tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19797263226662820362024-03-20T01:30:09.265-07:00Life Is An Adventure! ©This blog started as a place to post information about my book, The Seamstress of Jamestown. I soon realized that the heroine saw life as an adventure. So do I! Not just the wild things, but many of the every day things. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-36620236369286644742016-09-09T21:53:00.001-07:002016-09-09T21:53:45.512-07:00Spider Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiYAXuhez3qidiERXpnJbuIgCTAOY0kapit4jc-af3Rv2amczuv7ozTcFqaOzLy_rdX_1xtg-XbsR5iEXDQVMu8TVXNKgn5izTZfF6FHDiflNOkLY_2bGOGzv5EKYVNvVhAS8oJZpoOtFN/s1600/Worm+in+apple+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiYAXuhez3qidiERXpnJbuIgCTAOY0kapit4jc-af3Rv2amczuv7ozTcFqaOzLy_rdX_1xtg-XbsR5iEXDQVMu8TVXNKgn5izTZfF6FHDiflNOkLY_2bGOGzv5EKYVNvVhAS8oJZpoOtFN/s1600/Worm+in+apple+2.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span data-offset-key="frfjk-0-0"><span data-text="true">What is worse than finding a worm in your apple? </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span data-offset-key="frfjk-0-0"><span data-text="true">Finding a half a worm. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span data-offset-key="frfjk-0-0"><span data-text="true">What is worse than finding a spider in your bath water as you are getting into the tub? </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span data-offset-key="frfjk-0-0"><span data-text="true">Finding a spider in your bath water as you are getting OUT of the tub! </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span data-offset-key="frfjk-0-0"><span data-text="true">This has happened to me twice in the past week! They are tiny babies. I find one daily in the tub and kill it, then search carefully before entering, and voilah! there is the interloper going down the drain when I'm done. My theory is that some mama spider exploded her nest in my bathroom, but I can't find the source. Perhaps they hide in the jets, then when I turn the jets on, one comes spewing out. Yuck!!! If my back and feet didn't ache so much at the end of a day, I might take a hiatus from my Jacuzzi tub until spider season is over. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuxM_7Vnx1-LugVvElLRc74ROvR7zm6Z-WN9QkCSziCy2iU8nhFtRtkoXb2Q4WObwJuBlkgDNOX9sCdGaGcjD6baP1JjQHsyGIYHyYllShXaQ0kwC8NehnPdEVELmM3nzSEx-MQ_aq-aB/s1600/Spider+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuxM_7Vnx1-LugVvElLRc74ROvR7zm6Z-WN9QkCSziCy2iU8nhFtRtkoXb2Q4WObwJuBlkgDNOX9sCdGaGcjD6baP1JjQHsyGIYHyYllShXaQ0kwC8NehnPdEVELmM3nzSEx-MQ_aq-aB/s1600/Spider+house.jpg" /></a><span data-offset-key="frfjk-0-0"><span data-text="true">In addition to these spiderlings, we are breeding giant Oregon house spiders. This season we have sent several to the built-in vacuum canister in the garage. My cousin Melody has one in the downstairs hall closet outside her bedroom that I call her pet. She leaves it there because she figures it eats the other little bugs. He cutely exposes about half his body and front legs. When you walk by, he ducks back into the closet. We murdered one that was waltzing across the family room floor last week. It was so huge that it was WAY bigger than the diameter of the vacuum hose. So after Melody calmly asked me to do it, and I was done screaming, Hubert did the deed. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span data-offset-key="frfjk-0-0"><span data-text="true">For a break from the house spiders, I make at least two trips a day to the barn. There in my tack room, I am breeding some horrid black spider with a big, fat body juicy enough to make a big mess if I smash it. My concrete floor now has black polka dots. When is spider season over? </span></span></div>
<br />
<span data-offset-key="frfjk-0-0"><span data-text="true"> </span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-61661246493084979232016-06-23T16:24:00.002-07:002016-06-23T17:53:16.042-07:00Cousins, Condos, & Criminals<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhrTP94KIMLkmCeEb_RpN3uUnYiLt1hRALCXFQR_JWF8WKu9bHXytp04KExrqiaeDgfiDCD5ZUTL4LIzdb02JbB4H099SfxepL9xKP_8Xi7ptwFYARV85wZ-Zt6g4m4IR4iGivEI5RWwV0/s1600/May-June+2016+California+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhrTP94KIMLkmCeEb_RpN3uUnYiLt1hRALCXFQR_JWF8WKu9bHXytp04KExrqiaeDgfiDCD5ZUTL4LIzdb02JbB4H099SfxepL9xKP_8Xi7ptwFYARV85wZ-Zt6g4m4IR4iGivEI5RWwV0/s320/May-June+2016+California+014.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My husband, Hubert, and I planned a nice trip to California. Although it
would be a working trip, we anticipated some fun and relaxation. It began with
us spending a day with my 5th cousin whom I had never met before. We had a
great day visiting with him and his wife at Burney Falls State Park - a
beautiful place. We chatted for hours as though we had always known each
other.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU42bkt3ohYmqEkIBDOofLvgBylZQkponR_HGcsLCpnZQkij7mupeJbLgIXCvaQIGJkWIguJOtg2zkynemEoFeyd5Lt674QSkCFnnNBt2Rd_cq3SGYoXpxzrUBys-Y-9yleEzN7DUnQNmK/s1600/May-June+2016+California+029+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU42bkt3ohYmqEkIBDOofLvgBylZQkponR_HGcsLCpnZQkij7mupeJbLgIXCvaQIGJkWIguJOtg2zkynemEoFeyd5Lt674QSkCFnnNBt2Rd_cq3SGYoXpxzrUBys-Y-9yleEzN7DUnQNmK/s320/May-June+2016+California+029+cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
We then drove to Jamestown where I did three days of book signings. The
first two were at the Railtown 1897 State Historic Park. That is always
enjoyable as friendly families are there to ride the old steam train used in so
many movies and TV shows. Since part of my novel, <i>The Seamstress of
Jamestown</i>, involved the train first coming to Jamestown, it is a perfect
place for interesting historical conversations. The workers there are full of
old train lore, so I enjoyed the two day visit immensely.<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
The next day I signed books in front of the 1859 Historic National Hotel.
Several chapters of my story take place there, including the true story of the
origin of Flo, the ghost in residence there. I met other striving (or is that
starving) authors and three town drunks, who were quite friendly and
talkative. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmwTJmoUKYnyWRTi3SgEjCTKh9TcgODFa0vRDAh_dELHsDooiMhehVJqnldmgp52oW3HQbpzCqBq1fy1bjSI0O-33PDBcOvcbh99JfecOp_yE5N66kLg6Ir7jZvbZp4cLUtR64k9XmrJMB/s1600/May-June+2016+California+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmwTJmoUKYnyWRTi3SgEjCTKh9TcgODFa0vRDAh_dELHsDooiMhehVJqnldmgp52oW3HQbpzCqBq1fy1bjSI0O-33PDBcOvcbh99JfecOp_yE5N66kLg6Ir7jZvbZp4cLUtR64k9XmrJMB/s320/May-June+2016+California+036.jpg" width="212" /></a>Then south to San Juan Capistrano to fix up our family condo. We spent a
week unpacking boxes, cleaning, moving furniture, posting stuff to sell on
Craig's List, hanging pictures, and reorganizing every closet. Tiring but rewarding. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The trip home was to be uneventful and fast (for two old folks). We drove to
Lodi and stayed in our favorite hotel, Motel 6. That is obviously not for the
ambiance, but the price. We got in so late that we got the last room - a
handicapped room. It was actually large, very clean, and quite nice. We also
got the last spot in the parking lot. I made 4 trips to the car carrying in only
what we needed for the night. We both brought in our overnight bags. I brought
in my immersion mixer, measuring cup and spoon, ingredients for the Dr. Budwig
muesli, homemade apple sauce, homemade beet juice, box of pills, my purse, plus
all the meats & cheeses so they wouldn't go bad in the cooler in the car
whose ice was already melted. It was about 90 degrees. Hubert wanted the car to
cool down overnight so he left the windows cracked an inch. (I know, I know,
you can see what's coming...)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the morning, after we drank our beet juice, I made the muesli for Hubert.
That was followed by him taking a plethora of pills with the apple sauce. I
went to the car and put our green tote bag in the back set. I closed the door.
