Daisy Dexter Dobbs - Author and Grand High Exalted Goddess of Make-Believe

A Bright, Sunshiny New Office for Daisy!

2009-06-24T14:54:00.000-07:00

Oh boy have I been busy the past couple of weeks! My husband took a week off from work, which ended up turning into two weeks because our three day painting and redecorating job actually took us twelve days. Yikes!

I’ve posted all about the daunting task on my Crazy Woman blog, complete with before and after pics, as well as the most horrendous photos of me that only a true crazy woman would ever post of herself. Tsk…I’m still amazed that I posted those eyesore photos, but I did.

Ahhh…this winter, when it’s dark, gloomy and rainy here in Portland, I’ll be basking in the sunshiny pale butter-yellow walls with snow white trim of my newly redecorated office. Life is good.

You can find out more on my The Crazy Woman Inside Me blog.

What’s Red and White and Makes Daisy Shudder?

2009-05-18T03:56:00.000-07:00

I’ve posted a cringe-worthy new tale of gag-reflexology (not sure, but I think I just coined a cool new term--LOL) on my crazy woman blog.

You see, I came across a plastic bag full of Weight Watchers-related stuff like point calculators, booklets, my weight records and my food journals from the last time I attended WW a couple of years ago. One section of my journal detailed my strict adherence to the program through the holiday season from Halloween through the new year. And there, adorned with my grisly red-ink doodling of dripping blood and screaming faces, was the page I’d written about…(*drum roll*)…The Beef Fat Incident. As I read my notes, my thoughts were immediately hurled back to my childhood where my sorrowful history with beef first started…

Oh it’s a memorable story indeed (if I do say so myself)! If you’d like to find out what happened, pop over to my latest post, “The Beef Fat Incident (Oh the Horror, the Horror!)” on The Crazy Woman Inside Me blog.

Not Dead, Hopefully Not Forgotten

2009-05-11T08:31:00.000-07:00

Oh dear, I’ve been AWOL here for a while, haven’t I? Sorry. Just wanted to let you all know I’m still alive and kicking and I sure hope you haven’t forgotten me!

I have been quite active online, actually, with my personal blog The Crazy Woman Inside Me and my personal Twitter account at http://twitter.com/MyCrazyWoman. There’s a good reason why I’ve been focusing most of my attention there instead of here lately--because I’m in the vitally important process of transforming my health and my life, little by little, one step at a time.

I’ve blogged here so many times about my endless diets and diet disasters that I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I’m a yoyo dieter, compulsive overeater, battle food addictions and am just a plain old foodaholic and chocoholic. But something I don’t blog about as “Daisy” is the very serious health crisis and struggle I’ve been dealing with for years. It caught up to me last year and I was faced with a life-altering decision.

You can learn about it in the new ”A Single Defining Moment that Changed Susan's Life” post on my personal blog.

If you’re having a difficult time with diet, food compulsion, facing a serious health issue, or just having a hard time with life in general, I encourage you to read this post. I do believe it will inspire you, at least that’s my hope. If you like the post, please leave a comment there or here to let me know.

Many thanks,

--Daisy

Can You See Me Now?

2009-04-24T00:51:00.000-07:00

I found this wonderful video and had to share it with you. A lot of work went into creating this fabulous trick. Here's what's going on--the mirror in a women's public restroom was replaced with a plain sheet of non-mirrored glass. Then a set of identical twins took their positions in identical rooms opposite each other.

Watch what happens when none of the women in the restroom can see themselves in the mirror. Very funny! The video isn't in English (I think it's German) but no language is necessary, believe me.

(If you can't see the embedded video above, you can view it on YouTube here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bG1-nehyQYg&feature=player_embedded)

This week on my crazy woman blog you'll find a post titled Caught Red-Handed by the Diet Police! Or, perhaps it should be called Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire. :-0 This is a cringe-worthy post from my alter ego that I'm sure most yoyo dieters will be able to relate to quite well!

How is it Possible to be Organized and Disorganized at the Same Time?

2009-04-17T09:32:00.000-07:00

I'm no Suzy Homemaker. I'm about as far removed from being a domestic goddess type as one can possibly get. However, since I'm married to Mr. Clean, a man who actually likes to clean, my house looks pretty darn good.

That's not to say I'm completely without any talent in the domestic realm. I'm a great, intuitive cook. I'm simply sensational with interior design. I'm amazing at creating an array of imaginative artwork for my home. And I even do dishes. Aside from that, I'm a lazy, lousy, disorganized, disinterested housekeeper and a struggling-to-reform packrat.

My desk is full of stacks of paper that my husband is just itching to toss so he can make a nicer, cleaner working environment for me. I tried to explain to him that I like my haphazard home office. Those stacks of papers with their meaningless scribbles that mean nothing to me now somehow give me a warm, safe sense of comfort. Mr. Clean thinks that's crazy. I don't dispute that. It's just how I am.

Mike and I have discussed the merits of organization and how it makes life easier (his philosophy, not mine). I've always been spontaneous, while he's a methodical planner. As they say, opposites attract.

But you know what? I'm not nearly as organized as I thought I was (or as my husband thinks I am).

I discovered that when I created another blog recently (The Crazy Woman Inside Me). Since it's a personal blog about my decades of dieting and my quest to lose the weight once and for all and keep it off forever, I'm writing it under my real name. My inner crazy woman also has a Facebook page, a website and she Twitters, just like Daisy. Between my real name and my penname, that's a lot of stuff to monitor and keep track of.

Interestingly enough, as I worked on creating the graphics (I do all my own) and the web design (I'm my own web mistress) and profile information and all the rest, it dawned on me that the folders and subfolders on my computer are perfectly, precisely neat and exceedingly organized. Why, they're almost downright geek-like in their systematized structure.

And so today here I sit at my messy desk, an anomaly, wondering just what in the hell all of this says about my mental state.

On second thought…I don't think I really want to know! :-0

~~~~~

Speaking of my alter ego's blog, today's post there is titled A Wicked Pre-Diet Chocolate Binge and Weight Loss Fantasies. It's revealing and funny. Stop by and say hello!

Failing at Maintaining a Flawless Image

2009-04-14T00:19:00.000-07:00

Do you ever find yourself getting depressed after looking at those gorgeous models, actresses or celebrities on magazine covers, or perhaps the sexy models in catalogs like Victoria's Secret? I imagine most of us normal, average women have at one point or another.

It's tough to be bombarded with all those perfect, flawless women with the long, slender thighs we wish we had, the itty-bitty waists we'd kill for, the long, graceful necks and perfectly sculpted cheekbones, etc. We look at them and then we look at ourselves and then we do what any rational, normal woman would do under the circumstances--we head for the freezer for a pint of ice cream. The perfect tranquilizer.

But you know what? Those seemingly faultless, ideal, ever-so-perfect women in those photo shoots aren't really what they appear to be at all. They've been Photoshopped!

I really enjoy following the Photoshop Disasters: http://photoshopdisasters.blogspot.com/ blog. They post published magazine and catalog photos people send in that have been botched. Most of the errors are pretty easy to spot but sometimes they're more difficult.

The careless graphic artists who manipulated the photographs give all of us normal women with average bodies a special peak into how imperfect models suddenly become flawless in those magazine shoots. Some of the mistakes they make while altering the images are seriously laughable. And the fact that the photos were published that way means there are plenty of people not doing their jobs right. You'll see what I mean after you scroll through a few pages of the photos posted in the Photoshop Disasters blog.

It's a crime the way average women strive to attain impossible silhouettes. Maybe if more women saw how those “perfect” women on magazine covers are really created, we'd all feel better about ourselves and our normal, non-perfect, womanly bodies.

~~~~~

Speaking of non-perfect bodies, I just posted a new article on my alter ego's blog, The Crazy Woman Inside Me. It's called The Diet Susan is on and Why She Chose it. I talk about things that I rarely discuss here, like the AS (ankylosing spondylitis), my autoimmune condition, and how it's changed my life. Stop by and say hello!

The Crazy Woman Inside Me

2009-04-07T14:58:00.000-07:00

The Crazy Woman Inside Me

My final diet, the diet to end all diets, started Thursday, April 2. I’m on a medically supervised fast. That means I’ll eat no solid food for six months. I’ve done it before. It works. What didn’t work was me, because I thought I was too smart to bother with the maintenance program. *sigh*

Anyway, while preparing for the fast, I decided my journey to a lean, fit, healthy body would be much easier if I blogged about it and connected with other dieters. But I wanted to blog about it as the real me.

So, dear readers, allow me to introduce myself. The real Daisy Dexter Dobbs is Susan Bodendorfer, and my brand new blog is called The Crazy Woman Inside Me! The subtitle is: Help! There’s a Crazy Woman Inside me who Wants me FAT!

