tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-348513472024-03-13T07:11:45.468-05:00(Old Version) Mavens of the Pen<center>La grandeur d'une femme se mesure à la parole tenue
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(The measure of a woman is but the strength of her words)</center>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-30314383873474985082007-01-13T08:47:00.000-05:002007-01-13T08:50:27.886-05:00We've moved!!!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KLMUcMekDKg/RajjJUumqyI/AAAAAAAAABc/4Xtu80HQqt0/s1600-h/thisway.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5019511534026926882" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_KLMUcMekDKg/RajjJUumqyI/AAAAAAAAABc/4Xtu80HQqt0/s200/thisway.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;">Due to circumstances beyond our control, we moved this blog to another address. The circumstances were that BLOGGER GOOFED UP AND WOULDN'T LET US UPGRADE.</span><br /></div><br /><p><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;">There. I feel better.</span></div><p><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;">So come to the new Mavens.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;"></span> </div><p><div><a href="http://themavensofthepen.blogspot.com"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff0000;">http://themavensofthepen.blogspot.com</span></a></div><div> </div>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1168466440662337152007-01-10T16:51:00.000-05:002007-01-10T17:00:40.896-05:00Rescuing<p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;">Sometimes we do the oddest things.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;">Every summer in college I worked at a summer resort as a way to pay for school. My parents encouraged this in all of us kids, so we were often in far-flung spots. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;">When I was 18 I was working in Michigan on the shores of the Lake.The swimming pool was available to staff (and townies who worked at the resort) before it opened to the guests, so usually by 7:30 there was a good crowd. The waitresses were off-shift, the maids were going on, the desk clerks had just changed duty and the yard guys couldn't work yet because we didn't want to wake the guests. Anyway,we had a good 2-3 hours to use the pool.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;">I'm a strong swimmer, having grown up around artificial water (swimming pools) all my life. That summer several kids were there who'd never been near a lake the size of Michigan or near a pool. They were mainly inner-city kids from Detroit or Milwaukee. One girl, Paulette, was a skinny black girl with a 'fro and a laugh you could hear a mile away. Paulette and I became buddies since we were both waitresses. She was determined to learn to swim, but damned if she didn't just sink like a rock every time she got out of the shallow end.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#009900;">We all kept an eye on her, of course, and all tried to help her learn to 'inflate' so she'd float (many jokes were flung around about my ample flotation devices, but we won't go into that). So one day there's about 30 kids in the pool and we're cavorting. I hauled out of the pool to the side, looked around ...</span></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><p><span style="color:#009900;">no Paulette.</span></p><p><span style="color:#009900;">I looked at the spot under the diving board and saw a black shape at the bottom of the pool. I didn't think twice. Literally. I just yelled, "Paulette" and dove in.</span></p><p><span style="color:#009900;">She was almost out of air. I arrowed down to her and got next to her. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to push off or kick or anything. So I got an arm around her and pushed off the bottom. She, of course, was panicked and almost drowned me by clutching on. I kicked, pushing her ahead of me. I had one hand on her butt and the other on her thigh and I was pushing her up for all I was worth. I really wasn't sure we'd make it. I was starting to take in water, and I'm sure she was, too, because she was getting weak.</span></p><p><span style="color:#009900;">Then a couple of other kids dove in and got her arms and dragged her up. A friend got me and hauled me up to the surface. We got Paulette out and turned her over and pumped her, releasing a bunch of pool water. I was able to drag myself out on the ladder and when she could sit up we sat together and had a good cry.</span></p><p><span style="color:#009900;">That night we all 'went to town' (the nearest place with streetlights) and went to Sherman's Ice Cream Parlor, where Paulette's townie boyfriend,a HUGE intimidating black guy, bought me an ice cream sundae and kept hugging her like a big old teddy bear. It was great</span>.</span></p>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1168272066375992772007-01-08T10:49:00.000-05:002007-01-08T11:01:20.006-05:00Help is on the way<span style="color:#663366;">I've never been in the situation where I've had to help someone at my own risk. But I do recall when I was a meeting planner, we were in a convention hotel in the convention area, and I was behind the registration desk. Just as 1500 people let out from the break-out sessions, a man had a grand mal seizure in front of me - and his forehead was the first thing to hit the carpet - the carpet that was like 1/8" thick with solid concrete beneath it. Needless to say, headwounds bleed, he was still seizing and everyone just went still with shock. </span><br /><span style="color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663366;">Except me.</span><br /><span style="color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663366;">I have no idea what came over me, but I jumped on the hotel phone, had them call an ambulance, then jumped over the registration desk, pushed people back, yelling if anyone was a doctor or EMT. Luckily, one of the attendees was an EMT (this was a real estate conference) and she rushed to his side. I, meanwhile, went into 'fence' mode - pushing back the curious, pulling people I knew into a ring around the guy.</span><br /><span style="color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663366;">Then my boss showed up. My boss who couldn't stand the sight of blood. Luckily her husband was standing right next to her to catch her when she fainted.</span><br /><span style="color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663366;">The ambulance arrived quickly, cleared out the area and I went behind the registration desk, adrenaline running high, ready to help revive my boss then decompress. BUT then the temporary worker who was working with us said, "I don't feel very good." Here, the girl was a diabetic and she was going into shock - totally unrelated to the seizure incident, but she was young and obviously not caring for herself properly. So, there I went, back on the hotel phone and looking for orange juice.</span><br /><span style="color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663366;">Once that was taken care of and the break-out sessions re-started, I found a nice corner to crawl into and have a good cry. It seems, instinctively, I'm a good person to have around for an emergency (and since having children, this theory has-unfortunately-had cause to be proven true), but I absolutely fall apart afterwards.