Lucy Adams

It Lives!

2012-01-27T05:23:00.001-05:00

She exhales her last warm breath and alas I am alone in the cold. Lost. Shivering. Unable to type due to the stiffness fearlessly arresting my fingers. It's hard being the one left behind.

Rest in peace, dear friend. I shall never know a constant companion more faithful than thee my sweet space heater.

Lo, what is this? My eldest child, finding her prostrate on the floor, hath restored warm breath to her lungs and by all accounts resuscitated her. Were he not of my own flesh, I would cry sorcery. But I know he hath no knowledge of potions and spells; otherwise he would have a better grade in Spanish. Thus, it can only be said that he performeth a miracle today.

Wouldst thou, dear child, feel free to perform a miracle in Spanish?

Can You Solve the Riddle?

2012-01-26T13:45:00.000-05:00

The link below is to today's newspaper column. I got creative and posed a riddle to my readers. Can you solve the riddle? The first person to email me with the correct answer wins a signed copy of Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run.

Every word of this is true, but the story is not McDuffie Mirror

To Cougar or Not to Cougar

2012-01-26T13:19:00.000-05:00

Some have decided not to.

The cougar - a large, wild cat, with a tawny grayish coat, native to North America - though once revered as an animal worthy of mascotting teams to victory, has fallen from grace. Rejected. No longer accepting it as a representation of power and pride, Schools like Draper Corner Canyon High in Utah forgo the cougar for more benign, vague symbols like a "charger."

What is a charger? Is that like a battery charger? Is it a Dodge? A credit card, maybe? How exactly would I doodle a charger on my notebook while daydreaming in physics class?

The school board, after serious consideration of the matter and surely an entertaining discussion, concluded that they risked offending middle-aged women if they approved the cougar mascot. And for that I say to the school board, "For heaven's sake, offend me!"

I'm married with four children. If someone should even remotely refer to me as cougar-ish I take it as a compliment. It means I could if I wanted to; that I'd actually have a chance at ripping out the heart of a younger man. Cougar, when used in reference to felines or forty-something females is a compliment, people.

If they'd wanted to name the team the Escort Service or the Dirty Old Men, I could possibly see things differently. If they had even approached the issue from a morality standpoint and argued that the moniker might imply inappropriate relationships between teachers and students, I at least would award some credit for deeper, creative thinking. If they were planning to allow students' mothers to try-out for the girls' basketball team, they might have a point. Might.

But y'all, get a grip. The word "cougar" has no derogatory connotations whatsoever, and if I sat in a stadium surrounded by a crowd chanting, "Cougars, cougars, cougars," it would be a real moment of bonding in the sisterhood of women; a lightheaded experience in which I might make a huge donation to the school to be used at the administration's discretion.

Oh well. Now fans will just shout, "Chargers, chargers, chargers," and folks won't be able to think of donations for thinking of dead batteries.

A REAL LIVE Author

2012-01-17T13:21:00.000-05:00

My next speaking engagement is quickly approaching and I haven't gathered the umph needed to put together my talk. Motivation, where are you? Why hath thou forsaken me?

Wait. What's that tapping noise? Could it be? Yes! Motivation has returned with all new stories to share. If you live in the CSRA, I'd love to meet and greet you. For those who don't, I'll probably post a couple of videos and/or podcasts in the near future. Stay tuned.

The details (the coordinator wrote this, not me):

Sunday, January 22, 2012 at 3 PM.

Come and meet the author, Lucy Adams

465 North Belair Road, Suite 2E

Evans University Healthcare Building

Lili Bogdanova, Bulgarian teenage piano guest of the Columbia County Orchestra Association, will play some piano music for early arrivals and afterwards. Lucy will share about her latest book, "Tuck Your Skirt in your Panties and Run" and previous books. Fun afternoon and get to meet a REAL LIVE local author.

Naming the House - Update

2012-01-13T04:41:00.038-05:00

Thank you to everyone who has made suggestions. The quest to name my house continues. These things take time. Meanwhile, I have lent myself to research on the subject of naming a house. It's hard to find a clear set of guidelines, but I have discerned the following house naming rules from my Internet travels:

1) One must act as a responsible citizen when naming his or her house/property. In other words, if the name is to be posted or used on mail, avoid tawdry, racy, suggestive titles, as well as expletives, even though you may not be able to talk about your old bag of nails without including them.

2) A house name makes a statement about the property or the occupants.

