Has blogging lost it's sparkle?

by: Joelle Charbonneau

In the last year, I’ve heard people starting to call into question the relevance of blogs.  Years ago, and I’m not talking all that many years ago, blogs were fresh and different.  Only a couple of authors blogged.  The novelty of that daily or weekly contact with a favorite author made those blogs must-reads for a lot of fans.  The popularity of those blogs made blogging the ‘it’ thing to do.  Suddenly, all authors needed to blog.  Publishers, editors, public relations and marketing folk and agents all embraced blogging as the new, surefire way for an author to gain a following.  It’s easy to understand why.  In the good old days-AKA early 2000s and all the years before-readers had to go to an author event to connect on a personal level with their favorite authors.  Travel gets expensive, so it is no wonder writers and their publishing teams embraced the lower cost, longer reaching arm that blogging provided.

Yay for technology.

Or not. 

Fast forward to the here and now.  The internet has grown exponentially in the past decade.  Almost every business has a web presence and a large percentage of authors blog on places on the web like (but not near as fun as) this one.  Where blogging was once a unique, never before chance to glimpse into an author’s life, it has become more an expected commodity.  “Oh.  You’re an author.  What blog are you on?” is something I heard more than once at BEA last week. 

Blogging is expected.  However, knowing that the question has to be asked—because there are so many blogs out there, has blogging lots its effectiveness?

I admit that I love blogging here at the Stiletto Gang!  The ladies not only allow me (the girl who never wears stilettos) to play, but are incredibly supportive.  So, I know that my reasons for blogging are less about promotion and more about community and fun.  But it would be great to know your reasons for reading and or writing blogs. 

Do you seek out new blogs and actively comment on them?  Do you only comment on blogs that you know and feel comfortable with?  Are you like me who lurks a lot and doesn’t comment, but loves reading about what my friends are up to?  Or do you think that blogs have gotten lost in the glut of content that is available online?  What new and fresh things should authors be doing in order to keep their blogs relevant to readers?

We may not solve the problems of world peace here at the Stiletto Gang, but maybe we’ll come up with a new way to cut through the noise that is the internet and connect with each other on an even better level!

My Summer TV!

By Evelyn David

Remember when summer television was a vast wasteland of reruns! Not so much anymore.

With all the cable stations available, the competition for viewers is tough and in order to compete many networks now offer shows that air new material in the summer months.

Some of my favorites have returned this month, more next month.

Rizzoli and Isles is airing new episodes. Often it's just too cute for words with the junior high "girl buddy" theme, but out of loyalty to the brilliant novels by Tess Gerritsen, I watch. Lorraine Bracco is excellent as "Jane's" mother. She's probably my favorite character on the tv series.

Falling Skies is returning for its second season. Aliens have taken over the world and Dr. John Carter from ER fame, okay Noah Wyle is famous for other roles now, but he'll always be Dr. Carter to me – anyway he's leading a group of survivors who are fighting back. Special effects are well done and the plot's interesting. Last season ended with Dr. Carter about to be sucked up into an alien spacecraft.

For light fun, I enjoy USA Network's Royal Pains. Nothing like spending the summer in The Hamptons seeing how the other half vacations. Great scenery and likeable characters.

If the temperatures get too hot, there's always Ice Road Truckers. I lived in Alaska for a couple of years and I enjoy the show for the scenery. I also liked watching trucker "Lisa" compete with the guys, but for some reason she's not back this season. The series probably won't have the same appeal for me.

My favorite, The Closer, is back in July with its final six episodes. The star, Kyra Sedgwick, has decided she'd "closed" enough cases and is headed back to New York and husband Kevin Bacon. Not sure how the writers are going to end "Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson's" employment with the LAPD. My bets are either with a pregnancy or a long overdue return to visit her parents in Atlanta. The rest of "Chief Johnson's" squad will immediately, as in the hour following the final Closer episode, become the ensemble cast of the new spinoff series, Major Crimes. The incomparable actress, Mary McDonnell, "Stands With a Fist" from Dancing with Wolves and more recently of Battlestar Galactica fame, headlines the new show. I think it should be a great addition to TNT's network, if Mary's character, "Captain Sharon Raydor," can manage to get out from under the shadow of "Chief Johnson." Only time will tell.