</span><br /><span style="color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663366;">God willing, I'll never have a reason to see what my reactions would be if my life were at risk. Your perceptions change when you've got kids. I'd lay my life on the line for them, but for a stranger? I'd like to think yes, but I rather think I wouldn't because I wouldn't want to leave my kids without their mom. But, like I said, God willing I'll never have to find out. Hats off to the subway rescuer! He's a hero.</span><br /><span style="color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="color:#663366;">-Judi</span>Judi Fennellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124698771196629427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1168171489197144602007-01-07T06:53:00.000-05:002007-01-07T07:04:49.270-05:00Have you ever saved someone?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/1600/58003/lifering.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/200/839961/lifering.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">The big news story this week here in the States, of course, was the guy who leapt in front of a subway train and covered another guy with his own body, saving him from sure death.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">Yikes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;">Have you ever been faced with this dilemma? Have you ever seen someone who was in trouble and didn't really think about it, but just leapt in and tried to save them? I suspect those of you who are parents have experienced this -- near death adventures involving trees, kids dashing into streets, etc.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;">Tell us about it....</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;">J</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1168105525940671762007-01-06T12:28:00.000-05:002007-01-06T12:49:20.113-05:00The best thing I did in 2006<span style="color:#009900;">My family is large. Six kids, three kids-by-marriage, one girlfriend and twelve grandkids. Take my hubby and I, that's twenty-four.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Who would have thought...</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">But with this large group, we were missing important events, like birthdays. Now, I don't mean we forgot their birthday, but celebrating them as a group wasn't happening.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">So, in September I had the bright idea of a monthly 'Birthday Bash.'</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">During the first one, Grey, a grandkid, asked me if we were going to do this every month, as his ninth birthday was in December. It touched my heart. So, I confirmed that there would be a 'bash' for his birthday. </span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">I always cook, then we have the 'bash' after we gorge ourselves with food. One thing about living in Louisiana, every major event has to include great food. Each month the menu changes, with some of the daughters bringing dishes from their homes. </span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">After chowing down, each 'birthday' person gets a small cake of their own. With one candle. We sing the famous song, they blow out the candles, and the gift opening begins, youngest to oldest. </span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Caroline turned two in November, and believes that every party is for her. So, in December, I purchased a cupcake 'cake' and took one of the small cupcakes and placed it on a plate with one candle, just for her. None of the other grandkids questioned why I did this for one, but not for all. They seemed to understand, without me explaining. </span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">What makes this event stand out for 2006 is the response of the grandkids. Ethan, 12, told his mother that when he went to his friends birthday parties that the aunts and uncles were never there, and he thought that it was great that his aunts and uncles and cousins were there to celebrate birthdays.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Which brings me to the 'best thing I did in 2006'--bringing my family together to celebrate the entry of individuals into our family. How great is that!</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1168032166088365432007-01-05T16:09:00.000-05:002007-01-05T16:27:57.770-05:00Later 2006, Hello 2007!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">2007 is around the corner! I can't believe how fast 2006 went by. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I thought I'd have my first WIP completed, but unfortunately I got stuck in the middle of the story and haven't made much progress in weeks. Ladies, I'm going to need you all to stay on my back to finish a manuscript. One of my critique pals and inspiration romance writer, <a href="http://www.freewebs.com/chicki663">Denise "Chicki" Jones</a>, has inspired me to really sit down and set goals for the coming year. With goals written down and in my face to inspire me on a daily, weekly and monthly basis, I hope to make some inroads with my writing and submissions this year. So here they are: </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>1. Completing one or two full manuscripts,<br />2. Find an agent,<br />3. Study the romane publishing market, both in print and e-book,<br />4. </strong></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Participate in writing contests,<br />5. Continue critiquing and learning from others,<br /></strong></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>6. Educate myself on marketing and promotional tactics,<br />7. Renew my membership to RWA and Virginia Writing Group,<br />8. Submit my finished manuscript to publishers, and<br />9. Buy a laptop or Alphasmart (Dana).</strong></span></p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Looking at the goals in a list is daunting. But challenge is good! Facing any challenge requires the support friends, family, colleagues, and even intestinal fortitude (sounds yucky but you know what I mean.)</span> I know the Mavens will be here to support me.Angela Jeffersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00904101837640867493noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1168017848429942452007-01-05T12:24:00.000-05:002007-01-05T12:24:09.643-05:00deep thoughts on death<div class=Section1> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'>I know it isn’t my “day” to blog, and I can’t even remember what our topic is this week. What’s on my mind is the “end”. Not the victorious “THE END” we write after we complete a manuscript; I’m talking about the big end for all of us: death. <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'>A cousin of mine passed away between Christmas and New Years, a person with as much life and vitality as anyone you’ve ever seen – until cancer zapped it out of her. She struggled long and hard against the disease and I greatly admire her courage. Near the end, when we’d go over to Hospice for a visit, she’d often tell us “I’m dying.” We were all a bit uncomfortable with this, and usually managed to say “We’re all dying.”