3) Make sure no other properties/homes in the local vicinity already have the name with which you want to christen your house.

4) House/property names can be historic, sentimental, descriptive, humorous or simple. Distinguishing features of the house, plants and/or animals within the bounds of the property, or the view from the property/house can be included in the name.

5) Choose a distinctive moniker, something memorable that sets the house apart from others nearby.

6) Remember, your house will be there far longer than you. Make the name about the house/property and not about the people.

Though I don't know what I will eventually name my house, I have eliminated all of the Top 50 House Names in the UK:

1. The Cottage

2. Rose Cottage
3. The Bungalow
4. The Coach House
5. Orchard House
6. The Lodge
7. Woodlands
8. The Old School House
9. Ivy Cottage
10. The Willows
11. The Barn
12. The Old Rectory
13. Hillside
14. Hillcrest
15. The Croft
16. The Old Vicarage
17. Sunnyside

18. Orchard Cottage

19. Yew Tree Cottage

20. The Laurels

21. The Old Post Office

22. The Gables

23. The Hollies

24. The Beeches

25. The Firs

26. Woodside

27. Meadow View

28. The Stables

29. The White House

30. Holly Cottage

31. Willow Cottage

32. Highfield

33. The Haven

34. Springfield

35. Fairview

36. White Cottage

37. Mill House

38 The Orchard

39. Treetops

40. Primrose Cottage

41. The Granary

42. The Nook

43. Corner Cottage

44. School House

45. Greenacres

46. The Old School

47. Honeysuckle Cottage

48. Lilac Cottage

49. Wayside

50. Oaklands

If you can think of any other names I should NOT use, do tell. Maybe I'll arrive at just the right thing by the back door.

Spelling Bee

2012-01-11T05:12:00.001-05:00

The worst part of what we fear is the fear. Last January, my daughter competed in the school-wide spelling bee. I wasn't there to support her. I didn't even know she had advanced to the school-wide spelling bee.

The whole idea of it paralyzed her to the point of bad judgement. She hid the note she was supposed to give us about the day and time of the bee. She didn't even want to be in the spelling bee.

Feeling alone on the stage in the spotlight and petrified in front of all the parents and students who watched from the auditorium seats, she stepped to the microphone. As her palms moistened and her knees trembled, she ruminated about the embarrassment of messing up. She hardly heard the teacher instruct her, "Your word is fossil."

After school, when I asked her, as usual, about her day, she replied, "It was awful."

Naturally, I prodded for more information. The story of the heretofore unknown and now most unfortunate spelling bee poured from her like sticky honey from the comb on a hot summer afternoon. She talked fast like bees buzzed to get it back. She told of the stage and the lights and the microphone and everyone looking at her and how her first word was fossil and how she almost cried because she was so afraid she would spell it wrong even though she knows how to spell fossil.

"Well?" I asked, "Did you spell it wrong?"

"F - o - c - e - l," she harumphed.

"Then what happened?" I inquired.

"They told me to sit down," she pouted.

"That's it?"

"That's it," she said with her arms crossed over her chest.

"What a wonderful gift you received today," I told her, my typical, annoying glass-half-full attitude increasing her fury and despair. Two important things happened for her at the spelling bee:
1) She will never forget how to spell fossil.
2) She realized that the worst part of the spelling bee was the worrying about it.

Though I thought she was ignoring my upside account of her disappointment, by the time her father arrived home from work that night, she bubbled all over him in eager tones, "Do you want to hear what happened to me at school today?" When he asked her how she did in the spelling bee, she laughed, "Terrible, t - e - r - r - i - b - l - e."

This year, the school mailed the announcement about the spelling bee to the parents of the participants. She will be competing in it again. She already told me about it, excitedly, even before the letter arrived. Friday morning, I will be one of the many faces looking at her from the audience while she stands in the spotlight. I'm pretty sure that this year, win or lose, everything will be different.

Name My House

2012-01-09T09:53:00.000-05:00

This is my house:

One of my 2012 projects is to name my house. I first got the notion to name it several years ago when a friend moved to England and lived in a place named The Old Barn. When I sent letters to her, the name of her house was part of the address. The ingenuity of elevating the prestige of a barn by calling it The Old Barn struck me as incredibly clever. I want the same for my own dwelling.

Everywhere I look, homes have names. Fiddlers Green is a property about five miles from me. A pang of jealousy stabs my heart when I pass the sign. The house is a mid-century brick ranch, but the wonderful moniker makes it so much more.

