Silver Fox Tales

No. No. No. No. No.

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 16:43:00 +0000

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

I do not want to "make a statement" with my phone much less my phone service. Of all the political CRAP that clogs the snailmail box, I'm hoping this is not a trend. Have we really come to this? Not just "Vote for/please don't vote for so and so" but "BUY THIS BECAUSE OF/TO BE ANTI SO-and-SO"?

God help us. When we're born, we should come with a giant opt-out button on our little butt.

Complainers Make Me CRANKY

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 21:47:00 +0000

Regarding folks complaining that Irene was over-hyped by local and state government agencies, listen to Administrator of FEMA Craig Fugate's stone-faced response to Wolf Blitzer's question: "My condolences to the families that lost lives, with homes that have been destroyed; to the communities that have been flooded. We work from a forecast with not so much precision that we can say whose house will be impacted and whose not." (Kudos on his subtext of "Guess what, a world exists outside your backyard." My new hero!) And when asked if they operate under the theory of "better safe than sorry", he responded, "We operate under the theory that you can't change the outcome if you're not ready." <-- THIS!

People who are complaining need to get out there and go see where the "over hype" landed a lot of folks in other Areas, sometimes even in the next town over! And maybe lend a hand in the massive rebuilding of lives and communities that is going to be taking place. And they need to remember all the times they moaned "They should have been ready for this!" How about a little recognition of lessons finally learned? And this, for the "over-hyped" crowd:

"What you see is farms destroyed, crops destroyed,
businesses underwater, houses eroded or swept away and
widespread devastation." GOV. PETER SHUMLIN, of
Vermont, on the aftermath of Tropical Storm Irene

Humans as a whole can sure be short-sighted. As the article linked below says, this storm left an "1100 mile trail of destruction", even if one didn't lose power in one's OWN house.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/aug/29/hurricane-irene-trail-destruction

A Picture Worth a Thousand Bags of Hot Air

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 16:09:00 +0000

A picture worth a thousand bags of hot air.

37 total in 10 days (12 on one day).

And because I have nothing better to do (we put people on the moon and invent things like hanging chads, but we can't come up with a sarcasm font?), here's the breakdown:

Of the 20 republican supportive ads, 8 were positive (vote for me because I can do this for you), 11 negative (don't vote for the other guy because he's a lying scum) (6 of those were paid for by outside organizations) and 1 neutral (just go vote, please). The outside organizations went after the democratic candidate for US senate.

Of the 17 democrat supportive ads, 3 were positive, 12 negative (6 of those were paid for by outside organizations) and 2 were neutral (one of these was an outside organization endorsing a slate). The outside organizations (other than the one neutral ad) went after the republican candidate for US House of Representatives.

So I see which way the wind blows. "We don't campaign negatively. That was [Name of Citizens For or Against Something Group]. We have no control over them!" Horse poop!

Of particular interest was the Mommy Letter (which I counted as "positive", but read on). A US House of Representatives candidate's (party affiliation doesn't matter) mother wrote a heartwarming letter, a one page, typed-on-computer-paper letter in a cursive style font, to all her "neighbors" (25 miles away… hello?) asking for their votes for her wonderful son. I don't know who paid for that one. It wasn't indicated on the envelope, which bore a handwritten "send to" address and a homey-looking, crookedly affixed (more homey!) return address (PO Box... Wonder whose it really is?) sticker, and a real US postage stamp. In my opinion, the Mommy Letter was a big mistake. It made me feel physically ill, not because it was a "my son is wonderful" letter but because it was so blatantly… I dunno… what's the opposite of "fear language"? I felt used and manipulated, and not by the candidate or a committee (such manipulation is expected of them), but by someone's mother who pretended to confide in me as an old friend! Or worse, someone used their mother to manipulate me. Pathetic.

Robo Call Political Jokes

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 21:42:00 +0000

What's worse than telemarketing?
Telemarketing that leaves a message.

What's worse than telemarketing that leaves a message?
Telepoliticking.

What's worse than telepoliticking?
ROBOtelepoliticking.

What's worse than any of the above?
Robotelepolitical calls that leave messages and take up space.