If you're a yoyo dieter or foodaholic, you’ll definitely be able to relate. I hope you’ll come visit me there and say hello (and get to know Daisy’s alter ego)! The Crazy Woman Inside Me: http://thecrazywomaninsideme.blogspot.com/

Wish me (and the crazy woman inside me) luck!

--Daisy/Susan

UPDATE: I’ve had some emails from readers who were worried about me drinking nothing but water for 6 months, so I wanted to clarify what I mean by medically supervised fast. Don’t worry—I’m not that crazy. LOL I’m using HMR and Optifast, which are protein supplements, and taking in between 800-1000 calories per day.

Oh Those Crazy Women Drivers!

2009-03-31T04:29:00.000-07:00

Thanks so very much for all the nice comments and congratulatory messages for my anniversary here as well as on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace and via email last week. I truly appreciate your kind words and good wishes! My husband and I had a lovely and memorable celebration.

Forgive me for being so spotty with my blogging of late, dear readers. Things are a little crazy busy right now and I haven’t had time to write a regular post.

Ah, but I’ve found some fabulous timewasters to make you smile until things settle down and I can get back to normal…well, as normal as I get, anyway. ;-)

Today I’m sharing a wickedly funny YouTube video of really, really bad women drivers. Seriously, it’s hilarious! Now what I’d like to find is a similar video featuring equally terrible male drivers. I’ve seen them on the road so I know they sure as hell do exist!

Here’s the direct URL just in case you’re unable to view the embedded video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZlhpfCdyS4

Until next time, remember...laughter is the music of the soul.

--Daisy

Daisy Celebrates a Milestone Wedding Anniversary

2009-03-22T12:22:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, on a March 22nd, long, long ago, Daisy and Mike got married. Daisy was just nineteen and Mike had just turned twenty.

We were kids...babies (and baby boomers). We both came from dysfunctional families filled with mental illness, suicide, divorce, alcoholism, depression, abuse and more. Mike and I managed to maintain enough sanity along with our fair share of craziness to become determined survivors. The odds against us staying married for more than a few years were just short of astronomical.

Lots of our friends got married around the same time we did. Most of them came from happy Father Knows Best type families. They all got divorced within 10 to 20 years. Many of them remarried--and then got divorced again.

We didn’t.

Today we’re celebrating a milestone anniversary. How long have we been married? Years. Decades. Longer than many of my readers have been alive. Funny thing--it just keeps getting better and better. I was fortunate to find my true soul mate when I was still in high school--and to recognize him as such. Those first years of marriage were tough, bumpy, short on money and filled with angst (mostly due to our interfering families). But we not only managed to survive, we thrived.

I’m here to tell you today that it’s truly possible to have a long, lasting and ultimately very happy marriage. A happy marriage is not something that just happens. Luck has nothing to do with it. It takes plenty of hard work, lots of love, resolve and spirit.

Ours is an unconditional love. Mike has been my greatest supporter and has encouraged me through my gazillion diets, my many career changes and so much more.

After we were married for five years we decided to have a baby. It was the best decision we ever made, besides getting married. Our baby is a beautiful, talented, exceptional young woman today and the three of us are the closest of friends.

I am a very happy, very fortunate woman.

In March of 2006 I wrote a blog post dedicated to my husband titled Daisy’s Perfect Man. It’s not only a funny story, it’s also true. You can find it here: http://daisydexterdobbs.blogspot.com/2006/03/daisys-perfect-man.html

Yesterday I went for a trip down memory lane, searching for YouTube videos I might want to include with this anniversary post. I found six that sparked happy memories and really made me smile. I hope they’ll make you smile too.

The first three are music videos from when Mike and I were still wee little tykes in grade school--Monster Mash, Purple People Eater and Witch Doctor. The Witch Doctor (Ooh eee ooh aah aah) doesn’t actually have any real video, it’s just the song. I used this one because it’s the only version of the original I could find (the Chipmunks version most of you might remember came later).

The last three music videos were favorite songs of ours when we were in high school--Day Tripper (The Beatles), Monday Monday (Mamas and Papas), and White Rabbit (Jefferson Airplane).

(I’ve included URLs to click on for each video in case you can’t see the embedded videos.)

Enjoy--and thanks for celebrating with me!

Monster Mash: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0thH3qnHTbI

Purple People Eater: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9H_cI_WCnE

Witch Doctor: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0_-9OI-1QE

Day Tripper: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V2UYRoti-tY

Monday Monday: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H7KrlDZ5Hkw

White Rabbit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Quhj6PEboCU (no sound during intro but don’t worry--it starts when they come on stage)

An Irish Soda Bread Rant

2009-03-17T12:30:00.000-07:00

My paternal grandmother was Irish, complete with the heavy brogue, wry sense of humor, fun-loving spirit, ever-present twinkle in her eye and arsenal of favorite recipes from “the mother country” as she called her home in the South of Ireland. Her name was Daisy. She so inspired me as a child that there was no question about what name I wanted to use when choosing my pseudonym years ago.

I was a foodie even as a child and I found such enjoyment in the unusual-to-me from-scratch foods my grandma cooked. One of my favorites was what she called griddle bread. It was somewhat similar to what we Americans know as Irish soda bread, but it was fried slowly on a stove-top griddle instead of being baked in the oven (when cut into quarter-round pieces before cooking it’s sometimes referred to as farl). It was dense and filling with a great crust and soooo delicious plain or slathered with a bit of butter. My waistline was never the same after that first memorable bite.

The closest thing to griddle bread I’ve found commercially are the ubiquitous loaves of Irish soda bread available everywhere during the month of March for St. Patrick’s Day. But…and this is a big but, few of those retail breads come close to the real thing because of additions of sugar, currants, caraway seed, eggs, whiskey, shortening or other ingredients that simply aren’t used when making soda bread in Ireland.

On the way home from our little anniversary trip to the Oregon coast, my husband and I stopped by Fred Meyer to pick up a few groceries. I need to explain here that Fred Meyer is relatively new to me. We didn’t have them back in Chicagoland, where I lived most of my life. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Fred Meyer, I guess you could say they’re sort of like Target, except with a huge, full-service grocery store. While my husband loves Fred Meyer (because it’s on his way home from work), I’m more of a Trader Joe’s girl.

That said, we stopped in and I saw a counter with loaves of Irish soda bread. Oooooooh….. My eyes brightened and I began salivating in anticipation of sinking my teeth into a dense, buttered slice of goodness. The loaves had raisins in them and I prefer my soda bread without, but there wasn’t an option of plain or with raisins as I’ve seen in some stores. Okay, no big deal. I could live with that.

This morning as I waited for my Starbuck’s Komodo Dragon to brew I tore open the soda bread’s cellophane bag. The bread didn’t feel right. The crust felt oddly grainy. What I thought was a dusting of flour turned out to be cornmeal. Dear God, they had dusted the entire loaf with cornmeal! Whatever would possess their bakers to do such a ridiculous thing?

Dazed, I cut into the loaf. Before my knife even made it through the entire cut I knew I was in for a disappointment. It didn’t feel like soda bread. It didn’t smell like soda bread. It didn’t slice like soda bread. It was NOT Irish soda bread. And I was majorly miffed.

I checked the label and noticed that this bread from Fred Meyer’s in-house bakery was actually called Irish soda loaf instead of bread. I dunno, maybe that should have been a clue. Then I checked the reeeeeeally long list of ingredients and, nestled among the exceedingly wordy list of unpronounceable chemicals, I saw yeast. Yeast!!! Irish soda bread isn’t supposed to have any yeast in it. It’s leavened with baking soda, thus the name soda bread. Don’t their bakers know yeast obliterates the unique taste of soda-raised bread? I kept reading and saw that baking soda was finally listed toward the end of the list. It seemed like a mere afterthought.

So what I had was basically a round loaf of ordinary raisin bread that had some baking soda added to the recipe. It did make good raisin bread toast but it could not by any stretch of the imagination be considered soda bread. Not even close. There was no crumb, none of that scone-like goodness store-bought soda bread usually offers.

If you’re not a foodie like me you may be wondering why I’m making such a big deal over a lousy loaf of seasonal bread. Perhaps if I explain that I’m starting my new Diet-to-end-all-Diets in about two weeks (on April 2nd) you’ll more easily understand my outrage, my disappointment, frustration and distress. That loaf of soda bread was to be one of the final tastes of favorite foods that I may have to stay away from after the diet because it falls into the category of trigger foods for me. For me, a trigger food is one that I have a helluva hard time staying away from once I start eating it, plus it usually leads me to wolf down other carby goodies that pack on excess weight.

So, for those of you Fred Meyer shoppers who may be unfamiliar with Irish soda bread. What you’re buying there isn’t the real deal. It’s plain old raisin bread with some baking soda tossed in.

I should have just purchased the ingredients I needed and baked a lovely round loaf of soda bread myself--or, better yet, turned it into griddle bread--but I was tired after our long drive home and just wanted a quick fix, a lip-licking morsel of instant satisfaction with my morning coffee. Was that really too much to ask for? Apparently, yes.