<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'>But now that the time is passed, I’m wondering if she felt differently inside. If she knew that, even though she was willing to continue the fight, her body was done. I wish I’d had that conversation with her, but again, it was an uncomfortable time, and there was no pressing ahead to get to the bottom of the mystery.<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'>The truth is we <b><span style='font-weight:bold'>are </span></b>all dying. Every day of life brings us closer to our own mortality.<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'>Another relative is in the midst of being hospitalized for Alzheimer’s. In lucid moments, this 86-year-old calmly says that he can’t remember things. And yet a few seconds later, he’s angry and shouting that he isn’t crazy. His body is hanging in there, but his brain has checked out.<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color="#003366" face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#003366'>All of this has me wondering about death. Will we all have that moment where we recognize the end is here, or will it catch us unawares? Will we face dying like a warrior or will we cower in fear? For me, the answer isn’t clear cut. I want my “end” to be blindingly quick and if possible, pain-free. The thought of fighting a disease for 7 years like my cousin, and losing, doesn’t have much appeal. It isn’t death I’m afraid of, its pain and lingering between life and death.</span></font><font size=2 face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial'> <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial'>Maggie<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=5 color=purple face=Fat><span style='font-size: 18.0pt;font-family:Fat;color:purple'>Maggie Toussaint <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 color=teal face=Frosty><span style='font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:Frosty;color:teal'><a href="http://www.thewildrosepress.com"><font size=2 face=Georgia><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Georgia'>www.thewildrosepress.com</span></font></a></span></font><o:p></o:p></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 face="Times New Roman"><span style='font-size: 12.0pt'><a href="http://www.maggietoussaint.com"><font size=2 color=teal face="Bookman Old Style"><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Bookman Old Style"; color:teal'>www.maggietoussaint.com</span></font></a></span></font><font size=2 color=teal face="Bookman Old Style"><span style='font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Bookman Old Style";color:teal'> <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color=teal face="Bookman Old Style"><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Bookman Old Style";color:teal'> <img border=0 width=60 height=96 id="_x0000_i1025" src="cid:image002.jpg@01C730C4.45DF64E0"> </span></font><o:p></o:p></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 face="Times New Roman"><span style='font-size: 12.0pt'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> </div>Maggie Toussainthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011893139722870283noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1168006993203531012007-01-05T09:23:00.000-05:002007-01-05T09:23:13.310-05:002006<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>2006 ended up being all about the writing. I spent upwards of 12 hours a day on the computer, and put a lot of my life on hold.<br></br>I watched the company I write for, Triskelion, move from a small e-publisher to a medium sized publisher of ebooks and print, in mass market paperback, ready to duke it out with the majors in Borders and Wal-Mart.<br></br>I'm still reeling from the success of the Department 57 series, which I want to see go to even bigger things, so I've worked hard to get all the accompanying stuff right, as well as the books. No point in writing a new series if nobody knows it's there, right?<br></br>And I've made plans to go to Romantic Times in Houston in 2007. Now that is partly a non writing achievement! Personally I'm shy, I don't like meeting new people, because it sends me into panic attacks. So why do you think my ideal job is sitting at home on my own with a computer? <br></br>Well, I'm traveling on my own, sharing a room with a lovely person I've only met once before, and meeting tons of new people. My resolution is not to hide in my room, but sally forth and enjoy myself!<br></br>Terror is only something to be overcome!<br></br><img src='http://homepage.ntlworld.com/lynneconnolly/images/Lynne%20Connolly%20Banner.jpg'></img><br></br><br></br><br></br><p class='poweredbyperformancing'>powered by <a href='http://performancing.com/firefox'>performancing firefox</a></p></div>lynneconnollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10687025766573756077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1167790292402568192007-01-02T21:03:00.000-05:002007-01-02T21:11:32.426-05:00This is a tough one ...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993300;">What did I accomplish in 2006 that was not writing-related?</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993300;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993300;">Well, it wasn't related to <em>my</em> writing, but to my critique partner's. So I'm going to use that.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993300;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#993300;">She has <em>almost</em> finished her first manuscript. She and I have been brainstorming it for the entire year, shaping it, working on it, and now she's nearly ready to send it out. Neither of us has aspirations that it will get picked up, but it will get her that Pro Pin, from RWA. She's been in RWA for about 10 years and has not finished a manuscript or gotten a PP, and by gum, that was my goal for 2006 -- get her that pin, show her that she could finish a manuscript and help her to do it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#993300;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#993300;">I think this relates to my theory of the 'plateau' system of writing -- actually, a plateau system of anything. When you start, you're on the bottom plateau. You strive, you work, you accomplish something. You go up a step. All of a sudden, there's a new world in front of you. There are new things to learn, new aspects to hone, new things you never thought about. You learn, you aspire, you accomplish. You go up a step.