In December I read The Tower, the Zoo and the Tortoise by Julia Stuart. All of the characters live in the various towers of London Tower. Their residences take on an air of importance simply because they can be referenced by something other than, "That's Balthazar and Hebe's house." [This is a must read, by the way. Highly entertaining and extremely well-written.]

Currently I'm reading The Little Friend by Donna Tartt [Also a great read, particularly if you like southern lit.]. The family's old Mississippi estate was named Tribulation. It calls to something deep within me. I want that same emotion for my ancestors when they tell a lot of lies about me and my house.

But coming up with an appropriate name for 217 Lee Street has proven difficult. If I'm going to put it on a sign and hang it on my house and tag it as a check-in location on FaceBook and include it in my address, it can't come across as frivolous or trite. I don't want a cliche. I need to avoid arrogance. And by all means I will not acquiesce to the lack of creativity in something like the McNeal-Howell-Adams House. Blehk.

Thus I'm on a quest for a list of guidelines for naming a piece of property. What are the rules? Does your house have a name? How did it get that name?

Help!

Four Words/Phrases to Avoid in 2012

2012-01-04T11:37:00.000-05:00

As we embark upon 2012, a new year with an unknown future brimming with potential, let's make a pledge to one another - right here, right now - to unleash our creative energies and express ourselves more powerfully than we did in 2011. To that end, let us join together in a stalwart effort against the forces of popular, over-used phrases of the masses! No more shall we utter or write the following 4 phrases or words, elevating not only ourselves, but all mankind. It is a noble struggle to which we commit our unwavering resolve, but together we will prevail.

Note to self, do not say or write:

Amazing - Michigan’s Lake Superior State University features this beaten-like-a-dead-horse word in its annual List of Words Banished from the Queen’s English for Misuse, Overuse and General Uselessness. The 2012 list was compiled by the university from nominations submitted from across the globe.

Read more: http://newsfeed.time.com/2011/12/30/dont-get-caught-using-these-banned-words-in-2012/#ixzz1iVVJErIY
LOL - If you feel compelled to say or write this acronym for Laugh Out Loud after something you've said or written, then what you've said or written more than likely isn't Laugh Out Loud, or even mildly amusing. As they say in the comedic business, if you must tell people how funny you are, then you're not.
Just sayin' - Just don't.
I know, right? - Every time my 16 year-old asks me this statement, my hackles rise. If he knows then why does he need affirmation from me that he knows. How could I possibly know whether he knows or not? Be confident that you do know, even if you don't, and leave off the question statement.

I already feel the bubbles from the slow boil of linguistic change rising to the surface. Who's with me?

In 2012 It's the Little Things

2012-01-01T00:00:00.001-05:00

Starting a new year is always about setting goals and making changes. I tend to make ambitious lists for myself. But sometimes it's the little things we do that make all the difference. For example, one year I decided I was going to make my bed every day, something my mother spent my entire childhood nagging me to do, something that I'd spent my entire adulthood rebelling against. Now that I do it daily by choice, nothing, other than a cup of coffee, prepares me to face my day more than pulling the covers up over the night.

In 2012, focus on the little things. In our digital world, the human touch in communication is frequently lost in the 1s and 0s, bits and bytes. Take a few extra minutes to add interpersonal communication into each day:

Give someone the gift of a smile, every day. A smile has significant value for something that's free.

Text less. Talk more. Don't you miss the rich nuances of two-way conversation?

Don't click SEND. Skip the email and write a letter to your sister, your aunt, your dad. Stroking a pen across the page is good for the soul.

Visit someone each week. Not a long visit, just a quick, "I wanted to stop by and see how you're doing. I've missed you."

These are random acts of kindness that will NOT necessarily change the whole world. But they will make yours and mine happier, more connected places in which to live.

10 Things I've Learned from Holiday Letters

2011-12-29T05:23:00.017-05:00

1) Some people are not on FaceBook, because if they were there'd be no need to type and send the mass holiday letter. Everyone would already know their business.

2) My family vacation wasn't that great, no matter how I spin it. It behoves me not to let my kids read any of the Christmas letters.

3) No one who writes a holiday letter admits to tasting the flavor of mediocrity.

4) If my children have any inkling to change the world, they better get to it.

5) My kids are not as amazing as the ones featured in Christmas letters. They get into mischief at school. Sometimes they don't like each other at all. I have to talk in my mean mommy voice to get them to clean their rooms. This is not the stuff of Christmas letters.