Anyone planning to watch the new Dallas? I will if only for the nostalgia factor. When I was in high school the marching band played the theme from Dallas at all our football games. "Who shot J.R.?" was the first cliffhanger I remember my generation talking about for an entire summer.

I'd write more but I this is shark week on the Syfy channel. Jersey Shore just got attacked by red-eyed albino sharks and I've got to see how the movie ends.

What are you watching this summer?

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David

Zoned for Murder - Kindle (Exclusive at Amazon this month)

Brianna Sullivan Mysteries - e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah- Kindle (Exclusive at Amazon this month)
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
A Haunting in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Lottawatah Twister - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Missing in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Good Grief in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

The Ghosts of Lottawatah - trade paperback collection of the Brianna e-books
Book 1 - I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries (includes the first four Brianna e-books)
Book 2 - A Haunting in Lottawatah (includes the 5th, 6th, and 7th Brianna e-books)

Sullivan Investigations Mystery
Murder Off the Books Kindle - Nook - Smashwords - Trade Paperback
Murder Takes the Cake Kindle - Nook - Smashwords - Trade Paperback
Riley Come Home (short story)- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Moonlighting at the Mall (short story) - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

Romances
Love Lessons - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

Novel Writing & the Food Network

            

 By Laura Spinella

            I’ve been on novel hiatus for a few weeks—okay, maybe closer to a month. Savvy writing advice suggests novelists start another project immediately after finishing one.  Unfortunately, this strategy is not in my author DNA.  I need a break. Novel writing is hard work, and my muse is a lazy soul.  With this mindset in motion, it’s not long before a writing sabbatical lulls me into a Haagen-Daz, what’s my purpose in life, mode. It’s a slippery slope, though I slide willingly—onto my living room sofa.  From here I drift, like a garbage barge on the ocean, toward the oasis of reality TV.  

I retreat to the Food Network where distraction is a staple menu item. This is low-maintenance reality TV.  There are no dysfunctional families to sort through; no convoluted backstories to grasp, meaning you can pull into Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives anytime.  Here, bleach blond, spiked-haired host Guy Fieri travels the country, visiting quirky road-kill um, roadside restaurants. At a glance, one can presume that lax sanitary conditions are meant to be a metaphor for atmosphere. During these visits, Fieri ingests enough lard-based house specials to be on prepayment plan for his future triple bypass.  Sadly, one can only stomach so much of Fieri’s orgasmic reaction to pork parts slathered in Jimmy-Joe’s volcanic hot sauce, and I move onto Chopped.

I am amused by this post-Julia Child generation effort, a program that is not so much about cooking as it is about the $10,000 prize. The money is poised to transform any one of the competitors’ lives. Seriously? Ten-thousand bucks is all it’s gonna take to turn your life around?  Most contestants want to open a restaurant. Unless the plan is to open a restaurant in their basement, ten-grand isn’t enough to keep a diner in doughnuts, never mind using it as venture capital. Regardless, you have to love the show’s energy. Four wannabe Emerils put their creative and cooking moxie to the test by using secret basket ingredients such as tree bark, goat urine, and Japanese jellyfish to prepare their dishes. Sometimes I feel for the contestants, but mostly I sympathize with the judges who have taste test the results.