How do you kill (robo)telepolitics of all kinds?
With a (robo)telepolitics of all kinds gun, of course!!
*Sigh* *Eye roll* No no no. You unplug your telephone for the next 10 days. "Of course".

If they find my cell phone number, I swear I will invent a (robo)telepolitics of all kinds gun.

Philadelphia Sports Fandom Balance Restored

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 21:20:00 +0000

In less than 24 hours, my faith in Philly sports teams has been ressurected.

The Phillies had a chance to be the first team--in MLB history, not just Phillies history--since the 1940s to go to the World Series three years in a row. That was over with by 11:00++ pm last night as 3rd out Ryan Howard watched strike three slither by. Fear the Beard. *SNort*. Go Texas.

Today, the Eagles were semi-blowing away the Titans after 3 quarters, making it seem as though they might not only win the game but, holy wow, actually be a HOT football team. Then suddenly, in ONE 15 MINUTE QUARTER the Titans scored 27 points. Final score. 36 -19. I won't even bring up the last play of the game. Google it. It was just so... so... Well, go google "long suffering" and "Philadelphia sports fans".

But Oh Em Gee. I'm so relieved. All that winning puts a lot of pressure on the average Philly fan. Now that I know it was all... you know... just teasers, and it's sports as usual in the Delaware Valley, I feel a lot better. (The Flyers and the Sixers, just getting started, could yet ruin the equilibrium, but who am I to complain?)

Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Fri, 14 May 2010 02:05:00 +0000

It's coming up on the 15th anniversary of my dad's passing. He's the guy on the far right in the photo above. He piloted that shot-up C-47 back to England after dropping troops into heavy fighting somewhere over Europe in 1944.

He's been on my mind a lot lately, so I thought I'd post the poem I wrote for him.

DAD
By Nan Jacobs © 2002

Dad I wish I knew
all that you went through.
Tall and quiet, you held within
your boyhood joys and carefree days,
friends, and Fords, and bright tomorrows;
a war… and peace… and countless sorrows.

I'm only now beginning
to understand how much
within the Dad who loved us
breathed a man who dreamed and such.

I can't speak of what molded you-
the "Dad" we never knew-
I only know what sculpted us;
it's thanks to you we grew.

You taught compassion, open minds,
and moral decency;
honesty, respect for all,
responsibility.

Dad, I hope you knew
in us some dreams came true.
Precious freedom to be "us",
creating our own stories
of love and dogs and bright tomorrows,
and not too many sorrows.

Polyphemus Moth

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Fri, 14 May 2010 01:33:00 +0000

This evening, while weeding the garden, I grabbed a handful of greens and started to pull. As my hand slid along the stem of a squirrel-planted pin oak tree-let, something caught my eye and thank heavens I stopped just before squashing this gorgeous creature, shown here with a (US)quarter-sized dandelion head for perspective:

It didn't fly away in alarm, so I'm assuming either it was cold, or had just metamorphed. His/her body is fuzzy all over, and his/her legs are all fuzzy looking too. It reminded me of a teddy bear! But I didn't want to disturb it to take a pic of the giant body underneath. When I went back later, it was gone. Adios, fair winds to you, Poly Giant!

A is for April... and Autism Awareness: Hair Dryers in a Toaster World

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Sat, 10 Apr 2010 16:36:00 +0000

"Awareness"... what is "awareness"? We have all kinds of "awareness" days, weeks and months, don't we? One could grow too accustomed, wave a hand and say, "pffft, another awareness something-or-other". But just the "Pffting" makes you more aware, doesn't it? :) So, "Awareness" as it pertains to autism is, to me, this:

not "let's find a cure"
not "yes it exists and I'm sick of hearing about it" (face it, autism is the 'fad disorder' of the decade, prone to much misinformation and misinterpretation)
but rather: lightbulb moments and acceptance.

What the world needs now... all that.

Having been on writing hiatus for a year, and intending to stay on hiatus until I'm no longer haitusing... I nonetheless wanted to put something of substance "out there" on this close-to-my-heart subject, and have just stumbled across someone who says it all so much better. It's gratifying to know there's a parent out there who can put things into words, *gracious* words, that others, like moi, can't find. This blog is a parents' point of view, not an autistic point of view, but this is a parent who accepts accepts accepts with a love strong enough to help others learn to accept. And I am a parent, so I share her with you out of, perhaps, a selfish movtivation ("please try to understand me and my kid!")