Something was wrong. I stood there and stared into the car.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The cooler was missing. It was one of those that you plug into the outlet
and keeps food cold while the car is running. I then looked in the front seat
& noticed the contents of the glove compartment strewn on the seat. The
truth was clear. I went back to the room and told Hubert we had been robbed. I
then went to the office and told the nice young gentleman there. The next few
hours were spent with him, a nice police officer, and the manager who came in
even though she wasn't scheduled. They spent much more time with us than I
could imagine is normal. They showed us the photos taken by their new cameras,
and posted them on Facebook and the bulletin board at the police department. We
couldn't have had more kindness and concern if we were staying at a Hilton or
Marriott. In the end, we lost the cooler, my laptop, and our GPS. I am very
grateful they did not see my camera on the floor in front of the passenger seat
- photos are a treasure to me. I am a little insulted that they didn't have any
interest in taking a box filled with my fascinating novel. </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVwVez1TpcjTm-dB3a3XMj4lpusJisleVH_B1XVvIbXnarkxuHHjhhCCDMCzbox8DESUsOpCuYgjjuu1fUfT6z_M-Lro2Q-Aw3gpBgFSsMF9fhOOcDkIk6Mo84b0Ns1FNK_kWgt9bMwTZ/s1600/May-June+2016+California+037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVwVez1TpcjTm-dB3a3XMj4lpusJisleVH_B1XVvIbXnarkxuHHjhhCCDMCzbox8DESUsOpCuYgjjuu1fUfT6z_M-Lro2Q-Aw3gpBgFSsMF9fhOOcDkIk6Mo84b0Ns1FNK_kWgt9bMwTZ/s200/May-June+2016+California+037.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_kqYw006AduggvbLttFKji3FqKKQbVLpTF7DWm4n_hddAESghyphenhyphenCwpADygQ7XyyuFWeeBWg802Yxu10Oif2L2XH05EJ0MlF6FNBns027lQC4EMnZFX_RpNORbnoJmY01tFhorQCsWvhOF/s1600/Lodi+theft+2016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_kqYw006AduggvbLttFKji3FqKKQbVLpTF7DWm4n_hddAESghyphenhyphenCwpADygQ7XyyuFWeeBWg802Yxu10Oif2L2XH05EJ0MlF6FNBns027lQC4EMnZFX_RpNORbnoJmY01tFhorQCsWvhOF/s320/Lodi+theft+2016.JPG" width="191" /></a>So, we've learned a few things that most of my readers probably already knew. Don't park near the walkway that goes
through to a vacant lot with bushes to hide a criminal. Don't leave
windows open in the crime-infested region of Hwy. 99 in California's central
valley. Fingerprints on a dusty surface cannot be lifted. The good news about
our innocence is that they didn't have to break a window to get in. The video
from the parking lot camera was interesting. A young man on a bicycle scouted the
entire parking lot. He left. He came back with a buddy who used a tool to break
in. They grabbed the items quickly and walked through the walkway and, hidden
by the bushes, were not seen again.<br />
Wiser but poorer.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-88668950314159544162015-12-09T21:03:00.000-08:002015-12-09T21:03:31.365-08:00Oktoberfest to NitroI can't believe it's been nearly a year since I wrote a blog. It has been quite an adventure in 2015. In the first half of the year I was extremely busy with a little work and many volunteer and family commitments - those things that take up much of life but don't get you kudos except from those very close to you. By September my husband wasn't feeling well. We changed his diet and made a doctor appointment. We saw the primary care doctor, had fun at Oktoberfest in Mt.Angel, saw a specialist, then WHAM! We ended up in the emergency room with my husband popping nitroglycerin pills like candy on the drive there to no avail. There the real adventure began.<br />
<br />
He ended up having an angiogram, quadruple bypass surgery, a mitrovalve repair, recovery time, skilled nursing facility, back to hospital, ablation, fluid drained from around lungs, skilled nursing facility, rehab... I lived in the hospital with him and only came home from the nursing
facility to sleep. Amazing what you can learn when you have to. I now
know how to order healthy food from a hospital menu - not an easy trick.
I know when the doctors do their rounds with the pharmacist and RN. I know what cholesterol, blood sugar and INR levels should be. I
know how to wash, change clothes, brush teeth, and put on deodorant in a
public restroom or behind a curtain in a hospital room without showing
anything indecent. <br />
<br />
Now we are going to cardiac rehab, diabetes classes, getting his INR
checked weekly, checking his blood sugar multiple times a day, counting mgs. of sodium and grams of carbs, and
taking meds. This is the world many live in, but up until now, we have avoided it.<br />
<br />
So as we age, we face new adventures, some pleasant, some less so; but they can all be learning experiences, and we can enjoy parts of even the unpleasant ones. Exercise is now necessary and actually fun. The nurses were wonderfully gentle and informative. The doctors were patient, cheerful, and encouraging. While I am grateful for the miracles wrought by the doctors and praying grandchildren, I am looking forward to more pleasant adventures in 2016.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-53690524699767708112015-11-16T14:48:00.001-08:002015-11-16T14:48:39.759-08:00Small Town AuthorsCheck out Small Town Authors http://smalltownauthors.blogspot.com/ I am the featured author for November. Thank you Audrey Austin! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-21807677879771635002014-12-06T22:32:00.000-08:002015-01-02T19:06:10.746-08:00Pig BottlesMy hope is that those who read this blog will realize that their own life is an adventure. Making a 2 year old giggle, finding the perfect gift for a friend, or watching the sunrise can be an adventure if we have the right attitude. When I sign my book I write, "Enjoy the adventure of life." That is truly my hope - that those who read my blog or <i>The Seamstress of Jamestown</i> will enjoy life to the fullest, seeing everyday events as adventures. But then there are the adventures that are so exciting you wish they weren't happening! These are unpleasant at the time but make great stories years later. So I will tell about an adventure that is interesting to me because it happened 30 years ago. That is enough time lapse to see it as a great story and not present trauma.<br />
<br />
I was spending time alone at a nice hotel on the island of Kauai. It was really more like condos - a two-story structure with little apartments. There was an office where I could ask the manager for information. But I didn't need that! I was adventurous, and enjoyed exploring.<br />
<br />
Every day I went on a little adventure. I would drive and sightsee until I reached an interesting spot, then hike a little. One day I took an unplanned hike down into Waimea Canyon. Not having intended to take a long hike, I only had one small plastic water bottle in my backpack which was 3/4 full. It was one of those trails that has a sign-in sheet at the top, so that if you disappear they know where to search for the body. On my hike down, I saw a large plastic water bottle hanging on a tree. It was a gallon jug hanging by its handle on a dead branch of a dried up tree - the only tree in sight. There was about an inch of warm water in the bottom. I made a mental note of it thinking I might find it useful on the way back up. I was passed by a man and his son on the way down but never saw them again, nor anyone else.<br />
<br />
By the time I reached the bottom of the canyon, I was exhausted and HOT! My head was throbbing. I splashed myself with the creek water, even dunking my head to soak my hair. It didn't last long. I was soon as dry as the red dust that covered the canyon walls. The creek water was literally swimming with bugs. My California girl brain forbid me to drink it. I figured I could always drink that water in the tree bottle. Thirty years ago we didn't know there were carcinogenic PCB's in plastic bottles baking in the hot sun. <br />
<br />
I started back up. The first quarter mile had some trees and shade. I picked up 2 pieces of fruit from the ground and put them in my backpack. I had no idea what they were. Why were they on the ground uneaten by the father-son pair or any wild animals? Perhaps they were poisonous. After that there was nothing but red sand trail, burning sunshine, throbbing head, and sitting to rest every quarter mile. I finally broke down and ate the fruit. I survived. <br />
<br />
It didn't take long for that fruit liquid to dehydrate, but I was optimistic remembering the tree bottle. After many rest stops, I finally spied it. I forced myself to trudge to the little tree. The bottle was empty! How rude of someone to drink MY water. Obviously, I wasn't thinking very clearly by that time. I rested again then determined to make it about another quarter mile.<br />
<br />
On the steep descent, there was one part of the trail that had been washed out. On my energetic beginning downhill, I leapt over the two-foot chasm with bravery. On the way back up, I was barely dragging my feet with every step. When I arrived there, I paused disheartened. There was no way I could leap over anything. It was the only way. So I mustered every ounce of energy I had left, threw my backpack over first, then took a slower than running start and just barely made it. I lay on the other side with my head pounding. <br />
<br />
I continued my slow trek and finally arrived at the top of the trail. The sun was just setting. I signed the book so whoever cared would know I had made it out. I drove a little further up the road to a small store and got water. I drove many miles back to my hotel, slowly.<br />
<br />
The following morning, I stopped in the office just to have someone to chat with about my adventure. They informed me that that tree bottle was called a "pig bottle." It was a plastic bottle left hanging on the tree by a wild pig hunter (wild pig or wild hunter? both). The manager said a pig hunter would just as soon shoot a haole (white foreigner) as a pig! They had 100 haoles that had "disappeared" on Kauai - bodies never to be found.<br />
<br />
My husband says I must have a band of guardian angels. I plunge into life and think later. I never do anything that seems dangerous, such as bungee jumping, but manage to get myself into these adventures. Perhaps that is why I view life as an adventure. Or perhaps it is <i>because</i> I view life as an adventure that I get into these fixes. In any case, it's better that being bored. May you enjoy the adventure of life!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-36151106994020958362014-09-18T21:05:00.000-07:002014-09-19T10:11:22.010-07:00Driven Lives<div style="text-align: justify;">
