Sunday, November 9, 2014

Chocolate and Dogs Don't Mix

      No sirree, and we knew that. Nor avocados coffee (caffeine), garlic, grapes, onions, raisins, walnuts, antifreeze, dryer sheets, and a whole host of other food and non-food items. It’s hard to believe this stat too: “In 2012, the ASPCA Animal Poison Control Center (APCC) in Urbana, Illinois, handled more than 180,000 cases about pets exposed to possibly poisonous substances.”[1] That’s one city in a single year! And no, this doesn't make me feel better in light of our own dog's chocolate overdose.
     
      Our saga revealed itself after dinner this past Thursday night. I mean, accidents happen. What we don’t hear much about is the treatment of a pet who swallowed a toxic substance. It’s an eye opener and it will hurt your heart when you know the details. 

       Caesar was resting on Tim’s lap when I went over to love him up. That was around 7:30 p.m. Just a few minutes earlier I'd taken him outside to do his business, but he’s a love sponge and we cannot help ourselves when it comes to the mushy business of pet loving. As I stepped away from Tim’s chair, something caught my eye on the rug, nearly hidden under the sofa. Odd, I thought: it’s the gold foil from the chocolate bar I’d eaten earlier. Only I had left it, at least half of it, on the tall counter. Long story in itself.
      
      OhmiGod! Alarms clanged in my head. I grabbed my never-used-before poison info, taped inside a cupboard door. “Make dog vomit immediately, using hydrogen peroxide in the amount shown in the following weight chart.” Except we figured Caesar had ingested the stuff about two hours earlier. And it was dark chocolate, more toxic than milk chocolate. And damn: it had currants in it too, which are as bad as raisins for dogs. I dialed the Veterinarian’s office. “Bring him right over. He’ll be spending the night.” Forget that the assistant was duty bound to inform me of the minimum cost. What a waste of time. Of course we’d pay. Our baby was about to die and I’m going to quibble over cost?

      Now, I don’t mean to berate these savvy vets. They did a super job, and one that they would not have faced had we been more vigilant. I’m just saying it helps (but makes me sad at the same time) to understand the protocol for averting death in such cases.

      Wrenched from the arms of his loving peeps, Caesar was thrust into the frightening physiology of forced vomiting and intubation for charcoal glutting. Only they don’t mention, until they review the bill, that a tube was used to pump enormous quantities of charcoal into his tummy. They must tell you though, lest you be shocked by the resulting stool over the next several hours….it’s essentially lumps of coal. Like the ones we ought to get in our Christmas stocking.

And before they return him to your waiting arms from behind closed doors, they mention you ought not be frightened by the sight of his eye, which is red—as in maroon red, like one of those sci‑fi dinosaurs with murderous intent, clearly expressed in its eyeballs—piercing fire ball red; they tell you his eyes will soon be perfectly normal. How did they get so red, you might wonder? They drip a powerful emetic called apomorphine right onto your dog’s eyeball, which induces vomiting, acting almost immediately as it hits the optic nerve. Copious vomiting. Not sure if he was over-dosed, but somewhere around midnight he had to endure a shot of antidote to stop that process.

      And they don’t tell you until you call the next morning that your precious companion must stay another night for observation. But, yes, if you really want to, you could bring his lambie and a favorite blanket. Which we did. Of course we did.

At last, on 2 p.m. Saturday, Caesar came home. Sadly, his ordeal didn't end there. Liver tests showed signs of another unrelated condition, Cushing's disease. Consequently, he needs more testing. We can only pray for a good outcome on his diagnosis and prognosis. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime if any of you are dealing with Cushing's, I'd be grateful to hear your tale. 

And I promise to write of more upbeat happenings next time....thanks for visiting.


Friday, October 24, 2014

Through the Looking Glass


During my hiatus from blogging, I've felt as though I should have posted some small note, like: "Pardon the absence during reconstruction of this blogger's attitude"!

Sometimes retirement leads to too many choices, like a smorgasbord enticing one to over-indulge. By this summer, the third in my retirement, I'd become busy. Too busy, according to my hubby. So, I suppose it was a huge mistake for me to travel to Minnesota in July, on so many levels. I'd just gained some momentum on this (my first) blog, and become interested in photography and blogging as a way to channel some creative energy. 

