Cali's Comfy Couch

I'll Bet You Never Tried THIS To Unclog a Drain

2016-04-21T14:40:00.000-04:00

In an old house, sometimes you have ~~everyone and his brother~~ two or more people using the same bathroom. Well we're in that position right now. And when you have ~~poo-flinging apes~~ children sharing a ~~tiny~~ ~~cramped~~ ~~miniscule~~ ~~closet with plumbing~~ compact bathing space, you end up with ~~you shoved what down the sink?~~ unexplained clogs in the drain.

Most toilet clogs are easily cleared with a bucket or two of hot water~~, provided junior didn't try sending his pillow to the monster he's sure lives in the septic tank~~.

Bathtub clogs often have to be snaked. ~~Good luck with that.~~

But sink clogs are anybody's guess.

That's what I was dealing with. Now I ran down my mental list of possible suspects for unclogging the drain. Baking soda, and vinegar, hot water, vigorous plunging ~~but don't tell anyone you used the toilet plunger in the sink because that's gross, I don't care how many times you bleached it~~.

That's when I remembered something obscure I read on the internet. Hey, if it's on the internet, it must be true, right? I vaguely recalled something about using denture cleaning tablets to clean toilets, unclog drains...and other stuff. ~~Don't ask me what other stuff. Use Google like the rest of us.~~ So, I reached up and pulled down the box of Polident tablets that my husband had brought home from some silly gift exchange at work. He had the crazy idea of giving them to my dad, but he uses something else.

"Well, here goes nothing."

I filled the sink with hot water, praying I hadn't made a mistake because I didn't want to be brushing my teeth in the garden hose. Once it was past the point of no return with no sign of draining, I broke up a couple of Polident tablets and tossed them down the drain.

There was quite a show of fizzing, and the pleasant smell of mint filled the air. I snatched up the plunger, ~~it was clean, I swear,~~ and vigorously attacked the sink again. Green, fizzy water splashed all over the place ~~as I screamed die-- die you monster!~~.

The plunger made satisfying 'shplorking' noises.

~~Gross as all get-out~~ Odd-looking debris churned around in the water, and then, as the fizz faded away and the water turned clear, the delightful slurping noise echoed through the overflow drain. Tossing the spent plunger into the tub, I watched the water drain at long last from my bathroom sink.

Feeling quite proud of myself, I raced to the computer to tell you all about it! ~~Leaving the plunger in the bathtub and putting off bleaching the heck out of the sink.~~

So the next time your husband brings home some completely useless Polident tablets from a lame gift exchange, and your bathroom sink decides to stop draining, and you've got nothing better to do with your time, try tossing some denture cleaner down your drain and plunge like the wind!! Who knows? It might even work!

Passing On What My Grandmother Knew

2016-04-16T15:38:00.000-04:00

First, let me say that I am NOT a prepper. I was raised by folks who grew up or came of age during the Great Depression. I'm thankful for this because I learned skills that "preppers" are hawking. What this means for me, is that when an appliance goes on the fritz, or I find myself running out of Tide, or the electricity is out for an extended period of time, (or the frequent water outages in Barwick,) my life doesn't screech to a halt.

Like today. My son's sheets needed washing, but my washing machine is not only being used by my husband, but it's badly in need of service because the drum is out of balance and won't spin clothes dry properly. This has been the bane of my existence. To make matters worse, my dryer isn't heating properly and my clothes aren't getting dry. As you may know, we live waaay out of town in a tiny rural municipality of somewhere around 300 people and pets, so a drive to a laundromat would be a bigger hassle than fighting 15 hours to get one load of clothes washed and dried.

I'm in the process of remodeling my laundry room. I had purchased accessories that I knew I would need. Among them, a washtub. (Really it's to hold ice and beer at picnics and barbeques and it has a bottle opener on the side, but it's the perfect size for my purposes.) So, I decided today was a perfect day for a history lesson for my son.

Calling him into the laundry room with promises to teach him something cool, I sprinkled a  healthy portion of homemade laundry powder (that I made to presoak his baseball pants) into the wash tub that I had sitting on the worktable. I had him fill a clean mop bucket with hot water from the bath tub and haul it in for me. He dutifully filled the washtub. Then I added his dirty bed sheets and let it sit for a moment while I hunted a dowel.

When I returned, I explained to him how the agitator worked in the washing machine. We discussed osmosis and its role in washing clothes. I showed him how to used the dowel to agitate the laundry and explained to him that the whole purpose was to run the soapy solution through the fabric. As the water got dirtier, he marveled at how quickly his sheets came clean. Completely engaged, he took over the stirring as I told him about home made tools and store bought tools that could be used for that purpose. He asked whether we could make a stirrer for future laundry endeavors. I told him we could.

When the time came to rinse, I had him fill the bucket halfway with hot water and haul it into the laundry room while I wrung the hot, soapy water out of the sheets. After he set the bucket on the worktable beside the washtub, I dropped the sheets in and the agitation started once more. My son was an old hand by this point and only needed minor direction. In short order, his sheets were rinsed clean. He marveled over how different it smelled from its regular laundering, fresher than he was used to.

He wrung out the water while I gathered clothespins and a Clorox wipe. Curious about the wipe, he followed me out to our clothesline. Once I wiped the dirt and dust from the clothesline, he understood. Together we gave the sheets one last good wringing before I unrolled them, snapped them smartly a few times to shake loose any excess water and hung them on the clothesline.

I explained to him that this was only a tiny load. In my great-great-grandparents' day the entire household's laundry had been washed in this manner. One entire day each week had been set aside for washing everyone's clothes, towels, sheets, tablecloths...everything! It was usually done outside, with water boiling on a fire and buckets handy, with washtubs, washboards, wringers if they were lucky, and shavings of homemade lye soap and washing powder. My great-grandparents had been able to afford a hand-cranked washing machine with the wringer attached. My grandmother had been able to afford an electric one. When I was a child, they still had washtubs, washboards, and that old machine in their garage. 

Today you can find modern versions of those old appliances at places like Lehman's and Amazon. I may invest in a washboard and use it as a decoration in my laundry room...until I need to use it, that is.