It has been quite awhile since I blogged. By the way, Sr. Rosata would never have accepted that as a verb. What are the principle parts of that verb? Blog, blogged, have blogged - maybe? Anyway, it's not that nothing has been happening; it's that too much has been happening. If I wrote about it all, it would be another book. Basically, I have been promoting my book at community events because I am passionate about getting it into the hands of as many people as possible so they can benefit from the deep message about life embedded in the fascinating story. I have also been helping run a private high school in order to help raise up future leaders who will lead the world into goodness, truth, and beauty. Yes, really. I am intensely passionate about that.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The question arose last night at dinner with my brother. Why are we so driven? He is even far busier than I - never a break, running every organization he joins, and determined to evangelize everyone he meets (even his pastor). I concluded we come by it honestly. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Our parents were fairly mellow. Our Dad worked for the L.A. County Marshal's office for about 30 years, retired fairly young, played golf, poker, watched TV, and lived to be 100. Our mom loved to paint, dance and play Bridge. One must go farther back in our lineage to find the culprits.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcsgSvgZWtIwHfx_jrVhirOj9SIq1PJQfKT_Zjr37nbIi1ErFb4kI5S0oAJazG-vCLiSEDGLm3JSEVi2_j_jtUj8euZ4NJSlZbXYucr6X2Mc1thVhpR7arNo7Z2Zr3HaRaOMDXvXYseUc/s1600/MartinO'Brennan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVcsgSvgZWtIwHfx_jrVhirOj9SIq1PJQfKT_Zjr37nbIi1ErFb4kI5S0oAJazG-vCLiSEDGLm3JSEVi2_j_jtUj8euZ4NJSlZbXYucr6X2Mc1thVhpR7arNo7Z2Zr3HaRaOMDXvXYseUc/s1600/MartinO'Brennan.jpg" height="320" width="216" /></a>The main one was Martin Andrew O'Brennan who was born in 1812 in County Mayo, Ireland. He was well-educated, very Catholic, and proud of his Celtic heritage. He married, ran a collegiate seminary in Dublin, had 9 children, wrote extensive histories of Ireland going back to Adam & Eve, supported every Irish cause, and was jailed 3 times for seditious language in his newspapers. He claimed he was not a revolutionary. He finally escaped and came to Chicago where he traveled, teaching all over the eastern U.S. about Irish history and Catholic theology. He died in an "accident on the street" according to his obituary. My Dad said his enemies killed him. He just could never stop. He was passionate about his causes, fought for truth, and saw the world as black & white.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Enter my brother & I growing up in mellow, sunny, southern California in the 1950's. Life was happy and beautiful. Just watch Happy Days or The Wonder Years. So, without ever having met the infamous and passionate Martin O'Brennan, we grew up to be intense, passionate people fighting for our causes. My mother always said that traits skipped a generation. In this case, I think they skipped 3 generations!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYiK5aIfrwwad7gjO6oYq0LzS2kkujC864ayzWykMy9qFEIpsr3ORkhzFvNNos2xTtsWGXT4neZw1IwpAbk7h-62hwnO5EOWR0dy9DY1Xu0I6urLBWrHOaQg4_HS1IwxTCjNQHWb033xsl/s1600/Duel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYiK5aIfrwwad7gjO6oYq0LzS2kkujC864ayzWykMy9qFEIpsr3ORkhzFvNNos2xTtsWGXT4neZw1IwpAbk7h-62hwnO5EOWR0dy9DY1Xu0I6urLBWrHOaQg4_HS1IwxTCjNQHWb033xsl/s1600/Duel.jpg" height="320" width="264" /></a>Oh, so maybe you think I'm being too hard on poor ole Martin. Perhaps you are correct. Possibly part of the blame goes to his son-in-law, John J. Bodkin. John came from the same town where Martin had his newspaper and was arrested, Tuam, in County Galway. In the Chicago area, John married Martin's eldest daughter, Marian. No shrinking violet I would guess, as the wife & children of Martin are credited with running his newspaper, <i>The Connaught Patriot</i>, during his jail time. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
John was so ardent for righteousness that he chastised a man in public notices in Tuam for lying about him. He also shot and killed a neighbor in California for running towards him and threatening him. Of course, the trial was brief and he was found "not guilty". He was a school teacher, the first editor of The Tidings in Los Angeles, wrote the History of the San Gabriel Mission, ran a Catholic bookstore in Los Angeles, and walloped his son (my grandpa) for misspelling words. A little intensity, passion, and righteousness there also, I'd say. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, while my brother and I shall be eternally grateful for the faith passed on to us, and we shall continue all our devout activities, we are at least pondering the value of fishing or resting in a hammock.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-40645057224532010612014-06-30T15:09:00.000-07:002014-06-30T17:31:43.137-07:00Deep River, Ducks, and Downtown Motels<div style="text-align: justify;">
After paying for a room at the beautiful downtown Atlanta budget motel (which shall remained unnamed), using all my airline miles as well as my husband's, and packing my <strike>bags</strike> - oops! No I mean bag (singular) since they charge per bag these days - I was on my way to the International Christian Retail Show. This was an adventure as I had no idea what it was nor why I was going. Deep River Books, my publisher, invited me. My first night in the cockroach-free motel was fine.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVDBf5OQi4OHj1UW70ThTzfxfX2AU_X_zi7voZ6OQGdulsIffBNauAWdZdlAJT055GWRWE9vkn8ky4QEKd4vYgNzfk5qpt-03O_vuBhHWPyBjFrpD2YwOs2Ep5k12G7UKXedsCUVCY0sC/s1600/Holy+Rosary+wedding+1999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVDBf5OQi4OHj1UW70ThTzfxfX2AU_X_zi7voZ6OQGdulsIffBNauAWdZdlAJT055GWRWE9vkn8ky4QEKd4vYgNzfk5qpt-03O_vuBhHWPyBjFrpD2YwOs2Ep5k12G7UKXedsCUVCY0sC/s1600/Holy+Rosary+wedding+1999.jpg" height="200" width="140" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sunday I enjoyed the Mass at the Basilica within easy walking distance. The security guard out in front did cause me some concern. We definitely don't need one at my little Holy Rosary Church in the Cascade foothills. Sunday evening I enjoyed a wonderful dinner with the Deep River Books group. I then walked back to my to my cut-rate motel with some other Deep River authors, although the last one of them deserted me at the Hilton as I continued a block to my haven. It was fine until about 5:00 am when some noisy people woke me up. I assumed they were rude guests checking out early. I tried to sleep but by about 5:30 realized there was violent yelling now accompanied by stomping on the floor above me. After several phone calls to the front desk and pounding on the ceiling to try to save someone's life, I heard a different pounding and a voice, "This is the police. Open up!" I tiptoed out my door and up the stairs just far enough to peek in the third floor hallway and see a police officer. This was only one of the disturbing events. Next time, the Hilton!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZWOqsx4P6CRrx9w2pbJELGqFNQn3LGzeKQHbUDRkRBQ2_CwR90sG8uBmk7ARhaCBBkY2_R_g92PRNBYaO0p0PRH1JutEWy0yFFNK53WKtuV8Trh_aUHP2VebpAOfJ0U1Ad-s_0YqBrvz/s1600/Atlanta+ICRS+Barbara+book+signing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZWOqsx4P6CRrx9w2pbJELGqFNQn3LGzeKQHbUDRkRBQ2_CwR90sG8uBmk7ARhaCBBkY2_R_g92PRNBYaO0p0PRH1JutEWy0yFFNK53WKtuV8Trh_aUHP2VebpAOfJ0U1Ad-s_0YqBrvz/s1600/Atlanta+ICRS+Barbara+book+signing.jpg" height="200" width="168" /></a>Monday morning I figured out how to take the shuttle bus to the Georgia World Congress Center. I arrived early to be there for the opening ceremonies. Apparently no one else thought that was important. I watched them set up and put tape on the carpeting to keep the crowds back from the red-ribbon to be ceremoniously cut. With no competition for a good spot, I stood with my toes on the line. About 6 other people were there. Once the prayer started the <i>crowd</i> swelled to about 30 people. This was amazing to me considering the opening prayer was given by Phil Robertson and a message by his son, Alan. Their TV show, <i>Duck Dynasty</i>, is the most-watched reality show on cable.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I checked in at the Deep River booth, and asked what I was supposed to do. They suggested I "make contacts." My only appointment was a book signing on Tuesday for 45 minutes. That left me three full days of what? I wandered aimlessly looking at other booths with books, wall plaques, Christmas decorations, and toys. I checked back in at our booth about every half hour still befuddled as to why I was there.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I went back to my room, dropped off my warmer clothes, and returned to the Show. I checked in </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
at the booth again and confirmed that I was to mingle and meet people.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBcVJ7umJ5R-joirNlPcLzIdeUp7qauicjPWMFuFA4OcStizDbyUg9MWyZUEW4SBUWr7DvRPmeojDbMH81sAz4k9yY4xBBYSHUtofLRYiUWHDgPQ1lANcj6c9QG5dt3ESkNudROcFb6le/s1600/Atlanta+ICRS+Barbara+&+Shirley+Dobson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigBcVJ7umJ5R-joirNlPcLzIdeUp7qauicjPWMFuFA4OcStizDbyUg9MWyZUEW4SBUWr7DvRPmeojDbMH81sAz4k9yY4xBBYSHUtofLRYiUWHDgPQ1lANcj6c9QG5dt3ESkNudROcFb6le/s1600/Atlanta+ICRS+Barbara+&+Shirley+Dobson.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>They informed me the goal was to get rid of all 57 of my books that we had brought - hopefully into the hands of bookstore owners. It finally happened. I ended up meeting many bookstore owners, book and magazine publishers, and other authors. I collected free books at author signings - even from the Robertsons and Shirley Dobson. My signing was incredibly successful - running out of books in 30 minutes.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I came home with a pile of business cards from contacts and a suitcase full of free books. I pondered leaving some clothes there, but just sat on my one bag and bounced until I got it zipped shut. All in all, it was a very successful trip. I made some friendships which I will treasure for years to come.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Barbara with Shirley Dobson</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-48125669901661156452014-05-26T10:23:00.002-07:002014-06-02T20:09:18.254-07:00World Blog Tour<div style="text-align: justify;">
A very exciting adventure for me, since I entered the world of
authors, is getting to know other authors. I have been amazed at how
generous they are with their time and advice in helping newbie authors
like myself. One such author is William Burt. We "met" through a mutual
librarian friend. Although I have not met him in person yet, he has
given me great encouragement. I am honored that he chose me to be part
of this blog tour. I hope this tour will
expose readers everywhere to authors and bloggers worthy of more
attention. Hopefully, through this tour, you will also discover some
great books to enjoy during the summer reading season! </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgRXxUuUIbIhr_3CQNUHr8VU_2laSIq_AjoCNE3TyHYkHlOXfEjN7SVEEv4ozlH68jxtx_mVlP43Uq-msl_i5rG7pIMPGYGjNsa4m2hJPGQSno7YdwBdIiteMZMRXgh08pp5Zy_Qf08c/s1600/KOT+I+THUMBNAIL%25E2%2580%2594PVW2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The King of the Trees" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgRXxUuUIbIhr_3CQNUHr8VU_2laSIq_AjoCNE3TyHYkHlOXfEjN7SVEEv4ozlH68jxtx_mVlP43Uq-msl_i5rG7pIMPGYGjNsa4m2hJPGQSno7YdwBdIiteMZMRXgh08pp5Zy_Qf08c/s250/KOT+I+THUMBNAIL%25E2%2580%2594PVW2.jpg" height="221" id="Image7_img" width="150" /></a>I would like to begin by sharing with you a little about <b>William Burt</b>. Having spent most of his teenage
years vicariously adventuring in Middle Earth, Bill is an avid
fantasy fan. His first allegorical fantasy title, <i><b>The King of the Trees</b></i>,
came out in 1998 (WinePress). Bowing to reader demand, he has expanded
the series to include a total of seven titles to date, with more to
follow. Burt holds a B.S. in English from Lewis and Clark College and an
M.S. from Western Oregon University in Deaf Education. In addition to
writing books, he works as an RID-certified American Sign Language
interpreter with over thirty years' experience. His interests include
reading, foreign languages and mycology. He is married with two grown
children. Check him out at<b> <a href="http://www.greencloaks.com/">http://www.greencloaks.com </a></b>You
can scroll down to the bottom of his page and link to his blog. There
you will find the names of the authors he recommended in his World Blog
Tour post. In this way you can link to many authors and books you may
otherwise never find.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Unlike William Burt, I have not
settled into a specific genre yet. My only published book is historical
fiction. This is what I like to read, so this is what I wrote. I am not a
deliberate writer. I did not plan to nor ever desire to be an author.