I am restless, needing something with more substance. I stick with the Food Network and tune into Restaurant Rehab.  This is boot camp hell for wayward restaurateurs. Have the '80s called asking for their mauve drapes and mirrored walls? Do you employ your toothless, recently paroled cousin as your chef?  Is your staff under the impression that they are indentured servants, too stupid to quit, trapped like rats on a sinking ship? Well then, enter iron-armed, drill sergeant chef Robert Irvine.  This guy looks like he bench presses Viking stoves for fun.  In forty-eight hours Robert is going to fix everything from the décor to the cousin, perhaps sending him for dental implants before the grand reopening. Frankly, Robert scares me. But maybe that’s what it takes to rewire thirty years of learned behavior in thirty minutes. Assuming he understood the premise of the show before he signed on, Chef Robert appears oddly outraged to find himself thrust into this hopeless mess. After berating the widowed proprietor for her inability to get a clue or at least a functioning carpet sweeper, he tears apart the dining room décor. Usually, this is cavernous square footage that could seat hundreds. It occurs to me that the real problem is location. The rehab restaurant is almost always situated in a pea-size town, bypassed by the bypass a decade earlier. Nevertheless, Robert goes to work ushering in his design team. Now, if you look closely, you’ll recognize Taniya Nayak, his go-to designer.  She’s a decorating refugee from HGTV and saddled with the dilemma of stretching a $10,000 budget to cover the 100K makeover the place truly needs. She also appears oblivious to her short of end of the stick. Taniya’s chipper attitude never wavers. Not even when Chef Robert berates her for taking too long to execute an overhaul that, in real reality, should take six months. Someday Taniya will decide she’s had enough, taking kerosene and a match to the sprawling space.  In the meantime, Chef Robert heads into the kitchen to scream at um, mentor the chef.  As we suspect, this is a doomed encounter.  In no time, he’s made the ex-con cousin wish he’d violated parole.  But no worries, it’s all going to be okay; Chef Robert has a plan. He’ll teach the unskilled chef how to prepare foolproof dishes, complete with sauces, mastering each one before the grand reopening—which occurs in about an hour. Of course, this three-act drama plays out to perfection as Chef Robert saves the day. He waves goodbye to a restaurant brimming with happy diners and staff, insisting a call from Zagat is imminent. I flip Chef Robert off and sigh longingly at my pollen covered laptop. Novel writing would be  snap if only my next book had a slot on the Food Network.

                 

Laura Spinella is the author of BEAUTIFUL DISASTER. A 2012 RITA finalist, the novel is the recipient of the NJRWA Golden Leaf and Desert Rose RWA Golden Quill awards for Best First Book, as well as a finalist in the Wisconsin RWA Writer's Touch award for Best Mainstream Novel. Visit her at lauraspinella.net.  

         

      

What Made You Write This Book?

By Lynn Cahoon

I am so excited to be at The Stiletto Gang. Big thanks to my BFF Laura for inviting me.

Ever since I found out that The Bull Rider’s Brother was going to be published, I’ve been asked the ‘author’ questions from friends, family and relatives. Like, when are you going to write a real book, like (insert popular book title here – from Twilight to Sarah’s Keys). Or, where do you get your ideas? Did this story happen to you? And my favorite, How can I get published?

So today, I’m answering one of those questions. Where do you get your ideas?

The Bull Rider’s Brother is a small town, cowboy, secret baby, homecoming story. Say that five times fast.

The background for the book started the day after I met the man I would marry.

Dating again after divorce, I’ll admit, I was in pretty rough shape, emotionally and financially. All I was looking for was someone to have fun with. And the current man in my life fit that description (we’ll call him Date Boy #1.) I wasn’t in love. Wasn’t looking for love.

One night, Date Boy #1 and I were in a bar. He played darts, I drank beer. As I sat and talked to the other players, I realized, I was again settling. Getting myself involved with someone who I didn’t love, but who was convenient.

The next day Date Boy #1 and I went to the Riggins Rodeo. For those of you who have lived in a small town, you know how an event can take on a life of its own. That’s what happens each year when the rodeo comes to this little canyon town. Rodeo weekend is one big party running from the corrals and stands south of town, to the park on the north side. I enjoyed the weekend, but knew I would have to end the relationship because I wasn’t being honest. With Date Boy #1 or myself.

That weekend became a turning point in my life. Where I started to really trust that I could have the man of my dreams and the life I’d always wanted. That my choices mattered. I didn’t know it at the time, but one of those dart players I had been talking to that night, would become my best friend and my husband.

When I started writing this book, I knew my setting. I wanted Lizzie and James, my star crossed lovers in The Bull Rider’s Brother, to be from a small town like Riggins. I knew that as teenagers, their only plan was how to escape the small town. And, I knew that only one of them was successful.

And that was all I knew when I started writing. That and one of them would be running a tilapia farm. (That part got changed during revision.)

Is The Bull Rider’s Brother a story from my own experience? Yes and no. The setting, the gentle sounds of the river running through the town, the ice cream at the end of the parade? All from memories of my weekend.

The rest is and should be a work of fiction.