6) My husband is not as amazing as the husbands of holiday letters.

7) I am not amazing either. My husband has to put his own clean laundry away. I haven't baked a batch of cookies in the entire month of December and my kids have had to make their own breakfast since they've been out of school. The women of holiday letters balance babies on their hips while simultaneously frosting cakes and saving the world.

8) There are some very gifted writers who use their talents only once a year. They blow their wad stringing together paragraphs portraying the mundane as dileriously fabulous.

9) There are two types of holiday letters: (a) Those that come from families in which nothing bad or disappointing ever happens, and if it does, it doesn't linger long enough for anyone to think it's important enough to write about. (b) Those that come from victims of the universe, but who, in the end, put their faith in God to work everything according to His will. ~ With either type of letter, they'll be sending the nearly same same one next year, only changing ages of children.

10) Christmas letters are so potent in content that some recipients simply cannot stomach them.

Satisfied Santa

2011-12-28T12:18:00.000-05:00

My trashcan overfloweth with the remnants of the annual Christmas ransacking of the living room. The after-Christmas-calm has settled upon my house, allowing me to recline contemplatively, reflect on the months that sped by since last Christmas, and enjoy the tree, humble as it is. This week of unfettered relaxation comes only once a year. Though the thick anticipation has passed, I find peace in my mantra of, "This was a very good Christmas."

I breathe.

Santa sits at the North Pole sipping hot chocolate with his feet propped up on an ottoman. Satisfaction with a job well-done still glows on his rosy cheeks.

From the playroom, children's voices rise and fall, rise and fall, and rise again. Someone yells. Someone screeches. There's a clatter, but I refrain from seeing what is the matter. A herd of angry feet heads my way; a reminder of Christmas cheer and goodwill toward one's fellow man.

St. Nick, that jolly old elf, laughs at his cleverness in spite of himself. There's more than one way to deliver a lump of coal. He wrapped mine in a package of new toys and games for my kids to argue, pout, point fingers, compete and tattle over.

Though I plan to be nicer in 2012, I announce to the approaching posse that Santa isn't the only one who can make a list. And I hand each of them a set of chores and assure them that I'll be checking their work twice. I caution them, above the din of moans and groans, to proceed with joyful hearts and willing hands.

The melee thwarted, I cast my eyes and thoughts again upon the tree, humble as it is. It has been a very, very good Christmas: Three days after the ransacking, my brood is still interested in the toys and games St. Nicholas left.

East Coast - West Coast Communication Breakdown

2011-12-12T05:21:00.001-05:00

For an upcoming freelance article targeted at helping parents navigate the tricky and oftne murky waters of teen romance, I put in a query at an on-line expert listserve for an expert source. My query read thus:

Summary: Teen Love
Due Date: 2011-11-22 19:00:00 EST
Industry Categories: General,Lifestyle and Fitness
Query: For the February issue of Augusta Family Magazine I'm working on a parents' guide to handling your teenager's romance. I am looking for a child development, or other, expert familiar with the topic of parenting teens. I will need answers to questions such as: 1) When is a parent too involved with the relationship and why should this be avoided?
2) What are the best ways to engage a teenager when discussing his/her romantic relationship?
3) How can parents ensure that their children maintain healthy romantic relationships?
4) What are the signs of trouble that every parent should be able to spot? ...and so forth. The interview can be conducted by phone or by email.
In your response to my query, please include your credentials and a few lines reflecting your thoughts on this topic. I will contact you if your expertise is right for the article.

The very first response I received within a couple of hours was this from a PR representative inWest Hollywood, CA 90069:

Hope all is well. We rep two relationship experts who can provide good health-related reasons why cuddling and relaxing in bed with your partner is good for you. Please consider this nationally recognized experts for your article.

That's not what I meant by "healthy romantic relationships" in my query. Here in the southeast, in the first buckle hole of the Bible Belt, we're not too keen on our teenagers cuddling and relaxing in bed together. In fact the teen pregnancy rates in this area of the country indicate that too much of that is going on already.

I guess her response is just another example of the the east coast - west coast communication gap. If questioned, she would probably defend herself by saying that my query was too slow for her to understand.