Like so many great adventures in my life, it just seemed to happen.
Definitely assuring me that The Almighty is guiding my path. My first
book was just a story I made up one night to entertain myself. It grew -
seeming to take on a life of its own. My publisher would love for me to
write in one genre, but I
write for myself, not my public. So I write what interests me at the
time. I do
hope to write more historical fiction soon.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When I
wrote The Seamstress of Jamestown, I worked for 4 to 8 hours a day.
Since I demanded that it be very historically accurate, much of that
time was spent in research. I have great respect for authors of old. How
did they do research without the internet? When I wrote a chapter, it
only took about 3 hours. I just let the book within me flow out. The
characters developed on their own. They are based upon many people I
have known. Surely, a first book must be the easiest. Emma, my heroine,
is a combination of my mother, my friends, and myself. My book differs
from other historical fiction because it has my life in it. Surely no
one else wrote about Sr. Erminold and her method of teaching piano and
dance. It's the real characters that I have known that bring a fresh and
unique air to The Seamstress of Jamestown. My voice is pure as I have
taken no writing classes. The most common comment I receive about The
Seamstress is that it is easy to read and my characters seem real.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My
second book, which I am working on now, is easy. My mother wrote it.
She wrote about her life several times - just a handwritten page about
some incident (the neighbors house burning down or sewing methods in the
large dressmaking houses of NYC). She also kept her rough drafts of
letters that she wrote to relatives. Then, in her last year of life, she
recorded her memories. I have simply transcribed and combined these and
am putting them together with family photos. That hardly counts as
writing a book, but it will surely be my favorite.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Next,
will be the hardest project - the story of my grandmother's life. For
this, I will have to do much research. Her life is one of those that is
stranger than fiction. Much is what I uncovered with genealogy research,
but much is also from the one day she poured out her heart to me and
told me her life story. I promptly went to my car and wrote it down in
the back of my Daytimer. There will be a true theme, not just a story.
How did she and her sister live to be 102 and 91 respectively when their
ancestors died much younger? From whence came their strength of
character? These questions will be answered in easily flowing story
form.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Please check out three of the authors I have
discovered. <b>Robert Mulkey</b> wrote a memoir, <i>This Is My Lemonade,</i> which I enjoyed
reading and helped me understand the intense search some people have to
find home. <b>Rose Marie Dunphy</b> wrote <i>Orange Peels and Cobblestones</i>.
It is not only an interesting fiction novel about a young woman who is
torn from her loving family in Italy and brought to America but also an
immersion course in Italian culture and food. <b>Terry Madden</b> has dabbled in screenplays and historical fiction, and is currently
working on several science fiction and fantasy pieces, both short and
novel length. When she is not writing, she teaches high school chemistry and
astronomy. They will be posting for the World Blog Tour on June 2. Be sure
to follow them and their recommended authors!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://thisismylemonade.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/cropped-blog-photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://thisismylemonade.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/cropped-blog-photo.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a> Adopted by an Oregon family as an infant, <b>Robert Mulkey</b>
was eighteen years old when he first learned the details of his birth
family - including the brother he always dreamed of having. <i>This is My Lemonade, An Adoption Story </i>chronicles
the amazing story of his thirty-four-year quest to know his birth
family, learn of his roots, and find his identity, traveling first to
British Columbia and eventually to the ancestral family home near Ascoli
Piceno in central Italy. It is a journey filled with transcendent
moments and agonizing heartbreak, leading finally to acceptance,
understanding, and the genuine love of family.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
http://thisismylemonade.wordpress.com/2014/05/15/my-inner-southern-californian/ </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OowtY3gPf0OQ-6CarAPP3N0mGpGcrucVC3uT0Sm2u8Ro5F5lysLiDH-36P7KHjcXbc5eFPG54ycwPkhzpzGqHNS_IKqospZX9dq-MiRVMx0xPZQ1UlPWmNkmWfiNhnGQeRCq4tQqt1U/s1600/picture+for+twitter3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OowtY3gPf0OQ-6CarAPP3N0mGpGcrucVC3uT0Sm2u8Ro5F5lysLiDH-36P7KHjcXbc5eFPG54ycwPkhzpzGqHNS_IKqospZX9dq-MiRVMx0xPZQ1UlPWmNkmWfiNhnGQeRCq4tQqt1U/s200/picture+for+twitter3.jpg" height="200" width="126" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/5170/1066666977068485/150/147931/gse_multipart7519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="AUTHOR PHOTO" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/5170/1066666977068485/150/147931/gse_multipart7519.jpg" height="150" id="Image1_img" style="visibility: visible;" width="124" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b> Rose Marie Dunphy</b> lived in Italy and now resides in New
York. With a Master’s Degree from Stony
Brook University, she taught Science for 10 years, co-authored <i>That First Bite – Chance or Choice</i>,
a self-help book about eating disorders using the 12 Step Program. Her
second
book, a novel, <i>Orange Peels and Cobblestones</i>, is based on a true event
in her
life. How does a mother give away her
own child? It has themes of adoption, the immigrant experience, and love and forgiveness. Her third book is <i>Ciottoli
e Bucce D’Arancia</i>, the Italian version of <i>Orange Peels and Cobblestones</i>,
which the
author translated herself. In addition,
Rose Marie has written numerous essays and short stories that have
appeared in The New York Times, Newsday and other publications. She is now writing a
cookbook of Italian
recipes and a sequel to <i>Orange Peels and Cobblestones</i>.
Dunphy is available as a public speaker and has done Book Talk/Signings
in libraries, colleges, book clubs and organizations across Long Island,
Albany, NY and the Palm Beach areas of Florida.