Enough pontificating. Click on the title of this blog to get to the toasters and hairdryers.

Thanks, MOM-NOS.

Bob "Bubba" Church: Shaking Things Up Elsewhere

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 21:31:00 +0000

Bob,

there are simply

no words

to express what your friendship has meant to me.

But I'll try.

Leaving life…

the time comes for us all;

finished or unfinished,

ready or not.

But if we can move on

with the satisfaction

of knowing

we've made the world a better place,

then we can move on

without regrets.

You, Bob, have done this.

You

have made

the world

a better place.

You gave the world your deeds.

Your deeds

boggle both

minds and hearts.

You gave the world your words.

Your words

engage both

minds and hearts.

You gave the world your family.

Your family

touches

minds and…

most especially…

hearts.

Minds and hearts.

Are these not the things that

make the world a better place?

Yep. You, Bob, have done this.

Semper fi.

Thanks, dear friend,

Nan

If anyone wants to have a peek into the mind of Bob, there's no better place to start than here (no profit to anyone but the printer):

And if what you find touches you in some way, contact me and I will make sure Bob's family receives your words, or leave a note on his blog (see side bar: Not Quite Right)

Goose Egg Momma

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 14:47:00 +0000

Goose egg one,
goose eggs two,
goose eggs three...
well, look there--FOUR!

When they're done,
happy you.
Now you're free
to lay some more.

Goose egg one,
goose eggs two
goose eggs three--
by gosh, ten more!

Oh such fun!
What a view
from the tree.
You'll lay no more!

Of course geese don't roost in trees, silly. But I bet they would if they could. Wouldn't you with all those babies trailing behind you, honking?! Don't miss "The Goose Chronicles": Click on the title, "Goose Egg Momma"

The Opening Bell

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Sun, 15 Mar 2009 18:56:00 +0000

[Note: I wrote this last May 2008... Interesting to note my attitude has changed a tad--but only a tad-- since then...]

At 9:18 a.m., daily, Monday through Friday, our local news radio station does a business show called "The Opening Bell". It heralds itself with a bell clanging wildly in imitation, I presume, of the one on Wall Street that announces at 9:30 a.m. Monday through Friday the official open of the trading. This opening bell makes me want to pry the rifle from Charlton Heston's cold dead hands and use it to crack that bell. Give me liberty or give me deaf!

Besides the Opening Din, the station does business reports every :25 and :55 of the hour, every day. But it seems like every five minutes. I flip on the station to hear weather (broadcast 4 times per hour), traffic (6 times per hour!) or sports (twice per hour) and inevitably get . . . (despite the obvious odds) the business report. (It must be assumed that, in a cosmic quirk of equivalence, those who flip on the station to hear the business reports are getting my weather, traffic or sports.)

It seems our economy lives and dies by Wall Street but I, well-educated citizen that I am, have absolutely zero interest in the business reports. All these mysterious indexes seem to run our lives-"NASDAQ" (NSDQ) (National Stock Duds racing team?), S&P 500 (Who won that this year? Earnhardt, Jr.?), the DOW Jones (well, I like to read "Mother Jones"… does that count?), NYSE (is it nice?) . . . I'm sure there must be thousands more. Nuku'alofa Stocks & Sands Exchange… Tuktoyaktuk -600 Wind Chill & Ice Index… who knows.

And how did we allow this to burgeon into a health hazard (witness my ears)? People kill themselves over this thing called the Stock Market! And if they don't, they get ulcers and heart attacks and divorced and put away in jail. Shouldn't there be a Surgeon General's warning?

But what do I know. I certainly don't know what "futures" are, much less pork bellies. When, in middle-and high-school economics classes, we chose stocks to follow, mine always tanked. I was-and remain-clueless. Oh, I could learn, and I suppose it would be a useful survival skill, compared to, say, catching fish (which do carry health-hazard warnings; just read your state's fish and game handbook.) with bare hands . . . but puh-lease! Give me my conservative little mutual fund for the IRA with my dollar cost averaging deposits, and let me forget about any market that doesn't include "super" in front of it.