As many times as I have tried to get him to do his own laundry, today was the first time that he actually enjoyed it and was eager to do his part. He got quite a history and science lesson in the process. Sometimes I like to do things the way my grandparents did just to teach my kids that there is more to the world than their electronics and video games, and to hopefully equip them for a life independent of technology.

I've never been without modern conveniences for very long, but when I find myself without them, I'm never at a loss what to do to be comfortable. Living in this century old house in the country, it makes me feel connected to the past and to my own ancestors to do things their way. It also makes me feel -- I don't know -- more independent to know that modern technology makes my life more convenient, but that I can function quite comfortably without it if I have to. If I can pass on that sense of independence to my children, so much the better.

Cali's Holiday Crack (Toffee)

2015-10-11T13:27:00.000-04:00

Toffee orders for THIS YEAR are now open.

Available in US only. Anywhere else, please email for more information.

One Pound Gift Box - sizes and designs may vary

Two Pound Gift Tin - sizes and designs may vary

Pulled Pork and Prayer

2015-03-20T15:57:00.004-04:00

Last Friday night, Dale Hicks and I drove down to Tampa for a fun weekend to get away from the stresses and troubles that had been plaguing us. Somewhere around Lake City, we got a whiff of barbeque and our mouths started watering for pulled pork. When we got to my dad's house, my back was causing me severe discomfort, enough to send me to bed while they drove to Plant City for the best barbeque my dad could find...and he's a connoisseur.

While they were gone, my pain escalated to ER visit levels. When they got back, Dale and I went straight to the ER and stayed there until 2:30 a.m. Neither of us got our pulled pork that night. Of course we were able to eat it the next evening after our beach day, but still. It was a disappointing start to the weekend and I don't think we ever quite got over that, little thing though it is.

Fast forward to this afternoon. My dear friend Lynn Puckett messaged me that she'd like to bring supper over for us tonight. Touched at her kindness, I gratefully accepted, relieved to have that little burden relieved. Lynn and her sweet daughter Ashtyn pulled up to my house a few minutes ago with bags of pulled pork, and sides from our favorite barbeque place in town.

As Lynn was pulling out of my driveway I emptied the bags. At the bottom of one was what Lynn called "friendship cookies." I didn't get a good look at them until that moment. I began laughing and burst into tears. A bag of Oreo cookies - my comfort food crack.

Just last night as I was going through one of my crying jags, I sobbed a little prayer: "Please, God, I just want some Oreos and milk."

At that moment, I realized that through Lynn, my prayer had been answered, and this week, Dale and I were going to share the pulled pork sandwiches we'd missed out on by being in the hospital.

If you don't look for God moving in your life, you might see this as a happy coincidence. I choose to see it as acknowledgement that my Lord is looking out for me, comforting me, reassuring me that I am losing nothing despite what my family is going through. I also see it as a reminder that small acts of kindness can be miracles in disguise.

This is why I can laugh through everything we've experienced. This is why I can find contentment and happiness while my life is apparently crumbling around me. I think this is what the Bible means when it mentions "the joy of the Lord" and "Peace that passes all understanding."

Papago Shirts

2014-11-18T08:51:00.001-05:00

Frozen Elsa Costume That Warmed My Six Year Old

2014-11-11T13:11:00.001-05:00

In case you missed it...

Frozen Elsa Costume That Warmed My Six Year Old

From Jay to Jedi - Making The Tunic

2013-09-17T10:02:00.000-04:00

The more I get to know my fellow SF writers, the more I realize we have in common. Like me, a goodly number of them also enjoy needle craft, be it sewing, knitting, crochet, cross-stitch, quilting or fancy work. It's hard to sew and write at the same time, and when I'm deep in the throes of book construction, my needlework suffers. I was delighted to follow my friend Pippa Jay's progress in making her own Jedi tunic as she shared photos and agonized over the process. If I couldn't spare the energy to sew my own projects, I could vicariously enjoy hers.

In honor of National Sewing Month, I asked Pippa if she'd share her project here. She graciously agreed.

***

From Jay to Jedi – Making the tunic

After seeing Star Wars: A New Hope on TV at the age of eight (and developing a huge crush on Luke Skywalker too), I wanted to be a Jedi. I mean really, really wanted to be one. I would stare at things in my bedroom trying to persuade them to move, and be bitterly disappointed when they didn’t. And the whole ‘Do or do not, there is no try’ from The Empire Strikes Back convinced me it was never going to happen. Thirty something years on, and I’m trying to be a Jedi again. Oh, not the making-things-move-with-my-mind stuff, but with the outfit. I’m off to Worldcon next year (LonCon 3, yahooo!). I *could* go as one of my characters, but since Quin would pretty much wear what I would (or should that be I would wear anything that she would?!), and no one is going to know who that is anyway, I thought no. This time I’m going to be a Jedi like my...no, wait, I’m just going to be the Jedi I wanted to be. Since I’m not going as a specific character but just aiming for the general look, I’m not going for 100% accuracy on the details so please don’t Force choke me for it!

So, I started with a bought pattern (Simplicity 5840) and a bundle of cheap fabric from my local charity shop (a pale sandy colour and a more mid brown/tan). The pattern came from ebay, and there are still some available on there if you want to get yourself one. Now, I’m no expert at sewing or at following patterns - I’m self taught and don’t know what a lot of the technical terms mean. I can usually figure things out though. The pattern for the tunic (image bottom right of the pattern) comes in unisex and multiple sizes - Extra Small to Extra Large. So I dutifully measured my chest/bust size and came out in the gap between Medium to Large.

Knowing how these patterns tend to be on the generous size (BTW, because this is a multiple size pattern, there’s no hem allowance included unless stated, and I didn’t find that out until AFTER I cut it. Luckily for me, the sizing is VERY generous and missing the hem allowance didn’t do any harm overall) I went for Medium. The pattern suggested lightweight linens or silky type fabrics, so I went for the lighter of the two I had - it looks and feels like chamois leather on the outside, but is kind of satiny on the inner side, and light with a slight bit of stretch to it. No idea what the fabric actually is. Then the wonderful job of pinning on the pattern and cutting it out. Then stitching the sides and shoulders of the main body, and attaching the sleeves.