Copies of her books can be found and purchased on
Amazon, Kindle, Barnesandnobles.com and in New York City and Long Island
bookstores. For signed copies, contact the author at </span><span lang="IT" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="mailto:orangepeelsandcobblestones@gmail.com"><span lang="EN-US">orangepeelsandcobblestones@gmail.com</span></a></span><span lang="IT" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">or visit her
blog at<b> </b></span><b><span lang="IT" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://rosemariedunphy.blogspot.com/">http://rosemariedunphy.blogspot.com</a>.</span></span><span lang="IT" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span lang="IT" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span> </b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://www.threewellsofthesea.com/uploads/1/9/0/2/19021737/5195818.jpg?154" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Picture" border="0" class="wsite-image galleryImageBorder" src="http://www.threewellsofthesea.com/uploads/1/9/0/2/19021737/5195818.jpg?154" height="200" style="border-width: 1px; margin-top: 5px; padding: 3px;" width="132" /></a><a href="http://www.threewellsofthesea.com/uploads/1/9/0/2/19021737/1965061.jpeg?168" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Picture" border="0" class="wsite-image galleryImageBorder" src="http://www.threewellsofthesea.com/uploads/1/9/0/2/19021737/1965061.jpeg?168" height="200" style="border-width: 0px; margin-top: 5px;" width="170" /></a><b><br /></b>
<b>Terry Madden</b> is embarking on a trilogy in the magical world of speculative fiction. Her first book in that series, <i>Three Wells of the Sea</i>, weaves a fascinating tale of the druid Lyleth and King Nechtan connecting Celtic culture and mythology to our modern world. Her short story "Animal," about a veterinarian in the future
and her fight to save the last animals on Earth, won the<span style="color: #4c1130;"> <span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.writersofthefuture.com/" target="_blank" title="">Writers of the Future Contest</a></span> and appears in volume 30 of their anthology. Her screenplay "Passiontide" won the <a href="http://www.hollywoodnetwork.com/ccswinners/prior.html" target="_blank" title="">Hollywood Network's Screenplay Discovery Award</a>, and she has placed in both the quarter and semi-finals of the AMPAS <a href="http://www.oscars.org/awards/nicholl/" target="_blank" title="">Nicholl Fellowship in Screenwriting</a>. She</span><span style="color: #4c1130;"> has an abiding interest in medieval and ancient culture and
mythology, especially Celtic. Somehow, that interest seems to coexist
just fine with her passion for space and worlds spinning around other
stars. </span><span style="color: #4c1130;">Book one of her heroic/contemporary fantasy series is complete, and she is at work on book two of the trilogy. </span><span style="color: #4c1130;">Check out her blog and</span><span style="color: #4c1130;"> writings at her website http://www.threewellsofthesea.com </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-83413711342306508042014-04-24T18:04:00.001-07:002014-04-27T05:56:04.626-07:00The River to Atlanta<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSca7tSRtRa0B-CUGAHl2kC7Cb2lOaAow2U4ARy2gffh1BQszximghQoUC1GBy_0nctK9FXY2RYo6vHVfI2UYnSlZGqkhyYlUMvr7VjTc_VpRG49d1wUYNeYhjKm_aJo5IUV99TjHIRBe/s1600/bhpic2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSca7tSRtRa0B-CUGAHl2kC7Cb2lOaAow2U4ARy2gffh1BQszximghQoUC1GBy_0nctK9FXY2RYo6vHVfI2UYnSlZGqkhyYlUMvr7VjTc_VpRG49d1wUYNeYhjKm_aJo5IUV99TjHIRBe/s1600/bhpic2.jpg" height="320" width="308" /></a><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After being tossed into the river by my publisher who could no longer stay in business for reasons I will never understand, I was pulled into the lifeboat of Deep River Publishing. I was searching for a new publisher, and I luckily discovered Deep River which happened to be in Oregon where I live. I didn't follow through on getting a new publisher because my husband, Hubert, and I had a big trip planned. It was a wonderful two week trek in February, which included doing a book signing at the National Hotel in Jamestown, cleaning out my parents' attic in California, and visiting our precious 19th grandchild in Phoenix. We meandered home on back roads. I realized we would be passing through Sisters, OR, definitely one of our favorite towns - and coincidentally, the location of Deep River Books. I gave them a call and we had a pleasant visit with their publisher, Bill Carmichael, at a quaint coffee shop. Hubert, one of those down-home, country folks with good instincts, liked him. Sold! I had a new publisher. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And as often happens in life, there was a surprise blessing tucked into the lifeboat - an invitation to the International Christian Retail Show in Atlanta, Georgia, June 22-25. http://christianretailshow.com/ This is a big deal for a first time author who lives outside of cellphone range. I am truly enjoying my excursion in the world of authordom. It's not about how many books I've sold (good thing!), but about the fun I've had meeting other authors and learning an entirely new career at retirement age. May you all have such adventures!</span></i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-66932763105639017852014-03-01T22:38:00.000-08:002014-03-01T22:41:34.535-08:00Lost in BooklandWriting a book was so simple. Some may find that hard to believe, but The Seamstress of Jamestown flowed from my fingertips. The characters were compilations of the hundreds of people I've known in my many years of life. Choosing a publisher wasn't too hard either. But now the snag! Winepress Publishing closed their doors on January 1, 2014, with no warning. I don't want to speak badly of them as I enjoyed working with the Winepress staff; however, this left me in quite a predicament. There is money from sales that I will never receive. But, alas, that's part of the adventure one should anticipate in business, right? This unexpected turn of events is requiring much of my time in endless phone calls, changing my ISBN number, meetings, reading emails, blogposts, Facebook posts, ad infinitum. Don't "they" know I started working on January 6 after a two-year hiatus? How do "they" think I have time for this? A new, excellent publisher seems to have fallen across my path. So, I shall muddle through this murky swamp, but this brings up some questions. Why doesn't life go smoothly? Why do some people let you down? And who are "they" anyway?<br />
<br />
So, we know the answer to two of the questions has to do with Eve and an apple. But who are "they"?! You have met them. At the most unexpected time in your life they go out of business owing you money, bounce a check you were counting on, slander you before your boss, steal your best friend (or spouse), or succeed in a hostile takeover of the business you poured every penny into. How can there be so many of "them"? I fear the answer is because "them" is sometimes "us". <br />
<br />
I find it interesting that I have been on both sides of an issue several times in my life. I have been friends with parties on both sides in churches that split. I have had neighbors divorce and tried the impossible task of remaining friends with both parties. I have lost dear co-workers who left a company convinced the Board of Directors were evil monsters. When one weathers these divisions, it is like standing with one foot on the wharf and the other on the boat pulling away from the dock - sometimes drifting, sometimes with oars paddling, sometimes with an outboard motor powering the dingy out to sea. <br />
<br />
I do see life as black and white in many situations. Good and evil sometimes present themselves vividly. However, in the above-mentioned experiences, it was not clear. Each side had good and sound reasoning. I often see clearly the truth of both sides. It leaves me standing on the shore holding hands with the one on the dock and the one on the boat trying to overpower the force of the boat pulling away.<br />
<br />
Alas, this is an adventure of life common to all. Surely, we have all experienced some division that broke our hearts because both sides were good people believing they were doing the honorable thing. The biggest battle is that over one's tongue. If I could learn to listen to both sides and not spread the muck perhaps I could be a true connector - like a ligament holding the body of mankind together - instead of cutting friendships and relationships apart with my sharp tongue. So, God bless Winepress and my new publisher, all those who have betrayed me, and those who simply couldn't remain united as one and had to break away.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-76063186633155999252013-12-04T12:36:00.000-08:002013-12-04T12:39:50.944-08:00A Great AdventureLife is an adventure. It can be a good, even great, adventure, <i><b>if</b></i> we pay attention. Occasionally friends tell me I am wise. I sometimes think it's just my gray hair fooling them, but maybe it's true. I think the trick is to pay attention in life. I wrote The Seamstress of Jamestown including many different kinds of people, life experiences, and motivations. Where did I get those ideas? From paying attention throughout my long life. <br />
<br />
My cousin recently sent me this poem which I think says it all.<br />
<br />
<i>I walk down the street.<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 1em;">There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 2em;">I fall in.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 3em;">I am lost ... I am helpless.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 4em;">It isn't my fault.</span><br />
It takes me forever to find a way out.<br />
<br />
I walk down the same street.<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 1em;">There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 2em;">I pretend I don't see it.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 3em;">I fall in again.</span><br />
I can't believe I am in the same place.<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 4em;">But it isn't my fault.</span><br />
It still takes a long time to get out.<br />
<br />
I walk down the same street.<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 1em;">There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 2em;">I see it is there.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 3em;">I still fall in ... it's a habit.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 4em;">My eyes are open.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 5em;">I know where I am.</span><br />
It is my fault.<br />
I get out immediately.<br />
<br />
I walk down the same street.<br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 1em;">There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.</span><br />
<span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-left: 2em;">I walk around it.</span><br />
<br />
I walk down another street.</i><br />
<br />
<i>by Portia Nelson</i><br />
<br />
Life isn't about being perfect, but about learning as we go. If we pay attention to the holes in the sidewalk and the beautiful sunset, life will be a wonderful adventure.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-18450894073354701122013-11-19T16:41:00.002-08:002013-11-19T16:41:58.793-08:00She flies through the air...<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>When my friend, Mary, posted a photo of herself skydiving on Facebook, I knew I had to ask her to do a guest blog for me. I found there was much more meaning and depth to her floating through the air than I could have imagined. Thank you, Mary, for sharing your <span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">story </span>with us! </i></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs95x-Ubg2RfETvfLwYpa_tUkTnbZtsYwCL2DXstEN8q52zY9JSybxUjyYUL12owWTu6Wad9EY_HwURfwoiOUVUWXou5i5BZhjEsj2pW0w39d6WwO0JLZfuOyu2H5gcaNq3g2_H_eHjEcS/s1600/Mary+Kathleen+Copeland+Sky+Diving2.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs95x-Ubg2RfETvfLwYpa_tUkTnbZtsYwCL2DXstEN8q52zY9JSybxUjyYUL12owWTu6Wad9EY_HwURfwoiOUVUWXou5i5BZhjEsj2pW0w39d6WwO0JLZfuOyu2H5gcaNq3g2_H_eHjEcS/s320/Mary+Kathleen+Copeland+Sky+Diving2.tif" width="320" /></a></i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I
have had the pleasure to meet and get to know Barbara Hettwer in our
Women of the Word Bible Study we belong to. Barbara is truly a
Proverbs 31 woman; within these verses we learn that if the virtuous
woman will give herself to her God-called work, she will be
successful in her efforts. Our Father God gives us women definite
instructions in Proverbs 31 and describes what our rewards will be.