You see, the trip interrupted a good flow I had going, in my sewing room, in writing my cookbook, in my swimming schedule, in pursuing things I'd waited to do all those years I worked. It was a tough decision to leave this groove behind and accompany my husband to his childhood haunts, but I knew I must. It would be the first time he had the heart to step foot back there after his Mom died, after he'd spent three months doing what he could to ease her through the nightmare of health care obstacles, to which she succumbed. 

I must say the first and most positive encounter on that trip happened right at the Minneapolis Airport. A friend and author I met through an online writing challenge, Peggy McAloon (Elle Burton and the Reflective Portals), arranged to drive hours to arrive when our 7 a.m. flight landed, just to meet me in person! And I won't even get into the sacrifices she made to do so. Peggy is like so many of you: a writer at heart, a writer with heart, and an inspirational soul. I felt I'd known her my whole life. For years I felt sure that Minnesota has the most friendly, polite people in the country. 

Ours was to be a 10-day sojourn to one of the family cabins on beautiful Lake Vermilion, about four hours north of Minneapolis, not far from the Boundary Waters. Although I had a gut feeling it wasn't going to be the easiest visit, I remain gobsmacked at just how badly it went. It wasn't any one thing, but many smaller changes observed and felt, and we even endured some dramatic emotional sucker-punches. We may not live there, but from our weekly phone contact over the past five years, we were shocked that family dynamics devolved the way they had, and felt the sting of coldness from people who'd at least shown us warmth during past visits. 

I couldn't possibly bore anyone with the sordid details. I will say only that people change, lives move on. In their defense, my husband's four brothers and their families are good people, and intelligent. So why does it feel as if a whole limb of our family tree has died? In retrospect, I believe it has everything to do with the loss of their Mom; Margery was an incredibly warm and generous person, interested in every friend and relative. She was a wonderful cook and baker, and I still mourn her loss. All camaraderie and grace are gone, and I believe they died with Margery. I don't think I would have believed it had I not experienced it, and it's the only explanation I have. 

No, "Minnesota polite" isn't all that I thought it was. Yet, instead of sharing this burdensome tale with anyone, I turned quiet. Another big mistake. Neither did spa pampering or a new haircut chase my doldrums.  

Maybe the most heartening lesson has been to learn what a phenomenal group you bloggers are. I am grateful to everyone who reached out with notes and gestures of support and to those who got in touch with blogger friends to check on me. Thank you especially to Writing Straight From The Heart, Elephant's Child, Becky, and ALL of my former readers...you remain a powerful inspiration and the reason I think it's worth picking up where I left off. I'll likely get into the swing of blogging again, but perhaps on a weekly basis. I have enjoyed all of your photos, stories, and comments so much.

By way of catching up slowly, I'll share that during my hiatus from blogging and sewing, I've done a great deal of reflecting and reading, most notably Becky Llewellyn Povich's memoir (From Pigtails to Chin Hairs...)a wonderful detour that brought back many memories from my own childhood, Turn Right at Machu Piccu, The School of Essential Ingredients; The Mockingbird Next Door: Life with Harper Lee; among others. I've taken on the Leviathan task of de-cluttering my basement, attic, and my mind of all negative thinking. 

Hubby and I have been stressing about the onset of winter, especially since our little Caesar struggled so last year here in New England. Finally we decided to become snowbirds from now on, trying new places until we find a location that entices us year round. This year we're heading to the last place we thought we'd ever vacation, Florida. But serendipity dropped an opportunity in our laps and so, we'll begin our serious research there. We've added North Carolina and South Carolina to our list for other seasons. Wish us luck! Send us ideas!

We've begun selecting what to fit in our SUV for the two month stay in Florida, which has changed my perspective on a few things. As I focus on the goal of a smooth vacation, there are fewer distractions for me to fuss over, which makes me happier. There are even bigger benefits. I've wanted to leave New England winters behind for such a long time the reality and anticipation of doing just that thrills me. Plus, as I am forced to focus my actions on such preparation, I've had time to think about my real passions. Just as a cat wants out when she is in or in when she is out, I long to be at my sewing machine instead! Perhaps writing is not far behind. And so, by trial and error, I'm learning what matters most and replenishing my essential ingredients. 

I hope you'll be back and I will also see you on your blogs as often as I can. 


Warmly, 

Vickie

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Retirement is busier than I realized it would be...

Hi Everyone,

Whew, I have been under the mistaken impression that retirement is a liesurely time of one's life. Don't believe it for a minute. 