I then found that the pattern has a definite bias toward a male figure ie considerably more broad-shouldered than me. The pattern has tips for shortening and adjusting it, so I took up the shoulders and added a more tailored curve to the sides of the tunic so that it fitted better - otherwise it was hanging too far off my shoulders and the ends of the sleeves were swamping my hands. On reflection I might have been better aiming for the Small. That’s what I get for being 5ft 3. :P

Next was sewing up all the seams, including leaving small slits up the sides and generally tidying up the ends. After that comes the edging for the collar and cross-over opening of the tunic. This required four long strips of material wrapped around heavyweight interfacing (I didn’t know what that was until hubs went into a craft shop and asked - it’s stiff fabric that does things like make collars stand up straight or gives a more solid structure to your fabric). The brown fabric had to be stitched around this and then attached to the edges of the tunic to give the band that goes around the neck and along the cross-over flaps. Finally, the pattern has a belt with it. Again, this requires stitching fabric around a broad piece of interfacing and adding ties.

I think the belt is a bit too wide for me (the short factor again) so I may make a thinner one than the pattern suggested. I’m also looking at a replica Anakin belt, simply because I want something to hang my lightsaber from, and I’m not quite sure how to attach one to this fabric version. However, I’d wear this version under the leather belt anyway, since a lot of the costumes from the film do so. But this is the complete tunic for now.

As I’ll be wearing this in August, I’m currently thinking that with the length of this on me I can probably wear tights or leggings with the knee high boots I have simply to keep cool, but I’ll be working on the Jedi robe to go over the top next. Oh, you thought I’d model this for you? Nah. When I have the whole outfit ready to go, THEN I’ll subject you to the full body shot. :P

In the meantime, in the spirit of National Sewing Month, I have a little contest for you. It’s been suggested that I should have a Jedi name to go with my outfit. So, I’m including a poll for you to vote on with some Jedi names (using a random name generator) and a few suggested names from Twitter, but you can also add your own suggestions. And I’m going to do a giveaway. I’ll send one Jedi patch (see picture) to the person who either makes the suggestion I like the best, or tells me which name they voted on in the comments with a clever reason why I should use it. Have fun!

Vote for my Jedi name!

Bio:

A stay-at-home mum of three who spent twelve years working as an Analytical Chemist in a Metals and Minerals laboratory, Pippa Jay bases her stories on a lifetime addiction to science-fiction books and films. Somewhere along the line a touch of romance crept into her work and refused to leave. In between torturing her plethora of characters, she spends the odd free moments trying to learn guitar, indulging in freestyle street dance and drinking high-caffeine coffee. Although happily settled in historical Colchester in the UK with her husband of 20 years, she continues to roam the rest of the Universe in her head. Pippa Jay is a dedicated member of the SFR Brigade, a community of science fiction romance authors and publishing professionals committed to writing and promoting the very best in the genre. Website – http://www.pippajay.co.uk Blogs – http://www.pippajay.blogspot.co.uk http://www.spacefreighters.blogspot.com http://www.romancingthegenres.blogspot.co.uk/ Twitter - https://twitter.com/pippajaygreen Goodreads - http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5054558.Pippa_Jay Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Pippa-Jay-Adventures-in-Scifi/114058821953752 Google+ - https://plus.google.com/u/0/101080630877126516448/posts SFR Brigade - http://www.sfrcontests.blogspot.co.uk/

Goodreads Giveaway - Hero's End

2013-08-24T12:17:00.001-04:00

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Hero's End

by J.C. Cassels

Giveaway ends September 30, 2013.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Betty Crocker Pulls A "New Coke" Style Boner

2013-08-06T18:27:00.002-04:00

I can't keep house without Potato Buds. Imagine my panic when I couldn't find them at my local grocery store only to be informed that they've discontinued Potato Buds in favor of a "gluten free" product. By all accounts, the new product cooks up badly. I suppose this means I'm going to have to go back to making mashed potatoes the old fashioned way. The other instants that I've tried taste like the box they come in. That was the only one that tasted like potato to me. Looking at the BC website, I see I'm not the only one who sees this move as a mistake. All I can say is, "Oh, Betty..."

Now, I guess we know what happened to the guy who thought introducing New Coke while pulling the original was a good idea. Two people couldn't possibly be so stupid as to make the same mistake.

http://www.bettycrocker.com/products/potatoes/products/potato%20buds/potato%20buds

2013-06-13T17:47:00.000-04:00

*Sigh*

Bo the dog just knocked Timmy/Tammy the parakeet's cage to the ground. Liam raced to the rescue and found the roof off and Timmy/Tammy huddled on his/her perch in terror. Bo sat next to the mess with wagging tail and lolling tongue, but made no attempt to eat Timmy/Tammy the parakeet. Bo realized that he'd done a baaad thing and he didn't argue about being put outside (for once). Liam is now angry with Bo.

Why does the parakeet have a his/her slash thing going on? Because we aren't sure what we've got yet. The kids named the bird Timmy after Timmy Turner from Fairly Oddparents. It would seem an odd name for a girl bird, but I'm reminded of that episode of Doctor Who in which the man introduces his horse by a really butch name and the Doctor says "No it isn't. His name is Susan...and he wants you to respect his life choices. Come along, Susan!" Maybe we should just call the bird Susan.

Foiling The Leaping Hound

2013-06-13T07:00:00.000-04:00

While the kids and I were at the pool, Dale addressed Bo the Dog's gazelle-like leaps-to-freedom by adding a two-foot extension to the top of the gate. We have agreed that if he clears this, we're going to dress a monkey in jockey silks, teach it to ride the dog and enter them in the Olympic equestrian events. Anyone know where I can find a monkey?

Bo The Dog

2013-06-12T19:37:00.002-04:00

Bo, the dog we recently adopted has settled into the pack very well. He is ridiculously smart, loving, and mischievous. I can understand why this behemoth was turned into a shelter.

Like many young dogs his age, he's mouthy. It can be disconcerting to someone inexperienced with dogs to find your dog's mouth around your arm or hand with all these sharp teeth grazing your skin. He doesn't bite, but we are trying to correct him from this behavior. I'm certain he'll grow out of it.

He also takes fences like a gazelle. We have gates and barriers up to keep the dogs in the back yard. If Dale can step over them, Bo can jump them. His new trick is jumping the gate onto the front porch and roaming the acreage until someone lets him in.