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#993300;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#993300;">There's always another step, there's always more to learn. This is true in writing, in life, in everything. I think, watching her struggle with this #*(@ book has taught me the power of stubbornness. She was bound and determined to finish that story even though she'd lost interest in it, even though she wanted to move on to another one. She wanted to FINISH what she'd started. I admire that. She's learned a great deal from this process, but so have I, and that's what it's all about, isn't it? It's all part of the plateau-system of learning ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#993300;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#993300;">J</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#993300;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1167690524872419582007-01-01T17:15:00.000-05:002007-01-01T17:28:44.886-05:00My Most Memorable of 2006<span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">Hands down, it was the knee surgery. Tore my ACL getting into a firetruck for the 4th of July parade and life hasn't been the same since.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">What did it teach me? Never take your mobility for granted. I've actually been through something similar before. About 20 years ago I was in a car accident and ended up partially paralyzed on my left side. Couldn't walk, couldn't fend for myself and we were in a 3rd floor apartment with no balcony and no elevator. I was stuck. New to the state, hours from my family and my husband worked all day - luckily about a mile away. Talk about isolation! And boredom - I've seen every episode of Bewitched, Gilligan's Island, I Dream of Jeannie and about a zillion other 50s and 60s sitcoms ever made. Too bad I wasn't writing at that point. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">I had to relearn how to walk. Talk about frustrating! And, here it is, almost 20 years later that I had to learn the same thing again.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">I wasn't the best pupil this go-round. There was a lot of anger over how the whole thing happened that I had trouble letting go of (some will say I still haven't). Twenty years later, you're more aware of how easy things can break. Your muscles may not be in as great a shape as two decades ago, making recovery that much more difficult. LIFE is more complicated and hectic so finding the time for rehab isn't as easy... it goes on.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">So, my biggest accomplishment? Something I had hoped to never have to do again: re-teach myself how to walk.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">Did I do it in the most positive light? I'd love to be all heroic and say "yes," but the truth is, I didn't. I complained. I whined, I even told my physical therapist I hated him while he was stretching my knee (I later apologized - after we all got a good laugh). I was not the most enthusiastic patient.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">But I did it. Around week three I had a serious talk with myself (always a fun thing to do - like you can really argue with yourself and hope to win????) and decided that I have too much life left to be crippled by this stupid surgery. I'd elected the surgery in the first place because I don't like body parts that don't work, so I could quit complaining and get my tushy in gear and make this thing work! I think that next day I had a 13% increase in bending in my knee and from that point on, things improved much quicker than they had.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">Sometimes all it takes is positive thinking. So, that's how I'm going into 2007. Positive that this is my year. If not in the American Title III contest, then with an editor or agent who has expressed an interest in my other works. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">And positive that I won't be riding in the 4th of July parade this year!</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">Happy New Year!</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;">-Judi</span>Judi Fennellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124698771196629427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1167577402545157002006-12-31T09:49:00.000-05:002006-12-31T10:03:57.560-05:00Goals, schmoals ...<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/1600/972356/thoughtful.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/200/753641/thoughtful.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">This won't be a request to post your goals. I don't set them. Never have, never will. I don't know why. Even now, with all that's happened in the past year, I don't have goals except continue on, do better at everything, and survive whatever life throws at me with a good sense of humor. Gee, I guess that's a goal. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">No, the topic this week is a retrospective.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">Name the most memorable thing that happened to you in 2006 <strong><em>that was not writing related</em></strong>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;">He he. That'll make you think, eh? Many of us had writing milestones met, I guess you could say (better than 'goals'). First sales, big contests won or finaled in, award nominations, etc.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;">No, name something that has nothing to do with writing. Did you finally break par on a tough course? Drive under the speed limit for more than a day in a row (can't claim to that one myself)? Achieve the salary you were hoping for? </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;">This has to be <em>your</em> accomplishment. Not your kid's, or your spouse's (even though we know you're the power behind the throne and should probably get some credit for those achievements).</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;">This is a tough one for me. I'll need to put on the old thinking cap. So much in my life is tied to my 'writing life'. I'll need to ponder this one ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;">Party on, Mavens! Here's to 2007 and what it might hold!!!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#cc0000;">J</span>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1167503972653354582006-12-30T13:08:00.000-05:002006-12-30T15:04:37.800-05:00Jingle, Jingle<span style="color:#009900;">Yes. Our tradition is to open gifts from each other on Christmas Eve. At first I thought it strange, but after more than forty years of celebrating Christmas gift giving this way, I dearly look forward to it.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">We start at three, mainly because the group has grown to twenty-four and it's a lengthly process.