Idling through Memory Lane with recipes

After a frantic search for my sister's recipe for chocolate cake I found it tucked in one of my recipe note books and I made the cake. It is delicious. As I flipped pages, picked up loose recipes showering down on the floor I almost lost heart but soldiered on until Edna's recipe turned up. It's on a 5x3 card, covered in ancient chocolate stains but readable.

I found recipes with names and dates on them. The past lives on. "Goulash Soup from my daughter-in-law, Alana, Cold Lake, Alberta. 1987, Chicken Huntingdon, Bonnie Bean, Toronto, November 1987, Baked Chicken with Mustard, Mary Gray, Victoria, 1990. Potatoes Romanoff from my cousin Gladys, who has since died of breast cancer. Welsh Cakes, Joan Moody, Victoria,1989. Oven BBQ'd Chicken, Chris Morton, Toronto, 1985, died of breast cancer. Baked Herbed Chicken, Helen Goodchild, July, 200. Balsamic Vinaigrette, my daughter, Lesley, March 1998. And many more.

My ancient copy of The Joy of Cooking is bound together with tape. The pages most used, once upon a time, are splattered with this and that - the recipes are for cakes and cookies much loved by our two children. I refer to The Joy often. Not for cakes and cookies but for its classic recipes. And what does this have to do with writing and me as an author intent on selling my books? Nothing really. I was enchanted with coming across so many old friends and remember with an aching sadness those who are no longer here. Thanks for the recipes, Gladys, Chris and Lesley.

I'm posting the cover for my next release, Ring Around The Moon. Order it from Cerridwen Press on April 8. It's a time travel with a difference. Visit my web site for information about my other books from Cerridwen Press. A Very Difficult Man, Isabelle's Diary and Isabelle's Story.

P.S. If you want my sister's chocolate cake recipe, leave a comment on my blog and you shall have it

Anita

www.anitabirt.com

The Ides of March

"Beware the ides of March," so spoke the soothsayer to Caesar. March 15 and I am reminded of the warning given Caesar. Nothing would do but I find my complete works of Shakespeare and begin reading Will's play, Julius Caesar. As I read it the cadence of the words acted on my copy-cat brain and I spoke inside my head in the manner of Shakespeare. "You have much to do, Anita, much to do and you must not tarry over wordy pages lest you fall behind in your designated tasks."
But in my poorly contrived sentence I cannot begin to emulate Will Shakespeare's brilliance. His memorable dialogue stops me in my tracks. The speech by Marcellus in the first scene as he speaks about Pompey and berates the citizens who want to honour Caesar. I have to bite my tongue and stop my fingers. I want to copy the whole speech. But I'll sneak in a tiny bit from the speech. "Many a time and oft, Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To tow'rs and windows, yea to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat the livelong day, with patient expetation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome..." Part of Shakepeare's brilliance was the way he set up his plays. Like willing slaves we are hooked and follow whereof he leads.

"Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war." So spoke Mark Anthony. So many brilliant speeches and so much to relish as I read the play. "Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to bury Caesar not to praise him..." The words roll like warm honey off my tongue. Yes, I do read them aloud

I must cease and desist blogging but not without drawing your attention to my historical romance, A Very Difficult Man. He'd been wounded on the battlefield during the Crimean War and returned home to England a bitter and disillusioned man. He could not forgive the generals whose stupidity had sent hundreds of men to their deaths when the Light Brigade was ordered to attack the Russian guns. During the ensuing slaughter my fictional hero, Richard, Lord Glenmore, himself badly wounded, dragged a young trooper to safety before collapsing from loss of blood. My book has had excellent reviews. Read an excerpt on my web site. www.anitabirt.com

I hope I have amused you just a little. Enjoy the week-end and for the Irish among you, Happy St. Patrick's Day, on Monday, March 17th.

Anita

Time out for Sex

Did you know that "a new study pegs the ideal duration for intercourse at seven to thirteen minutes. But sex therapists say couples should keep the stopwatch out of the bedroom." A report, titled SEXY TIME by Hayley Mick appeared in The Globe and Mail on March 6th. Of course I read every word and am dumbfounded how U.S. sex therapists came up with their ideal duration for intercourse.
Here it is. TOO SHORT: 1.25 MINUTES. ADEQUATE: 4-9 MINUTES. DESIRABLE: 8 MINUTES. TOO LONG: 19-96 MINUTES.