If you live in the Portland Oregon area and want some good Irish soda bread without yeast and chemical additives, go to New Seasons Market and get a loaf from their bakery. It comes plain or with currants. Or, better yet, bake a loaf for yourself because it’s so easy to do. Google Irish soda bread recipe and you’ll find lots of good, simple recipes, both traditional and Americanized.

If you’re interested in the real deal, honest-to-goodness Irish brown bread the way it’s made in Ireland with flour, baking soda, salt, and buttermilk (or soured milk), then you might like to visit an interesting website I found while searching this morning. Grandma Daisy would give it a thumbs-up for sure. It’s called Society for the Preservation of Irish Soda Bread and can be found here: http://www.sodabread.info/. They also have a Facebook group page here: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=112829595160

Never tried Irish soda bread? You’re missing one of life’s great simple gustatory pleasures. Treat yourself to some today.

Impotence of Proofreading, Richard Simmons, and Daisy’s Anniversary

2009-03-13T08:34:00.000-07:00

I’m about to head off for a long weekend with my husband at the Oregon coast to celebrate our wedding anniversary. (It’s not until March 22 but we’re going a week early to avoid spring breakers.) I won’t be back at the computer until Tuesday morning so, in my absence, I wanted to leave you with two of my favorite, very funny videos.

You may have seen one or both of them before but if you love them as much as I do, you’ll enjoy watching them again and injecting a shot laughter into your day.

The first video is called The Impotence of Proofreading. I think both writers and readers will find this amusing and be able to relate. The second video features a Richard Simmons guest spot on one of my all time favorite TV shows, Whose Line is it Anyway? It’s Richard as you’ve never seen him before!

(If you can’t see the embedded video above, you can view it at this YouTube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OonDPGwAyfQ)

(If you can’t see the embedded video above, you can view it at this YouTube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTxkxG3DF4k)

See you next week!

--Daisy

A Little Something for Baby Boomers

2009-03-08T11:48:00.000-07:00

My daughter is home from her month-long trip to India and we’re getting together this weekend to hear all about her amazing adventures, look at her fabulous photos, sample some recipes she learned in a cooking class there and, most important, smother her with ample hugs and kisses.

In the meantime, I’m posting a video that really made me laugh. It features Louis CK, a comic I’d never heard of before, during his visit to Conan O’Brien’s show. I think his funny tirade on the modern generation versus those of us who grew up as baby boomers will make people of any age smile. After seeing this I’m going to check out more of this comic’s work.

Enjoy!

(If you can’t view the embedded video, visit this URL to see it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoGYx35ypus)

An Addiction that Doesn’t Cause Liver Failure: Advice for Aspiring Writers

2009-02-27T00:39:00.000-08:00

Having worked in the publishing field in one capacity or another for many years, I’ve received lots of correspondence from aspiring writers asking for advice. Sometimes, depending on my schedule, it may take me a long while to respond, but I always do eventually. For two reasons. First, I remember what it feels like to be a hopeful new writer filled with questions and concerns and so eager for a little guidance. Second, I’m a believer in paying kindness forward--someone helps me, I help someone else, they help another, and so on.

In this post I’ve combined answers to a few of the most frequent questions I receive. Whether you’re an aspiring writer, a newly published writer or perhaps a seasoned writer with questions, I hope you’ll find something helpful here.

Any advice I offer is based on my own personal experience and perspective. What works for one writer may not work for another. I don’t have all the answers--I can only tell you what has worked for me.

That said, I believe the single most important thing any writer can do to improve skills and increase chances for publication is to read, read, read. The second most important thing is to write. A lot.

That advice is meant for brand new writers as well as those who are multi-published. At any stage of a writer’s career, frequent reading is crucial to help keep on top of what’s being published as far as subject matter, style, feel, trends, sub-genres, etc. Writers can learn innumerable intricacies about the craft of writing while reading the works of others. Reading poorly written and/or edited books is just as helpful as reading excellent work because the writer quickly learns what not to do.

Through continued reading, writers soon understand what published authors, agents, editors and reviewers mean when they refer to a writer’s voice; sagging middles; hooks; proper dialogue tags; understanding the difference between grammar usage in narrative versus dialogue; purple prose; passive voice; head-hopping; character-driven stories; too-stupid-to-live heroines and much, much more.

Reading is also one of life’s greatest pleasures. There’s nothing like being whisked away for a grand escapist adventure when you most need it. I’ve been addicted to the joys of reading as long as I can remember. After instilling the love of reading in my daughter at a very early age, today she’s just as addicted to the written word as her mother (maybe even more).

As far as addictions go, reading is a fine one to have. No dastardly, sneaky calories and no nasty, harmful side effects--like liver failure. Of course, if your reading addiction causes you to spend too much money on books, you could conceivably lose your house and possessions. But your liver should still be healthy.

Writers often tell me they don’t like reading the work of others in their chosen genre because they’re afraid they may inadvertently copy another writer’s style or voice. Don’t worry about that. While your first few written works may indeed have similarities to works by famous authors, you’ll soon find your own distinct voice. It’s there. Just keep writing and it will eventually emerge. Practice, practice, practice.

I shake my head and tsk when writers tell me they simply do NOT have time to read and get their writing done too. Baloney. We’re all busy. I highly doubt most published writers are independently wealthy with a full staff to take care of household chores or act as social secretaries. Trust me. You can find the time in your day to read if you really want to--if you’re really serious about getting published. It’s called discipline and time management.

No excuses. I don’t care if you’ve got a fulltime job, six kids, a demanding husband, in-laws giving you grief, neighbors and friends who demand your time, or anything else to complain about. If you dream of becoming a writer you need to pay your dues. That includes reading books in your chosen genre as well as other genres. Consider it compulsory homework.

How important are your dreams, anyway? If you can’t or won’t commit to doing what’s necessary to build and polish your writing skills, well then perhaps you need to discard that dream. Maybe it’s not as important as you thought. It all depends on how much you want something. If you want it enough, you’ll find a way to fit in five minutes here and there for yourself.

I believe many aspiring writers who claim not to have the time to read (or write) use being busy as an excuse because they’re actually afraid of failure. They know if they finally take the time to do what’s necessary, instead of just talking about it, they’ll have their book written and ready to submit for publication. That scares the bejeezus out of some writers because they’re overly worried about rejection. I have news for you. If you’re a writer you’re going to come face-to-face with rejection sooner or later--if not from an agent or editor, then perhaps from readers or reviewers.

And it hurts. No doubt about it. Dealing with rejection is not easy (and that’s a whole different blog topic) but you get through it and you keep on writing and submitting and improving your skills. No matter how well you write, not everyone is going to love what you’ve written. Period. Some people might even think you or what you’ve written sucks. That’s just one of the tribulations creative people face. The writers who ultimately succeed are those who continue to learn and grow and who never, ever give up. Rejection isn’t pleasurable but, like reading, it won’t rob you of your liver. There, now doesn’t that make you feel better?

I’m a great proponent of the law of attraction, and of belief combined with action. In other words, you can be whatever you want to be, as long as you truly believe you can, AND you’re willing to do the work it takes to accomplish it. Basically, it’s the basis of The Secret. If you haven’t yet watched the video or read the book, give it a try. Yes, some of it’s corny. The principles covered are certainly nothing new and they’re really quite basic and simple. But it works. The information has been around forever and people have been using these principles to achieve personal success for centuries.

Henry Ford said, “Whether you believe you can do a thing or not, you are right.” That means, if you believe you can achieve something, then you can. And if you don’t believe you can achieve it, then you can’t—because you don’t believe it’s possible. So simple and yet so profound. Writers, or anyone else, become their own worst enemies by not believing in themselves.

Anything is possible. If you want to make a fulltime living at writing, then start by believing you can. And be prepared to do whatever work is needed to make that belief become a reality. That involves plenty of reading; being a prolific writer; working long hours when you don’t feel like it; constantly honing and improving your writing skills; networking; marketing; and much more. But if you want it, you CAN make it happen. You just have to want it enough. Personally, I apply this same philosophy to most everything in my life. And so far I still have my liver, so I know it works.

Since I touched on the subject of believing in yourself, that brings to mind another important bit of advice. Be nice, smart, cautious and professional.

Steer clear of negative people, specifically those who are quick to tell you something is impossible, or that, for whatever reason, you’re incapable of achieving your dreams. Don’t let yourself get contaminated by their negativity or disapproval. Be careful of encountering outright cruel individuals in critique groups or online venues. Ignore what they tell you.

Distance yourself from writers who are clearly envious of other writers’ success. They’re poison. Don’t associate with writers who belittle or ridicule fellow writers behind their backs. I continue to be amazed at how many hateful, green-eyed writers I’ve encountered through the years. Honestly, what are they thinking when they send me emails whining, complaining and gossiping about other writers simply because the other writer has become a successful bestselling author? Sheesh! Don’t fool yourself--if they’re spreading malicious gossip about someone else, chances are they’re talking about you too. That’s the way resentful people work.