And give me my gol-danged weather, traffic and sports reports! Hey, you there, listening to the sports report… I'll trade ya . . . .

Thank you all for your support!!! And one more thing... :)

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 20:05:00 +0000

Thanks to everyone who took the time to go and vote for "Twilight Whispers"! It came in 5th in the Preditors and Editors poll for best short romantic story of 2008! What a great honor.

Now it's in the running at "Long and Short Reviews" for best short of 2008!

If this keeps up (and I hope it does! heh!) I will be quite unable to make meals or do laundry for my family due to Big Head Syndrome (won't be able to get through the "office" [such as it is] door). (Not that they'll notice, since these activities are spotty at best.)

Romancing February: Beyond "Roses are Red"

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 05:00:00 +0000

Some people are so afraid to let their inner poet sparkle. But just imagine the happiness on your loved one(s)' face(s) when you present them with a special Valentine's poem. And imagine their surprise and delight when you tell them you wrote it yourself!

Bah, you say. I can't write poetry.

Baloney, I say.

On Valentine's Day, everyone's a poet (you know… the ole "Roses are Red" thing). Why don't you try it? I bet you can do better than "Roses are Red…"

I don't think of myself as a poet, either, so I like to fool around with forms that have specific requirements, such as cinquains, which give me a solid starting point. To write a cinquain, the form is five lines (with no need to rhyme) like this:

First line: two syllables

Second line: four syllables

Third line: six syllables

Fourth line: eight syllables

Fifth line: two syllables

They can be as simple or as "deep" as one wishes. They seem to flow best with minimal use of such words as the, and, as, of, etc., but without making it sound like you're forcing the absence of such words, either. (And aesthetically speaking, they're very cool looking if you format them as centered. They look like little Christmas trees! Useful, of course, for holiday cinquains. :-))

Here is one that I wrote a long time ago for a 60^th wedding anniversary, but now roll out every February or as needed.

My love
embraces you
with a joyous heart song
rising from a soul nurtured by
your love.

My love
cherishes you;
with every heart beat
it finds the purest essence of
your love.

Now you try. Post them here, or leave a link to your own blog where you've posted it. Anyone who leaves a comment here between today and Valentine's Day (Feb 14^th) (with or without a cinquain, but I will be so sad if you don't at least try :-) ), is entered to win a pdf copy of my 46 page short story Twilight Whispers. Winner announced late Feb 14th^th. Drawing by random generator: my kid via Pokéball.

Wait, there's more! If you write a cinquain and share it with us here as a comment, I will enter your name in a second drawing to win a cute little wrist-or-ankle bracelet (chain is 6 3/8 inches) with a heart-shaped charm (same deadlines, same random generator apply). From the heart is what counts. :)

For those who are blog-hopping, following the Romancing February (prizes daily! grand prize on Feb 28^th!) or who would like to catch up, yesterday's blog was Ashley Ludwig. Tomorrow's will be Susan Palmquist . To start from the beginning go to Amber Leigh Williams. Each post will lead you to the next blogspot.

The Powerful Voice of Jennifer Hudson

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 17:58:00 +0000

There are simply no words to describe this stirring performance. (View it quickly before the NFL insists on its removal)

Romancing February

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 05:00:00 +0000

On February 6th, SilverFoxTales will host the 6th day of a blog-hopping party for romance readers! Read on for details from the official event blurb:

"28 romance authors invite you to participate in a month-long event of love and laughter. Each day starting Feb. 1, 2009 an author will throw a romance party at her blog and host a contest with a prize. The link to the next day's blog location will also be provided at each location. Just drop by and enter the contest. And get ready to heat up the cold wintry days of February. You could win a prize a day!

"On February 28th, one person will be awarded the grand prize of a $75 WRP (Wild Rose Press) gift certificate. All you have to do to enter the grand prize contest is make a list of each author in this blog event and name one title she has available. Submit your list to Christmasrideblog@live.com by midnight CST, February 27, 2009. The winner will be announced on February 28th--just in time to warm up that person's February.

"Visit http://www.amberleighwilliams.blogspot.com on February 1st to begin."