He's afraid of storms and he's a velcro dog. Not a good combination. When storms roll in, Bo becomes a big baby and wants IN YOUR LAP during bad weather.

So did we make a mistake? Do we regret rescuing him?

NOT ON YOUR LIFE!!! He's a great companion with a sense of humor and a sunny disposition. He is very gentle with the kids and loves following them around and playing with them. Right now, he's curled up at my feet, not bothering anyone, completely content to be close to me.

Using Controversy To Raise Brand Visibility

2013-05-10T08:12:00.001-04:00

While idly scrolling through my social media, I saw repeated references and links to stories about Abercrombie & Fitch CEO’s comments about overweight people not belonging in A&F’s brand. I guess I’m getting old and jaded because I could tell you how that story was going to play out before the firestorm gained momentum. I didn’t need to read the blog posts, the articles, or the outraged comments. I’d seen this tactic before.

It’s all about raising brand visibility through controversy.

Calvin Klein showed his mastery of controversial marketing by sexualizing a teenage Brooke Shields.

In fact, Klein has it down to a science with repeated ad campaigns over the past thirty years that have pushed the boundary of good taste further each time.

“The blaze of publicity surrounding his scandalous ad campaign does not seem to have affected business - if anything, it's boosted sales. Customers flocked to the opening of the store.”

Others, like American Apparel didn’t fare as well. Learning from past mistakes, including pornographic ad campaigns, sexual harassment lawsuits, and copyright violations than nearly sunk the company, CEO Dov Charney has scaled back on the controversial advertising and has spent the past few years revamping the brand image into something more socially conscious.

Mike Jeffries, CEO of A&F, made some insulting and controversial comments, true. However, one cannot deny the result. Everyone is talking about his company, his brand, his product, and the direction he is taking his stores. You can’t afford the kind of publicity he’s getting, and you can bet he’ll be laughing all the way to the bank.

There are enough pretentious, insecure young people out there (and even some not-so-young people) with a driving need to be seen as one of the “beautiful people.” Thanks to Jeffries comments, the A&F brand is now has that cache. Thanks to the resulting public backlash, anyone wearing the A&F label will garner instant attention. If there is one thing the A-crowd wannabe desires above all else, it’s attention. With Jeffries’ elitist statements about what it means to wear A&F, you now have a cadre of insecure, A-crowd-wannabe-attention-whores who will walk with a bit of extra sashay in their stride, toss their heads and sneer down their noses at anyone who isn’t wearing the A&F label.

People like Jeffries and Klein resort to controversy because, frankly, it works.

Rather than get up at arms, forming torch and pitchfork-wielding mobs of angry, plus-size villagers, look at this for what it is – an attention-seeking-whore looking to market his brand to the like-minded sheeple who will line up on both sides of the issue. Now you have the size 4 teen craving to fit in who will turn to A&F for that instant belonging, and the size 14 teen looking enviously from the outside willing to do whatever it takes to measure up, or in this case down. Not just teens, either. There are plenty of insecure adults willing to fall into lockstep with Jeffries’ media manipulation as well.

My proposal is simple: stop talking about it and don’t buy A&F products. An angry shouting mob demanding apologies and changes in the store to accommodate larger sizes won’t do any good except stir the pot some more…not to mention it plays right into Jeffries’ hands by giving him all the cards. Take back control, people. Stop being outraged into a rabid frenzy at every controversy that comes along. Start asking yourself what personal gain the entity at the heart of the controversy can count on by getting you up at arms against him/her/it. You’re being used. Take back your personal power. Learn to laugh at people like that and ignore them. Don’t shop in their stores. Don’t talk about them. Don’t allow yourself to be used as free publicity. The only way these things can succeed is if they can get people like you talking about them.

Jeffries’ comments don’t deserve acknowledgement.

Show a little dignity for crying out loud.

How Will The Easter Bunny Find Me?

2013-03-26T23:03:00.001-04:00

It's funny how things come full-circle. When I was a child, I remember watching movies based on Bible stories like "The Ten Commandments" and "The Greatest Story Ever Told" in the days leading up to Easter. I never realized how much that meant to me until tonight. Over the past few nights, we've been watching those kinds of movies -- the stories of Esther, Jeremiah, and Mary the Mother of Jesus.

I can't help but be transported back to when I was Butterbean's age, sitting on my grandmother's couch watching "The Greatest Story Ever Told" while fretting over whether the Easter bunny was ever going to find me, and how I was going to get goodies without my basket. I confided my fears to my great-grandmother who lived across the street. She wheeled herself over to the hall cabinet and painfully and carefully rose from her wheelchair so she could reach the gardening baskets on the top shelf. She gave me a perfect basket which today sits on top of my hall cabinet.

English Toffee Orders are OPEN!

2012-11-08T10:55:00.003-05:00

Everyone has been asking how to order some of my Grandmother's Toffee. Well, I started selling it last year around this time for a limited time and in limited quantities. I'll take orders until I get overwhelmed! All batches are made to order in my kitchen and are topped with pecans from my very own property. I will ship anywhere in the US, Canada, Australia and the UK. Anywhere else, please email me for pricing.

In the past, packaging on large amounts has been no frills. I do offer the option of gift boxes and gift bags, so please make note of that if you'd prefer to receive yours in a festive box or bag. I'll update with more information on tins later.

I apologize for the price increase over last year, but the cost of my ingredients has gone up dramatically and I do try to keep costs low, thanks to a bumper crop from this year's pecan trees.

Thanks to the addition of a Pay Pal merchant account, I can take credit/debit cards now.

Thank you for your order! Happy Holidays!

Guest Blogger - Jenna McCormick

2012-01-12T00:01:00.002-05:00

I'm happy to turn my blog over to Science Fiction Romance Author Jenna McCormick today. Jenna has a new book out called NO LIMITS. It's a departure from her B Cubed Series and I love the world she's created!

Jenna, tell us about the relationships you've created in NO LIMITS...

***

Thanks so much to Cali for hosting me here as part of the No Limits Blog Tour!

When writing futuristic erotic romance, I have to keep reminding myself that no matter how many cool gadgets I think up, no matter how stellar a battle scene is, what’s going to really help the reader connect are the personal relationships. Obviously in erotic romance physical intimacy is a huge chunk of the story, but I’m going to talk about another kind of relationship in my new release No Limits. Family relationships.