It’s true what they say about strength in numbers. Don’t count yourself among the mean kids. Stick with the nice kids. You’ll be much happier and more successful. Trust me on this.

Beware of writers who refuse to share their personal tips or strategies for success when asked. Too many writers, even many seasoned ones, are so insecure they believe that closing the ranks and keeping out the newbie writers will make it easier for them to stay on top. That’s so sad. And so wrong. If you’ve got skill, talent, creativity and imagination, you’re never going to suffer because you’ve helped someone else succeed. Being selfish when you have the opportunity to reach out and help someone who needs it isn’t going to make you successful and it sure as hell won’t make you happy. So be nice. Pay kindnesses forward. You reap what you sow. You attract what you think about. (Well, how about that for a bunch of clichés strung together? LOL)

Unhappy, insecure, miserable, depressing, pessimistic people are insidious, like cancer. Once they get their hold, they’re hard as hell to get rid of. It’s painfully easy to get infected with their negative, doomsayer way of thinking. Regrettably, many of us will need to continually battle the naysayers to keep ourselves confident, positive and optimistic.

Again, it all comes down to simple, age-old principles, like the golden rule. It’s so much more beneficial to you, to your liver, and to everyone else and their livers, to be kind.

In the future I’ll post more on the subject of FAQs (frequently asked questions) that I’ve received from writers over the years. If you have questions about writing, feel free to contact me at DaisyDexterDobbs at gmail dot com. It might take some time for me to respond, but I promise I will--even if it’s to let you know that I’m adding your question to others for a future blog post where it will be answered. If you write expecting me to “dish dirt” on my fellow writers, editors, agents, publishers or anyone else, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.

NOTE: Due to time constraints as well as possible legal ramifications, I am unable to read or give advice on any unpublished manuscripts. Thanks for your understanding.

Feel free to post your questions, or your own advice, in the comments section. I’ll gather what’s there to use in a future post.

Happy reading and writing!

A Thief in the Night

2009-02-23T00:30:00.000-08:00

It’s a busy time for me right now with all sorts of stuff going on, including preparations for my daughter’s return from her month-long trip to India in a week. I can’t wait to see her and hear all about it!

The bad news is that, with things being this hectic, there’s little time to write coherent, much less interesting, blog posts.

The good news is that it gives you guys a nice break from my usual long, wordy posts!

I appreciate my readers more than ever because they’ve been making blogging easier for me during this busy time by sending some marvelous little funnies via email. I love it! The following cute joke really made me smile. I think you’ll enjoy it too.

A Thief in the Night…
A burglar broke into a home one night. As he shined his flashlight around looking for valuables, he heard a strange voice echoing from the dark saying, "Jesus is watching you."

Nearly jumping out of his skin, he clicked his flashlight off and froze. After a while when he heard nothing more he shook his head and continued.

Just as he pulled the stereo out to disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard, "Jesus is watching you."

Freaked out, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot.

"Did you say that?” the burglar whispered to the parrot.

"Yep," the parrot squawked. "I'm just trying to warn you."

The burglar relaxed. "Warn me, huh? And what is your name?"

"Moses," the bird said.

"Moses?" The burglar laughed. "What kind of people would name a bird Moses?"

"The kind of people that would name a Rottweiler Jesus."

Upcoming Mergers and Consolidations

2009-02-18T09:56:00.000-08:00

One of my readers sent this cute, clever bit of humor to me. It certainly made me smile so I wanted to share it with you too . . .

With all of the turmoil in the stock market today, the collapse of Lehman Bros. and the acquisition of Merrill Lynch by Bank of America, perhaps we can expect a rash of additional mergers and consolidations in the coming months, such as:

1. Hale Business Systems, Mary Kay Cosmetics, Fuller Brush, and W.R. Grace Co. will merge and become Hale, Mary, Fuller, Grace.

2. Polygram Records, Warner Brothers, and Zesta Crackers join forces and become Poly, Warner Cracker.

3. 3M will consolidate with Goodyear and become MMM Good.

4. Zippo Manufacturing, Audi Motors, Dofasco, and Dakota Mining will come together as Zip Audi Do Da.

5. Fairchild Electronics and Honeywell Computers will become Fairwell Honeychild.

6. Grey Poupon and Docker Pants are expected to form Poupon Pants.

7. Fed Ex will join its competitor UPS and become FedUP.

The Skewed Evolution of Beauty

2009-02-11T10:05:00.000-08:00

In previous posts I’ve talked (maybe fumed would be a better word) about body image and the unattainable ideal of beauty that’s continually foisted upon us by the media and then embraced by society. The problem goes far beyond trying to whittle down healthy bodies meant to wear a size ten so they can be squeezed into a size zero.

Our quest for attractiveness also involves attaining perfect teeth and faultless hair. Of course, the banishment of every wrinkle or crease is paramount. The only acceptable lips are those with just the right amount of plumpness dictated by what’s “in” this season. Perfect proportion is sought for face, neck, shoulders, eyes and every other part of the body. The preferred perennial perkiness of oversized breasts necessitates surgical enhancement.

And the list goes on and on until, I swear to God, I don’t even want to look in the mirror anymore for fear of turning to stone from viewing the abject hideousness of my imperfect reflection.

With that happy thought in mind . . .

I found three videos related to this topic that I’d like to share with you. The first is known as Dove Evolution (Dove soap and beauty products), produced by The Dove Self-Esteem Fund. At the end of the video we’re told, No wonder our perception of beauty is distorted, which is clearly and painfully evident as you’ll see.

Oh how much less stressful life would be if only we could Photoshop our real-life selves!

This next video is a fabulous parody of the first. It’s called Slob Evolution and it’s guaranteed to make you giggle.

Finally, we have another parody. This one is called Drinking Evolution and should be a warning to all those who imbibe!

Enjoy, fellow imperfect ones!
(Apologies if you are, indeed, perfect.)

My Daughter’s Month Long Adventure in India

2009-02-04T00:23:00.000-08:00

In March of 2007, just before she left for a fabulous three-week trip to Japan, I blogged about my daughter Jen’s passion for travel. Along with this cute animation I created from a photo of Jen riding a camel in Morocco (she was there on 9-11), I also included some photos from a few of her other journeys. (I had to use the camel animation again here because it makes me giggle each time I see it.)

When I say Jen has a passion for travel, I’m not kidding. She’s been to Mongolia, where she slept in a tent in the Gobi Desert; China, where she was offered lizards on a stick for lunch and climbed the Great Wall; Thailand where she ate mystery meat; Australia, where she discovered addictively delicious Tim Tams; New Zealand, where she climbed a glacier; Austria, where she went paragliding around the Alps; Japan, where she had constant encounters with unintentionally funny and badly butchered English; to France, where she nibbled on a chocolate-filled croissant and sipped coffee at an outdoor café in Paris; to Belgium, where she purchased a big box of chocolates for me (yum!) and carried it around in her backpack until she got back home; to England, Ireland, Russia, the Czech Republic, Morocco and so many other destinations I can barely keep track.

Well she’s off again! Last Friday morning my husband and I dropped Jen off at the airport at five o’clock for a month-long trip to India. She was in the air for more than twenty-hours, total before arriving in Delhi, where she met the other members in her tour group. Her birthday is in a few days and this trip is her gift to herself. Like her past trips, this one is purposely no luxury touristy vacation. She’ll be seeing the “real” India, not just the parts most Western vacationers see.

India is 13 1/2-hours ahead of us. In the short time she’s been there she’s already enjoyed dozens of rich experiences. She’s sipped from a steaming cup of masala chai tea at a little stall on a maze-like road in Old Delhi. She visited a Sikh temple where they serve free meals to anyone who comes in, regardless of caste or religion. She got to help make the food, which included kneeling on the ground and rolling out bread dough. She’s explored a spice market with its pungent and exotic fragrances.

During this adventurous trip she’ll also visit the majestic Taj Mahal; go Bengal tiger spotting; sway high above the ground on a camel safari; take a boat trip on the Ganges; visit colorful Jaipur; have overnight stays in castles and forts; see holy rivers and erotic temples; swathe herself in silk at city bazaars; explore the temples of Orchha; ride around in auto rickshaws and cycle rickshaws; and much more.

I’m so proud of my brave, adventurous, beautiful, spirited daughter. But you’ve probably guess that already. Her dad and I have always encouraged her to pursue her dreams, and that she definitely has! She works hard all year at a fulltime job and, after rent and bills, saves her money so she can take memorable trips like this one to India every couple of years or so.