What questions do you want to ask your favorite author?

*          *          *

Growing up in the middle of cowboy country, Lynn Cahoon was destined to fall in love with a tall, cool glass of water. Now, she enjoys writing about small town America, the cowboys who ride the range, and the women who love them. Contact her at her website – http://www.lynncahoon.wordpress.com/

*          *          *

The Bull Rider’s Brother 

Rodeo weekend is the start of the summer the entire town of Shawnee, Idaho. On a girl's night out, Lizzie Hudson finds herself comparing her life as a single mom with her best friend's successful career when James Sullivan, the cowboy who got away, walks his Justin Ropers back into her life. Seeing him shakes Lizzie's world but James is in for an even more eventful weekend, learning he has a son. James has enough on his plate trying to manage his brother's bull riding career. Can he learn to redefine family and become part of Lizzie's life before she gives up on him and marries another?

The Bull Rider’s Brother is a series contemporary romance about Lizzie Hudson, a single mom who wants to keep her life just the way it is, thank you. The problems you know are less scary than the problems you don’t.

When James Sullivan comes back for the town’s rodeo weekend and finds out that his high school sweetheart had his child, six years ago, Lizzie’s world is thrown into turmoil and she must decide if safety and certainty are worth giving up on a chance for love. A love that an emotionally damaged James may never be able to return, breaking her and her son’s heart in the process.

http://www.amazon.com/The-Bull-Riders-Brother-ebook/dp/B008195C2I/ref=la_B0082PWOAO_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1336860703&sr=1-1

Writing Emotionally

by Bethany Maines

Just so you know, I’m writing this blog under duress. I have this great idea for a story where I give one of my characters a heart attack (literally) and instead I’m having to do other, actual work. The horror! How dare real life interfere with the creation of fiction? This is exactly the kind of feeling that leads to me receiving emails from my boss saying things like “For an illustrator, you sure type a lot.” Of course I type a lot! I’m writing a whole novel over here.  Sheesh.  Oh wait, you’re not paying me to write a novel? Rigghhhhht. Got it. I will attempt to remember that and to actually care. Fortunately, these days I’m more or less self-employed (I have a business partner who eyes me suspiciously if I start to wander off too much), but it’s still surprising how much the pursuit of a second career interferes with the first one.

Meanwhile, as excited as I am about my new idea, it occurs to me that many of my ideas lately have involved a strong element of hospitals, death and dying. I attribute this to the fact that my friends and I, in the last year or so, have been experiencing the loss of parents and grandparents at a rate that I think is rather alarming. However, my hair cutter described the issue with humorous sangfroid as just a light bulb problem. “Well, it’s like light bulbs, if you put them in all at once they all tend to, you know, go out all at once.” True enough, and I even laughed, but it’s always different when they’re your light bulbs.

They say that art imitates life, or vice versa, but I think fiction imitates therapy. I can’t afford to go see a therapist about my unresolved feelings about people dying and all life eventually ending, but I can make my characters suffer and come to some sort of emotional resolution for me. It works great, and it’s so much cheaper. Not to mention, that it let’s me indulge my God complex without a therapist calling me on it. It does make me wonder about other authors though. Shakespeare for instance – that’s a lot of killing and cross-dressing for one dude.  And what’s up with Beattrix Potter?  Can we say bunny fixation? But we love both those authors, so maybe mental issues are cathartic to read as well as write?  I guess I can only hope.

What I Learned at my Aunt's Memorial Service

No, this is not going to be morbid. My Aunt Flossie lived to be 100 years, 6 months, and one day old. She had a most productive and mostly wonderful life. Auntie was the sickly one, often had migraines, had some life-threatening illnesses, and there were several times we thought she might die.

She was quite the belle of the ball when she was young and had many suitors. (That's what they called them in that day.) She and my mom drove to UCLA in a jointly-owned Whippet which had lots of flat tires. Both Flossie and my mom learned to drive out of self-preservation. Their mom (my grandma) got her license by writing in for it. She tried to learn to drive unsuccessfully, with her terrified daughters cowering on the floor of the back seat of whatever car she was driving. Flossie didn't give up driving until she was in her mid '90s.