Genevieve Luzon is a heroine who lives in the shadow of her formidable telepathic grandmother, Cora. And when I say Cora is a telepath what I mean is she is THE telepath. Cora can pick a thought out of anyone’s head from miles away and even though she’s over one hundred years of age, she’s sharp as a tack and still a total spitfire.

Gen has developed a policy of total honesty, because let’s face it, lying to someone who can read your mind is not too bright. And Cora respects her granddaughter enough to respond in kind, which results in some very unique conversations.

***

Excerpt No Limits by Jenna McCormick
Cora picked up on the first ring, vid screen blocked, of course. “Genevieve Luzon, don’t think I’m so damned old that I can’t turn you over my knee and—”

“Sorry, Nana. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Cora’s tone turned sly. “Who said anything about worry? I want to know how tricks are going. Have you gotten your groove on yet?”

“Um, yeah, about that. The situation is sort of complicated.” Gen put extra emphasis on the word, hoping Cora would probe her mind and find out all the gritty details. She really didn’t want to say it all out loud over a traceable line. Maybe Rhys did have her believing in some of his conspiracy theories.

Unfortunately, Cora wasn’t tuned in to her frequency. “How on earth can sexual relations with professionals be complicated? I thought you were working for Alison, the whole secret shopper gig. You aren’t running around telling all the man whores about that, are you? Because you know when I was an undercover agent….” Nana rambled on but Gen stopped listening. Usually she loved Cora’s wild tales of the bad old days, how she and Gramps had teamed up to fight a secret government task force but right now she was too preoccupied to hear about how Nana had saved the world. Again.

Damn it, of all times for Cora to be more interested in herself than what was doing with Gen. “I’ve been learning all sorts of stuff.” Come on Nana, read between the lines.

Unfortunately Cora’s mind had wandered too deep into the gutter outside la la land to pick up on her granddaughter’s cues. “What kind of stuff? Oh, do they offer samples? Or maybe a senior citizen discount—”

“Not gonna happen,” Jack called from the background.

***

See what I mean? Unique. Can you imagine discussing your sex life with your grandmother in such detail? Then again how many of our grandmothers are government trained telepaths?

***

I do see what you mean. I don't even want to think about how that discussion would have gone with my grandmother (shudder).

Thanks, Jenna! I really appreciate your stopping by to share your new book with us! Best of luck with your blog tour!

Make sure you comment below to be entered to win a Kindle FIRE, courtesy of Jenna McCormick! For more information on the rules for the giveaway, click on the tour banner or the link at the bottom.

Be sure to get your copy of NO LIMITS wherever books are sold!

No Limits

Jenna McCormick

Now Available for Kindle, Nook, and wherever books are sold.

All Genevieve Luzon wants is to be loved by one man, a seemingly impossible task in New-New York City at the start of the twenty second century. Sure, she can buy sex as easily as order a pizza on a Friday night, but finding a forever kind of love among her self-centered peers is no easy feat for the unemployed off-world vacation coordinator. When an old friend offers her the position of secret shopper to test out the male prostitutes, Gen can’t think of a good reason to refuse. Hell, if she can’t find Mr. Right, she might as well try on a sampler of Mr. Right Nows.

Yet the perks of her new position don’t compare to the strange attraction she has, not for one of the prostitutes, but a candle that seems to warm places of her she never knew existed. When a man appears out of the flame, Gen is sure she's found the one. Rhys is an empath, made a slave by the Illustra Corporation and he’s everything Gen could ever want. Except available. Because Rhys is on a mission. One that might claim his life. He must try to free his people, consequences be damned. Now, Gen must choose between turning her back on the only man she’s ever loved and the monumental task he has set for himself. Should she risk her life fighting a war hidden from polite society against those who wish to control us all?

Is love really worth fighting for?

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A Family History in Recipes

2011-11-23T22:17:00.000-05:00

I collect cook books. I've collected vintage recipes for more than 20 years. I scored a lot from my grandmother while she was alive and when she passed away, my dad gave me ALL of her cookbooks, recipe cards, newspaper clippings, etc. My Great-Aunt Gladys taught me how to cook and bake from the time I was 5. She started me on the vintage recipes. When Gladys passed, my mother bequeathed me with ALL of her recipes, cookbooks, etc.

I have boxes upon boxes of old cookbooks. My three favorites are Betty Crocker c. 1956, Good Housekeeping c. 1958, and Better Homes and Gardens c. 1953. I have some older than that, but I'm not sure of the exact copyrights. Two of the vintage recipes from my grandmother netted me blue ribbons from the Florida State Fair many years ago.

But the very best recipes that friends have begged me for over the years, I can't give them, because they're family recipes, handed down mother to daughter, absorbed by osmosis from working together in the kitchen, and there are no measurements to pass along. One of those was the recipe for sweet potato pie that I made by the dozen for several years, selling pies at Thanksgiving to earn extra money for Christmas. Many of my customers begged me for the recipe. I would have given it if I could have. But it’s one of those dishes that are made by feel, not by checklist.

Most of my best vintage dishes are made by feel and memory with no written recipe. That’s how I got them from my mother and my aunt. That is how they came to them from my great-grandmother who was an intuitive cook. That is how she learned how to cook them. Those are the dishes that I cook for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those are the dishes that are part of my family tradition. They’re a family history in food, recipes without amounts, made by taste and feel. This year, Beth, my three-year-old daughter, is pulling up a chair and starting the process of learning them. Eventually, she will take her place in the family history by passing them down in the same fashion to her daughters, or her nieces in their turn.

No Go on the NaNo

2011-11-22T12:45:00.000-05:00

There is an old saying that life is what happens while you’re making other plans. This is unfortunately true.

I took on the challenge of NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, with a plan and a schedule for writing. I had everything ready to go, complete with a semi-autobiographical account of my family dramas told with a touch of humor. Just as I was getting into the swing of things and two days ahead of schedule, two family tragedies hit within days of each other, and just as my husband learned he’d won the election to City Council. Our excitement about his election faded quickly in the loss of the newborn child of one of my nieces. Two days later, my daughter’s world fell apart. One by one, my young children still living at home came down with a terrible flu-like virus going around. By the time I was able to think, let alone write, I found myself hopelessly behind schedule with NaNoWriMo.