Quick Christmas Cash

2011-12-08T05:44:00.001-05:00

My email overfloweth with "good fortunate." And my bank account soon will, too. This year I have no fear of suffering from the annual Christmas-cash-strap. No sir. Just read:

Firstly, I think i would start all with a proper introduction of

myself. My name is Mrs. Rabia Kabir, a 51 years old woman suffering from a long time cancer of the breast a widow to late Mustafa Kabir in Iraq, One Year ago, I lost my husband Mustafa and three children - Husam, 15 years old, Wasim, 12 years old and Merna, 6years old, this happened as the family attempted to flee heavy fighting in Baghdad.

Before my husband and children were killed, he deposited the sum of $10,000.000 (Ten Million Dollars) in a security company. My Doctor told me that I would not last for the next two months due to cancer stage. Having known my condition I decided to donate this funds to a God fearing individual.

And this one, from a young girl so sad and in desperate need of my aid and comfort:

I am Angela Louis 19 years young and the only daughter of my late parents Mr. and Mrs. Bob Louis My father was a highly reputable business Magnet-(a cocoa and oil merchant) who operated in the capital of Ivory Coast during his days. It is sad to say that he passed away mysteriously in France during one of his business trips abroad.

My mother died when I was just 5 years young, since then my father took me so special. Before his death he called the secretary who accompanied him to the hospital and told him that he has the sum of Four Million five hundred thousand United State Dollars (US$ 4,500,000.00) left in one of the leading bank hear Abidjan Cote D'Ivoire and the money was placed in a fixed deposit account.

I am just 19 years young and a university undergraduate and really don't know what to do. The death of my father actually brought sorrow to my life.

Dearest one I am in a sincere desire of your humble assistance in this regards. Your suggestions and ideas will be highly regarded. Now permit me to ask these few questions 1. Can you honestly help me as your sister? 2. Can I completely trust you? 3. What percentage of the total amount in question will be good for you after the money is in your account?

But that’s not all. In addition to donations for my good deeds, I’m also due an inheritance:

My name is John Fanzi, a consultant to the government on foreign remittance payment. I am an heir hunter. When people die intestate (without a will) and with no known relatives, their names are released by the Treasury. Every Thursday, a list of these unclaimed estates, the Bona Vacantia ( Latin for "ownerless goods" ) is published on the Treasury Solicitor's website. The race is then on for heir locators to track down the often distant relatives in line for a windfall.

After proper verification through records of births, deaths and marriages along with censuses, electoral registers and other documents, and with your email address as the only contact detail on file; it has been approved that you should receive an inheritance payment of $5,000,000.00 (Five Million United States Dollars).

So many promissory notes arrive in my spam folder each day that I have taken to responding, so that the senders will not think me ungrateful for being the target of their goodwill. Prosperity has even forced me to turn down an offer from Dr. Osamu Nagayama, who desires to retain me as a payment agent for Chungai, Inc. If interested in the position, I must send him my name, home address, phone number, and current job title. Though I am flattered by the faith he has in my ability to manage the company’s receivables through my personal bank account, I declined for practical reasons:

Apologies. Though your tendering of such a sweet deal might have made me salivate last month, I find that I am the happy victim of a windfall of change (and dollars). Akim Musa is giving me 105% of $15.5 million. And all he requires are my account numbers for the deposit. Plus he’s sending me a goat.

With a Click of His Mouse up the Chimney He Rose

2011-12-05T05:34:00.002-05:00

Santa is making his list and checking it off in preparation for his big night.

What about you? Have you finished your Christmas shopping? Have you started?

Save yourself some fuss and frazzle by giving the gifts of a good read and a good laugh. A set of books that will keep them rolling under the Christmas tree is just a mouse click away.

If Mama Don't Laugh, It Ain't Funny takes readers on a romp with an AWOL hermit crab, a three legged pig and an immortal roach. Parents will relate to the perfectly impossible picture day and go giggly over illicit rhyming words. If Mama Don't Laugh will have spouses spontaneously reading out loud to each other while laughing until stuff comes out of their noses:

Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run chronicles the mayhem, mishaps, misjudgments, miscalculations and maladaptations of an ordinary day gone off the chain. You can run with Reba who's naked at the garden gate and sample Mama's bar-b-cue and Brunswick stew that doesn't come with slaw. Attend a pig roast with the communists and stroll down the aisle with a 40 year-old bridesmaid as she tries to convince herself that she's still beautiful. Adventures into and out of embarrassing situations abound:

Order from Amazon.com by clicking on the book titles or covers above.

Or make it an extra special gift by purchasing signed copies from the IfMama.com shop. For personalization, send me an email after placing your order. Your email should include your order ID, the name of the person receiving the gift, and two sentences about why you think this is the perfect gift for him or her. I'll mail your books within two days of payment.