The good news is that no matter how busy or crazy things get, I wake up to new iris blooms daily - gosh, how I hate this season to end. Here are some shots from yesterday. 






We will be out and about over the coming weeks, but I promise to return as soon as possible; and I haven't forgotten the post to explain the exquisite hand-written letter in that wonderful study that I posted last week.   



Friday, July 4, 2014

Fourth of July




Let freedom ring...

How I wish Dad were here to celebrate with us today...as we enjoy the very freedoms for which he risked his life serving in the U.S. Navy aboard the U.S.S. Intrepid, back in 1942 and '43. How grateful I am for his steadfast belief in our country's values.

Ah, gratitude! Can't have too much of that, either, Today I am celebrating with neighbors and friends, remembering our loved ones who are no longer with us; and my virtual friends, who may be wondering who won my drawing...

The winner is... (I know it's a bit late in the morning, but it's dark as a dungeon here as it's been raining for hours, which is why my hubby slept in)... Michele, at Finch Rest. Congratulations, Michele!     

Michele, Please could you email me at fiberfurnishings@gmail.com to provide your mailing address?


What are you grateful for today?

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Can we talk?

Hi everyone,

Yesterday my dear friend Susan (Writing Straight from the Heart) posted a promise involving me. Yes, it's true, if you leave me a comment that you want to win a copy of my memoir, AND if you are a follower, I will enter your name in a drawing (ends at midnight EST). 

I mention this because a few people left comments who are not among my blog followers. I'd really like to make my husband work when he pulls the winning name from his hat tomorrow morning....so please check to make sure you qualify if you'd like a chance to win a copy of Water's Edge: Growing up in the Heart of a New England Village.

Now, here's a photo to give you just a hint of the topic I'll be sharing in the coming days.


Good luck in the drawing! 


Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Return of Old Friends

"Do you like it?" "How do you like, it?" Michael Conforti's words greeted visitors on the terrace, like those of any quintessential host sampling guests' reactions.  He is the Director of the Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute, a jewel of a museum in Williamstown, Massachusetts.

Yesterday, Michael graciously greeted guests arriving in droves to preview the long-awaited new wing and transformed outdoor setting. The museum's permanent collection has not only returned from touring the world while its home was renovated and expanded, it is on display once again! 

Yesterday, Tim and I invited our dear neighbor, Tom, to join us as we enjoyed this exclusive preview.

Here are some photos of the new reflecting pool built in the rear of the building (where a parking lot used to be) along with a sampling of my favorite works of art.

New building at end of reflecting pool

Tim and Tom enjoying the view

Another view of the reflecting pool


Keeping with the summer theme, I hope you enjoy some of my favorites from among the Clark's gems.

Woman with a Fan, Pierre-Auguste Renoir

 Neapolitan Children Bathing, John Singer Sargent


Woman with a Picnic Basket, Raimundo de Madrazo y Garreta


It did my heart good to reaquaint myself with my former friends; they are surprisingly bright under the new lighting system, so much so that I asked if they'd all been cleaned. "No, it's just the new lighting," Michael replied! "Do you like it?" 

I kept my husband's customary and cheeky answer to this question to myself (I don't like it. I love it.) and simply answerd: "We loved it."

You might enjoy checking out the Clark Art Museum's website here. If you are in the region, their Gala Opening is July 4th!

Also, my dear blogger friend, Susan, posted an interview with me on her blog today; hope you'll check it out and see how to qualify for a chance to win a copy of my memoir, Water's Edge: Growing Up in the Heart of a New England Village. Read her blog post at Writing Straight from the Heart.


Monday, June 30, 2014

Blog Tour Trifecta

Last week Patti at Magnolia Cottage invited me to participate in her blog tour. She featured my blog among two others on her post, and today it’s my turn to spread the goodwill. 

Here’s the format: share three blogs I love, briefly introduce myself by answering four questions, share a photo or two, and invite the people whose blogs I feature to repeat the process in a week. Each tour runs from Monday to Monday. The goal? Simply to introduce a few blogs to promote their discovery and your delight.

However I must confess I don’t follow rules terribly well and today is no exception. You see, as difficult as it was to narrow my choices to three blogs, it was impossible to find three bloggers willing to take part! Time and circumstance allowed me to send my plea far and wide, but one blogger is on holiday in Europe with intermittent Internet, another had to travel and declined Friday evening, two others had been featured too recently, and finally one is hosting several visitors from Japan and is simply too busy. However, the two I am inviting you to tour offer a variety of posts and are packed with great photos.