My grandparents sent my Mom and Flossie to Hawaii as a reward for graduation from college. (In those day you went my ship and they roomed with a mother and daughter they didn't know.) My mom was married at the time and had me. My dad and I were left behind to fend for ourselves, I was probably around 4. Years later I learned my mom went along to chaperone and keep my auntie out of trouble. And from stories both told, Auntie did have a great time flirting and dancing with many young men.

She married a handsome policeman, had one daughter, divorced, and later in life, remarried her husband and remained with him until he died.

Flossie became a school teacher, later a music teacher and finally the head of music for the whole school district, K through high school. She made all of her own clothes, most of them in some shade of purple her favorite color.

She was one of the founders of the church she belonged to for over 60 years where she also taught Sunday School, headed Vacation Bible School, played the piano for the Sunday services--and continued to play for Wednesday night service into her late 90s.

We, the family along with her church family, students she taught, people she worked with, friends and even those who cared from her in her later years, gathered together this past weekend to celebrate her life. And celebrate we did--few tears and lots of laughing and sharing of stories.

Note the color scheme and the color of the preacher's tie. He said it was Flossie's favorite

The gathering was also kind of a family reunion. Many of us haven't seen each other for a long, long time.

This is only some of whom came: my son Matt isn't in the photo nor is Flossie's stepson and his daughter who were also there.

Top Row: My Granddaughter Melissa, My Great Granddaughter, Carolyn, Sister's Grandaughter Samantha, Sister's daughter Linda, my daughter Lisa, Me, Flossie's daughter, Dixie, Sister Margie, my daughter, Lori, Dixie's son and Flossie's grandson, Gary.

First Row, the four little kids are Samantha's--my sis's greats and the two bigger kids, Izzy and Sarah, Linda's kids (my sister's grand kids.)

It was a 3 1/2 hour drive to Southern California and the traffic was horrible--Memorial weekend--but it was well-worth the trip.

I had several aunties, but Flossie was always a favorite. I loved to hear her stories--though she and my mom often had different version of the same tale.

Okay, I know I was going to quit telling family stories, but I just had to do this one. (Yes, I'm still writing and promoting my latest book, No Bells, which is now available on Kindle and the Nook.

Marilyn

Those Brits are Keepers

By Evelyn David

First, let me offer my congratulations to Lillibet, otherwise known as Queen Elizabeth II, who is celebrating her Diamond Jubilee. In today's economy, anyone who can hold a job for 60 years is impressive.

I adore Great Britain and have been fortunate enough to spend a fair amount of time there. I studied at Oxford one summer; spent several months in London while my husband did research; visited my kids when they've spent academic semesters in The Big Smoke (aka London), Edinburgh, and Glasgow. And does it count that I love tea and collect teacups?

And then there's my life-long fan crushes on British actors: Richard Burton (I waited four hours in the rain to see him walk by when he appeared on Broadway); Sean Connery who I would listen to read The Yellow Pages; Maggie Smith who can be a wizardess or a dowager with equal ease; and Helen Mirren who is convincing as both The Queen and a no-nonsense Chief Detective.

 I've gotten totally hooked on a British TV series…and it's not Downton Abbey. It's a quirky comedy/drama called Doc Martin and is best described as a fish out of water tale about a surgeon, with a slight case of Asperger's and a fear of blood, who moves to a small village in Cornwall, falls in love with the local schoolteacher, while hilarity and medical crises ensue.

Let me say upfront that the Brits know how to do television series. The settings are always lush and for the most part, the cast is made up of character actors who have steady gigs in a variety of shows. Part of the fun is recognizing that the judge in MI-5 and the doctor in Midsomer Murders, is now playing the village plumber/caterer in Doc Martin (Ian McNeice).

One of the reasons I think these shows are so successful is because they have such short seasons – 6-8 episodes a year. In the case of Doc Martin, there was even a year-long hiatus between season 4 and 5 so the star Martin Clunes and his wife, producer Philippa Braithwaite could take their daughter on a proper holiday. And after a year's absence, the opening episode of Season Five continued the action on the same day as the previous season had ended. Just a couple of hours had elapsed in Doc Martin country.