A True and Honest Account of the Death of Johnny Ringo, By Doc Holliday

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Wed, 14 Jan 2009 21:53:00 +0000

The saloon doors swung open. Above the rowdy music and raucous laughter, an ominous sound reached our ears: the slow, deliberate "chink, chink" of spurred-and-booted feet stalking across wood plank floors, drawing ever closer.

"Howdy, Marshall," said Johnny Ringo. A sneer curved his overly sensual lips, belying his genial words. "What you drinkin'? 'S on me. Barkeep, pour our good sheriff another milk." He laughed then, in a tenor as manic and chilling as a soul should hope to never hear. The murderous gunslinger was a handsome man, though; I conceded him that, albeit he was destined to never again expend his manly substance on pretty Miss Carrie, who presently screeched out a bawdy song vis-à-vis her nightly business ventures.

The brooding man whom Ringo addressed slouched indifferently against the bar. Tombstone's sheriff and my good friend, Wyatt Earp, grunted. He pushed his shot glass across the polished bar surface. Barkeep poured him two fingers of milk. Earp tidily groomed his thin, dark moustache before sipping the vile stuff with as much politesse as any woman. For making public note of such a thing, however, a man might get himself killed.

I downed my bourbon in one swift gulp and pushed my cup across, as well. Barkeep handed me the whole damned bottle. "Thank you, Sir," I said. "Put it on his tab." I inclined my head toward Ringo.

"Why you--" Ringo barely laid his fingers on his gun before I had my revolver unholstered and aimed straight between his wild, ice-blue eyes. Forthwith, the piano player ceased his hammering, Miss Carrie uttered one last screech, and silence descended over the heretofore-boisterous saloon.

"You, Sir, are temptin' me mightily to look for an excuse to blow a hole clean through that empty vessel you call a head."

At this pronouncement, patrons dove under tables and shielded themselves with chairs and any such accoutrement to which they could lay hand.

Ringo's hand moved and I squeezed the trigger. Once, twice, a third time for good measure. The harsh scents of fear and gunpowder pervaded my nostrils. Ringo jerked with each shot. Dark red liquid sprayed forth as, one after another, the bullets exploded through his brain.

He slid to the floor as his life's blood bubbled and frothed from his mouth, ears, and the supplementary holes in his heinous head. I holstered my pistol and poured a generous drought of bourbon into my tin cup, which had never departed my other, idle hand.

Earp raised his glass, half empty now of the repulsive milk. With a shudder, I tapped my cup against his glass. Then, Earp slowly turned himself about on his elbows and observed Ringo's lifeless form. "Vermin," he said. "Much obliged, Doc."

He jerked his head toward Ringo's body, summoning forth two strapping cowboys who then dragged the expired villain away.

I often wonder, now in my later years as I lie slowly spewing forth my own life's blood to this cruel consumption (which has not taken me quickly enough to suit), if Miss Carrie mourned Johnny Ringo. She was but a prostitute who, gladly and with great enthusiasm, gave womanly comfort to all manner of men including myself and, I daresay, Wyatt and his brothers. She left town, however, one week after Ringo's death. Some say Miss Carrie changed her name and thenceforth commanded as ruthless a gang of outlaws as yet defiled our land, only to end her life on a rope in Mexico.

Do we not, then, each pay the debts of our souls in this lifetime?

************************************

The above scene and the character called Miss Carrie are fictional.

Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp, two legends of the American West, really existed, as did their association in Tombstone, Arizona with each other and John Ringo, a feared gunslinger and outlaw of the times.

Wyatt Earp passed away in 1929, aged 80, having, amazingly, never sustained a bullet wound.

Tuberculosis finally took the life of John Henry "Doc" Holliday, a well educated, but volatile, Georgian, in 1887. He was 36.

It is not known by whose hand John Ringo died. His body was found in July 1882, a single bullet through the brain being the apparent cause of death. It is highly doubtful that either Wyatt Earp or Doc Holliday killed him, although I surmise neither mourned his passing. During their mutual time in Tombstone, the three men had run-ins aplenty, with and without guns. In addition, there exists the likelihood of tension between Holliday and Ringo over a woman, Holliday's wife, "Big Nose Kate".