The other confession is that I’m going to keep the question and answer part of this very short (compared to several tours I viewed in apprehension preparation of this post. You can always visit my blog to learn more about me if you like. Without further ado, I urge you to visit the following blogs, if you haven’t already done so: 

Elephant's ChildIs a gem from down under. EC’s photography gives us a glimpse of Nature in Canberra, Australia. Although she classifies herself more as a reader than a writer, her writing shows a keen wit. Would it be impolite to share her latest rant: “I am wishing painful hemorrhoids on the blogger boffins who are neither fixing the problem nor talking to us…”?

EC’s posts sometimes include her two black rescue cats—Jazz and Jewel, and often reveal her “...passion for biographies/autobiographies/diaries and letters - but it doesn't stop there.” She writes great book reviews too. Next Monday EC's blog tour will include a more personal glimpse of the woman behind the swimming tiger (her gravitar).    

Spot on Cedar Pond—meet a shepherdess and wool crafter who spins yarn from her Jacob sheep (yes, it's for sale) and amuses readers with photographs and tales of other family members, including Hawk, the Visla; Blizzard the cat; hens and chicks; and Sebastopol geese. You might just wish you lived nearby!  

Q&A

1.  What am I working on?

My number one priority as a retiree is to strike a balance between keeping up with the mundane demands of daily living and ensuring my life is regret-free. For me this means seizing opportunities to garden; quilt; travel; nurture family; honor friendships; and naturally, to read, reflect, and write. Oh yeah, and market my memoir!
                                                  
2.  How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Perhaps the biggest difference is that I am not famous! Who wrote this question anyway?

Seriously, I could leave it at that, and you may wish that I had. It’s a tough question, one that nagged me all week. In the first place, what I think about my work is not necessarily what readers may think.

In the second place, I’m not even sure this question is applicable to memoir writers whose topic is life experiences—something as unique as their fingerprints. Although memoirists can be selective about the time span they cover as well as the specific events in that chosen period, and handle voice, tone, and all the literary devices they employ in creative ways, they simply don’t have the same latitude as fiction writers who make up characters and experiences.

What sets one memoirist apart from another for me boils down to their intent, or purpose for writing their life story, which in turn colors the tone of the book. My idea of an engaging author is one who reveals his or her thoughts and feelings in the scenarios shared in such a way that readers identify with them as the story unfolds. I’m less inclined to finish memoirs in which an author merely chronicles events (and not necessarily traumatic ones) without provoking thought as to their origin.

Examples of what I consider stellar memoirs are: Jeannette Walls’ Glass Castle and Catherine Gildener’s two memoirs, Too Close to the Falls and After the Falls (I can’t wait to read her third, Coming Ashore). They come from very different backgrounds and they both humble me with their ability to pull me into their thoughts.
                                                                       
3.  Why do I write/create what I do?

I didn’t start out with the intention of writing a memoir, or a blog for that matter. As to the memoir, at first it was my way to capture childhood memories; if my longing to know more about my ancestors was any indication, I thought my son might someday appreciate my stories. But a funny thing happened during this casual approach: I realized that certain memories were tenacious beyond explanation. Curiosity is what hooked me into exploring why this might be so. Now I find myself encouraging others to write their life stories.

As for blogging? It bridges the gap between the solitary act of writing and intermittent urges to socialize. I enjoy connecting with like-minded people and sharing their virtual smorgasbord of talent.

4.  How does your writing/creating process work?

Usually some memory or encounter—with Nature, art, or a person—pleases or puzzles me and sparks exploration through writing. Sometimes I enjoy sharing the results.

Today’s photos mirror my purpose for writing, which is to reflect.

The first photo is of a large watercolor that is in our reading nook, one that inspires me to contemplate often, usually when I ought to be doing chores. Although it depicts an autumn scene, it offers food for thought year round.


Reflections, by Kirk Pedersen, 1985
Note: we are trying to contact the artist to ask what he titled this piece)
  
The second photo is courtesy of a brilliant gentleman, Elliot Fenander, who graciously agreed I could post it. Mr. Fenander taught some scintillating English classes at my high school, and if it weren't for Facebook, I may not have reconnected with him. His photography is first rate.



Reflection, Jardin du Luxembourg, Paris, July 2010
Photograph courtesy of Elliot Fenander

I hope you've enjoyed my reflections on writing, I won't make predictions, but I feel as though I've hit a blogosphere trifecta, even though just two bloggers agreed to participate. I hope you'll check them out next week. 