The British approach seems to be a more manageable pace. It means that the writers, the actors, and the audience don't get worn out by a glut of episodes, usually 22 for an American series, which are often mediocre because they've been churned out like soft-serve ice cream.

So may I offer a toast to Queen Elizabeth II, on this momentous occasion. We'll raise a cuppa and offer, Love Live the Queen!

Marian, the Northern half of Evelyn David

Zoned for Murder - Kindle (Exclusive at Amazon this month)

Brianna Sullivan Mysteries - e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah- Kindle (Exclusive at Amazon this month)
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
A Haunting in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Lottawatah Twister - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Missing in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Good Grief in Lottawatah - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

The Ghosts of Lottawatah - trade paperback collection of the Brianna e-books
Book 1 - I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries (includes the first four Brianna e-books)

Sullivan Investigations Mystery
Murder Off the Books Kindle  - Nook - Smashwords - Trade Paperback
Murder Takes the Cake Kindle - Nook - Smashwords - Trade Paperback
Riley Come Home (short story)- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Moonlighting at the Mall (short story) - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

Romances
Love Lessons - Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

The Poodle from H-E-Double Hockey Stick

By Laura Bradford

In preparation for writing this post, I jumped online in search of a photograph that would capture the true evilness of my fourth grade nemesis. Yet, despite page after page of poodle pictures, all I could find were (*deep swallow*) cute versions of the four-legged creature that had tortured me on a near daily basis while waiting at the bus stop in my blue and white plaid uniform.

Cute poodles...

Who knew?

So, since I am completely unable to consider the possibility that such a version of my torturer exists, this post will not have a picture. Instead, I'll give you a literary account and leave the visualizing up to you, The Stiletto Faithful...

Fourth Grade Me: Light brown hair, chubby cheeks, a happy-go-lucky enough personality, loved school, and was on the cusp of stumbling across my writing dream. I still wasn't a huge fan of chocolate (trust me...I gasp at the thought now, too) at this point. I loved to color. I loved to play Barbies. My favorite dinner in the whole wide world was my mom's Pot Roast and Noodles, and my favorite lunch in the whole wide world was left over meat loaf (cold, on sandwich bread, and topped with ketchup--YUM!).

Feel free to read that last sentence again. It goes along with my still-runs-deep despisement of poodles...

Chablis: Dishwater brown fur. Fat. Way bigger than a poodle should be. And MEAN. He loved nothing more than racing down his driveway (which was across from the driveway where I waited for the bus each morning), barking his head off, hell bent on terrorizing the neighborhood children.

Nope, no bias there. Just giving an honest account...

The Day That Made Me Hate Poodles Forever:  I'm standing at the bus stop in my aforementioned Catholic school uniform with my school bag beside my feet and my brown paper lunch sack clutched tightly in my hand. Despite being the kind of kid who actually enjoyed going off to school each day, this particular day was extra special. For in my brown paper lunch sack was a meat loaf sandwich...with ketchup. All I wanted to do was get on the bus, learn what I needed to learn the first half of the day, and finally get to the point where I could spread my lunch across my desk and dig in (because, after all, what kid wouldn't envy a leftover meatload sandwich?!?!?).

So there I am, waiting for the bus, when Chablis comes out of nowhere and starts racing down the hill, barking his head off as he always did.

Which, prompted the response I always gave...

I ran.

Only, on this particular day, I dropped my lunch sack when I took off.

And you know what? That damn dog grabbed a hold of that bag and raced right up the hill...with my meatloaf sandwich encased in his evil little mouth.

I, of course, ran home in absolute hysterics (wouldn't you?!?!?) only to discover that the meatloaf on my sandwich was the last of the leftovers from the previous night's dinner and peanut butter was now in order.

Peanut butter...for me.

Meatloaf...for Chablis.

See? I don't get the cute factor...

~Laura

P.S (a.k.a. a shout-out, if I may):  HEARSE AND BUGGY, the first book in my new Amish Mysteries with Berkley/Penguin releases on Tuesday!!!  I'd love it if you'd give it a try. And if you enjoy it, I'd love it even more if you'd help spread the word. In the meantime, you can find chapter one of HEARSE AND BUGGY on my website: http://www.laurabradford.com/. There, you'll find lots of pictures...but absolutely no poodles. :)