Thanksgiving Books and Blessings!

Thanksgiving Books and Blessings!

I intended to have a thoughtful post today, but with two deadlines within five days, let’s just say time for other things has gotten away from me, LOL. But I did want to pop on here long enough to invite you to come chat with me today at a Facebook party!

I’m part of the Thanksgiving Books and Blessings event, which can be found here on Facebook from 10-4 Central Time. My slot is 12-12:30 Eastern/11-11:30 Central.

There will be games, giveaways, and lots of fun ~ a way for us authors to thank you, the reader, for all your support and enthusiasm throughout the year. Hope you can make it!

Just for fun . . . Punkin Chunkin

Just for fun . . . Punkin Chunkin

Usually I prepare my week’s blog posts on Sunday. But I didn’t yesterday. Why, you ask? Because we were out of the house by 7 to head down to my family’s farm. The first Sunday of October every year, they run a Fall Festival full of pumpkins, apples, crafts, and hayrides.

Naturally, this event is just begging for some good old fashioned Punkin Chunkin. 😉

A few years ago, we built a massive slingshot and ran some Chunkin to support some missionary friends of ours who were planning a trip to Bulgaria. This year, the same group from my church decided to finish the trebuchet they’ve had in the works for years, in order to support a mission trip to Houston in a couple weeks. My uncle and his wife suffered from the flooding so many residents did–they’re kinda of long-distance members of our church, watching the broadcast every week, so we’re sending some men down to help them repair their home. And once they have boots on the ground, they’ll see what else they can do to help out in the neighborhood too!

So it started with some very fun flinging of pumpkins and watermelons. Though we were a bit nervous at the start when we couldn’t get the sling to release the things–it had worked fine on Friday!–it was soon goinging like clockwork. My husband (the one in the red shirt in the video), calculates that we ended up sending over 300 pumpkins to their deaths in that poor field over the course of 6ish hours, averaging 2-3 flings a minute in our busy hours.

And he’s already planning for next year. 😉

Just so you know why there was no Word of the Week today, LOL. But I’ll get some other posts ready for later in the week, I promise!

Corn Husk Dolls

Corn Husk Dolls

Not exactly a word of the week, I know. 😉 I’m giving myself permission to be lazy, since it’s my birthday. But my “lazy” just means working on projects that are just fun, not technically work. Which today means corn husk dolls.

I just looked up how to make them yesterday, in preparation for a Little House in the Big Woods class that I’ll be helping teach with our homeschool group this fall. Xoë and I had fun putting one together, but it doesn’t seem exactly sturdy. (The image above is NOT ours, LOL. Ours looks more like this….)


Attempt #1. Falling apart, LOL.
Attempt #2, after watching YouTube videos. Muuuuuuch better!





I suspect that some of my readers have made their fair share of these fun little dolls, so I wanted to ask you guys if you have any tips or tricks for making them (using fresh [or dried] husks from corn on the cob, not store-bought husks). Is there a good way to keep them together? Any tricks for putting on hair? I’d love to have the kids make some to sell at our family farm’s Fall Festival, so any tips are appreciated!

[Update: I found some awesome YouTube videos on this, and discovered a couple different styles to try out! Great fun! The second photo above uses this technique. I also want to try out the “sleeves” from this one.]

A Special Mother’s Day Post

A Special Mother’s Day Post

I remember throwing a tantrum when I was about 3, and my mother coming and scooping up my kicking, screaming form from the hallway floor. I remember thinking, “Yes! I got her attention!” And then being depositing on the bed in my room and told not to come out again until I could behave myself. *Fail*

I just wanted my mommy . . . and I got a lesson in life and love.

I remember being sick in school one day and holding it together pretty darn well while I told the teacher I didn’t feel well, while I told the nurse. But when she called my mom and handed me the phone, and I heard that most precious voice in the world on the other end saying, “What’s wrong, sweetie?” I just burst into tears.

I just wanted my mommy . . . and I knew she’d come the minute I called and make it all better.

I remember in middle school, I had some friends who tended to make irresponsible decisions, let’s say, and I took to reminding them of consequences. Of checking on them. I tried not to be nagging, but I also didn’t compromise.

I just wanted to be like my mommy . . . full of love, full of teaching, full of Christ. And one of them starting calling me Mommy–not mockingly, but with affection. I was so proud to answer to that.

I remember in high school, there were quite a lot of kids who didn’t want their parents going on field/band trips. Me? I loved having one or both of my parents along. Because I knew no one cheered, no one commiserated, no one took better care than my mom and dad.

I just wanted my mommy to be around . . . and she always, always was.