She’s thoroughly enjoying the authentic Indian cuisine (including tasty garlic naan bread), but thinks she just may have to stop in at one of the McDonalds restaurants in India, just to see what it’s like. I suggested she avoid asking, “Where’s the beef?” LOL While the McDonalds Indian menu is at least fifty-percent vegetarian, they do have their own version of the Big Mac, called the Maharaja Mac. And, no, I’m not kidding about the name. When it first debuted it was a mutton burger. It has since been changed to a chicken burger due to customer preference.

Anyway, while we’re on the subject of India, I’ve got to share something with you that drives me a little crazy…

Have you heard of Mumbai? Kolkata? Chennai? They’re places in India that used to be called Bombay, Calcutta and Madras.

As a fan of the old Bewitched TV show, I can’t imagine Samantha calling out, “Calling Dr. Mumbai! Dr. Mumbai come right away!” And I don’t know how I’d feel about Mumbai Gin as opposed to Bombay Gin. The Madras plaid shirts I wore in high school (which were purposely designed to “bleed” in the wash to mute the bright colors) just wouldn’t be the same if I called them Chennai plaid. I also can’t come to terms with calling it the Black Hole of Kolkata instead of Calcutta.

I consider myself an intelligent, independent, progressive woman--a woman who usually embraces change. But there comes a time when I have to draw the line. And this is it.

I have decided to rebel, to rise up and revolt by willfully continuing to think of these places as Bombay, Calcutta and Madras. Just the same way I like to think of Iran as still being Persia; Thailand as Siam (hmmm…would they call it “Si” food, I wonder?): Myanmar as Burma (Myanmar Shave signs just don’t cut it); Istanbul as Constantinople; the Czech Republic as Czechoslovakia; and …

Well, you get the idea.

Oh Dr. Bombay! Dr. Bombay, come right away!

A Good Dose of Laughter for Whatever Ails You

2009-01-28T00:57:00.000-08:00

In lieu of a regular post today, I thought I’d gather some of the delightful jokes that friends, readers and other bloggers have sent me recently and post those. With economy woes, winter’s flu season and life’s daily grind, it’s a shame not to share a few healthy giggles, don’t you think?

Enjoy--and feel free to pass them on to your friends to bring a smile to their day too!

A Very Special Ring

An older, white haired man walked into a jewelry store one Friday evening with a beautiful, curvaceous young woman at his side. He told the jeweler he was looking for a special ring for his girlfriend.

The jeweler looked through his stock and brought out a $5,000 ring.

“No,” the old man said. “I’d like to see something more special.”

After looking through his special stock, the jeweler returned. Presenting a stunning ring, he said, “This is one of our finest, and only $40,000.”

The young woman’s eyes sparkled and her whole shapely body trembled with excitement.

Seeing her enthusiastic reaction, the old man said, “We’ll take it.”

The jeweler asked how payment would be made. “By check,” the old man stated. “I know you’ll need to make sure my check is good, so I’ll write it now and you can call the bank Monday to verify the funds. Then I’ll pick up the ring Monday afternoon.”

The jeweler agreed.

Monday morning, the jeweler phoned the old man. “There’s no money in that account.”

“I know,” the old man said. “But let me tell you about my weekend!”
###

In need of a Push

A man and his wife were awakened at 3:00 am by a loud pounding on the door. The man got up and went to the door to find a drunken stranger standing in the pouring rain and asking for a push.

“Not a chance,” the husband said. “It’s three a.m.!” He slammed the door and returned to bed.

“Who was that?” his wife asked.

“Just some drunk guy asking for a push.”

“Did you help him?” she asked.

“No! It’s three in the morning and it is pouring rain out there!”

“Well, you have a short memory,” his wife said. “Remember about three months ago when we broke down and those two guys helped us? I think you should go help him. And you should be ashamed of yourself!”

Doing as he was told, the man got dressed and went out into the pounding rain.

“Hello, are you still there?” he called into the dark.

“Yes!”

“Do you still need a push?”

“Yes, please!”

“Where are you?” the husband asked.

“Over here on the swing,” the drunk replied.
###

Behold, I Stand at the Door and Knock

A new pastor was visiting in the homes of his parishioners. At one house it seemed obvious that someone was at home, but no answer came to his repeated knocks at the door.

So he took out a business card and wrote “Revelation 3:20” on the back of it and stuck it in the door.

When the offering was processed the following Sunday, he found that his card had been returned. Added to it was this cryptic message, “Genesis 3:10.”

Reaching for his Bible to check out the citation, he broke up in gales of laughter. Revelation 3:20 begins “Behold, I stand at the door and knock.” Genesis 3:10 reads, “I heard your voice in the garden and I was afraid for I was naked.”
###

Memory Clinic

Two elderly couples were enjoying friendly conversation when one of the men asked the other, “Fred, how was the memory clinic you went to last month?”

“Outstanding,” Fred replied. “They taught us all the latest psychological techniques: visualization, association, etc. It was wonderful.”

“That’s great! And what was the name of the clinic?”

Fred went blank. He thought and thought, but couldn’t remember. Then a smile broke across his face and he asked, “What do you call that flower with the long stem and thorns?”

“You mean a rose?”

“Yes, that’s it!”

He turned to his wife, “Rose, what was the name of that memory clinic?”
###

Pulling the Plug

Last night my husband and I were sitting in the den and I said to him, “I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle to keep me alive. That would be no quality of life at all. If that ever happens, just pull the plug.”

So he got up, unplugged the computer and threw out my wine.
###

Daisy and the Ghost Bowl

2009-01-21T00:59:00.000-08:00

You’ve heard of the Sugar Bowl, the Rose Bowl and the Super Bowl. Well the other afternoon I had an eerie encounter with the Ghost Bowl.

As I prepared a strawberry smoothie for lunch, I was thinking about my younger sister for some reason, missing her and wondering how different our lives might be today if she was still living (she was just in her 30s when she died). I absently rearranged the few dishes in the sink as I sipped from my smoothie, running hot water in them in preparation to wash them.

And that’s when I saw it. Contact from beyond.

My small white ceramic cereal bowl from breakfast was moving. I mean, seriously moving, not some nearly imperceptible movement from skidding on water or oil. That darn bowl was traveling around the floor of the sink. In a circle!

I took a deep, shuddering breath and blinked. At first I thought I was seeing things. I had to be! Or maybe I was having some sort of strange brain freeze attack from the icy-cold smoothie. But no, to my horror the bowl picked up speed. Then it started to wobble!

No. Uh-uh. This could not be happening!

I swallowed hard as my pulse beat an erratic cha-cha rhythm in my throat.

“Donna?” I whispered to my long-gone sister. “Is…is that you?”

Thank God--I’m telling you, THANK GOD--she didn’t answer because, I swear, my hair would have turned white on the spot--right through the brown L’Oreal Excellence hair coloring.

I’ve always been fascinated with the supernatural and have experienced some unusual phenomena in my lifetime. But it’s never been anything quite as concrete, or as senseless, as watching a bowl dance around my kitchen sink all on its own. I like to think I’m a brave, logical, rational woman, open to friendly contact from the great beyond. But, God damn, I was freaked out.

My mother is gone too, so I started thinking maybe my mother and sister put their ghost-heads together to think up some way to use their heavenly power to try to contact me. Maybe…maybe they wanted to tell me it was my time to join them.

Whoa! Okay, that only freaked me out even more as I watched the bowl pick up speed.

My hand reached out slowly, ever so slowly, to touch the bowl. All the while I’m thinking, I’m not ready to go. I have way too much I want to accomplish before I check out of this world. My fingers were about to make contact with the bowl.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

When I touched the rim, the bowl still rocked. I felt as if I were in a weird dream as I pushed it down but it refused to rest flat on the stainless steel sink floor. It was as if something solid was underneath, holding it up, pushing back at me. I felt my cheeks heat, my mouth go dry, my eyeballs ready to pop from my head, my heart gallop.

“Mom?” I squeaked, just before I picked up the bowl, only to find…

An ice cube.

A God damned ice cube!

It was one of the extras I’d tossed in the sink after adding the ice to my smoothie and I must have placed the bowl over it without realizing it. In that instant I was filled with a curious mix of relief, anger and embarrassment. I knew if my mother and sister really did have the ability to look down on me they were laughing their ghostly asses off. Big time.

How could I be so stupid? So caught up in irrational fear? How could I allow my otherwise logical self to imagine that if my mom or sister ever did try to contact me that it would be through a cereal bowl in my sink? What would the message be?

And then their voices became clear--well, kinda creepy, eerie and ghostlike, but still pretty clear. I could almost hear their chastisements…

*cue ghostly music…*

“That will teach you never to leave dirty breakfast dishes in your sink again, Daisy.”

Brain Location Service

2009-01-15T09:54:00.000-08:00

I could really use a service like that every so often. How about you? So what exactly is a Brain Location Service? I don’t have a clue, but the Japanese seem to know.