Ultimately, He will “give her the fruit of her hands, and let her
own works praise her in the gates.” (Proverbs 31:31) I am honored
and humbled to have been asked by Barbara to guest blog for her Life
is an Adventure blog. This is a virtuous woman I am truly blessed to
know.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Barbara
saw this picture of me sky diving and said, “Now that’s an
adventure!” My sky diving was a celebration for me of turning 40
and receiving a cancer free diagnosis. In February 2002, I was
diagnosed with stage 4 tongue cancer. I had been to see my doctor
every month starting in August 2001, and we tried several treatment
options for what looked to be a canker sore I was told was due to
stress. In December there was a four month wait to see the Ear, Nose,
& Throat (ENT) specialist and I didn’t think anything of the
time wait, because the sore had stayed the same size so I could still
eat; and other than having a fever and what I thought was an ear
infection that wouldn’t go away, I just needed to wait for my
appointment. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Within the first week of January
2002, my canker sore had erupted into a full blown open tumor that
filled my mouth, and I could no longer eat. My now ex-husband came
home every day to find me crying on the couch; and after a week of
not being able to eat, he called the ENT specialist and told them I
would not make it to my appointment scheduled in April. It was
arranged for me to be seen at the doctor’s lunch time. Looking at
my tongue, she immediately knew it was cancer. She arranged for me to
have the biopsy the insurance company needed on Saturday that week;
her day off. Within a week I had a feeding tube and port put in, and
I had started Chemotherapy every Friday for eight hours and Radiation
every day. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I am a non-smoker and limited
social drinker; I had no reason why the medical community would be
looking for any kind of oral cancer. My ENT said during this time
they were seeing more and more oral cancers, and they did not
understand where it was coming from. Since then a lot of hard work
from researchers and the medical community have linked oral cancer to
the Human Papilloma Virus (HPV16). I will not go more in-depth at
this time, but here is a link if you are inclined to follow up:
<a href="http://www.oralcancerfoundation.org/hpv/">http://www.oralcancerfoundation.org/hpv/</a></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">My plan of treatment was
scheduled for a 3 month period, and then would be starting all over
again with another round of Chemotherapy for 3 more months. My first
round of therapy took a lot out of me due to the medication and side
effects. I never made it to starting my second round; I got so sick
that the doctors wanted to give me time to recover before starting
again. In September 2002, my colon perforated and I ended up in
Portland Providence ICU for 2 months and then a care facility for
another month before going home. I now had an Ostomy, and between
being bedridden and the medication I was on, my right hip
deteriorated to the point it needed to be replaced. I had my Ostomy
for a year and a half before it was taken down, and I had my hip
replaced three months after that. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">My bad health had a snowball
effect with one problem leading to another. Yet through it all,
because of the group of women I had around me, I knew and felt I was
in God’s hands, and He would never let me go. In September 2001, my
son Isaac went into kindergarten. His teacher, Gloria, invited me to
join her ladies bible study group. These women studied the word of
God with me, were there from the beginning, took me to appointments,
held my hair back while I threw up, told me not to worry when I lost
my hair, and always shared their homes with my family taking my Isaac
in as one of their own.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> I
am not glossing over this most difficult time in my life with my head
in the clouds and rosy glasses saying everything was fine and my
faith was rock solid. While in the hospital I flat lined, I was
depressed, I was scared from one day to the next about what was
coming my way and what would happen to my Isaac. I had to make a
choice; our Lord taught me through these women who were there to
support me that I could choose peace or wallow in self-pity and
despair. Other than giving myself a five minute crying pity party
when I needed to release that negative energy, I purposely chose
peace, because my peace was not dependent upon my circumstances. I
truly believe our Lord Jesus guarded my heart and mind through peace
that surpasses all human understanding. (See Phil. 4:7) God’s word
is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. God’s word will never
change; perfect peace is promised, but not perfect circumstances. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">A Song of Salvation in Isaiah
26:3 says, “You will keep </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>him</i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">
in perfect peace, </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>whose</i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">
mind </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>is</i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">
stayed in You, because </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>he</i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">
trust in You.” (Italics mine) We serve a Prince of Peace who makes
a way where there seems to be no way. We can choose self-pity amongst
our difficulties or look to the One who is peace. If we keep our
minds on Him, He will keep us in perfect peace. Yes, I could say my
sky diving was an adventure, but getting there was </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><i>the</i></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">
adventure. Skydiving was the celebration of the way that was made for me
through a very difficult time. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">MaryKathleen
Copeland</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">October
2013</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-79498055903900362142013-10-13T16:40:00.000-07:002014-03-02T21:25:39.443-08:00German Adventure<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUhEDDoSPL7PUgFmthfvSmQdBHDVC1ERzPcLkOaejjt2MD4ews0aV4Jq16ffptsxekh6RQ-OgXPLjlV_LmncP8CSE01Y87Ic2_KbQOSwcPdlINvXbRdcwJ0-NjvuK_R4ZeHGOLDj-TLsB/s1600/IMG_1213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpUhEDDoSPL7PUgFmthfvSmQdBHDVC1ERzPcLkOaejjt2MD4ews0aV4Jq16ffptsxekh6RQ-OgXPLjlV_LmncP8CSE01Y87Ic2_KbQOSwcPdlINvXbRdcwJ0-NjvuK_R4ZeHGOLDj-TLsB/s200/IMG_1213.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>Just getting from Oregon to Munich should be enough of an adventure, but on Iceland Air it was easy. The adventure was Oktoberfest. Yes, at 63, I danced on the table in my dirndl (and I don't even drink). The young Germans loved it and cheered me on. We only had to step over a few drunks on the sidewalk to get back to the S-bahn. Another adventure was riding in the back seat while my daughter-in-law drove 186 km/hr on the autobahn. Now, for you Yankees, that about 116 mph.<br />
<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f8/Schloss_Neuschwanstein_2013.jpg/240px-Schloss_Neuschwanstein_2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Schloss Neuschwanstein 2013.jpg" border="0" class="thumbborder" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f8/Schloss_Neuschwanstein_2013.jpg/240px-Schloss_Neuschwanstein_2013.jpg" height="179" width="240" /></a>Then there was Neuschwantstein Castle. This can hardly be considered a unique adventure when they surmise that 60 million people have visited it. The adventure was trekking from the bus down the hill to the castle, then up a flight of stairs in the courtyard for a good photo, back down, up 165 stairs inside and back down 181 to the kitchen, then up the hill to catch the insane bus ride down. The bus is large and the road narrow and winding. Some people got sick, claustrophobic, and refused the ride back down. Not me! I just held on and watched the 4 year old enjoying the ride "Whee!" is the same in German.<br />
<br />
I cannot leave out the crazy search for my great grandmother's birthplace. Now, we wouldn't just want to go to the town of Ahornberg and look for the smaller area nearby listed on her baptismal record, #23 Holzlmuhle. Oh no, I'm too smart for that. I found the latitude and longitude coordinates for Holzmuhl on line, and we used our car's navigation system to get there. A little more east! Now, try north. Oops! there's a mountain in the way! Uhhh...we're awfully close to the Czech border. When we finally found the coordinates it was a restaurant. After talking with several restaurant employees, they got an old German woman from the back room who told us how to get to Holzmuhl. When we arrived the lady there said there had never been 23 houses in their village. So, the sane way...we put Ahornberg in our navigation system, drove there, almost...right before arriving we saw a Holzlmuhle sign. Hey, that's a different spelling! It was worth the effort. The current owners of the farm were very nice, talked with us for quite a while, and let us take pictures.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQiWJfm-Y9w59_ASgyDi1L7Lvj2Y8dggZ7GCmhnwv8uqd1WyjKItnB25teMxVIt3aHCxddxqZDuc2TSm-cbL8dsIRE1jyrGI79Uoe3ZfSGS6vNYhX-LRDFhmsbeoObOP8DLJqb-oSngnmB/s1600/Mutter's+birthplace+%2323+Hollzlmuhle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQiWJfm-Y9w59_ASgyDi1L7Lvj2Y8dggZ7GCmhnwv8uqd1WyjKItnB25teMxVIt3aHCxddxqZDuc2TSm-cbL8dsIRE1jyrGI79Uoe3ZfSGS6vNYhX-LRDFhmsbeoObOP8DLJqb-oSngnmB/s320/Mutter's+birthplace+%2323+Hollzlmuhle.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
Now, back to the adventure of daily life, which is quite exciting enough for me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-39511913186646884922013-08-22T20:37:00.000-07:002014-03-01T22:43:54.269-08:00Life Is An Adventure<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Don't give up, you young folks! I have a new exciting career which
started at 60. :) If you are frustrated: in a boring job or buried under
piles of laundry, be encouraged. Those are great times which you will
look back on as the good ole days - honestly. But exciting things can lie ahead
also - totally different adventures. I never thought I would write
anything, and here I am with a novel! God has much better plans for our