In this season of being thankful for what you have, it has been challenging to find reasons to be grateful, given the tragedies facing my loved ones. It seems trivial in the face of the losses suffered by both my daughter and my niece for me to whine and moan about not being able to finish a speculative novel that’s been percolating in my subconscious from the time I was eight-years-old. It’s just fiction. It can and will wait. People take precedence over projects. At somewhere around 25,000 words in two weeks, I can forgive myself for being human.

As my writer friends have reminded me, there’s always next year! That is something I am thankful for.

The Power of Penguins

2011-11-18T11:59:00.000-05:00

Penguins are silly looking birds. Flightless waterfowl often lampooned. A tuxedo has been called a “Penguin suit.” Nuns have been called “Penguins.” In “Mary Poppins,” Dick Van Dyke danced with them.

And who will ever forget Berkeley Breathed’s infamous Opus The Penguin from the Bloom County comic strip? He was an insecure, neurotic mess addicted to home shopping channels, 900 numbers and on an eternal quest to find his mother. Documentaries and musicals have starred them. In the animated Madagascar, they stole the show. There are even popular children’s television shows about them, The Penguins of Madagascar and 3-2-1 Penguins!

So when I was talking about the silliness of writers in facing both a deadline and blocked creativity, it only seemed natural for me use penguins to illustrate how to get past the block. Yes, when I reached a block on my NaNoWriMo, I used them.

At this point I have no earthly idea why Birdie is calling, but I really do think it’s time for some fish-slapping penguins to shimmy down a drainpipe. Three of the formally dressed, flightless waterfowl drop down unexpectedly, one is wearing a silly pointed had that looks like something a Catholic Bishop would wear to mass. The three little fellows break into a line dance.“Oh my,” thought Bittsy. “Can they really shake tail feathers? Do penguins even have tail feathers?”

So the dancing penguins manage a jaunty sashay to the thumpin’ mix before the one in the middle (which inexplicably has a beard and moustache) breaks out what appears to be a herring. He (presumably it’s a he, it is rather difficult to tell, but the beard is rather suggestive of maleness) turns and begins slapping the herring on the floor, much to Bittsy’s dismay. “I’ve just had those floors cleaned,” she protested. “Now they’ll smell of fish for weeks!”

The penguin merely winked at her and continued a rather lascivious dance with the herring before turning and slapping the penguin with the pointy hat in the face repeatedly. The hat wearing penguin doffed his odd cap and withdrew his own fish, a rainbow trout from the looks of it, and commenced to walloping his compadre with it. The third penguin, too preoccupied shaking his tail feathers to notice the antics of the other two (and yes, they do have tail feathers) did not see the catfish aimed at his face until too late.

With a naughty wink and a suggestive hip shimmy, the bearded penguin wielded the herring and the catfish like nunchucks, with surprising skill.

“Hmm,” said Bittsy. “Ninja penguins. How odd.”

I had no idea that my silly suggestion of fish slapping Ninja Penguins would spark such a surge of equal silliness among my fellow writers. In the online writing group to which I belong, “Penguins!” has become the battle cry for pushing past blocks and finding the joy in writing again.

So I urge you, one and all, when life seems to have you stymied, consider Fish Slapping Ninja Penguins as an answer. A little insanity every now and then can be just what the doctor ordered.

The Great Barwick Land Swap

2011-11-17T19:39:00.000-05:00

Small town politics have a way of getting murky very quickly.

In a move of questionable legality, (i.e. highly illegal) Barwick City Council has engineered a “land swap” with the Chamber of Commerce. Operating without advice from the city’s legal counsel, two officials from Barwick City Council have approved, signed, and filed a transfer of deed for City property, which houses a building known as the Community House to the Chamber of Commerce in exchange for the property known as the “Community Pool.” Unfortunately, the pool and bath house were bulldozed and filled in this past Summer.

So in an apparent “even exchange of property” the City surrendered a building and several acres of land to a private, civic organization in exchange for a much smaller, vacant lot, and a small check. All of this was done by executive mandate, without due process according to city charter and Georgia Code. The people of the town should have had a say and it should have gone before the Council. It did not.

Now, the Chamber has had a lease on the property for a number of years (of murky legality) and has been responsible for maintaining the Community House at its own expense. They have kept up the building and grounds as a labor of love and out of a sense of civic pride. I do not begrudge them ownership of the building. In fact, I am of the opinion that the Chamber should be the owners of record and should have purchased the building and land in question long before this. But they should have done it within the dictates of the law. They did not.

I am a member of the Chamber of Commerce. I am also a citizen of the town. I begrudge the Chamber the manner in which the property was acquired and the attitude with which certain parties have defended ramrodding this inequitable deal through.

Underhanded, back room dealings are shady, no matter how you cut them. This sale was pushed through without the appropriate measures as dictated by law and without the knowledge of the city’s legal counsel. But the Chamber member responsible, pleased with his back room deal (who wouldn’t be) and arrogant over its success, commented after the meeting revealing the deal to the population that the deed is filed and if anyone has a problem with it, let them go to the expense of filing suit over it.

It all comes down to money, doesn’t it? People with a measure of power and influence engaging in questionable legal dealings, then defying the outraged citizens to “put their money where their mouth is.”

Right is right. Wrong is wrong. Either something is illegal or it is not. Regardless of the fact that this land deal has been completed and is incapable of being undone now that deeds have been filed, it remains that the two seated members of the City Council who signed the deeds and completed the deal violated a public trust, not to mention the law. When asked, the excuse given at the City Council meeting addressing the issue one official stated that he didn’t read what he was signing. The other refrained from comment. Sounds like grounds for a vote of no confidence for both of them – what do you think? Who wants someone representing the public interest who can’t be bothered to read what they sign? Or who cannot or will not justify his actions?

As for the Chamber of Commerce, most of the members are fine upstanding citizens of the community. Good and honorable men and women who have served on the Council, hold positions of authority and accountability in the community and their church. I’m afraid this deal has revealed a dark and seedy side of the community, blackening the Chamber’s collective eye and adversely affecting its standing in the community and bringing the integrity of its members into question.