When my daughter traveled to China and Japan recently she came across a host of memorable translations that ranged from street and directional signs to food packages, menus, and so much more. She took plenty of photos and we had a great time giggling at them when she got back. Some of the translations were all but impossible to understand because they made no sense at all. Most of them had one thing in common--they were hysterically funny, unintentionally, of course. Some translations included English words that we consider expletives, most often the “F” word. Those words clearly have different meanings to the translators.

Yesterday, when I first discovered two new-to-me blogs titled http://www.engrish.com/ and http://engrishfunny.com/, my first reaction was shock at what I saw as blatant political incorrectness. I must admit that even in my state of being righteously appalled, curiosity had me clicking on the links. I’m glad I did because soon after I was cracking up with laughter.

There’s no ethnic ridicule on those blogs (as stated in the disclaimers), just plenty of good fun looking at dozens of photos of strange and highly amusing translations spotted and photographed by travelers and shoppers. The word “Engrish” (for English) was found repeatedly in the translations, thus the names of the blogs. Most of the translations come from Japanese, Chinese and Korean. If you’re looking for a bright spot in your day, I guarantee you won’t be able to browse through the numerous pages of these blogs without smiling--at the very least.

This reminds me of English-speaking travelers who try their best to communicate using those little foreign-language-for-travelers books. I know firsthand that it’s easy to botch up a word or phrase by mistakenly switching a letter or accenting the wrong syllable, etc. We might think we’re asking where the nearest bathroom is located only to discover that we’ve just insulted someone’s mother by comparing her to a chicken’s ass or something like that.

Can you even begin to imagine how difficult it is for non-English speaking people to begin to decipher our exceedingly difficult to learn language? I recently touched on this subject in my Sane, Insane, Unsane, Outsane, Undersane post. But still, you really have to wonder just how in the hell the translators managed to come up with these priceless goodies found on the two blogs mentioned above:

The liquor queen does not drive car

Noun area bathing adjective forbidden

You can enjoy the fresh air after finishing a civilized urinating

Shiny cat in sauce

Brain location service

A delightful day. My mind is paralyzed.

Coolfashion need Cool taste we like the newtaste we need he quality Here you

Fragrant onion the hand rips the chicken

Hardware and Dope Supermarket

Cabld pot head in kitchen

please take a voice to the staff in the case of the try-on

Green releases eyes from exhaustion - because i want to see your face with smile

protect greening as to endow benefit to descendents

Double cock keeper

Choco Crack

Please don’t make confused noise when chanting

Take aim and fire from back For your friend Is careless.

Jumbo cock irony barbeque

Sluggish offspring pleasuring themselves

Our house bear thang

Blood rice served in soup.

Please be careful about a step in a head.

Original ass drink.

Weird and wonderful, wouldn’t you say? You can find MANY more of these, complete with the original, unretouched photos on the blogs I mentioned above. Forget about economy woes and post-holiday blues for a while and engage in some good healing laughter. Have fun!

Daisy Fails Author Promotion 101, Blames Quantum Physics

2009-01-08T11:56:00.000-08:00

As you can see it’s taken me a while to post my first blog of 2009. That’s because I wasn’t here. Well, I was here physically, just not mentally. I blame quantum physics. Perhaps it was a rip in the fragile fabric of time and space. An eerie shift in the space-time continuum. More on that later.

Our holidays were all screwed up from being snowed in for a week. It was a sad week because we couldn’t get to our daughter for Christmas and she couldn’t get to us. That was awful, especially seeing as how we live less than 20-minutes away from her. The area we live in is a valley. We drive down hills to get here and up to get out. Studded tires or tires with chains went nowhere. Only 4-wheel drive vehicles had a chance.

Winter is a time of seemingly endless rain in Portland, Oregon. Snow is rare, maybe just a smattering each year. Even an inch can close down the city because it’s extremely hilly here. Driving up and down steep hills when the pavement is slick is downright scary.

We got hit with a ton of snow in December. While it was certainly beautiful to look at, unlike our hometown of Chicago, Portland wasn’t even remotely prepared for it (they never are here). If they had plowed and used some damn salt on the snow-packed roads instead of gravel, the snow and ice would have been a non-issue. Even the state of Washington (just above us here in the Pacific Northwest) has seen the light about using salt for heavy snowfall after they, too, were besieged in December.

Anyway, we finally had our family Christmas this past weekend--when most people were celebrating the New Year. It was kind of weird because, throughout the rest of the world, the luster of Christmas had already worn out its welcome. But it was great to finally get together and give our daughter lots of hugs and kisses, and we had lots of fun. My husband and I will have our New Year’s celebration this coming weekend.

Understandably, I haven’t quite come to terms with it being 2009, a new year, yet. My head is still stuck in 2008. Let me give you an example…

I have a new book, Dragon by Day (book 2 in the Valiant Heart series), releasing Friday. That would be tomorrow, January 9, 2009. But how can that be when I haven’t even arrived in 2009 yet? It’s painfully obvious that some sort of weird quantum physics thing is going on inside my tiny brain. Since my internal holiday clock is all screwed up, until just the other day I was actually thinking the book’s release date was a week from now.

While I’ve never been a promotion monster, I’ve done absolutely nothing for this release. Zip, nada, no promotion at all. And that’s a crime because I absolutely love this wonderful (if I do say so myself, even though I don’t tell anyone else) story!

In other words, I have failed Author Promotion 101. Miserably. I am a disgrace to the throngs of dedicated writers everywhere who pull out all stops to get the word out about their new books. The forever tarnished name of Daisy Dexter Dobbs will go down in the annals of literary history as a synonym for Deplorable Lack of Writerly Promotion.

It may take me a while for me to unsnarl the twisted quantum physics fabric responsible for warping time and space inside my head. I’m not sure when I’ll fully realize I’m now living in 2009. Maybe it will be this coming weekend when we break out the bubbly and celebrate the new year. I dunno. Meanwhile, to help rectify my abject promo failure, here’s a wee bit of information about Dragon by Day.

Dragon by Day
(Fantasy/Shapeshifter/Menage/plus some Male/Male interaction)

Handmaiden to a princess before her captivity, Suniko is rescued by Jayket, healer-priest of the goddess of fertility. Barely escaping slaughter, they brave crushing obstacles, including the terror of a dragon’s earth-scorching breath.

Gravely wounded, D’Akola the Strong, Guardian of Zalvanus, barely survives the night after shifting from dragon to human form. Slipping in and out of consciousness, he’s aroused by sublime erotic stimulation as a striking man and beautiful woman perform an orgasmic healing on his tortured body.

At dawn, Suniko and Jayket are snatched from sword-wielding foes by a dragon in flight. After depositing them at his mountaintop lair, they realize the dragon is D’Akola, the man they lovingly nurtured through the night.

Battling evil by day and engaging in lusty, passionate triad sex by night, the trio forges a timeless bond of love and loyalty.

(The sequel to Last Strathulian Standing, Book 1 of the Valiant Hearts series)

Visit the Dragon by Day page on my website (includes two excerpts!)

Purchase Dragon by Day from Ellora’s Cave (you’ll find another excerpt there too)

Purchase Dragon by Day from Jasmine Jade Enterprises

~ ~ ~ ~

Thanks for reading this small promotion about my new book. I appreciate it (even though I don’t deserve it).

I’m curious. Did any of you experience your own personal out-of-the-ordinary quantum physics shift over the holidays or during the past year at any time? Tell me about what happened so I don’t feel like the only one snared by an eerie shift in the space-time continuum.

Belated wishes for a very happy, healthy and successful new year to you all!

Good Spelling Not Necessary

2008-12-27T09:29:00.000-08:00

From Cambridge University:

Cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm.

Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs psas it on!

Daisy’s Sweet and Spicy Holiday Pecans Recipe

2008-12-22T00:43:00.000-08:00

We’re completely snowed-in here in Portland, Oregon, which is a rarity. We normally get just a smattering of snow each winter, along with endless buckets of rain. Portland is extremely hilly. We live in a valley and there’s no way out unless you go uphill. Ain’t gonna happen in a town that doesn’t use salt on the roads when there’s an accumulation of snow and ice (think “scary roller coaster”). Unlike cities that deal with heavy snowfall on a regular basis each winter, when Portland gets an inch of snow, they basically shut the city down. They’re simply not prepared to handle it and schools, along with most everything else, are closed.

This is the first time we’ve seen so much snow since we left Chicago almost ten years ago. Although not nearly as much as the day we moved. There had been a 32-inch snowfall (yup, I said 32-inches) the night before, which gave us a bountiful farewell as we shoveled our way out so we could get on the road to our new home in Oregon. Since I work from home now and don’t have to drive in it, I love the snow, unlike when I lived in Chicago and detested going out to work and sitting helpless in my car as it did 360s on the ice. As I type this, there’s a glorious winter wonderland scene outside my window.