My mind boggles as I try to imagine how the above information was gathered. Could you? Could I? Could anyone perform while watched by a sex therapist with a stop watch. If you long to read the whole article try www.The Globe and Mail.com/life. If that fails use your imagination. It's amazing the number of sex and behavioural therapists who spend their time counting intercourse minutes.

As for me and my fictional characters I don't hang around long enough to time their moments of bliss. And that reminds me. I have a fascinating time travel romance, Ring Around The Moon, releasing on April 8. The lovers love and have a wonderful time in bed. I'll post an excerpt another day. Right now I have to do the mundane tasks necessary to stay alive and well with a functioning brain. Early dinner for my husband and me. We're playing bridge tonight with chocolates to nibble on while dummy.

I'm posting my time travel cover. My story is set in magical Cornwall where anything can happen and often does. See you another time. Drop by my web site: www.anitabirt.com and check out my other books. A Very Difficult Man, Isabelle's Diary and Isabelle's Story.

Anita

St. David's Day

This is St. David's Day. He is Patron Saint of Wales and there is the gorgeous Welsh flag. Unfortunately you can't see the white edges to view it in its magnificence. The red dragon on green and white. I have the flag on our front doorstep.

And to add to this day celebrating Wales, I am displaying the covers of my two books, Isabelle's Diary and Isabelle's Story. Both stories are set in and around the mid-Wales town, Llandrindod Wells - the old spa town. The countryside is rugged. Hills, valleys and wild moors. Great for hill walking but avoid the peat bogs. I accidentally stepped in one and my boots were covered in oily black peaty water. Not nice. The Spa was famous in the latter part of the nineteenth century and wealthy people flocked there to take the healing waters. However, sea bathing became the next big thing, and the spa at Llandrindod Wells lost its allure.

Wales is not as well know as England, Scotland or Ireland where they extol their history, their virtues and their rugby teams. Wales produces fine writers, think of Dylan Thomas, and actors, Richard Burton and Anthony Hopkins and rugby players. As for singers! Listen to a Welsh male voice choir singing, "There'll be a welcome in the hillsides, There'll be a welcome in the dales ... and then the line, "When you come home again to Wales." And my heart swells and my tears fall and I blubber.

Why choose Llandrindod Wells to set my Isabelle stories? My husband and I were on a walking holiday in mid-Wales and stopped in a cafe in the town for a coffee. I saw a girl dressed in black sitting at window table drinking a Coke and waiting for someone. But I imagined something different. The girl I imagined was dressed in somber Victorian black and wept over the pages of a diary. And that's how I came up with Isabelle's Diary and followed it with Isabelle's Story. My books are published by Cerridwen Press. Check my website for excerpts from the Isabelle books and from my historical romance, A Very Difficult Man.

A Welsh friend came by with Welsh cakes. Yummy. I wish I could share. I'll think of you as I eat them. One after the other!

Enjoy the day and think, Wales!
Anita
www.anitabirt.com

Raise A Reader

Raising a reader is a Canada wide call to encourage literacy. It's a challenge for all parents to read to their children, to purchase books if they can, and if they can't, there are school and municipal libraries to fill the gap. I was born lucky. My family loved books and our house had shelves of books devoted to knowledge. And because this is my blog, I can quote bits and pieces from old favourites: the Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling, Now We Are Six by A.A.Milne, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll and A Child's Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas.
Where to begin? I shall start with a few lines from The Old Sailor (A.A.Milne) "There was once an old sailor my grandfather knew, Who had so many things which he wanted to do, That, whenever he thought it was time to begin, He couldn't because of the state he was in." (Look it up!) Milne's poems are filled with humour and are a wonderful commentary on the human condition. So often I have so much to do, I truly don't know where to begin!

There's a thread of sadness through, King John's Christmas, (Milne again) but it all comes right at the end. Here are the first four lines. "King John was not a good man, He had his little ways, And sometimes no one spoke to him, For days and days and days." My brother memorized the whole poem and insisted on reciting it to his family every Christmas.