I wrote this as an attempt to write in a voice entirely not my own. Lesson learned.... it is difficult to disguise one's own writing voice.

Sources:

Tefertiller, Casey. Wyatt Earp The Life Behind the Legend.
New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1997

Tefertiller, Casey. "Dangerous Charm: John Ringo of Tombstone." WildWest February 2000: 38+

Pretty Please with Whipped Cream on Top?

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 03:49:00 +0000

Well holy moly! My dear sweet favoritest editor Sarah Hansen, of The Wild Rose Press, who brought Twilight Whispers to the light of day--well, to the backlight of a computer screen or e-reader, at any rate-- nominated Twilight Whispers for Best Short Story (romance) at the Preditors and Editors annual reader's poll! Not only that, it's currently tied for 12th place!

Thank you to everyone who's lent their support already, and thanks in advance to those who might still (hint hint hehehe) sneak over there by January 14th (that's Wednesday!) and put a dot next to Twilight Whispers on this page:

http://www.critters.org/predpoll/shortstoryr.shtml

or next to Sarah Hansen's name (she's #10! at this very moment) here:

http://www.critters.org/predpoll/bookeditor.shtml

And while you're at it, give a shout out to Word Catalyst Magazine's fantastic founder and editor, Shirley Allard:

http://www.critters.org/predpoll/zineeditor.shtml

and to Word Catalyst magazine itself:

Fiction e-zine: http://www.critters.org/predpoll/fictionzine.shtml
Poetry e-zine: http://www.critters.org/predpoll/poetryzine.shtml
Non-fiction e-zine: http://www.critters.org/predpoll/nonfictionzine.shtml

No need to stay glued to CNN for this election. Poll standings can be viewed here:

http://www.critters.org/predpoll/tally.html

There. That little project should keep you out of trouble for a while...

Book of My Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Thu, 08 Jan 2009 21:24:00 +0000

Book of My Heart
by Bob Church (aka "Not quite Right")

I've known Bob since... oh... 1999? 1998?? 2000??? heh... anyway, for a pretty long time. In September '08, I met him and his family in person for the first time, along with a few other writers from the Word Catalyst Magazine online family. What a trip (including the hot rental Mustang and the St Louis arch, but those are just side notes to the food--oy vey!-- and cameraderie).

Bob is probably the most versatile writer I know. He can wrap a complete story around one word that intrigues him (he has caused worn pages in my dictionary let me tell you!), and this old Marine Vet writes some of the most romantic poetry one can imagine. Then of course there's the alter ego, Bubba Strunk. Oh my.

This collection of Bob's poetry, short stories and novellas is my tribute to his life and talent--and it barely scratches the surface of the body of his work. Thanks to those who requested specific stories and poems, and to those who helped out in other ways.

If you've never read anything of Bob's, your life is not complete. That's all there is to it.

And after you've read it, go to his "Not Quite Right" blog and leave a note for him on his last post. I know he'd love to hear from you.

[Note: The book is not for sale for profit; it is merely a sharing of Bob's... um... uniqueness... using the "blurb.com" software to compile it and make it available. The cost you see is the base cost that blurb.com charges to offer the book and print it on demand. I ordered test copies and am pleased with the quality. If you follow the link, you can preview the first 15 pages.]

WINNERS OF CONTEST #2

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 04:56:00 +0000

Congratulations to Jo J of PA for coming up with the most # of correct detailed answers.

Second place was a tie, for which a random draw (close the eyes and pick) determined the second place winner to be Karen H of NC.

Congratulations to Jo and Karen! Thanks to everyone who took part, and thank you for reading Twilight Whispers!

I will be contacting you soon for your preference in gift certificates.

Here are the correct answers:

1. What color is the wooden soldier?

Scarlet, Prussian red, with gold epaulets

2. What color are Lee's eyes?

Twilight blue

3. What music is playing when Lee first walks into the room where Bethany is dancing by herself?

Raucous Chuck Berry rock-n-roll

WINTER SOLSTICE

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 03:11:00 +0000

There is something magical to me about the winter solstice, heralding the slow return of longer days in the Northern Hemisphere. This was the view out our back window this afternoon as the sun set at its earliest for the year, after melting some (but not all, as you can see!) of the ice from our trees and shrubs today, left from the ice storm on Dec 19th.