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Food is prepared and generally everyone is famished when they arrive. This year's menu included:</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Appetizers:</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Salmon Spread</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Mexicana Chip Dip</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Artichoke Dip</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Crab stuffed Mushrooms</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Rumaki</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Chicken Dip</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Tortilla Rollups<br /></span><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">For the Main Chomping:</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Fruit Pizza</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Logan's spiral ham, roasted and delicious</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Creamy Shrimp and Corn Soup, yummy</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Mexican Cheese Grits</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Fruit Salad</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Desserts:</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Amaretto Cheesecake</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Homemade Fruitcake soaked in Whiskey</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Pineapple Cake</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Homemade fudge</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Cookies</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">After snacking for awhile, the smaller kids wanted to open gifts, so we obliged.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">We sit in a huge circle of sorts, then the oldest grandkids hand out the gifts. We open gifts by age. Youngest first. It's the only time of the year my daughter will admit that her husband is younger than her, (only by three weeks).</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">We ooh, and aah over each gift.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">By the time the grandkids are finished it's time to hit the refreshment table again.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Did I tell you that Southern people expect food at all events, in fact, it is <em>part</em> of the event.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Then the older kids open gifts.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">This is the only year that we haven't done fireworks afterward. (That was on my hubby's list.)</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">By nine, we were finished. The families left, the grandkids knowing that Santa would pass during the night with more gifts.</span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">It seems like a lot of work for a few hours. But I wouldn't trade a moment of it for anything. </span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Because, once upon a time, I knew a boy who never received a Christmas present that he could remember. So, whenever I think of the excess of Christmas, I'm feeling in my heart that that little boy would have been in such awe. And I remember him with love. </span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span><br /><br /><span style="color:#009900;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1167263692934684752006-12-27T18:54:00.000-05:002006-12-27T18:54:52.940-05:00Holiday Traditions<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>Nope, me neither. <br></br><br></br>Then again, there might be a few. We have a chicken, not a turkey because nobody likes chicken. We have one of my homemade spiced apple pies, not Christmas Pudding, because nobody likes Christmas Pudding. Brandy butter is horrid, so we have custard.<br></br><br></br>So you might call it anti-tradition. Instead of doing what we <i>ought </i>to do, we do what we <i>want </i>to do. And it works out really well.<br></br><br></br>So we get up when we want, eat around two thirty, don't turn on the Queen's Speech, watch "Casablanca" (at least I do, just because I love that film), drink, and eat some more. It's a nice day, and we discovered the best way to avoid family arguments and upset is to do what we want, and be nice to each other. <br></br><br></br>That count as a tradition?<br></br><br></br><br></br><p class='poweredbyperformancing'>powered by <a href='http://performancing.com/firefox'>performancing firefox</a></p></div>lynneconnollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10687025766573756077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1167222246868352302006-12-27T07:13:00.000-05:002006-12-27T07:24:06.883-05:00Holiday traditions ... hmm, I may be traditionless<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">This was a stumper for me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">Music? I can't carry a tune in a truck, and caroling was never a part of any holiday we had. We participated in assorted carols for various groups we belonged to, but our family wasn't big on singing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">Church? I'm not religious and can't remember the last time I went. My family would go to church twice a year, Easter and Christmas, so I vaguely remember attending services when I was a child, but haven't done so in recent memory. The services were pretty with candles and lots of singing. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">Movies, maybe. Watching <em>White Christmas</em> or <em>A Christmas Carol </em>(the one with Alistair Sims). My sister and I used to watch those every year. She and I have the entire routine to "Sisters" memorized from WC, including the 'fan dance'. But those aren't really traditions.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">I guess if there's one thing that's constant it's calling others on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Our family can never all get together at the holiday. There's people in Minnesota, Iowa, Colorado, California ... and that's not counting the other side of the family, with folks near Philly and in Pittsburgh. I can't remember the last time we all were in one place for a holiday.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">So, yes -- that evening phone call when we look at the clock and say, "That must be Lisa, I'll bet they're opening presents now" or "That must be {insert name}, it's present-opening time where she is". Or the times I've called, after looking at the clock and saying, "Well, it's cocktail time, I'll bet they're on the first present".</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">I'm calling it a tradition, whether it is or not.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#cc0000;">J</span>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1167171126645440912006-12-26T17:12:00.000-05:002006-12-26T17:12:07.833-05:00Holdiay music<div class=Section1> <p class=MsoNormal><b><i><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face="Estrangelo Edessa"><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa";color:#33CCCC; font-weight:bold;font-style:italic'>My favorite holiday memories center on music. <o:p></o:p></span></font></i></b></p> <p class=MsoNormal><b><i><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face="Estrangelo Edessa"><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa";color:#33CCCC; font-weight:bold;font-style:italic'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></i></b></p> <p class=MsoNormal><b><i><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face="Estrangelo Edessa"><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa";color:#33CCCC; font-weight:bold;font-style:italic'>Christmas carols were among the first songs I learned to sing well. Back in the day, my cousin Hunter who played the piano and sang by ear, would liven up every Christmas party with his beautiful holiday renditions. I remember this one particular lady all of us neighborhood kids used to torment to sing Silent Night for us. Ollie would sing for us every time. We used to giggle at her high notes, but the thing we didn’t realize is that we were being soothed and transformed by her heartfelt music.