I remember in college, there was a day when a few students in my class got into a comical argument about whose mother was the BEST mother. And I won. Because my mom taught me not only how to care (I’d brought brownies in that day for the class, and they couldn’t argue with such an overt proof of taught generosity, LOL), but how to fight for what I believe in. 😉

I just wanted to live the lessons my mommy taught me.

I remember when my daughter was only a few weeks old and we were still living in Annapolis. It was Thanksgiving, and the roads were icy, so we had to delay coming home by a day. I cried–and I don’t cry. Because I was a new mommy myself . . . and I just wanted to be home with my family on that day.

I just wanted my mommy . . . even while I knew I had to protect the life of my new baby and not take undue risks on icy roads.

I remember one day when my son was throwing a temper tantrum on the floor. And I scooped up his kicking-and-screaming form and deposited him in his bed and said, “You can come out when you can behave.”

And I thought, I must be doing something right. I’m acting just like my mom.

In many ways, we’re so very different. But in the ways that count, I hope I’m just like you, Mom. That I’ve learned the lessons you’ve taught by example all my life–to love, to care, to be generous, to always put my family first, below only God. To live my faith and love those put in my life. You taught me how to be a mommy, and a wife, and a friend.

Happy Mother’s Day to my amazing mother, and to all the mothers in my life.
Happy Mother’s Day to all my friends and readers and editors and agents and acquaintances.

And a big thank you to our Lord, who somehow created us so that we can each say, in perfect honesty and certainty, “I have the best mother in the world.” But don’t get into an argument with me about whose really is–I’ll win. 😉

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

With Christmas less than a week away, I figure no one has much time for blog reading anyway. 😉 So this will be my last post this week. We’ll reconvene next week to reflect on 2016 and look forward to 2017.

What will I be working on in the coming week?

Well, aside from eating cookies and peanut clusters–and Cornish pasties we’ve decided we’ll make for Christmas dinner–I’ll be doing some design work, finishing the scarf I’m working on for my grandmother (by Friday, if all goes according to schedule).

And then I’ll be settling down to work on something for YOU.

In the new year, as early as I can manage it, LOL, I’ll be sending out a free bonus story to all newsletter subscribers. Existing subscribers will get a newsletter with the links, and new subscribers will get it as a welcome email. Thanks so much to all of you who took my one-question survey about what story you’d like to see! The masses were pretty evenly divided between wanting Lizzie and Whit’s story (parents of Brook from The Lost Heiress) and something completely new. So if I get a brainstorm for an original in the next few days, awesome–otherwise, I’ll get back to work on His Baroness, which I started a year ago, LOL. (Newsletter sign-up is here.)

I  hope everyone has a blessed Christmas, filled with the wonder of His love and sacrifice!

Word of the Week – Mistletoe

Word of the Week – Mistletoe

Today I’m not examining the etymology of the word itself so much as the history of the tradition of hanging mistletoe at Christmas. Is this part of your family’s tradition?

I’ve never really taken part in it, but certainly we all know that if one pauses beneath mistletoe, one cannot refuse a kiss. In past centuries, this was believed to be good luck and to guarantee love, marriage, and children in the coming year (for those still unmarried). The ball of mistletoe would be burned after the Twelve Days of Christmas to seal the fates of those couples who had kissed beneath it.

But where did the tradition come from? Well it dates back far beyond the coming of Christianity to Europe. For millennia, mistletoe was revered as a sacred plant and thought to contain powers of fertility and good luck and the ability to ward off evil. The plant typically grows on apple trees, but once in a while can be found on oaks (also sacred), so the oak mistletoe is especially sacred and would be cut by Druids with a golden sickle.

The legend goes as follows: the goddess Frigga had a beloved son, Balder, who was the god of summer and hence all things growing and alive. Balder had a terrible dream that he was going to die, so his mother went to every part of nature, above the ground and below, asking them to promise not to kill her son. But she neglected to request this of the mistletoe, which neither had roots below ground nor grew on its own above. So the tricky god Loki, enemy of Balder, made a poison from the berries of the mistletoe and dipped an arrow in it, shooting and killing Balder. For three days, every element and plant tried to revive him, to no avail. Finally, his mother’s own tears revived him, which then turned to little white berries on the mistletoe. She was so overjoyed that she kissed everyone who passed beneath the hanging plant.

You can see where this would easily become part of a tradition surrounding the birth of Christ, right? Someone who lay dead for three days and then was brought back to life, ultimate Love triumphing over Death. Especially since this plant was cut traditionally on the solstice already–and the winter solstice had long been established as the birth of Christ (read why here, if you haven’t already). It was easily incorporated into new traditions and became a lasting one–though still tinged with superstition.

So where do you come down on mistletoe and kissing beneath it? Fun custom? Good luck? Or something to be avoided at all costs? 😉