopapillas. I remember that. I'll bet I can remember how to make them, too. That's what comes from never writing recipes down.

Charcoal Kilns on Panaca Summit and Mill in Condor Canyon

2009-10-02T20:56:00.001-07:00

We just returned from a trip to Nevada. If you’ve read the Spider Latham mystery series, you’re acquainted with my husband’s home town, Panaca. The Lincoln County High School was turning 100 on September 27 and we went down for the celebration.

We took our 4-wheelers with us and planned on doing some riding before the birthday party. I had never seen the charcoal kilns up on the summit, and Derrill wanted to take me through Connor’s Canyon—which we found out wasn’t Connor’s Canyon at all. He’d been calling it that all his life, but the name is actually Condor Canyon.

Well, we did both, and what splendid rides they were.

The charcoal kilns were built in the mid-1870’s. They were situated where they were because of two reasons: a nearby outcrop of rhyolitic tuff and a source of wood, for there is a lot of scrub cedar and pine on the Panaca Summit.

Skilled stone masons took rocks from the outcroppings, dressed them, and joined them with mud and lime mortar to form the beehive-shaped ovens. I was particularly interested in the keystone arch that formed the door.

Swiss and Italian woodcutters who knew the charcoal making process brought these skills from Europe. They cut five-foot lengths of wood and stacked them in two vertical tiers (totaling 50 cords) in the ovens. Then they were lit, the door was closed, the vent at the top was plugged, and air flow was regulated through holes around the base of the kiln.

It took 30 days to complete the combustion of the stack. The resultant charcoal was allowed to cool, and on a calm day, the kiln was opened. If it wasn’t done correctly, the charcoal could catch fire and burn up, destroying all the work of chopping, loading and burning.

Each cord of wood would produce about 30 bushels of charcoal which was enough to smelt one ton of silver ore.

The kilns are in pretty good repair. Inside they smell strongly of smoke, even after all these years.

The next day we went to Condor Canyon.

I had been swimming in the spring above Panaca lots of times, but I never knew that half a mile farther up the road was this wonderful canyon. In earlier days, a railroad ran through it. It’s gone now, but you can drive on the railroad bed as far as the first bridge that someone burned—farther if you’re on an off-road vehicle.

We found a wonderful, shady cave to have lunch in, for though it was late September, it was pretty hot.

We also found the site of an old mill. I don’t know what kind of ore they were processing here, but they had a ramp built for the oar wagons to come up to dump their loads, and there were remnants of what looked like boiler flues lying around. There was another, tumbled-down charcoal kiln located nearby, too.

When we got back to town, I went on line at the only place I could find internet access and found a wonderful picture of the mill that used to be in Condor Canyon.

This is the mill as it was in 1870.

I’ll blog about the birthday celebration next and probably do some philosophizing, but I couldn’t wait to share this bit of history with you.

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Liz Adair's Salad Dressing Recipes

2009-09-21T20:41:00.000-07:00

I got another request the other day for my salad dressing recipe, so I thought that might be a good subject for today's blog.

We're in the trailer, on our way to Nevada for Derrill's high school's 100th birthday (NOT his 100th year reunion, he hastens to tell everyone), and as I made the salad tonight, I took a picture of it and the dressing I brought along.

My salad dressing consists of vinegar, oil and salt. When I take salad to a pot luck I may make one or two variations on that recipe. I'll give them all here.

I will say that two of the most important ingredients to a good salad are cucumbers and onions. If you've got those two ingredients, you can add anything else to it and have a successful salad.

Liz Adair's Basic Vinegarette

For a salad that would generously feed four:

3 tablespoons oil (I use canola, but olive oil does well, too)
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar (If you use any other kind it won't taste as good)

Combine these in a plastic bottle with a stopper that can be undone quickly. Just before you're

ready to serve the salad, shake the bottle vigorously to combine the vinegar and oil, and then pour over the salad.
Shake salt liberally over the salad, toss, and shake salt liberally again. Taste. If the vinegar is too sharp, salt it some more. It takes quite a bit.

The salt and oil will cause the salad to wilt after while, so this salad can't be saved in the fridge as leftovers--unless you like wilted salad.

Variation I: Liz Adair's Creamy Italian

Put the all-purpse blade into your food processor (or, you can use a blender).
Break an egg into the bowl, turn it on, and as it is running, slowly pour 1 cup oil into the egg.

While it continues to mix, add 2 tablespoons salt, 1 teaspoon pepper and 1 teaspoon dried basil. If you have fresh basil, add a sprig of that, too.

Then, slowly add 3/4 cup red wine vinegar to the egg-oil mixture.
Let it beat for several seconds. Scrape down the sides and let it mix a few more seconds. Now it's ready for a salad.

Don't overdress the salad. Probably a tablespoon per serving is sufficient.

For those who are leary of having a raw egg in their salad dressing, here's an eggless variation:

Liz Adair's Avacado Vinegarette

This recipe is the same as the creamy Italian, except you delete the egg and basil and add 1/2 ripe avacado at the beginning.

Both of these salad dressings will keep in the refrigerator for a week or so. I store mine in glass jars, but plastic will do just as well. Be sure to shake them before you dress the salad, because sometimes the vinegar settles to the bottom.

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Follow this blog! Become a follower by clicking on the 'follow' button just under the image of my "Using Family History in Fiction" booklet. Remember, one of these days I'm going to post my sopapilla recipe.