<o:p></o:p></span></font></i></b></p> <p class=MsoNormal><b><i><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face="Estrangelo Edessa"><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa";color:#33CCCC; font-weight:bold;font-style:italic'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></i></b></p> <p class=MsoNormal><b><i><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face="Estrangelo Edessa"><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa";color:#33CCCC; font-weight:bold;font-style:italic'>Later in life, as I had my own children to soothe, I sang a great deal. Christmas carols are my favorite music of all time, and there’s nothing I like better than singing “What Child is This?” Even songs with challenging high parts, like “O Holy Night,” hold a special place in my heart. I remember dear Ollie and how she touched us with her music. <o:p></o:p></span></font></i></b></p> <p class=MsoNormal><b><i><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face="Estrangelo Edessa"><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa";color:#33CCCC; font-weight:bold;font-style:italic'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></i></b></p> <p class=MsoNormal><b><i><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face="Estrangelo Edessa"><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa";color:#33CCCC; font-weight:bold;font-style:italic'>I hope everyone is enjoying this holiday season. <o:p></o:p></span></font></i></b></p> <p class=MsoNormal><b><i><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face="Estrangelo Edessa"><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa";color:#33CCCC; font-weight:bold;font-style:italic'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></i></b></p> <p class=MsoNormal><b><i><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face="Estrangelo Edessa"><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Estrangelo Edessa";color:#33CCCC; font-weight:bold;font-style:italic'>Until next week, Maggie<o:p></o:p></span></font></i></b></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=5 color=purple face=Fat><span style='font-size: 18.0pt;font-family:Fat;color:purple'>Maggie Toussaint <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 color=teal face=Frosty><span style='font-size: 12.0pt;font-family:Frosty;color:teal'><a href="http://www.thewildrosepress.com"><font size=2 face=Georgia><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Georgia'>www.thewildrosepress.com</span></font></a></span></font><o:p></o:p></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 face="Times New Roman"><span style='font-size: 12.0pt'><a href="http://www.maggietoussaint.com"><font size=2 color=teal face="Bookman Old Style"><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Bookman Old Style"; color:teal'>www.maggietoussaint.com</span></font></a></span></font><font size=2 color=teal face="Bookman Old Style"><span style='font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Bookman Old Style";color:teal'> <o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 color=teal face="Bookman Old Style"><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Bookman Old Style";color:teal'> <img border=0 width=60 height=96 id="_x0000_i1025" src="cid:image001.jpg@01C72910.E0A1E3B0"> </span></font><o:p></o:p></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 face="Times New Roman"><span style='font-size: 12.0pt'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> </div>Maggie Toussainthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011893139722870283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1166970748838507462006-12-24T09:28:00.000-05:002006-12-24T09:32:28.853-05:00Do you have a favorite holiday tradition?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/1600/735933/snowman.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/200/544123/snowman.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">That subject line says it all.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">Is there a particular thing that you and your loved ones do together? Trim a tree? Open a present at a particular time? Sip brandy from jello molds (see previous post)?</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">And listen -- I know you're busy. I'm getting ready to get on the road myself. So if you don't reply this week, no problem -- we'll reconvene later.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">Have a happy, relaxing, and safe holiday. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">J</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1166575474784715752006-12-19T19:27:00.000-05:002006-12-19T19:44:34.830-05:00Hazy holiday memories<p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">I have several fond memories of holidays, many of which revolved around my father, who was a real character. He was often mistaken for Jimmy Stewart. They looked remarkably alike, right down to the tall, gangly physique.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">One year he decided we should open a present on Christmas Eve. This wasn't unusual, we often did this. This was accompanied by a special drink (I don't remember the drink -- brandy? gin?) He couldn't find drink glasses that were special enough for this event, so he rooted around in the cupboard and came up with 8 matching containers: jello molds.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">These were rubbermaid (tm) molds, shaped like a star or a flower. About 4" high and 4" in diameter. And plastic.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">He brought them into the living room with a flourish, filled with Drink of Choice, balanced on a beat-up tray that my mother used as a drip catcher in the stove.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">We all laughed so hard I thought we'd have to be hospitalized. He was so happy with his choice of beverage glass and had no clue that these were jello molds. He just figured -- hey, they all matched and they were clean.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">We unwrapped many gifts that night, if I recall. I still giggle when I remember the sight of him, coming into the living room with that tray with eight white plastic jello molds balanced so carefully.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;">I have a lot of memories like this: Hanky Day (when he got about two dozen hankies for his birthday), family vacations (where he regaled us with tales of 'Old Buck', his horse, stories that sustained us through the boredom of driving through South Dakota), Christmas baking with my mother (our assembly line making highly decorated Santa cookies), Prom night (eavesdropping on my sisters as they got ready to go out) ...