One of my favourite, Just So Stories (Rudyard Kipling) is The Elephant's Child. Jack Nickelson (yes,That Award Winning Jack Nickelson) taped the story. Voice only. I don't know where the tape can be found now, but Jack might know. It is beautifully read. The story begins: "In the High and Far-Off times, the Elephant, O Best Beloved had no trunk. He had only a blackish, bulgy nose, as big as a boot, that he could wriggle about from side to side; but he couldn't pick up things with it." And Kipling spins a wonderful tale of how the Elephant got its trunk. The words spill like honey off my tongue as I read the story aloud.

Another little piece, this from A Child's Christmas in Wales (Dylan Thomas) This story cries out to be read aloud. A line or two from the second verse so Dylan Thomas in his magical spinning of words. "All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street;and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged, fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow..."

I have quoted from Alice's discussion with Humpty Dumpty in a previous blog. Check it out if you are interested. Raise A Reader by reading and sharing the stories with children, your own, your nieces, nephews, young cousins, kids dragged in from the street, your cat and dog and please yourself by listening to the magic wrought by writers. There are thousands of wonderful books for children in libraries. Raise your readers to love reading and you will have prepared them to be a life long book lovers.

Drop by my web site to see what I do. I write. Romance
Anita
www.anitabirt.com

Missing Blog believed lost forever. Reward to finder.

Curses while I tear my hair. I blogged yesterday, such a brilliant blog, and it's not here! Where did it go? I had a lovely time with Alice in Through the Looking Glass and her chat with Humpty Dumpty about the meaning of words - unbirthdays and neckties on an egg. Sigh. And it's gone forever. So I will put up the covers of my books and do a little PR to encourage you, dear readers, to rush to Cerridwen Press and order them. Here they are. A Very Difficult Man is a historical romance, England 1855.
Isabelle's Diary is a contemporary romance with a paranormal twist and Isabelle's Story, 1900, is a historical romance, the story of the girl who wrote the diary. My Isabelle stories are set in and around Llandrindod Wells, the old Spa town, Wales.
I blogged on www.goddessesofstorytelling.blogspot.com to-day. Have you ever heard of the word "disremember?" Roger Clements used it when questioned about using performance enhancing drugs. It was new to me but there are hundreds of words in my Oxford Dictionary with the prefix "dis." Seems you can attach it to almost anything to make a point.

"The question is," said Alice, "whether you can make words mean so many different things."
And as Humpty Dumpty wisely remarked about words. "The question is," said Humpty Dumpty "Which is to be master - that's all."

I love reading Alice inWonderland and Alice Through The Looking Glass. When I was a little kid I'd press my nose against a mirror to see if I could step through into Wonderland. Never made it.

Drop by my web site and read excerpts and reviews of my books. www.anitabirt.com

Anita

Speak to me of love ...

"Speak to me of love and tell me those words that I long to hear ..." This is a very old love song. My mother used to sing it so I learned all the words listening to her. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and there are red boxes shaped like hearts in the shops. Valentine cards are everywhere. It's a deluge of hearts and flowers. Red roses are at a premium and have gone up in price. That's okay. The growers work hard to bring the roses to us. Did you know that a lot of roses come from Kenya? Imagine flying flowers around the world and have them arrive looking good. If I flew around the world I'd be drooping and losing my petals.

Poem time: Robert Burns. "A Red, Red Rose." O my luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve's like the melodie, that's sweetly play'd in tune! (He promises to love her until the seas run dry) The last verse.
"And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile."

My Scottish heroine in my historical romance (in revision and untitled) sings this song sadly and tears fill my eyes as I listen to her voice inside my head. She's remembering her mother and her father. They lost everything during the highland clearances. Orphaned and alone, she has to make her way in the world. But ...

Because I love his poetry I'm adding a bit of Dylan Thomas. Not a love song but who cares. His language is so wonderful. Here's the first verse of Fern Hill.
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs,
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb.
Golden days in the heydays of his eyes.
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns.
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves,
Trail with daisies and barley,
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

Do you have a favorite poem or love song that moves you? I'd enjoy hearing from you.

Anita
www.anitabirt.com