Thanks again to Patti, at Magnolia Cottage for sending you to my blog. 

Happy blog tour Monday.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Backyard Visitors

How fortunate I am to spend a lazy day
Looking out across my gardens, trees and shrubs.
We planted these to maximize their attributes 
From every vantage point inside or out:
Their scent and shape, bloom and texture, what winged ones seek.

Today—a tranquil Sunday—is perfumed with pine,
The residue of laying mulch delights me still!
A grosbeak flits behind my back; I turn in time
To see him give his mate first dibs at our feeder,
Full this morning, but now below the half-way mark. 

Skittish with me so close by, his red breast flashes;
A black and white whirly-gig, he speeds across the yard.
His plain brown mate, more trusting, takes a seed or two
And coasts downwind to quench her thirst from one of two
Small pools as if to say: “Men can be rude, you know!”

Dueling hummingbirds protect their turf mightily.
Are they mad at me for feeding them a nectar
More dilute than early spring, or do they notice?
How blessed I am with time enough to watch my guests
Eat, drink, and frolic through my garden greenery. 

Friday, June 27, 2014

And the winner is...

Hi Everyone,

When I was growing up, I was fascinated by new kids coming to my school. How lucky I thought they were to make a whole new set of friends. From their point of view, as shared in person and through memoirs, I realize they didn't look at it quite the same way. 

The reason I got thinking about this is because as a newcomer to the blogging community, I was plunged into the unknown. The trepidation of those new kids on the block suddenly became real for me. Sending your ideas and feelings to people you don't know, people who likely live in places you've never seen and may never live to see, is a bit like introducing yourself to a whole new school of potential friends. No wonder I feel like a little fish in a big sea. 

Which brings me to the point of this blog: I'd like to thank everyone who participated in the drawing for my memoir. This really means thanking you for joining my blog, sharing your time, your thoughts, your good wishes, oh, and some of your followers too! 

Enough of that. Let's draw a name from the basket.




Hubby is mixing up those entries right on cue.



Oh drats! I need a little favor: I'm to feature three blogs on Monday's blog tour...I have a green light from two out of six I've invited. I'm running out of ideas and time to contact people only to learn they've just recently participated in a tour....so, if you are interested, please post a comment and I'll get in touch. No work on your end until 7 July. It's easy, honest. And now...

...Drum roll, please!

And the winner is:  ***Elephant's Child!***  Congratulations! Please email your mailing address (fiberfurnishings@gmail.com) and I'll send your book right out

Happy Friday!









Thursday, June 26, 2014

Recovery Thursday - and Book Club Opinions

Hi Everyone,

First, I'd like to thank you for your interest in my drawing...Hubs will pull a name out of a basket tonight, so be sure to check tomorrow to see if I need your mailing address.

Quick blog today. I'm recovering from a nasty little virus that struck after dinner last night. Hubby is plying me with lots of tea, lucky me. 

My book club meets tonight, and I'd like to go on record with my opinion on our selection before I get those mixed feelings after hearing everyone else's reaction. 

Why I Left the Amish
   by Saloma Furlong Miller

A few early rumblings indicate some members felt this book wasn't as lively a read as they'd hoped. I somewhat agree with that, but for me, the substance outweighs that issue. Also, readers must remember, this author was raised by an Amish family. It doesn't get much plainer than that. Saloma's father was mentally ill and that certainly added an unexpected dimension to the book. 

My over all impression follows (not even close to a book review, but still.)
  • Well written. Author's strength of character makes this a worthwhile read (at times the story is a bit drawn out and stiff, similar but to a lesser degree than the style in Juliane Koepcke’s memoir, When I Fell from the Sky.) If I could pick a sister, I'd definitely pick Saloma!
  • Candid look at what Saloma experienced growing up in an Amish family domineered by a mentally ill father. It is clear from the start that she leaves her family and community, but her tale is one of unusual fortitude in the face of controlling forces and abusive relatives. Sometimes I was afraid to continue reading because I feared what terrible treatment could befall her next….
  • The other striking aspect of this book is that Saloma's individuality, character, spark, and curiosity all shine through as she takes the reader back through her harrowing childhood. Although at times her certainty wanes—that to be outside the oppressive Amish customs her parents adhere to will surely resonate with her heart and soul—her steady path toward escape is inevitable. 
  • Her last chapter ends with  this quote, which I think is indicative of Saloma's inner strength:  "When you do things from your soul you feel a river moving in you, a joy."                                                                                                                                          —Rumi

Happy Thursday!