</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;">All memories with family are holidays, aren't they? I mean, in my mind, some of the memories seem like holidays even though they were just simple get-togethers (family picnics, swimming pool days, bike rides). And although many of the people are gone, I can't say I miss them. I mean, they're still so alive to me in memory. The only difference is that we aren't making new memories together -- I'm doing that with new friends. Perhaps I'm Pollyanna, but to me, it's all good.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;">J</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span> </p>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1166553680418127802006-12-19T13:39:00.000-05:002006-12-19T13:46:42.983-05:00Holiday Memories<span style="color:#663366;">Ooooh! This is an easy one. My favorite holiday memory happened 3 years ago this Christmas. My kids were still in elementary school and one of our old dogs had just passed away. Our other old dog was blind and pretty much deaf - the one who'd died had been his seeing eye dog. So, poor Bentley was left all alone. And the kids wanted a puppy.<br /><br />I love puppies.<br /><br />My husband says he does, but really, he doesn't.<br /><br />So off we went to the pet store where the kids could play with the puppies. But we weren't getting one. (Don't get me started on the whole puppy mill thing.) But they had fun playing with chihuahuas, daschunds, cocker spaniesl, bichon frises, yorkies, etc. And they begged, "Please Mom, can we have a puppy? You won't have to buy us anything else. We won't even ask Santa for any gifts. Please can we have a puppy? We'll take care of it and feed it and let it out...you won't have to do a thing." (famous last words)<br /><br />My response, "I am not buying you a puppy."<br /><br />I bought two :)<br /><br />One from a woman who owned the parents on a farm, and the other from her daughter who lived down the street and had one of the previous litter's pups.<br /><br />Two beautiful cocker spaniel puppies, the kind my husband and I could agree on. Two different litters, six weeks apart.<br /><br />Which meant only one could come home for Christmas.<br /><br />So, on Christmas eve, I drove to the farm and picked up Vixen. I took her to my parents' house and left her there until the kids were in bed, then went back and picked her up. This little tiny bundle of red fluff with cute little ears and big paws. She and I spent the night in the basement and she never cried once.<br /><br />Christmas morning, with the kids gathered in the living room, Santa's presents all around them, I walked in with a basket and set it on the floor. Vixen sat completely still. The kids thought she was a stuffed animal.<br /><br />And then she moved.<br /><br />"You got us a puppy!"<br /><br />I will never forget the tears of joy, the hugs, the snub Santa's presents got ( :) ) and the sight of three kids playing with a puppy under the tree.<br /><br />When all the hoopla died down, a box of puppy supplies was opened and Santa got his due, my middle child looks at me and says, "You lied."<br /><br />"I did?" I replied.<br /><br />"Yes. You said you wouldn't get us a puppy."<br /><br />Here's where my husband chimed in. "Let's give Mom an early birthday present, shall we?" and he pulls out a box from under the tree.<br /><br />The kids were looking at us funny. My birthday isn't until February. They know it's like a national holiday to me. Matter of fact it's bigger than Christmas to me. He wouldn't give me an early present - I like to be surprised.<br /><br />So Mom takes the box and opens it veeeeeery sloooooowly.<br /><br />The youngest grabs one of the flaps and pulls it open. Inside are some dog toys. A leash, like the one we already opened. Another bowl.<br /><br />The oldest, sweet considerate child that he is, says apologetically, "Dad, we already have stuff for the puppy." Such a sweet moment, both the kid and the surprise I couldn't wait to spring on them.<br /><br />"Really?" I asked, pulling out the purple dog collar (the other was pink). "Hmmm, what does this say?" I ask, holding up the name tag. (Of course, we've already determined that the other one said Vixen.)<br /><br />My concerned, not-wanting-to-hurt-Dad's-feelings oldest child takes the collar and reads the name. "Raven..." He looks up with such confusion then wonder... "You bought us two dogs??!!"<br /><br />The screams, the tears, the hugs, the joy in that room are a memory I will carry with me forever.<br /><br />I know the SPCA says not to get your kids a puppy for Christmas. Not to buy into the sentimentality of the holidays and bring home a pet, because many of them end up in shelters or neglected. I get that.<br /><br />But we were going to get another dog anyway. Bentley needed a friend, and, frankly, there was a hole in my heart where our other dog had been. I had to fill it. And Bentley would soon (8 months later, not that we would know that) leave another hole. We were getting these dogs anyway, so why not Christmas?<br /><br />If a pet is in your future, I say that you should definitely give it to your kids for Christmas.</span>Judi Fennellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11124698771196629427noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1166449512969096322006-12-18T08:45:00.000-05:002006-12-18T08:45:23.126-05:00Hypervenitlating for the Holdiays<div class=Section1> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face=Pegasus><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Pegasus;color:#33CCCC'>I’m a person who loves routine, and deviations from that stated routine invariably cause distress. I’ve been writing glowing editorials for the newspaper on the closeness of family and the true meaning of Thanksgiving, etc, but it isn’t what I believe in my heart. For me, holidays bring added worries, and I’m not talking about all the gifting, gathering, cooking, decorating, and cleaning.<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face=Pegasus><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Pegasus;color:#33CCCC'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face=Pegasus><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Pegasus;color:#33CCCC'>I’m not a bah humbug, don’t give me presents kind of gal, in fact I love presents, its just surprises I don’t like. We have had a high number of family deaths while on holiday or vacation. My brother-in-law died during a summer vacation. My father had a heart attack just after Christmas. My father-in-law died of cancer a week before Christmas. Right now I have a dear cousin struggling for breath in Hospice. And there are others, if I could only bring them to mind.<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face=Pegasus><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Pegasus;color:#33CCCC'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face=Pegasus><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Pegasus;color:#33CCCC'>So I’m always glad to put Christmas behind me. I love the blessed stillness of late Christmas Eve, that Silent Night feeling when all is truly calm. For me, that’s the feeling that I made it through another year. I enjoy that lovely feeling for as long as I can hold onto it.<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face=Pegasus><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Pegasus;color:#33CCCC'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 color="#33cccc" face=Pegasus><span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Pegasus;color:#33CCCC'>Then I steel myself for the next round of holidays.