White Christmas Book Jublilee

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 05:49:00 +0000

(click on the image above to see all 12 goofy days!)

December 8th to the 14th -- Come one, Come all to a special Christmas Book giveaway event. Make sure to pop in everyday for a chance to win. There will be lots going on everyday--all day long.

White Christmas Book Jubilee
14 Authors ~ 14 Holiday Book Giveaways
December 8th to December 14th
Free Books, Holiday Recipes, and Excerpts to warm you to the tips of your toes
Don’t miss the celebration!
http://cindykgreen.blogspot.com/dykg reen.blogspot.com/

Schedule:
Monday, December 8th – Rose Ross Zediker & Jan Scarbrough
Tuesday, December 9th – Pamela Thibodeaux & Linda Swift
Wednesday, December 10th – Cindy K. Green & Sarita Leone
Thursday, December 11th – Kara Lynn Russell & Anna Kathryn Lanier
Friday, December 12th – Marianne Arkins & Stacey Joy Netzel
---->Saturday, December 13th – Nan Jacobs & Teri Wilson<---
Sunday, December 14th – Stacy Dawn & Carla Rossi

That Intangible "Something": What's Yours?

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 00:26:00 +0000

When we read a romance, the author has to make us believe that the hero and heroine will still be together 25 or 50 or 60 years later, once the backseat of the car or the top of the kitchen counter are no longer feasible (oh, but certainly not impossible! heh!) options for spontaneous demonstrations of all-consuming passion. In our real lives, that elusive element is, perhaps, a bit harder to perceive.

Because my husband and I recently celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary (like… whoa…), I'd like to ask you to consider what you believe to be that intangible "something" that holds a long term relationship together over the years. I'm sure there's a list somewhere, and I know there must be relationship books that cover this topic, but what I want to know is, what, to you, is the most important "intangible" that enhances the chances that a long term relationship will survive?

For us, it seems to be the ability to have fun, and a sense of humor—particularly the ability to laugh at ourselves or at the two of us as a couple, as an entity. Our worst quarrel involved the banging about of small pieces of furniture. (Okay, let's be honest… kitchen chairs…) Who knows, anymore, what aroused our ire with each other to the point we lost our verbal skills completely! (Well… not quite… ahem.) What matters, though, is that we eventually moved past whatever "it" was, and have turned that moment into an asset. Now, when a disagreement escalates, we routinely threaten each other--in jest, mind you!--with a chair toss and inevitably break out laughing. The dispute is not forgotten, but it is put in its proper perspective and settled in less of a R-o-l-a-i-d-s moment.

Let's hear your thoughts on the "intangible somethings" that keep love alive.

Woo hoo! A "5-Book" Review at The Long and Short of It

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 05:53:00 +0000

Read the review

A lovely email came from these folks telling me that Twilight Whispers is up for Best Book honor this weekend (voting runs from Saturday, 12/6, through Sunday, 12/7/08). You can find the info (click here) at LASR. I'll be very grateful to anyone who takes a moment to go and vote (wait!! I thought we were all done with this "Get Out The Vote" stuff!! ahhhhiieeeeeeee!)

What City Do You Belong In?

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 05:07:00 +0000

Okay, so I found this fun little thing on Cindy Green's blog and thought I'd send it out into more of the world. I kind of figured myself for more of a Tuktoyaktuk kind of soul, but hey... London will do in a pinch. Let me know where you belong, too! Maybe we will meet one day in London. Or Tuk. Heh!

You Belong in London

A little old fashioned, and a little modern.

A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock.

A unique soul like you needs a city that offers everything.

No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What City Do You Belong In?

Contest #1 Winners!

noreply@blogger.com (Nan J) — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 02:18:00 +0000

Congratulations to

WENDY DAVIS and

MARY RICKSEN

You have each won a free copy of Twilight Whispers! Don't forget to enter Contest #2, after you've read it, for the chance to win a $15.00 gift certificate to your choice amazon.com or thewildrosepress.com (second place = $5.00 gift certificate). See Contest #2 blog post for details. (Deadline is Dec 23rd)

Drawing of papers with names was done by my personal random generator, my kid. :)