Snowy Caturday 2 Blizzard 2009

Pictures above... still snowing like crazy at 6:00 PM. This is our front walk. It was shoveled about an hour ago. Official snow depth our town right now... 15".






Lunchtime pics... Really starting to come down hard now. Another twelve hours of storm to come...

anny

Snowy Caturday

Gonna be a really, really snowy Caturday...I'll post pics later on!




And so it begins... 11:30 PM


Ah...let it snow! Here we are at 8:30 AM.
anny

The Bride Doll

Over the years I've written several short vignettes about different Christmas' in my life. Today's vignette takes place in 1957.

Christmas 1957. I was eight years old. That was the year of the Bride Doll and also the year I discovered the truth about Santa Claus. I lived in a very small town called Hayden, Arizona. At that time, there was a general store in the center of town near the elementary school. Each afternoon on the way home from school, I would rush inside and check out The Bride Doll.

The Bride Doll was the most important dream of my young life. She was two feet tall dressed in a bride dress composed of layer upon layer of white lace. She had short curly blonde hair and a veil. The display box was high up on a shelf so that you could see her the minute you entered the store.

Every afternoon, I rushed inside to check that she was still there. At the time, I don’t think I realized that the store would naturally have more than one in stock. I was sure that as long as The Bride Doll was in the store on Christmas Eve, then Santa would bring me my dearest wish…The Bride Doll.

One afternoon as I trotted down the sidewalk after school, I saw my mother standing by our car in front of the store. Now in those days, kids did not ride in the front seat. The front seat was reserved for grown ups. So when my mother asked if I wanted a ride home, I naturally yanked open the back door even as my mother yelled, “No!”

And lo and behold, there was The Bride Doll on the back seat.

I was dumbfounded. What was The Bride Doll doing in my car? It says much about innocence of that era that it never even occurred to me that my mother had bought it. All I could think was, “Why did Santa bring my doll when it wasn’t even Christmas?”

Well, we rode home in silence. Then, my mother took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen where we proceeded to have milk and cookies while she explained how Moms and Dads were Santa’s helpers. It was vague enough that it took me two more years to finally get it. She explained that my brothers didn’t know about how Moms and Dads helped Santa so I would have to pretend to be surprised.

Pretending and having secrets was almost as exciting as knowing that The Bride Doll would be mine on Christmas Day. I dragged that poor doll around for years. As a matter of fact, fifty two years later, she’s still stashed in my spare room. I’m afraid that she’s a bit worse for the wear, but my granddaughters still love her anyway. Her bride dress is long gone. At the moment she has a sailor dress. I keep thinking that I’ll find time to make her a new dress but I haven’t done it yet.

A little over two years later, my mother died. I wonder what she’s thinking now as she peeks down from Heaven? Is she shaking her head over that bedraggled dolly? Probably so.

The picture is my mom and grandpa, now gone many years. Oh, and that's me clutching my Bride Doll.

Anny

Today my Aunt JoAnn and Uncle Glenn are married 52 years. Fifty-two! May all of God's Blessings shine down on you. Happy Anniversary!

Silent Night

Christmas 1956. I was seven years old that Christmas that I played Silent Night as part of the Christmas Pageant. I had been taking piano lessons for six months, practicing on the old beat up upright piano in our living room. We lived in a small town in Arizona where my father was the pastor of the church we attended. He also worked full-time in a copper mine about forty miles away. Every day he traveled to work on a narrow two lane curvy, hilly road.

He was a lineman, stringing wire underground for the communication system. One day he fell from an underground pole and broke his back. Considering the state of medicine back in that day, it's a miracle that he ever walked again. I still have pictures of him in his body cast that made him look twice as big around.

Anyway, our church had a Christmas Pageant. It had the usual cast of suspects. Mary, Joseph, the Wise Men, the Shepherds, and the Angels. My baby doll was the baby Jesus. I wasn't very happy about that because one of the Shepherds decided to play catch with one of the Wise Men and they used my dolly's head for their ball.

In an effort to defuse my understandable wrath at this abuse of my dolly, Mrs. Jones, the Pageant director made an on the spot decision that I would play Silent Night on the piano while the Angels tiptoed up the aisles, toting lighted candles, on their way to sing Hark the Herald Angel Sings.

It might have worked out that way, too, except that I couldn't see the sheet music in the dark, I couldn't reach the pedals on the piano so it sounded more like a choppy march, and I played it so slow that the Angels could have crawled up the aisles and still reached the stage before I finished. Since the Angels were all from the primary grades and were hopped up on all the sugar from candy canes and cookies, Mrs. Jones had to devise a new plan.

After some reworking, she finally determined that I would play Silent Night while the Shepherds trudged slowly up the aisle carrying their stuffed toy sheep. And then there would still be time for the Wise Men to traipse up the aisle, swaying to and fro like they were riding camels.

The night of the Pageant arrived. I had a new red plaid taffeta dress that my mother made. She made all of our clothes because she could sew like a wizard on that old Singer treadle sewing machine. My mother was a crafty woman. She made all the Angels' wings and most of the costumes.

When it was time for me to play, I pranced up to the piano like I was a movie star, flounced onto the piano stool and ponderously pounded out my rendition of Silent Night. The Shepherds and Wise Men did their part, but still arrived at the stage before I was half-way through.

When I finished the congregation stood up and clapped wildly. Looking back on it, I think they were incredibly relieved that I finally finished. I do know that was the last time I was asked to play anything in that church. That's okay. I certainly had my one night as a Christmas Star.

I saw Santa Claus at...

the gas station. Yesterday I took my neighbor to the local garage to pick up her car. While I was waiting in the car with my granddaughter and her friend, I noticed a decommissioned U-haul truck at the gas station next to the garage.