Watching all this fluffy white outside makes me feel cozy and Christmassy, which makes me think of things like Kahlua-spiced hot cocoa and munching on yummy calorie-filled Christmas goodies. While I really should use this snowed-in time wisely and busy myself with writing, I’ve developed a serious case of holiday snow fever and have been spending my time Googling holiday recipes instead.

I found a recipe online for sugared pecans with a bit of cinnamon. It sounded promising but bland and ordinary. I spent some time tweaking the recipe and came up with a nutty treat that’s delicious and highly addictive, and I wanted to share it with all of you. The finished product tastes buttery but there’s not a speck of added fat in the recipe (except for lightly buttering the pan). The buttery flavor actually comes from the salt. I hope you’ll find these nuts just as tasty and satisfying as my husband and I do.

Here’s the recipe, followed by my (um…slightly wordy) notes on ingredients and preparation, which include some important tips.

Daisy’s Sweet and Spicy Holiday Pecans

Ingredients:
3 egg whites
1 TBL pure vanilla extract
2 TBL maple syrup (the real stuff)
1 TBL water
1 TBL cinnamon, ground
2 c organic sugar
1 1/2 tsp sea salt (fine grind not coarse)
1/4 tsp ginger, ground
1/8 tsp cloves, ground
1/8 tsp cayenne (red) pepper, ground
1/4 to 1/2 tsp nutmeg, fresh grated

Directions:
Preheat oven to 250-degrees (Fahrenheit). Cut a piece of parchment paper to fit the bottom of a 9 x 13-inch cake pan. Lightly butter the paper.

In a large Tupperware-type bowl (a good plastic bowl with a tight-fitting lid), beat the egg whites until foamy (not stiff peaks). Add vanilla, maple syrup and water and mix well. Add the pecan halves and mix until coated.

Add the rest of the ingredients. Snap on the bowl’s lid, making sure it’s secure, and shake the mixture well (upside down, right-side up, to one side and then the other) until the nuts are well coated. This method is SO much easier and more effective than stirring.

Spoon nuts into prepared pan and distribute evenly (the nuts will be more than just one layer deep). Place in preheated oven and set timer for 15-minutes. Stir carefully when timer goes off, scooping the nuts and syrupy liquid from the bottom and folding the wet mixture onto the top of the drier nuts. Repeat stirring every 15-minutes for a total of one-hour of baking.

Remove nuts from oven (they should be dry now with no syrupiness left) and spread out to cool. Using a parchment paper-covered rack (the kind used for cooling cookies after baking) works best for this. The nuts will become firmer and more crisp as they cool and will have a dull rather than glossy appearance.

Daisy’s recipe notes:

Measurements: TBL = tablespoon. tsp = teaspoon. c = cup.

The Pan: It’s much easier to stir the nuts if you use a 9x13 cake pan and not a 9x13 cookie sheet or jelly-roll pan. The nut mixture is hot and wet and gloppy for those first couple of turns so you don’t want to try doing this in a shallow pan. Danger, Will Robinson, danger!

Parchment Paper or Foil: You could use buttered easy-release aluminum foil instead of the parchment paper if you like, but don’t just put the pecans in a buttered pan without some sort of liner because the pan will be murder to get clean. Don’t use wax paper because it’s not strong or durable enough.

Stirring and Patience: This recipe is very easy and produces a great finished product as long as you’re patient and follow the directions. Trying to hurry things up by cooking at a temperature higher than 250-degrees (Fahrenheit), or failing to stir the mixture every 15-minutes, could result in the agony of 2-pounds of burned pecans. Ack! Also, your oven may cook hotter or cooler than mine. It may not take quite an hour or it may take closer to an hour and fifteen minutes. Check the taste of the pecans at the 45-minute and the 1-hour mark to see if they’re done. There should be no syrupiness left in the bottom of the pan and there should be no burned smell or color. The nuts should have a light roasted taste similar to buttered pecans (as in butter pecan ice cream).

Choice of Nuts: If you’re not a pecan fan, simply substitute the nut of your choice, such as cashews, macadamias, almonds, walnuts, or a combination. If you select roasted and salted nuts instead of raw nuts, eliminate the salt in the recipe and watch the baking time so you don’t over-cook the already roasted nuts.

Varying the Spiciness: The original recipe I found had only pecans, cinnamon, egg whites, salt, sugar and water. That’s it. I added everything else. Don’t let the cayenne (red) pepper scare you. With just 1/8-tsp you’ll never even know it’s there. Cinnamon is the main flavor with just a subtle hint of the other spices and the pepper, giving the recipe enough of a spicy undertone to make the nuts interesting rather than ordinary and mundane. Feel free to vary the spices according to your own tastes.

Quality Ingredients: I’m a fan of using the best quality ingredients you can afford because it makes such a difference in whatever you cook. Most of my quality or specialty food finds come from Trader Joe’s, which is my all-time favorite place to shop for food. They have a great selection and very reasonable prices. To see if there’s a location near you, check their website here: http://www.traderjoes.com/

Nuts: I usually buy organic nuts but I’ve heard many good things about the packaged raw nuts from Costco and decided to try them instead because the organic pecan halves are very pricey now. I was not disappointed in the quality. It was a 2-pound package.

Vanilla: My preference is the very flavorful Madagascar Bourbon vanilla. I used to buy the Nielsen-Massey brand, which is costly, until I discovered that Trader Joe’s carries its own brand for far less. Great vanilla makes a world of difference in taste.

Spices: Have you checked your herbs and spices lately? At Thanksgiving I discovered that my sage and thyme had lost their wonderful fragrance and most of their taste. They were several years old. The new herbs I just purchased smell heavenly. The same goes for spices. Check the freshness dates and buy new if they’re past the date. It really makes a big difference in the foods you prepare.

Nutmeg: I use whole nutmeg an grate it using a microplane to grate it. I also use a microplane for grating hard cheese like parmesan, fresh ginger, carrots for salad, etc. (Google microplane to learn more if you’re not sure what this is.) If you’ve never used fresh nutmeg, please give it a try. I guarantee you’ll never go back to the pre-ground stuff.

Maple Syrup: I use real honest-to-goodness maple syrup, grade B because it’s more flavorful than grade A. I get it from Trader Joe’s because it’s organic and cheaper there. The grading on maple syrup is based entirely on color rather than quality. The darker more flavorful Grade B occurs later in the season.

Sugar: I use organic sugar, which is evaporated cane juice and has a slight brown sugar taste to it. You could also use half white sugar and half brown in this recipe, or use all regular white sugar.

Salt: These pecans have a sweet and savory taste because they’re just slightly salty as well as sweet. I use fine-ground sea salt rather than refined table sale (like Morton’s). I like Redmond’s RealSalt, which has not been bleached white and contains specks of color that come from trace minerals. I buy it at New Seasons, which is a (fabulous) local food store, but you can find it at most quality grocery stores. I love sea salt because it’s healthier in many ways--for one, for most people it doesn’t raise blood pressure like refined white salt does. You also won’t get all puffy and retain water if you use a good sea salt. If you use regular white table salt in this recipe, you may want to use less because it’s “saltier” tasting than sea salt.

Eggs: I always use organic eggs from cage-free hens. For one thing, they’re far less likely to be contaminated with salmonella or other harmful bacteria.

Butter: I use real butter. Period. No margarine or Crisco. Ever. Even for something as simple as buttering a pan, taste makes a difference.

Quantity: I don’t see why you couldn’t halve or double (or more) this recipe if you like. Be careful not to double the salt though because the pecans will come out too salty. If you halve the recipe, one egg white should work fine.

The Cleanup: Trust me when I tell you that you need to get your pan in hot water as soon as possible once you get the pecans out of it. If not you’ll end up with a hardened-on mess.

Storage: Keep in an airtight container, such as a Tupperware bowl, or inside a zipped plastic food storage bag that’s put inside a less-airtight container. These do not have to be refrigerated. They should remain fresh for a couple of weeks but I sincerely doubt they’ll last that long.

If you make this recipe I hope you’ll come back to let me know how you liked it!

Happy Holidays!

Sane, Insane, Unsane, Outsane, Undersane

2008-12-11T00:53:00.000-08:00

Get ready because I’m going to make your brain hurt, just like mine has been throbbing ever since I started thinking about some of the oddities of the English language.

Let me specify that I’m referring to Midwestern American English, which is considered to be a “plain” or “neutral” accent and taught by speech coaches to public speakers, actors and news reporters, etc. This is vastly different from regional American dialects, which can be like trying to decipher a foreign language unless you’re from the same region. And hugely dissimilar to the “proper” English spoken by Brits--and not even close to the cockney dialect spoken in London’s East End. Then there’s Canadian English, Australian English, New Zealand English and…well, you get the idea.