Tips for Camping in Washington's Liquid Sunshine

2009-09-09T14:50:00.001-07:00

The moss hanging in sheets from the trees is a dead giveaway that sunshine is a foreign element, but still, we blythely plan each Labor Day family campout to be held at Baker Lake in the Cascade Mountains about 45 minutes east of where we live.

Every three or four years, we get lucky and have warm, sunny weather. Usually we have at least one day of rain. But, even on the grayest of days, the vine maple trees carry their own inner light with their chartreuse-green leaves.

This last Labor Day, we had the mother of all downpours, but it was a great weekend, and we made some lasting memories. Here are things we've learned through the years about camping in the rain:

1. Bring plenty of changes of clothes for the little ones, and make sure they have rubber boots. Then turn them loose and let them play.

2. Don't trust that your rain fly will keep your tent dry. Add a tarp on top of it, but suspend the tarp from lines strung overhead, because if your tent isn't ventilated, it will get wet from condensation.

3. Ditch around your tent, and build dikes if you have to. Even the slightest of inclines can allow water to migrate to your tent from far away, and there's nothing worse than waking up at night in a wet sleeping bag.

4. Make sure you have a tarp under your tent so water can't wick up from the ground.

5. If you have a large group, have a couple of campfires so people can huddle around for warmth without blocking the heat for others.

6. String tarps over the fire--but of course, keep them high enough so they can't be melted by the flames. We had a 26 x 40 tent over the 'common' area, which included food prep, eating & campfire .

7. Invest in a catalytic heater. These little propane-fired, radiant, personal-size heaters are great to warm up someone who got chilled by being out in the rain. Two people can share by setting it between them and putting a blanket over their laps to captue the heat. Or, set it under a table while you're playing a board game.

8. Wear a knit hat and dry socks.

With a little preparation, you'll be humming that old Barry Manilow song, "I Made it Through the Rain" as you watch the campground empty out prematurely.

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Follow this blog! Coming soon is Navajo Tacos and sopapillas. And maybe a posting on Dutch Oven Cooking. Stick around. I like having you check in every now and then.

A Make-you-smile Autism Story

2009-09-03T18:57:00.001-07:00

I've blogged about my autistic grandson before. He's five, and has been living at least a half continent away for a year and a half, so I have to keep up on how he's doing through reports from his parents.

Here's a story that my son, Wayne, posted on Facebook the other day about his son, Wayne Jr. (WayJay). It made me smile, and I thought there might be other people who would enjoy reading it, too.

Wayne writes:

I got home tonight and my wife, Shea, and I were sitting at the table, talking about the events of the day. I had quite a bit to talk about because of a bruha-ha that was going on at the shop. While we were talking, I noticed Wayne was walking around the room with a toy airplane. It was a USAF jet of one kind or another. (I have never cared enough about warbirds to learn the identifiers for each one.) Anyhow, Wayne was flying it around the room making airplane noises; more to the point, he was making jet noises.

I commented to Shea that it was cool that WayJay was playing in an appropriate manner (using the toy as an airplane and KNOWING that it was an airplane).

I watched him for a few minutes, and all of a sudden, I thought, "Why is my son playing with a jet? Everybody knows that jet pilots are knuckleheads. Real men fly single engine Cessnas." So I went out to the garage and got into one of my aviation boxes and pulled out a toy 172.

I walked into the house, took the toy out of the plastic covering, and handed it to Wayne. He stood there for a minute with a plane in each hand, and then he showed that he is truly my son: he pitched the jet over into the toy box and started playing with the 172.

WayJay flew the Cessna around for a few minutes, then "landed" it on the ottoman. He then said "DADDY" and "took off", making a circuit around the room with his newfound airplane. Once again, he returned to the ottoman. This time he did something that was really cool.

To show you how cool it is, I have to explain that, for as long as WayJay has been alive, I have tried to make a go of it as a banner tow pilot. I was towing banners the day he was born, and WayJay grew up out at the airport. All the planes that I towed with had a 4 cylinder Lycoming engine, and anyone who had been around those engines knows that starting one is more art than science. They have a very distinct sound; they crank-crank-crank, pop-pop-pop, and then they roar to life.

So, back to Wayne: the plane is on the ottoman, and I hear WayJay go, rrrrr rrrr rrrrr, pop pop RMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM and the plane takes off. Shea looked at me and said, "Did you hear him imitate you starting the airplane?" We laughed about it and sat back to watch what he would do next.

WayJay then flew the plane around with his pacifier hooked to the back of the airplane by its lanyard. He was towing it with the plane. My little boy was pretending he was towing a banner! He then went over to the ottoman, made the plane dive down and pull steeply up as he dropped the pacifier onto the floor. He had just imitated me doing a banner drop.

There are two cool things about this story. First, it's been over a year since WayJay has seen me tow a banner. He's pulled this from memory. The second, and coolest, thing is that imaginative play like this is unusual in autistic children. For Wayne to switch from zooming around in the jet to pretending to be banner towing with the 172 shows not only that he understands the function of an airplane, but that he understands that different planes do different things. Most of all, he knows his daddy flys a Cessna 172, and he's a wicked good banner tow pilot.

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Follow this blog! Click on the 'Follow' button on the left sidebar. Coming up in the near future, if I survive camping in the rain over Labor Day, is a posting on how to make sopapillas. Oh, and we're doing Navajo Tacos while camping, and I'm planning on blogging about that. You won't want to miss it!