<o:p></o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=2 face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Arial'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=5 color=purple face=Fat><span style='font-size: 18.0pt;font-family:Fat;color:purple'>Maggie Toussaint</span></font><o:p></o:p></p> <p class=MsoNormal><em><i><font size=4 color=teal face=Frosty><span style='font-size:13.5pt;font-family:Frosty;color:teal'>Coming soon:</span></font></i></em><em><i><font size=4 color=teal face="Times New Roman"><span style='font-size:13.5pt; color:teal'> </span></font></i></em><em><i><font size=4 color=teal face=Frosty><span style='font-size:13.5pt;font-family:Frosty;color:teal'> House of Lies</span></font></i></em><o:p></o:p></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 face="Times New Roman"><span style='font-size: 12.0pt'><a href="http://www.maggietoussaint.com"><font color=fuchsia face="Palatino Linotype"><span style='font-family:"Palatino Linotype"; color:fuchsia'>www.maggietoussaint.com</span></font></a></span></font><font size=2 face=Arial><span style='font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Arial'> ;<a href="http://mavensofthepen.blogspot.com/">http://mavensofthepen.blogspot.com/</a></span></font><o:p></o:p></p> <p class=MsoNormal><font size=3 face="Times New Roman"><span style='font-size: 12.0pt'><o:p> </o:p></span></font></p> </div>Maggie Toussainthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011893139722870283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1166373038586267882006-12-17T11:27:00.000-05:002006-12-17T11:30:38.600-05:00Let's talk holidays ...<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/1600/753128/santa2.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/320/940988/santa2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">Yes, it's That Time of Year.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">Your topic for the week: name a favorite holiday memory. Just one! And it doesn't have to be a Christmas or New Year's memory -- it can be any holiday, even a personal one, like a birthday.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;">Is there one that makes you giggle, even today? One that reminds you of something special? One that makes you remember someone special or something that really stands out in memory?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;">Tell us about it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;">J</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1166317949780289212006-12-16T20:04:00.000-05:002006-12-16T20:16:15.470-05:00Spike...<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7026/643/1600/978382/MVC-010L.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7026/643/320/156857/MVC-010L.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Darth Tater might be cute, but Spike is adorable!<br /><br /><br /><p>Here is Spike on the wall in front of Graceland.</p><p>I have a nice little sofa that sits on my desk which is Spike's resting place when he isn't out traveling about.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1166147973144350782006-12-14T20:59:00.000-05:002006-12-14T20:59:33.146-05:00smiling<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>These are all so good!<br></br>i can't compete! Especially with Darth Potato. <br></br>But I write surrounded by doll's houses. I have two big ones, a small one and a small shop in my living room, and more in the rest of the house. They are my delight, but when you think about it, it's creating worlds, isn't it? <br></br><br></br><br></br><p class='poweredbyperformancing'>powered by <a href='http://performancing.com/firefox'>performancing firefox</a></p></div>lynneconnollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10687025766573756077noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1166043979692010472006-12-13T15:57:00.000-05:002006-12-13T16:06:19.726-05:00And here he is ...<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/1600/516237/Darth2.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/200/411037/Darth2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/1600/445699/Darth1.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/200/595409/Darth1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;">The guy who makes me smile</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"> Darth Tater!</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;">Yep, it's Mr. PotatoHead (Tm, R, or whatever is needed) as Darth Vader. He's sitting on my Nec MobilePro 800 (Tm, R, or whatever is needed), brandishing his not-so-dangerous light saber (or sabre, as Lynne would say).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;">Every time I look at him I laugh. And I've needed a few laughs lately, between work and writing. It's been a struggle these last few weeks. But I just look at old Darth and grin.</span><br /><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#990000;">J</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#990000;"></span> </p><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#990000;"></span>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1165808388861795292006-12-10T22:31:00.000-05:002006-12-10T22:39:48.873-05:00Smiling frogs<span style="color:#00cccc;"><strong>The absolute closest things to my desk chair that makes me smile are my miniature bean bag frogs. I have one in red leather and one in green leather. They're about the size of a squashed computer mouse. Sometimes they're hanging over my monitor. Sometimes they're resting on my monitor stand. Other times I'm tossing them from hand to hand to get the creative juices flowing. So that's my answer. My frogs make me smile.</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;"><strong>Smiles and laughter are important. Share some today!</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;"><strong>Until next week, Maggie Toussaint</strong></span><br /><span style="color:#00cccc;"><strong></strong></span>Maggie Toussainthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12011893139722870283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34851347.post-1165765763750072692006-12-10T10:31:00.000-05:002006-12-10T10:49:23.786-05:00Okay: what makes you smile?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/1600/846211/opendoorsun.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/5032/3749/200/989341/opendoorsun.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">Sorry for the way-too-thoughtful topic last week. This one should be easier.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">Look around your work space. Don't leave your chair, but you can swivel around in it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">Now tell us about ONE item near you that makes you smile. This 'item' can also be a human (if one happens to be standing near), a pet, a book -- the sky's the limit.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#990000;">What is near you that makes you smile?</span>J Lhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04016624838926050085noreply@blogger.com0