I’m amazed that non-English-speaking people can actually learn our difficult language. Actually, I’m amazed anyone can master English…which is probably why so many Americans never do. The rules of English are rife with contradictions. Just for starters, how do you begin to explain the whole “ough” thing? Say the following words aloud:

Bough: sounds like bow (except when it sounds like bo)
Cough: sounds like cawf
Rough: sounds like ruff
Though: sounds like tho
Thought: sounds like thawt
Through: sounds like throo

Isn’t that crazy? So why the hell aren’t these words just spelled the way they sound? Why tack on the unneeded “ough” baggage? If you watch “I Love Lucy” reruns, you may remember the episode where Lucy tries to explain the pronunciation of “ough” words to Ricky while he’s reading a children’s book aloud. It made his head swim. Mine too.

The “ough” pronunciation conundrum is just a tiny sample of our crazy, contradictory language. Think about Bomb, Comb and Womb. Bad and Wad. To further confuse things, what about Sew and So. Make it Sewer and you’ve got a whole different thing going on. It’s insane!

Insane. How’s that for a contradictory word? The prefix “in” can mean not or without when referring to words like “infertile” “insanity” or “inappropriate”. It can also mean in, into, towards or inside as in words like “influence” or “influx”. Where’s the logic in that?

The words insane and insanity are nonsensical. Think about it. Shouldn’t it be unsane, outsane or even undersane? Being insane, should mean you’re inside sanity, of sound mind—just as insanity should mean you are there, inside, enveloped in sanity, shouldn’t it?

Is your brain hurting yet?

I blame my writing for making me think about all of this and then spend hours procrastinating when I should have been tying up the chapter I’ve been working on. It all started when I was typing the word insane and stopped to check on the exact meaning of the word. I needed to know whether or not it was considered strictly a legal term (as in “not guilty by reason of insanity”). I discovered that the word is still also considered as a synonym for plain old crazy.

But then I started thinking about it all (which was a big mistake). By the time I was finished Googling stuff about sanity and insanity and “ough” words and all the rest, I was going insane, by which I actually mean unsane. My chapter remained unfinished last night, making me guilty of procrastination by reason of insanity, by which I mean…well, you know.

What about you? What is it about the English language that drives you mad? By mad I don’t mean angry, I mean insane. Why does the word mad mean two different things anyway? I guess the same reason that the words cool or hot have multiple meanings. And don’t even get me started on effect and affect, an unnecessary grammatical dilemma clearly designed to torment writers. Oh wait, how about lie and lay?

The evil team of linguists who originally conceived the whole lie/lay and effect/affect business probably laughed themselves silly thinking about future generations agonizing over proper usage of those words.

They should be shot. Oh wait…they’re already dead. Well great. By great I don’t mean enormous, I mean good. By good I mean nice rather than skillful or virtuous.

I have to stop. My poor tiny brain is about to explode. Wait…shouldn’t that be outplode?

Anyway, go ahead, share your pet peeves about the language. It’ll be fun. You’ll drive yourself crazy for the rest of the day. It will make you downright undersane!

God Punishes Daisy for Publicly Ridiculing Husband

2008-11-30T00:58:00.000-08:00

Ever notice how life sometimes has a way of sneaking up on you, immobilizing you with a chokehold and shrieking a deafening “Gotcha!” when you least expect it? That’s exactly what happened to me a couple of days after I wrote my last post, Always Expect the Unexpected. The post focused on my husband’s annoying penchant for repeating clichés and groaner jokes over and over again until my poor tortured tiny brain is on the verge of melting down and oozing right out my ears.

I chose Always Expect the Unexpected as the title because it’s probably Mike’s all-time favorite saying. I’ve found myself the recipient of those exact words more often than I can remember. And he knows how much I hate hearing them.

I didn’t think it was a particularly nasty post. After all, I did mention that my husband was a good guy and I loved him. I believe my warm, loving wifely comment should have overshadowed any perception of naughtiness on my part. It should have completely absolved me of any mischievous blog-related wrongdoing.

Clearly, God didn’t agree.

I’ll explain. Since I work from home fulltime I have the luxury of working in comfy, threadbare, mismatched clothing, askew, finger-combed hair, and remnants of stale makeup (yeah, I know…not a pretty picture). Then there’s a late afternoon mad dash to the bathroom to get all prettified and sparkly before Mike gets home. I get squeaky clean, artfully apply makeup, style my hair and put on clothing that doesn’t scream washerwoman.

I never let anyone see me without makeup. That includes when I go to the grocery store or leave the house to get the mail. Since we’ve been married, I think my husband has only seen me without eye makeup once. That was when I was in the hospital for an operation in the late 80s. I remember pleading with the doctor and nurses to at least let me wear mascara but they gave me this whole chastising blah-blah-blah lecture about safety issues and stuff. In fact, they told me that if I came in wearing any eye makeup they’d remove it before putting me under.

I was nervous about the operation but that was nothing compared to how angsty I felt about people seeing me without makeup when I awoke from the surgery. I could just imagine the gasps and shuddering horror of hospital staff, friends and family as they observed the strange, faceless writer woman in the hospital bed. What cruel and unusual punishment for a vane woman whose face is so pale it’s like a blank white china plate until I draw and color-in my eyes, eyebrows cheeks and lips.

I don’t know if patient prep rules for surgery have changed since then but, I swear to God, if I ever have to face surgery again I’m getting eyeliner tattooed on my eyelids beforehand.

Okay, now that you have a better understanding of my very real (note, I didn’t say “logical”) anxiety over being caught makeup-less, let me tell you how I got my comeuppance for using my husband as blog fodder.

I had purchased some all-natural face and body cream handmade by someone recommended by a friend. It’s supposedly like a magical healing balm, guaranteed to make anything and everything look and feel better because it’s infused with essential oils, healing herbs and all sorts of magical, mystical ingredients. Everyone who’s tried it raves about it so I was eager to give it a try.

But when? Because of all the oils, it has a greasy consistency and doesn’t fully absorb into the skin. So I couldn’t wear it to bed. Not only would I look scary, but my pillowcase would get oil-saturated.

The only option was to grease myself up while my husband was at work and wear the balm all day until it was time to get cleaned up. By the time he got home from work I was sure I’d look twenty-years younger because of the miraculous ingredients in the cream. So that morning after Mike left, I slit the neck and cut the arms off a raggy old T-shirt so I could freely apply the cream to my neck, chest, arms and shoulders without ruining any of my good clothes (you know, like the usual comfy, threadbare, mismatched clothing I mentioned earlier). Now, besides never appearing without makeup, I also never let anyone see me in anything sleeveless because then they’ll never ever guess that I have fat upper arms.

I scrubbed all the makeup off my face, yanked my hair back in a severe, stubby sort of ponytail and put on a headband to make sure the hair stayed out of my face. Then I applied the oily, foul-smelling substance. By the time I was done I was thoroughly greased and my old T-shirt was dotted with spreading oily blotches.

I did a classic double-take when I looked in the mirror. I looked hideous. Really. I’m not kidding. Oddly like a cross between a faceless greased pig, a newborn baby and an eighty-year-old man. With fat upper arms. My dreadful otherworldly reflection was the creepy stuff Stephen King novels are made of.

I closed all the blinds, shades and curtains in the house and made sure not to walk past any windows or doors because no matter who in the world came to the door I sure as hell wasn’t going to answer it. Period.

I went into the kitchen in stealth mode--lights off so no one would suspect I was at home, ducking every time I had to pass the big window over the sink, etc., and made myself a cup of chai tea. The microwave’s timer beeped, which is why I failed to hear the garage door opening.

I’d been caught without warning. The next thing I knew, my husband was standing in the kitchen, flipping on the overhead light and then gawking at the illuminated me like I was some faceless alien who’d broken in and taken the place of his wife.

I gasped. Almost screamed. It was too late to run and hide. He’d seen me in all my greased glory. Even so, my rather stupid gut reaction had me ducking down beneath the kitchen counter so he couldn’t see me.

“Mike! What are you doing here?” I screeched from my huddled squatting position. “Go away!”

He came around the counter and stared down at me. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water a few times before he finally said, “I bought a new plastic mat to replace the cracked one under your desk chair and thought I’d drop it off.” He slanted me a most peculiar look. “Honey, what…what happened to you?” He walked closer to me and sniffed the air. “And what’s that awful smell? Are you sick? What happened to your eyes?”

“Don’t look at me. They’re gone. Just like the rest of my face.” Covering my invisible features with my hands I started to cry. Then I laughed. Then I cried again, all the while explaining about my magical, miracle treatment. “You’re not supposed to be here,” I accused once I’d finished babbling my greasy, smelly explanation. “You’re not supposed to see me like this. Ever. I never expected you to stop home in the middle of the day.”

And that’s when it happened. That’s when my husband lowered the boom. When God stepped in and dealt me a big fat well-deserved sucker punch.

Breaking into a wicked, devilish, downright evil grin, Mike triumphantly spouted forth his all-time favorite saying. “Always expect the unexpected.”

Damn.