As a member, it brings my integrity into question. I don’t know about my fellow Chamber members, but I am outraged by this, as it reflects poorly on all of us. If they are not equally outraged by the manner in which this deal was done, they should be. I have never seen a more stereotypical act of small-town Southern politics – the good ole boy network in action. Those involved should be ashamed of themselves and the citizens of Barwick should hold them accountable.

Vote For Dale

2011-10-17T11:30:00.000-04:00

Small town politics, particularly in the South, has been fodder for writers for generations. Why should I be any different?

Almost as soon as we moved into our home, my husband was targeted by the Old Guard in our little town for signing up for public service. Dale, a small-town boy with a lifelong passion for politics, was savvy enough to know that the absolute LAST thing he wanted to do was run for City Council within ten years of moving here. With no family and no ties to the area, we were outsiders. We don’t share the same history and memories as the other three hundred eighty-nine residents of this tiny rural hamlet. Why, we’d be little better than carpet-baggers!

But, five years on, we’ve watched changes come into this sweet little Mayberry-esque town that we’ve grown to love. Not all of them are good changes. In fact, we’ve watched the grocery be replaced by a biker bar a scant block and a half from our home. The sexual predators we left Tampa to escape now count among our next door neighbors. Where I once had the idyllic vision of my children riding bikes to town to purchase an ice cream, I’m now afraid to let them out of the yard. Where I once strolled with my children, I am now afraid to pass, having been accosted by drunks on more than one occasion. Where we used to sit on the front porch late in the evenings and enjoy the quiet of a Summer’s evening, we now shut ourselves tightly in and turn up the TV to drown out the bar noise. The town has been through three City Clerks and as many Chiefs of Police. Reputable businesses are closing and liquor stores and tattoo parlors are vying for a market share in our town.

The City Council, looking at revenue generated, without looking at the cost in quality of living and declining property values, seems content to approve any vice-based industry that seeks to open here. Indeed, if we were looking to purchase our home today, much as we love it, we’d pass, simply because of what the City Council has allowed the neighborhood to fall into.

My husband has watched and encouraged those who have deeper roots into the community to stand fast. But he can’t take it any longer. I don’t know what the straw was that broke the camel’s back, but this election cycle, when the Old Guard came knocking, my husband agreed to run.

Dale Hicks for Barwick City Council.

His platform? To bring the Council into compliance with its Charter under the laws of the State.
His vision? A return to the idyllic town we fell in love with and chose for our children to call their Hometown.

I’m not really keen on being a politician’s wife. The demands on one’s time are intrusive. But I support him on his bid for City Council because I want to be able to stay here and raise my family here. If our town continues down the road the current Council is following, I’m afraid of where it might lead. I’m fairly certain it is to a place I do not want to go. If I wanted to raise my children in an environment filled with vice, predators, and fear, I would have stayed in Tampa.

2011-10-11T15:08:00.000-04:00

A Rose in Winter by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This book is one of my top five favorite Romances of all time, and brother, I've read a LOT of them.

Beautiful Erienne Fleming is sold on the block to cover her family's debts. The stipulation is that she will be wedded to the man wealthy enough to satisfy the notes being held by charming gambler, Christopher Seton, who wants her for himself.

When Erienne is bought by the masked, crippled Lord Saxton, and properly wedded, she finds herself torn between two men: The vexing Seton, who happens to be somehow related to the Saxtons despite his Yankee upbringing, and the tender lover her badly scarred humpback of a husband turns out to be.

That, in itself, would be a compelling enough story for me, but in typical Woodiwiss fashion, there is swashbuckling adventure and enough mystery to move this book from a simple Historical Romance to a Romance Classic and a must-read for any fan or would-be fan of the genre.

Woodiwiss redefined the Historical Romance Genre. The formula followed by today's stars of the genre are only following the pattern set by Woodiwiss.

Do I recommend this book? Absolutely. This one earned a place on my bookshelf nearly thirty years ago and it has become an old friend I turn to again and again.

View all my reviews

Romance Is In The Air

2011-10-11T15:02:00.001-04:00

Recently, my mother had a dental emergency and called me to chauffeur her to my dentist's office and wait for her. She pressed a paperback romance into my hand to entertain me while I waited.

My mother has been a voracious reader of romances for as long as I can remember. When I was a child, she was a charter member of the Harlequin Book Club. Every month the wide, flat cardboard box would arrive and my mother would eagerly tear into it and consume the half-dozen or so books within. Over the last several decades she has purged her library many times over, yet still the paperback romances seem poised to take over the seldom-used rooms of her home that she’s lined with bookshelves and filled with the colorful bodice-rippers.

As a ‘tween, she indoctrinated me into her world by handing me the innocent romances of Georgette Heyer and Barbara Cartland. I learned about sex and relationships by reading Johanna Lindsey and Kathleen E. Woodiwiss novels. When I started writing, it was only natural that my first attempts be romances. I'll never forget the pride with which I brought home my membership card for the Romance Writers of America in 1990.

My first trip to London, I sought out the settings that are clichés of Regency Romances. Regencies still hold a special place in my heart. I still think warmly of my brazen ex-husband opening the door of White’s and walking in, trying to talk our way into the hallowed halls. Yes, I realize it probably set back Anglo-American relations by centuries and reinforced the mannerless American stereotype that Brits seem to find so snarkily amusing. I don’t really care. I stood in the vestibule of White’s! (I even have video of the event to prove it.)

My romance with Romance goes back decades. I am a romantic. I’ve written them. I’ve devoured them. I’ve had to purge my own library many times over to make room for new favorites. My fascination with the genre has earned me the outright scorn and derision of friends and acquaintances, but I don’t care. I have my favorite authors who are like old friends whom I visit when the mood strikes or I’m feeling nostalgic.

A failed marriage, and a divorce, followed by a string of bad relationships with plot lines straight out of any Danielle Steel novel colored my relationship with the genre. (I’m not a Danielle Steel fan, by the way. Quite the contrary, actually.) I clung to my favorite authors, Kathleen Woodiwiss, Julie Garwood, Debbie Macomber, and Jude Deveraux.

I expanded my literary diet to reflect my own changing attitude. I read Science Fiction, Men’s Adventure, Ian Fleming’s original James Bond series. I found snarky and clever mystery authors and put new favorites Charlotte Macleod and Susan Conant up on the shelf among the bodice rippers. Eventually popular fiction by authors like Rebecca Wells and Alice Hoffman fed my need to consume other writer’s words.