Christmas shopping doesn't get any easier than that.

The Black Forest

2011-12-02T05:22:00.000-05:00

It's a well known fact that I'm a holiday humbug, a Christmas crank. I dread the countdowns to Santa's big night. The object of standing a Christmas tree in every room of the house is lost on me. Shopping, baking, decorating, partying and putting on a perfect Christmas persona leave me bedraggled. My favorite day of the season is December 26th.

Though I make no bones about my feelings, I do realize they are not popular. And while I really do try to avoid any extra cooking during the days ahead, I will make a guest a mixed drink in hot minute. It expresses goodwill toward my fellow woman (without a heap of work) and it puts us all in good cheer, which, as I understand it, is in the true spirit of the season.

To commemorate entering the figurative black forest of holiday mayhem, let's raise a toast to surviving to December 26th. Fill your highball with this mood brightening concoction, which is better than a box of chocolate covered cherries, from my favorite yuletide tome, Peterson's Holiday Helper:

Black Forest

8 ounces chocolate liqueur

1 ounce cherry brandy

1 ounce cherry liqueur

1/2 ounce heavy cream

1 maraschino cherry for garnish

Directions: Mix, shake, serve over ice. Give the jar of cherries to the kids so they won't tell daddy that you're hiding in the pantry drinking chocolate again. Serves 1.

A Big Tuck Your Skirt Blog Tour Thank You

2011-12-01T06:55:00.002-05:00

The Tuck Your Skirt 2011 Blog Tour for the advancement of Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run (which makes a very nice Christmas gift for all of the ladies on your list) was a wild success. It was thrilling and exhausting and exciting and now it's finished. Whew! I made it.

I could not have done it without the help of so many fabulous bloggers. Thank You! Please take a moment to visit some of them. Introduce yourself. Explore their sites. Make a few new friends.

Quintessential Housewife

Mommalicious

Through the Eyes of a Tiger

Southern Protocol

My Crazy Life

Cubicle Sanity

Simply Southern Girl

Rebel Belle

Creative Madness

Queen of the Castle(s)

Momfog

The Geeky Blogger

Rita Reviews

Diminishing Gene Pool

Pocketful of Playdough

Marvelous Mommy

Rewiring the Soul

Future Fit Girl

Proper Southern Woman

Proper Southern Woman

2011-11-30T08:59:00.000-05:00

The Tuck Your Skirt 2011 Blog Tour is running full tilt today at Proper Southern Woman. You can read an excerpt from Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run titled Girl in Cornflower Blue. It's the tale of what happens to a proper southern woman when she stuffs herself into a bridesmaid dress at the ripe age of 40. Is she still pretty? You read and decide.

Stick around at Proper Southern Woman and collect a few tips and tricks for perfecting your proper persona.

The end of November has finally arrived and today concludes the Tuck Your Skirt 2011 Blog Tour. I've met so many wonderful women on the journey and I appreciate each one's hospitality. It's been fun sharing some insight into me and Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run.

Please take a few minutes to visit the blog tour hosts. Each blog is unique and worth the read.

I'd love to visit your blog, too. Email me if you're interested in hosting a guest post.

Future Fit Girl

2011-11-29T08:52:00.000-05:00

The Tuck Your Skirt 2011 Blog Tour is running full tilt today at Future Fit Girl. Stop by to see what she has to say and to listen to a podcast from Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run titled Double Dog Dare Ya, a story of true love and what happens when it gets a taste of fresh air and rural living.

Through the end of November, I'm visiting blogs around the country, participating in Q&A, sharing excerpts from Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run, and giving folks a chance to listen to podcasts and watch videos about me and Tuck Your Skirt. Some bloggers will be hosting giveaways so you'll definitely want to stop by.

I hope to see you along the virtual book tour trail. Meet the blog tour hosts.

I'd love to visit your blog, too. Email me if you're interested or check here for more details.

NaNoWriMo - A Peek at Love Letters From a Stoic

2011-11-28T06:06:00.000-05:00

Truth be told, I failed miserably at NaNoWriMo. I've composed nowhere near 50,000 words. Life invariably worked against me and my overreaching commitment.