Normally, it wouldn't have made much of an impression but Santa was pumping gas. His suit was pristine, his beard snowy white, and he wore black boots on his feet. We all watched him for a long time--the children quite excited--while he filled the gas tank on the truck.

The kids speculated about a lot of things. Why was he driving a truck? What happened to his reindeer and sleigh? When I suggested he might be picking up presents to take to the North Pole, they were aghast at the idea that the elves might not make ALL the presents.

One of them mentioned that Santa could come right over to the house since he was already in the neighborhood, but I squashed that notion pointing out that it isn't yet Christmas Eve. They were distracted when they noticed someone else in the truck cab. "It's Mrs. Santa," said my granddaughter's little friend.

I couldn't really see that well, so I agreed that it might be. Just then, Mrs. Santa popped out of the truck as Santa finished his gas pumping chores. They embraced, kissing in a very un-Santa-like fashion. Then they climbed up into the truck and drove away.

The kids were goggle-eyed at that kiss. One of them asked, "But aren't they too old for that mushy stuff?"

My neighbor, who had returned just before Santa left, calmly brushed off their concerns. "The mushy stuff lasts as long as you want it to."

"Ohhhhh." More food for thought there.

Then it was time to go home. Those few enchanted moments brightened the evening though. Suddenly anything seemed possible. After all, what could be more impossible than seeing Santa at the gas station?

Speaking of impossible. Today, the househunk and I mark 42 years in the marriage race. Some days it seems it passed as swiftly as an eagle. Other days it was slower than molasses in July. That's pretty much the way marriage is. There are great days, bad days, and a lot of ordinary days that we don't always value until we have the advantage of perspective and time.

To the hunk...Thank you for hanging in there with me through the good, bad, and especially the ordinary! I love you.

anny

Good Tidings...

At this time of year, it's always wonderful when we read or hear of a true "feel good" story. On Saturday morning in a Philidelphia diner a mystery couple set of a hours long string of various customers paying for the meals of other customers. It wasn't planned. It wasn't organized. It was simply spontaneous generosity. For the details, click on Paying Forward

Tomorrow the house hunk and I will be married 42 years. Perhaps that's why this clip touched me so deeply. The couple in the clip are married twenty years longer than me. And the gentleman turned 90 in February. They seem to be having so much fun! I hope if I'm married that long that the hunk and I will also be able to have the odd spontaneous urge to do something fun. For a wonderful pick-me-up, check out the Piano Players

If you can watch that video without smiling... well, I'm STILL smiling!
Thanks to Sandra Cox for bringing it to my attention!

anny

Tagggggged!

My critique partner, Cindy, tagged me with this meme. I'm still considering who I might tag, so I'll reserve my three choices for a couple days. In the meantime...

1. What’s the last thing you wrote? What’s the first thing you wrote that you still have?
Last thing: Last thing I finished was Larkspur, a free read that is part of the Flowers of Camelot series for Ellora’s Cave. First thing: Is a "jumpstart" set on the planet Lycos. And that is all it is as this point.

2. Write poetry?
No.

3. Angsty poetry?
DEFINITELY not.

4. Favorite genre of writing?
Romance. Mostly paranormals though not by design.

5. Most annoying character you’ve ever created?
I have no idea. Perhaps Nigel, Morgana's son in Daffodil.

6. Best plot you’ve ever created?
It's probably a toss up between Love Never-Ending and one of my current wips that I'm simply calling Vampire for the moment.

7. Coolest plot twist you’ve ever created?
Huh. I have no idea. Perhaps the ending of Prisoner of the Heart.

8. How often do you get writer’s block?
Not often. Mostly when I don't write, it's because life is interfering.

9. Write fan fiction?
No. Fan fiction was well past my time.

10. Do you type or write by hand?
Way back in the beginning I wrote by hand. Now I seldom do that except when I'm trying to work out a very short difficult piece.

11. Do you save everything you write?
Mostly.

12. Do you ever go back to an idea after you’ve abandoned it?
Frequently.

13. What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever written?
Love Never-Ending. Although the three wips I'm working on now are also quite intriguing.

14. What’s everyone else’s favorite story that you’ve written?
I have no idea. The one that sold the best was Kama Sutra Lovers.

15. Ever written romance or angsty teen drama?
Romance is what I write. Angsty teen drama? Not in this lifetime.

16. What’s your favorite setting for your characters?
Whatever's in my head mostly, though I spent the most time on Mystic Valley.

17. How many writing projects are you working on right now?
Three, mostly. Although I have worked on as many as five at one time.

18. Have you ever won an award for your writing?
Actually, in October at RomantiCon I won an award for Love Never-Ending for creative worldbuilding.

19. What are your five favorite words?
Love, Faith, Hope, Generosity, and Trust.

20. What character have you created that is most like yourself?
Delilah Jericho.

21. Where do you get ideas for your characters?
I have no idea. Generally, they just appear in my head, wanting to get out.

22. Do you ever write based on your dreams?
No. I think I once had a dream that persuaded me to change a book. That is a very rare occurance.

23. Do you favor happy endings?
Always. Personally, I don't like reading books without happy endings.

24. Are you concerned with spelling and grammar as you write?
Absolutely. That doesn't mean I catch all of them.

25. Does music help you write?
No. Mostly it just gives me a headache.

26. Quote something you’ve written. Whatever pops into your head.
From Prisoner of the Heart~~

He stood and helped her to her feet before stepping out of the tub. Kissing between strokes and pats, they made a sketchy business of drying off before moving into the bedroom. She halted next to the bed, taking in the lit candles and flowers. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful. The candles are just background.”

anny