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Superman's Dirty Laundry

Over thirty years ago, my young son and I lived in an apartment complex where we enjoyed some colorful neighbors. I was among the minority of clothesline devotees, even if mine was one of those square spinning types designed for miniature yards. Too bad the only place for it was in front of my kitchen window.

One hot summer day there came a knock at my kitchen door. On answering it, the older man standing there surprised me just short of alarm. After all, I recognized him as the neighbor who parked an over-sized flashy red convertible in the primo slot just around the corner, but we’d never spoken. Despite his short stocky stature, he had an unmistakable alpha male swagger—the sort of man I went out of my way to avoid. 

Thank goodness I kept my screen door locked, I thought, after his seemingly innocent opening question. Would I be using my clothesline that day, he wanted to know. Well-versed in the story of big bad wolves, I instantly took him as some pervert plotting to watch me bend over my clothes basket. Like an idiot, I didn't realize he was long past that point (as if my false sense of security at having a locked screen door weren't bad enough)! He went on to say how he loved the fresh scent of line-dried laundry, and that he wondered if he could use my clothesline once in awhile, that is, when I didn't need it.

Admittedly, his request seemed harmless enough; and after all, who didn’t like the scent of line-dried laundry? So I told him my clothesline would be free for him to use after lunch. Later that afternoon I peeked out to see if he had indeed hung any clothes. Wow, he sure had. One item.

It dangled there for the whole neighborhood to wonder about, too. It was such an enormous jock strap that its purpose defied imagination. I wanted to die. I bolted all of my doors and busied myself upstairs where I could keep an eye on things from a window.

What was he thinking? Or should I ask: How na├»ve was I? Did he figure his undergarment would induce me to tango right over to his place, carrying it in my teeth or something? Mercifully, by late afternoon it was gone, without so much as a word. Even more mercifully, we never crossed paths again and the only wash to ever hang on that clothesline was my own. I kept a close eye on his car after that too, and that’s when I noticed the odd jumble of letters on his vanity license plates: ITLN – STLN. I get it now: it was shorthand for Italian Stallion—quite a stretch, if you ask me. 

Has anything like this ever happened to you?

REMEMBER: The drawing to win a copy of my memoir ends tomorrow, Thursday, 26 June. 
Details are in my post titled: "Win a hard cover version of my memoir!"
Send your friends over too. Or not.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

"The Day the Falls Stood Still"

Today I’m sharing a blurb I wrote for The Day the Falls Stood Still, a novel written by Cathy Marie Buchanan. Even if you prefer non-fiction as I do, perhaps my impression will nudge you to read this book, if you haven't already, of course. 

Set in Niagara Falls—one of the most magical places on earth (at least among those I've visited), this novel will not let you rest….until you finish it! It is a powerful story of the love, faith, and coming of age of Bess Heath, who at seventeen faces the reality of being overshadowed by her sister’s beauty and popularity, her father’s dismissal as Niagara Power Company’s director, her family’s subsequent slide from high society, and her inexplicable attraction to a young man considered beneath her in every aspect.

I love the way Buchanan weaves actual newspaper clippings of the era into the novel, about a particular legendary figure, who, perhaps, plays the larger role (saying more might spoil the mystique). While such interweaving of news informs us of the historical magnetism of Niagara Falls, Buchanan masterfully bridges that reality to otherworldly powers of uncanny prescience.

What amazes me is Buchanan’s ability to build suspense as she depicts her characters’ thoughts, beliefs, and actions in such a clear and endearing manner that I recognized them as people I might have known. Nature—human and otherwise—will grip you to the end of this tale.

What book sweeps you away, and why?

REMEMBER: The drawing to win a copy of my memoir ends on Thursday, 26 June. 
Details are in Saturday's post: "Win a hard cover version of my memoir!"
Send your friends over too.

Monday, June 23, 2014

Course correction

Hi Everyone,

Yard game answers from yesterday's post: 
   1.) yard sale
   2.) yard-o-led (from Fahrney's)
   3.) yard stick
   4.) yard arm
   5.) yard bird

Thanks for your replies and for being such good sports. It goes to show you that not every day is a good blog day! From now on though, I'll be sticking to my usual fare: gardens, tea, and those people and things that mean the most to me! 