But, I have made some progress on the project, which recounts the WWII years, 1943-1945, during which my aunt and uncle were separated by his service in the U.S. Navy. They had a marriage that evades comprehension by most modern standards:

And I do wonder in those giddy early days if she knew the life she was courting. If she knew she would never own a washer and dryer or dishwasher because of the expense. If she knew she would have no heirs and no say over what became of her home and her possessions even after B.C.’s death in 1993. If she knew she would fill her attic with Styrofoam meat trays and her basement with jars of pickled beets as if the next Great Depression loomed ominously, even in the post-war 50s and the bull market 80s.

But usually, we don’t know. Love makes us leap in without checking the depth. That’s what’s so ordinary about their marriage. What appear to be rigors and disenfranchisement to us, were true affections to them. I believe that B.C. took the role of caring for Nita and shielding her from want. She gladly submitted to his will. And I believe it was all born of love.

The first letter of WWII:

Open only if I do not return, he neatly penned across the front of a white business envelope, in a level, straight line. Then he tri-folded the single page into even thirds and slid it soundlessly into the sleeve. Using a sponge he moistened the glue strip on the flap and pressed it firmly in place.

The completed package glared at him, white and fresh, from the smooth, cold marble top of his wife’s dresser. This business of war raised all sorts of issues of trust. Trust in commanders to make the right decisions. Trust in one’s training, that it was sufficient for the duties assigned. Trust in God’s plan. Trust that he would come home and find the letter intact, untouched, unread.

Black Friday Christmas Gift Ideas

2011-11-25T05:53:00.002-05:00

What's better than the gift of a good read?

A good read that comes with a good laugh!

For Christmas this years, give the ladies on your list a set of books that will keep them rolling under the Christmas tree.

If Mama Don't Laugh, It Ain't Funny takes readers on a romp with an AWOL hermit crab, a three legged pig and an immortal roach. Parents will relate to the perfectly impossible picture day and go giggly over illicit rhyming words. If Mama Don't Laugh will have spouses spontaneously reading out loud to each other while laughing until stuff comes out of their noses:

Say What You Mean

2011-11-24T05:23:00.001-05:00

I was just about to submit my Thanksgiving newspaper column last Friday, when that little voice of reason inside my head said, "WAIT!" Then it explained, "Sorry for yelling, but don't you think someone else ought to read it before it's in print on the most thankful day of the year?"

"Well, okay, I guess. Maybe. Sure," I relented, and recruited my soul mate to do me the honor of proofreading, even though I had reread it thoroughly myself. As a reward for indulging me I gave him a peck on the cheek, a squeeze of the shoulders and went upstairs to fold his clean clothes.

Suddenly, "OH MY GOSH! YOU CANNOT PRINT THIS," rang out. "LUCY! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? HOOKERS ? FOR THANKSGIVING? YOU WON"T HAVE ANY READERS LEFT!"

Naturally, I boot-scooted down the stairs and skid into the dining room where my computer was set up on the table. "I won't?" I asked surprised. Then I went into defense mode and argued, "But I let the readers off the hook, uh, no pun meant in that, and reveal that the lady of the night marks his place to turn."

Again, my husband squinted at the computer and mumbled as he read through the paragraph once more:

Every year I wait for someone to lower the boom. What I would give for one of my brothers to bust out with, “I’m thankful for the hooker on the corner of Jackson Avenue and Stewart Street.” Then add, after everyone has either thought, Yeah, I’m thankful for her, too, or I can’t believe he said that in front of his mother, “When she’s not there, I miss my turn.” It would sure shut-up mopy cousin Molly, who, every year, sighs heavily and says self- absorbedly that she can’t think of anything.

After finishing, he looked at me and said, "I know I'm not the only one who will read it this way. What you meant and what you wrote are two very different things. What I read is that your brother is sad when she's not there because he misses his turn with her."

Oh my! Happy Thanksgiving. Be careful what you say for your annual thankful moment in the spotlight. You might spend all of Christmas regretting it.

Vegan Thanksgiving?

2011-11-23T02:51:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and those turkeys are up to tricks again. They've gone and disguised themselves as pumpkins.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Count your blessings that you're not a turkey.

Bad Mama

2011-11-22T06:26:00.001-05:00

I dug my dinging cell phone out of my pocket and glanced at the number on the screen. Though I didn’t recognize it, fate compelled me to answer, “Hello, this is Lucy.”

“Mama,” came a gasp rising over the wireless horizon, “Where are you?”