But as I stood there, holding the book my mother pressed into my hand, I smiled to myself. I didn’t have to open it to know that the hero was impossibly handsome, larger-than-life and sexy as hell. I knew without reading the blurb on the back that the heroine was feisty, beautiful, young and that she would be drawn to this dangerous man like a moth to flame against her better judgment. Yes, I knew that flame would burn her before it consumed her, tempering her and gentling him in the process.

That’s the formula of Romance Novels. The fun is in seeing how the author interprets the age-old intricacies of the mating dance between men and women. Regardless of the sub-genre, Romance Novels are optimistic tales of two people satisfying that most basic of human needs – the need to be loved.

Around the Writing World in 30 Days

2011-10-02T16:02:00.000-04:00

I’m going to attempt to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.

It doesn’t have to be a good one, it just has to be a novel with beginning, middle, and end, with characters, conflict, and resolution. Oh, and it has to be from scratch, no cutting and pasting of previous words because that would be cheating.

What madness is this, you ask? November is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo for short. http://www.nanowrimo.org/

NaNoWriMo is all the buzz on the writing forums these days as veterans and first-timers are gearing up for the annual challenge. Founded in 1999 by Chris Baty and 20 other “overcaffeinated yahoos,” NaNoWriMo is now run by a non-profit organization called the Office of Letters and Light, whose stated goal is to encourage adults and children to reach their creative potential. Since its inception, NaNoWriMo has grown to over 500 chapters worldwide with more than 200,000 participants last year.

The blogs stress the importance of quantity of words over quality. In a complete break from traditional writing practice, from November 1 through November 30, participants are encouraged to churn out words with abandon, no editing, 30 days of uninhibited writing. All you have to do is tell a story in no less than 50,000 words. That works out to roughly 1600 words per day. Not only does this take discipline, it also takes time. Planning is essential.

Why 50,000 words, you ask? Because that is the magic number for most mass-market paperback novels.

Why is quantity stressed over quality? The idea of pushing volume of words is geared to free the writer creatively from the self-editing that leads to writer’s block. If it doesn’t have to be good, then you aren’t limited by genre or believability. If you get stuck you can always have a group of crazed penguins armed to the teeth fall through the ceiling, slap your main character with a herring, then shimmy back up a rope humming the soundtrack from “Spamalot.” Writers tend to get silly when they get blocked. This allows the silliness to spew forth unchecked.

The idea is that maybe, just maybe, you might have a decent first draft when you’re finished that you can shape and hone into a marketable novel. It’s happened before, roughly 90 times! But the goal isn’t to get your novel published. The goal is to write a novel – good, bad, or indifferent.

If you’ve ever had the idea of writing a novel, I invite you to join me in the attempt. I’m not sure I can complete a novel in 30 days, but I’m willing to try. Who’s with me?

I Believe In True Love

2011-09-28T09:25:00.000-04:00

I believe in true love.

Even when faced with one failed romantic relationship after another, I believed in true love. Cynics will tell you that there is no such thing, that it’s all hormonal. Anyone who says that has never witnessed it.

My great-grandparents were married in 1906 at the age of 18. They had six children. In the great flu pandemic of 1917-1918, they lost a ten month-old daughter. The loss of a child would be enough to destroy many marriages, but they clung to each other, grieved together and let their unshakeable faith in God carry them through. When the Great Depression hit, they pulled together as a family. Grown children working with their parents, pooling resources so the entire family survived.

When World War II came, again, they pulled together, facing the crisis as a family. My great-grandfather stood in as patriarch for his grandchildren whose own fathers were far from home fighting in places they couldn’t even pronounce. My great-grandmother soothed hurts, made lunches, and oversaw homework while her daughters worked at the mills to keep them going while their husbands were gone.

Many grandparents would have been annoyed to find themselves so inconvenienced. Many times I have heard grandparents complain “I’ve raised my kids. I’ve done my time. I’m not raising my grandkids.” My great-grandparents surely felt the burden, yet they never complained. They did it because it needed to be done. They did it because they loved their children and their grandchildren. Most of all they did it because they loved each other.

Their 50^th wedding anniversary came with great fanfare in the midst of Eisenhower’s tenure as president and the prosperous 1950’s. Their marriage, which began when man had taken his first tentative flights on windswept dunes in North Carolina, continued through into the jet age and even into the space age. My great-grandparents celebrated their 70^th wedding anniversary the year my frail little great-grandmother finally laid down her burden and went to be with the Lord and the baby she’d lost and mourned for sixty years.

My great-grandfather spoke of their last conversation with a sad smile on his face. He told us that he’d climbed into bed beside her and pulled her into his arms, as much to comfort her as to try to hold on to her for just a little while longer, I suppose. Snuggled together, both frail with their advanced years, they bent their heads together and spoke softly of all they had experienced together in their lives, how their lives had been filled with so much love and joy and how they had faced adversity hand in hand, each finding strength in the other and in their relationship with God.

“I get to go be with my baby now,” she said softly.

He nodded and murmured his agreement. Then he cleared his throat. “You know, if I had it to do all over again, I’d do it just the same,” he said.

She turned her blue eyes up to him and smiled. “I would too,” she said. Closing her eyes, she lay back on her pillow and drifted off into that eternal sleep.

I know that for the rest of his life, he would wake up calling her name, looking for her, missing her. When he passed away peacefully in his sleep seven years later, I have no doubt that he knew he was going to see her again and that was why he had a smile on his face.

You see, I’ve seen true love. I know what it looks like. I know that it’s God’s gift to us. It is without condition, and it is forever. True love is patient, it is polite, it is considerate of the feelings of others. True love is generous, and it puts the needs of others ahead of its own. True love is tender and fierce, protective, supportive and nurturing. True love puts up with a lot knowing that your partner is doing the same.

I also know that you won’t find true love unless and until you are willing to submit yourself to true love and show these traits yourself. Once you open yourself up to it, you see it everywhere and wonder how you could have missed it before.

I know true love exists. I’m one of those who has been blessed to find it. I have no doubt that at the end of my life or his, my husband and I will be there, heads bent together, looking back on our shared adventure willing to do it all over again.