Exactly three months ago today we were shivering up here in New England, wondering if spring would ever arrive. Icicles drizzled from our water feature....hard to believe, isn't it?


From this (March 22, 2014):
To this:

What are you doing to enjoy your first week of summer (or whichever season it is where you live)?

REMEMBER: The drawing to win a copy of my memoir ends on Thursday, 26 June. 
Details are in Saturday's post: "Win a hard cover version of my memoir!"

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Yard Game

Summer Solstice arrived yesterday! With all the focus on tidying up our yard for summer enjoyment, the very word took on a life of its own, playing games in my head. (Too much tea perhaps?)

As quickly as I thought of the word yard, several words snapped themselves to it, like the set of hematite stones I bought whose sole purpose is to seek magnetic pairings (kind of like the weirdos often do in ball-room dance class). 

If you like word games, you might enjoy today's question. Here are five photos, each of which captures a word that can be modified by the word yard for a whole new meaning. How many can you identify?

As a general hint, the number of letters in each missing word is indicated by underlines below each photo. I’ll give you one more hint for (#2) since I think it's the most difficult, unless you are a pen aficionado; until we bought it at a (#1) on Friday—for a fraction of its value—I had no idea these existed! The boldfaced word is your clue.

#1.  Yard - _ _ _ _


#2.  Yard - _ - _ _ _  


#3.  Yard - _ _ _ _ _


#4.  Yard - _ _ _ 


#5.  Yard - _ _ _ _

Answers tomorrow!

Drawing to win a copy of my memoir ends on Thursday, 26 June. 
Details are in yesterday's post: 
"Win a hard cover version of my memoir!"

Friday, June 20, 2014

Win a hard cover version of my memoir!

Hi everyone,

Next Friday, June 27, happens to be my birthday and if you'll help me celebrate, I'll enter your name to win a beautifully-bound hardcover edition of my memoir...that's right my birthday present to you! It's my way of saying I'm enjoying getting to know you. 


To help me celebrate there are two simple things I'm asking:


1.)  Be sure you show up as a follower of my blog (musingwithmytea.blogspot.com)

2.)  Leave me a comment on any of my blogs between now and next Thursday indicating you'd like to win this free copy of my memoir; something as simple as "Count me in your memoir drawing" will work. Although I welcome your comments daily, entries are limited to one per person.

The party begins now and ends Thursday at midnight (EST), June 26thand  I'll announce the lucky winner's name on Friday, June 27th. I'll ship the book as soon as I receive the winner's mailing address. 


A little bit about my book


Water's Edge: Growing Up in the Heart of a New England Village retails for $25.99. Edited and published by Modern Memoirs, Inc of Amherst, Massachusetts in the fall of 2013, it's 273 pages, and the ISBN is 978-0-9856595-3-0


Water's Edge:
Growing Up in the Heart of New England, 
dust jacket

What readers have written about Water's Edge


Water's Edge is a beautifully written, touching story of a young girl's journey through childhood, seeking to find her place in the world. The richness of detail and description brings every character and place to life; grandparents, parents, brother, cousins, aunts and uncles are woven into the tapestry of Vickie Newman's young life creating a memorable legacy. This is truly a triumphant story of coming-of-age.”  Carolyn LeComte, author


"I have laughed, wept, sat in amazement at the brilliant thought, the expressions of compassion, the 'lessons' you put across with such subtlety. I am waiting for your next book and want screen rights to this one. I am sure it is every bit worthy of Oprah and the NYT's bestseller list. I think it is absolutely wonderful.

I tried to honestly ask myself if I was reacting as your friend, or as a fellow small town Berkshire girl, or one who grew up in the fifties, or as someone who grew up in a town with Italian immigrants, married into an Italian family, or the problems with my mother. I decided it was all of that, but the ideas and lyrical, poetic way you have of expressing very complicated human problems would touch a great many people. Something about your way of saying things kept me chuckling, smiling, nodding in agreement. With line after line, I would have an association to something in my own childhood life....hospital corners, laundry routines, vacation experiences, embarrassments in public, Larry Aiken shooting his BB gun at me in my sandbox and eventually being sent to reform school.....on and on."  Florence Peltier


"Your memoir is so eloquently written - a true gift! Thank you for sharing your talent to record and share your family story in such carefully researched and scholarly presentation, yet so engaging.”  Ute Goldkuhle