My legs stiffened. My lungs labored to draw in a fresh breath. A haze descended as I wrestled with how to answer my 12 year-old son’s question. At long last I casually whispered, “At the liquor store. We took your brother to meet up with his friends before the football game and then we came to the…” My voice grew weak again as I accidentally circled back around to having to say, “liquor store.” Whispering it, of course, didn’t change the matter or make me unseen by the Baptists and Methodists shopping the aisles on a Friday night along with me.

Earlier in the day, I huddled by my space heater flipping through one of my favorite cookbooks, Peterson’s Holiday Helper. When I stopped the flapping pages, I had landed right on a drool evoking recipe. Tonight, I decided. I’ll make dinner tonight. But I didn’t have a single one of the three ingredients on hand: Cherry brandy, cherry liqueur, chocolate liqueur.

“Where are you,” I exclaimed, both to change the subject and because it at last occurred to me that my child was probably not at home where I thought I had left him.

He told me the sad, sad tale of a boy who looked out of the front window of his house to see his mother and father and another child getting into the car. Immediately he suspected that we were headed to the football game without him, so he ran out the front door and down the walkway desperately pleading for us to stop.

When we did not, the lad sprinted down the street, chasing our tail lights into the dark. He ran as fast as he could make his short legs go, like beating a dying race horse. After arriving at our usual parking spot and seeing that neither we nor our car were there, the despondent child borrowed a phone to called me, his mother, the woman he has depended on and put his faith in since birth.

He thought we had mistaken, Mick, the neighbor kid from down the street for him and thus taken Mick to the game instead of our own son.

“Honey,” I scolded, once he completed his story, “How could you think that? I haven't even made dinner yet!”

Rewiring the Soul

2011-11-21T11:02:00.000-05:00

The Tuck Your Skirt 2011 Blog Tour is electric today at Rewiring the Soul. Gabriella Kortsch, author of the book Rewiring the Soul, is my gracious hostess. Gabriella says, "While the subjects Lucy and I typically write about appear to be very distant one from the other, I felt that her particular brand of humour, so important in these times of worries, stress, and negativity, was especially germane to keeping ourselves on track in the positive sense of the word." Stop by to see what else she has to say ant to listen to a podcast from Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run titled Strategic Errors, the inspirational story of Anyjoe in the Kingdom of Anythinkinhappen.

Through the end of November, I'm visiting blogs around the country, participating in Q&A, sharing excerpts from Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run, and giving folks a chance to listen to podcasts and watch videos about me and Tuck Your Skirt. Some bloggers will be hosting giveaways so you'll definitely want to stop by.

I hope to see you along the virtual book tour trail. Meet the blog tour hosts.

I'd love to visit your blog, too. Email me if you're interested or check here for more details.

The Social Report

2011-11-18T02:06:00.002-05:00

Four weeks of etiquette lessons drew to a close on Sunday evening, culminating in a five course, seated dinner for the large group of previously unmannered 6th-graders. The esteemed Augusta Country Club on Milledge Road hosted the affair. Students eagerly entered the dining room and checked their seating assignments.

Young men wore sport coats, khaki pants, polished black shoes, and crisp white oxfords. Many added personality with colorful ties and dippity-do in their coifs. The girls looked gorgeous in dresses in a variety of styles and closed toe shoes with modest heels. Appropriately, all hems fell below the knee.

Over the course of the class, students received instruction in proper greetings, introductions, table settings, writing thank you notes, responding to invitations and other common niceties that modern society often discounts as unimportant. The evening provided practice of many new skills in an elegant atmosphere.

The meal began with a first course of salad followed shortly thereafter by a serving of seasonal pumpkin soup - probably put on the menu by an adult who would also expect 12 year-olds to eat aspic - and ended with an ice cream sundae. An adult stationed at each table guided his or her charges in napkin placement, silverware selection, and bread plate possession.

Pleasant banter between table mates, who reluctantly sat boy-girl-boy-girl at circular tables draped in white cloths, was encouraged. At the end of the evening, the children were complimented on their fine manners.

One gap in their mentoring became painfully apparent, however, as the boys and girls exited the building. My son did stop and hold the door for a young lady retreating with him, and I must admit I swelled with pride when her parents asked, "Who is that nice boy?" But as quickly as that happened, I prayed that the little girl would shrug her shoulders and dismiss her parents' intrusive, prying questions.

A loud voice yelled, "Hey preppy kid with the ears!" in my son's direction.

My son turned and loudly replied, "Say it one more time and I'm gonna come over there and bust your face!"

Four weeks of etiquette classes and no one taught these kids how to say polite good-byes.