lives than we could ever devise. Listen to Him, follow in His
footsteps, and your life will never be boring!<br />
<br />
Yesterday I was interviewed by Jackie B. Peterson of Better Smarter Richer for Solo Pro Radio. It was my first interview. Jackie was so pleasant that it was like having a conversation with an old friend. You can hear the interview by going to www.soloproradio.com<br />
<br />
The Seamstress of Jamestown was written to be a pleasant story with a few twists and turns. It can be read for mere entertainment. However, if you pay attention you will find some good life lessons. Emma Randall learns about forgiveness and then a deeper level of forgiveness than most people ever reach. She also matures through being willing to change her opinions about people as she learns more truth about them. And, like all of us, she has to accept sad events in her life along with the joyful ones. The same is true of life in general: if you pay attention, you will learn as you go, growing better and more complete each day.<br />
<br />
Enjoy the adventure!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBm9c1nQ5gfrtm75uuC07PglcyGjL0rBH1pdyHg8JpGsELHtUduk5-RlSUCKu9jStS67mvFJ_KaNwjNUIg4ec_sXlFQRunbaJxiQg5wXJ3kWHyEeqAdSjzdv4vOVGsZMiaXXcS3MDWW35k/s1600/Steve,+David,+Barbara+-+Kilauea+lava1989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBm9c1nQ5gfrtm75uuC07PglcyGjL0rBH1pdyHg8JpGsELHtUduk5-RlSUCKu9jStS67mvFJ_KaNwjNUIg4ec_sXlFQRunbaJxiQg5wXJ3kWHyEeqAdSjzdv4vOVGsZMiaXXcS3MDWW35k/s320/Steve,+David,+Barbara+-+Kilauea+lava1989.jpg" height="285" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Barbara on right watching Kilauea Lava flow by...Now that's an adventure!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-20962341291407678132013-08-16T14:23:00.000-07:002013-08-17T21:05:31.526-07:00Hot Off the Press!<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>The Seamstress of Jamestown</i> is now in print!</b></span></div>
<br />
<b>Paperback: </b>The paperback version of <i>The Seamstress of Jamestown</i> is now available through the publisher. The list price is $18.99, but you can buy it at www.winepressbooks.com for $13.86. By the end of August, it will be available at many other sites.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>E-book</b>: The Kindle & Nook versions should be available by late August.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3jPnYrXrqjP8poeAsM5arOoSxMIpfa9K2LWMmUA_hv_qp70SdU8OWNtCYIU8lweYpJRlv0Y63A9qfCfvdmOSjgE9gAkQtgalZZ7lNBPOrK8mIvbr_GzzbdVBKczCj9VWqsWir84WMIYB7/s1600/The+Seamstress+of+Jamestown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3jPnYrXrqjP8poeAsM5arOoSxMIpfa9K2LWMmUA_hv_qp70SdU8OWNtCYIU8lweYpJRlv0Y63A9qfCfvdmOSjgE9gAkQtgalZZ7lNBPOrK8mIvbr_GzzbdVBKczCj9VWqsWir84WMIYB7/s640/The+Seamstress+of+Jamestown.jpg" width="395" /></a><b>Description:</b> From an extremely young age, Emma Randall has been fascinated by stories
of the Wild West and the California Gold Rush. The daughter of an
aristocratic family in mid-nineteenth century Baltimore, Emma feels
disconnected with the social life of Baltimore society and without
direction … until she makes the radical decision to go West on her own,
leaving everything and everyone she knows behind.<br />
<br />
Emma secretly convinces her family’s servants to teach her to cook, take
care of livestock, and perform other skills she deems necessary for
life in the unpredictable West. At the young age of twenty-one, when she
can no longer stand the frivolous focus of Baltimore society, Emma
boards a train to the great unknown adventure awaiting her in the
California West.<br />
<br />
<b>Excerpt:</b> <br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:DoNotOptimizeForBrowser/>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]-->Emma walked to the post office in
the afternoon and once again passed the slovenly figure of the girl in the ugly
dress on the porch of the Gold Bar Saloon. Emma had a little talk with herself.
She was moping about her own troubles, which were not so great. She had always
helped people. She came here to build her character. Maybe she could help this
girl. She could at least make her a nicer dress. On her way back she decided to
speak with the girl.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As she neared the woeful figure she
said, “Good afternoon.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The girl did not even nod in
response. Emma wondered why she stood out there. If it were for the same reason
Emma sat on the velvet chair on the National Hotel porch—to enjoy the
scenery—then the effort was failing, for there was no joy in the girl’s face.
If it were to draw customers into the saloon, Emma could not imagine that would
be successful either. Emma halted and tried again. “Hello, my name is Emma
Randall. I recently arrived here from Baltimore. Have you been here long?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The girl raised her eyes slowly,
without really lifting her head too far, and peered at Emma with her
greenish-blue eyes. “Two years.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well,” said Emma, “I’ve been
noticing you out here in the afternoons and I thought perhaps we could help
each other.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The girl feigned a laugh that
seemed more like a “Hmmmph” adding a shoulder shrug and not a genuine smile,
just one side of her mouth twitching upward. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You see, I’m a seamstress in need
of employ. I thought perhaps I could make you a new dress. I am very aware of
the latest fashions. Then, when folks ask you where you got your new dress, you
could tell them I made it. This could bring me a goodly amount of business that
I desperately need.” Emma cringed at telling this shell of a person her needs
when she hadn’t confided in any of the kindly people she had met. But she was
quite sure that this girl would not accept charity, so Emma had to make it seem
that the waif would be doing the seamstress a favor. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Emma was met with a sideways
curious stare. “I got a dress.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, yes, but I’m sure any lady
would like a new one.” Calling her a lady was a stretch of the meaning, but
Emma did not have the vocabulary that would have provided a more suitable word.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I ain’t gonna spend my money on
somepin’ I don’t need.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t charge
you, as you would be doing me a favor. But I would appreciate it if you could
pay for the fabric. But if you can’t, that’s all right.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I c’n. I got money.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, fine then. When might you be
free to join me to shop for the fabric?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, I guess I could be free now.
I dun have start work till two. Jus’ let me stop by the boardin’ house and git
my purse.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Soon the two women headed down the
street to the general store. Emma questioned the girl and found out her name
was Abigail Elroy. At least that’s what Emma surmised from “Ab’gail.” Also, her
favorite color was blue. Emma studied her dress up close now. The bodice was
striped pink and brown satin with uneven, sloppy gathers at the top. The skirt
was a bright emerald green with a flounce, but her petticoat was hanging down a
few inches where it was ripped. How anyone could have even conceived of putting
such colors together she could not imagine. The entire dress simply did not fit
correctly. It was too tight around the midriff and too large in the bust line
so that it gaped a little right in the middle. “Do you mind if I ask where you
purchased the dress you are wearing?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Purchased? Huh! Mr. Simpson give
ita me when I come ta work fer ’im. I think it wuz some other girl had it afore
me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, I see,” said Emma. “Well, I
don’t think it suits you quite right. My specialty is proper fitting. So the
dress I make you will fit you like a glove.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Abigail paused at the door to
Butterfield’s. Emma sensed that Abigail was not accustomed to entering places
with folks of propriety. “Come on, Abigail; let’s see if they have some
beautiful blue fabric.” They entered and Emma began examining the bolts of
material with her expert eye. She found a beautiful light blue satin with moiré
water markings. She wouldn’t have minded using this in a dress for herself. It
was exquisite. She held it up to Abigail, smiled and honestly said, “This
brings out the blue in your beautiful eyes. Do you like it?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yeah, it’s real perty.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well, I think we could use this
for either the bodice or the skirt, but not both. Let’s see what else we can
find that would go with it.” She soon found a satin with muted dark blue and
light blue stripes. The light blue was a perfect match for the other fabric.
“Oh, I think this would go well,” Emma explained. “We could use this for the
bodice and the other for the skirt with the stripes running vertically. Do you
like it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, yes!” Abigail exclaimed with
the first sparkle in her eyes Emma had seen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Emma took the bolts to the counter
and ordered the amount of fabric she knew she would need based upon her
experience. As they had chosen the finest fabric in the store and needed much
due to the gathering, the total came to an exorbitant $5. Abigail was looking
at the candy counter, which gave Emma a chance to pull two coins from her
purse. “Abigail, I’m sorry. It has come to $3. Is that too much?” Abigail
gulped, reached into her purse and carefully counted out three silver dollars
and handed them to Emma. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The two walked back out into the
sunshine and Emma asked Abigail to accompany her to her room at the National
Hotel so she could get proper measurements. There were quite some sideways
glances from the other guests as the two women walked upstairs. Emma had
Abigail remove her dress, which she seemed very reticent to do. Emma was more
repulsed by the undergarments than the gaudy dress. They were dirty and smelly!
No wonder she had smelled cheap cologne. Emma held her breath and quickly took
the measurements she needed and wished she could throw her measuring tape away.
She felt it was contaminated with the plague. It was nearly two o’clock, so
Abigail hurried out and back to the saloon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Now Emma had a true problem. How
would she make a dress for a saloon girl? Her modesty would not allow her to
make one quite as risqué as some of the girls wore, but she knew Abigail would
not be permitted to wear a dress down to her ankles and up to her neck. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Emma settled upon making a gathered
waistline with a full skirt, like most of the girls had, but made it come just
below the knees. The bodice she made fitted to Abigail’s still girlish shape
with the neckline cut low but not gaping open because it would fit correctly,
lying flat several inches below the collar bones. The wide neckline revealed
most of her shoulders, so plenty of skin was showing without being too
immodest. There were small puff sleeves that gave it a princess look without
being <span style="color: black;">overly fluffy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Emma truly was a seamstress and
decided to have this dress reflect her greatest precision and care. She also put
love into every stitch even though this was costing her money and she had
little regard for the recipient. It was one of those sacrifices Emma had become
accustomed to making throughout her life—mainly to forge her own character and
perhaps bring some little blessing to another. It took her a week of hard work
just to be ready for a fitting. She had only basted the dress together with
large stitches. She went by the saloon in the late morning, but Abigail wasn’t
in front. She went to the boarding house and asked for Abigail. She came
sloughing down the stairs as though Emma were a bother. This made Emma angry
after all of her hard work, but she did not show it. She asked Abigail to come
to her hotel for a fitting.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Fittin’?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes, that is where you try the
dress on, which is only loosely stitched together. Then I will make any
necessary adjustments.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The dress was beautiful and Emma
heard a little “Ahhh” creep out of Abigail. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
While making a few adjustments and
pinning, Emma lectured “Now, Abigail, I am a perfectionist. If you are going to
model one of my creations you will have to do it properly. What makes or breaks
a dress are proper undergarments. You see how a strip of lace is hanging down
from your petticoat? And see how your camisole is clumping under the fitted
bodice? This won’t do. I will provide you with undergarments that suit this
dress and you must promise me you will wear them.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A few days later Emma delivered the
dress and undergarments to her customer at the boarding house. At this rate
Emma would be broke in a year and have to go crawling home to Daddy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The next afternoon Emma saw a
beautiful young woman standing in front of the Gold Bar Saloon in a lovely blue
dress, freshly coiffed hair and no undergarments showing. Emma stopped and
excitedly blurted out, “Oh, Abigail, you do look lovely. We did a good job
choosing the fabric. I’m glad you like blue. It is nice with your eyes. If you
ever want another dress, I’d love to see what you look like in green. I wonder
if that would bring out the green in your eyes.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, Miss Emma, thank ya so much. I
feels like a princess.”</div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Emma guessed that poor Abigail had <i>never</i> before
felt like a princess.<i> </i>“Oh, you are very welcome. And remember, you have
done me a great favor also.” Emma decided the sparkle in Abigail’s eyes was
payment enough. Even if she failed in Jamestown, she would have brought one
bright day to one lonely, sad girl.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><b>Follow Emma</b> as her life weaves its way through the Minuet, murder, betrayal, lemonade and love, until she not only succeeds in Jamestown but becomes a blessing to </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">her family, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Abigail, and the entire town. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-60831915802626855222013-07-12T20:21:00.004-07:002013-07-12T20:21:48.220-07:00STATE FAIR!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD7tzxFM66ceJvgAxOpZlWnZ5sApL-6SWOV84_gi8oQ1XywdJZjhBFIiS3yoykUcckgk4rLedt5tIjWFFeXA4ieAKWQBe268vL1DW-dhF879qX1AWXqtxPc6oLeXkD1mgCrsUTX3dkgOay/s1600/Barbara+author+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD7tzxFM66ceJvgAxOpZlWnZ5sApL-6SWOV84_gi8oQ1XywdJZjhBFIiS3yoykUcckgk4rLedt5tIjWFFeXA4ieAKWQBe268vL1DW-dhF879qX1AWXqtxPc6oLeXkD1mgCrsUTX3dkgOay/s320/Barbara+author+2013.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Off to the Fair! I will have the privilege of being at the Oregon
Author's table at the Oregon State Fair August 23 - September 2. I am
truly looking forward to this opportunity to talk with happy fair-goers
about my novel. I will have a special discounted price for the Fair and
will be happy to sign books. Hope to see you there! </i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-64258451187503113902013-05-08T19:44:00.002-07:002013-05-10T13:09:34.905-07:00Inspiration for the Seamstress - MomI have had a wonderful experience putting together my first book. The writing itself was an exciting experience. The story just flowed
from my fingertips at my computer. I truly knew my characters. If you
asked me a question about one of them that was not mentioned in my book,
I could tell you because somehow they were a part of me. I suppose that
is the way most first books are: the characters are parts of the author
or people the author has known.<br />
<br />
I have been coached through the editing process by the kind folks at WinePress Publishing. I made many mistakes and tried their patience - having to be told repeatedly in detail how to upload my manuscript. As an inexperienced writer, there was much for me to learn. Their editors explained basic writing principles that I, as a math teacher, just did not know. <br />
<br />
My main character, Emma Randall, is a perfected cross between my mother, the teachers I've met in the last ten years, and myself. My mother was a seamstress in New York City. She worked at Milgrim's dressmaking house in New York City when she was 19 years old where she embroidered the initials on Kate Smith's underwear and cut out and basted together a dress for Eleanor Roosevelt. My next book will definitely be about my mother.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom (left) with cousin and sister</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Helen, Gladys, Rose </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns-rMVFgHnH8XbrUUKcQjiBZp12i7Gg4XE7cDM2Y8B8wWlecAk7C5WV1tXZRNoOwKmcVwolQ3CYw-4LiXvLQFGawWk4Jv02zUFZ48i47kN2oxP9aKUhBHpmjTEs1LxcIIUzpWjMIIkvL9/s1600/Helen%252C+Gladys%252C+Rose+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns-rMVFgHnH8XbrUUKcQjiBZp12i7Gg4XE7cDM2Y8B8wWlecAk7C5WV1tXZRNoOwKmcVwolQ3CYw-4LiXvLQFGawWk4Jv02zUFZ48i47kN2oxP9aKUhBHpmjTEs1LxcIIUzpWjMIIkvL9/s320/Helen%252C+Gladys%252C+Rose+001.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-33116054774841665472013-04-04T21:36:00.000-07:002013-05-08T20:00:56.469-07:00Review<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimlbksj16gHIWcqCm5WBHj472fSm9bQ-x26svT_-oCsWQssMlzW063k9qn3wwQINLx1CDCovQmNvhPhwgjpqGczMzTjA9BaswvLDM4xXG8nnWc9C_NhVJyDDaEUvS00dDcqhyphenhyphenx5ltWeTwL/s1600/hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimlbksj16gHIWcqCm5WBHj472fSm9bQ-x26svT_-oCsWQssMlzW063k9qn3wwQINLx1CDCovQmNvhPhwgjpqGczMzTjA9BaswvLDM4xXG8nnWc9C_NhVJyDDaEUvS00dDcqhyphenhyphenx5ltWeTwL/s1600/hotel.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="background-color: #ffe599;"></span><b>REVIEW </b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: small;">by the prop<span style="font-size: small;">rietor of the hotel that plays a central role in The Seamstress of J<span style="font-size: small;">amestown</span></span></span> </span></span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: #cfe2f3;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">It is
not often that one gets the chance to write a review of a novel about a gold
rush town and its premier hotel of the same vintage.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">The
California Gold Country, which dates from the initial gold finds of 1848
resulted, almost overnight, into a series of towns or camps of a few hundred to
a few thousand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From
1849 to the late 1890s, this was the most populated and influential section of
the State.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many stories have been
centered in this historical part of California, but none has been more
compelling than this one.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">Barbara Hettwer<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>has
written a wonderful new book, that is both historical and a novel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Historic National Hotel, circa 1859,
played a prominent role in the town of Jamestown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hettwer has taken the folk lore of the
town and the National Hotel in particular, and woven a story that is well
written, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fascinating to read and, I
suspect, the first of many novels yet to be written.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today this restored
hotel still thrives as a 9 room bed and breakfast and a highly acclaimed
restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is located in the
foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, South of the City of Sacramento and
North of Yosemite National Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Stephen
Willey<br />Proprietor<br />1859 Historic National Hotel & Acclaimed
Restaurant<br />18183 Main Street ~ P.O. Box 502<br />Jamestown, CA
95327-0502 <br />Voice: (209) 984-3446 ~ Fax: (209)
694-4864<br />Reservations: (800) 894-3446<br />Mail to: <a href="mailto:info@national-hotel.com">info@national-hotel.com</a> <br /><a href="http://www.national-hotel.com/">http://www.national-hotel.com</a>
<br />Located in the heart of Yosemite/Gold Country<br />Celebrating 39 years of
Innkeeping and Fine Dining</span></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1979726322666282036.post-4081004666893510492013-03-23T19:43:00.000-07:002013-03-24T12:45:28.060-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;">Welcome to my page for my exciting new book, The Seamstress of Jamestown! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"> It will be released soon by WinePress Publishing LLC.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc;"></span><br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnAhh39BKQvNrwo-GnhF2TrtiMG9QrbqJBZchxL2Gq_Hp8jlrbnOPAkngJXQ2Sv-YINoX45UgaBhEXQN4ZtfRaGZ0uMSGozrBXh-mFFJPOcToTQJtW5RrzmXf6elyGcqjma5QDTXh9rtN/s1600/The+Seamstress+of+Jamestown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnAhh39BKQvNrwo-GnhF2TrtiMG9QrbqJBZchxL2Gq_Hp8jlrbnOPAkngJXQ2Sv-YINoX45UgaBhEXQN4ZtfRaGZ0uMSGozrBXh-mFFJPOcToTQJtW5RrzmXf6elyGcqjma5QDTXh9rtN/s320/The+Seamstress+of+Jamestown.jpg" width="199" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #ffe599;"></span><span style="color: #660000;">Book Summary <br />The Seamstress of Jamestown <br />Barbara Hettwer <br /><br />Readers will be captivated from the start as they learn about Emma Randall, a woman of strong character born in 1849. Emma, an aristocratic young woman from the East Coast, trades a clean, sophisticated life in a loving family with servants for a life of grime, roughness, work, and loneliness while she braves the West on her own. Once her heart is sure of a path, she faces it with determination and courage. In Jamestown, California, Emma searches to find employment and finally succeeds as a seamstress—developing a successful business with ten employees—which in turn is snatched out of her hands. As a result, she struggles with depression but eventually begins again, as a teacher at her own young ladies’ academy. Emma marries a rugged but well-educated livery stable owner. They have five children and support each other through life’s ups and downs. She is matured and refined through every hardship she encounters. Emma struggles with disappointment and confusion, but reaches into the depths of her soul to accept the events she cannot change, and becomes a blessing to Jamestown and her family. </span><br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14844480161676530039noreply@blogger.com