Sisters...Mothers...Women Rock!

Sisters are so many things…they are built-in friends. Sometimes they can make you angry because they know all the right buttons to push. Mostly sisters enrich our lives. They provide a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear. They are supporters of dreams and they encourage you when you need it most. They will cry tears for you and make you smile.

Laughs.

Sisters provide many laughs. Sometimes we laugh at each other but mostly we laugh with one another. We grew up together and yet it is as if we all had different childhoods. The oldest sister had to take care of us at times while the youngest was babied by us all. We grew stronger and closer as a result of our parent’s divorce. We learned from each other. We raised families…seventeen children in all between the five of us. The cousins are all close. We have our ups and downs, but through thick and thin, each and every one of us knows that we can count on one another in a moment’s notice.

We are sisters.

We are strong as one, but together we are powerful beyond words.

This month has been about SISTERS. Writing sisters and sisters of the hearts. We celebrated mother’s day, too. Women are amazing people. It is the women of this world who shaped who I am today. Today I turn fifty and I can’t help but reflect and think of all the amazing, strong, capable women I’ve met along the way. They write books and raise children while working outside of the house. They take care of the animals and the sick. They are the first to lend a helping hand. They cook dinner, do the laundry, clean the house. They sing and dance. Lawyers, doctors, teachers…they do it all. They are strong. Women rock!

Labels: friendship, sisters, women

posted by Theresa Ragan @ 8:26 AM 12 comments

This Week on the Wet Noodle Posse

Labels: Amanda McCabe, Deb Marlowe, Diane Gaston, friendship, Karen Potter, Lee McKenzie, MJ Fredrick, relationships with grandmothers

posted by Mo H @ 11:02 AM 0 comments

This Week on the Wet Noodle Posse

Our month of celebrating the facets of sisterhood begins. Please join the discussion.

Labels: friendship, Maureen Hardegee, sisters, Terry McLaughlin, Trish Milburn

posted by Mo H @ 1:48 PM 0 comments

One of the greatest gifts I ever received in December came from last place expected.

Have you ever worked around someone that everyone told you was a grouch, or always cranky, and warned you to avoid this person when you could? I’m going to tell you why you might miss out on something wonderful if you let others form your opinions.

Before I became an author I used to climb over a hundred feet in the air to paint huge portraits, murals, whatever an outdoor advertising company needed. This was before the advent of computer printing on vinyl material that is now used. Master artists were a necessity for producing the outdoor paintings and wall murals. Some companies built large warehouses where they could bring the sign panels inside to be painted since weather affected production schedules.

During the fall one year, I met Charles when I accepted contracts for one company east of Atlanta. l estimated his height at three or four inches over six feet, almost a foot taller than me. He wore short-sleeved button down shirts and slacks on his slender build, soft gray hair cut short, intelligent eyes that had seen over six decades of this world and a stern mouth indicating he was all business. No joking around. I knew the man who owned the company and his staff well since I’d painted for him for many years, but I’d never met Charles until I came inside to knock out an armload of work they needed produced.

I give everyone a chance to be my friend unless they at some point convince me I’m making an unwise investment of energy and time. Upon arriving every morning at the shop, I’d greet the ladies in the office with a “good morning” then do the same with Charles who at first barely nodded and grunted something that could be misconstrued as “morning.” On my way to get lunch, I always asked the ladies and Charles if I could bring them anything back. The girls would take me up on it, but Charles usually had a curt, “no thanks.”

I figured a two word answer was progress, since I’d made up my mind to see if the person behind the stern face was really a sourpuss or not. I’d catch him watching me paint from across the room, but I wouldn’t let on that I saw him. What I came to realize later was that as much as he respected my ability to paint anything any size, he respected my work ethics of arriving by 6am when I lived 60 miles away and painting sometimes three days straight without stopping to hit a deadline the company needed.

I left later than usual for lunch one day and he was the only one in the office. I invited him to have lunch with me. His forehead wrinkled in question as he considered my offer then he shook his head, saying, “I’ve got soup I have to eat.” I had the distinct impression he didn’t particularly want the soup, even though it was probably wonderful since his wife Sue is a terrific cook. I told him, “The heck with soup, let’s go to Ryan’s and eat some real food.” His eyes flared with surprise at insisting then crinkled with humor. I almost had that smile I’d been trying for. He agreed and we road in my pickup truck to lunch that I tried to buy, but Charles was a Southern gentleman who wouldn’t stand for it.

Over the next couple months, I came to know the Charles behind the stern face, the man who had charmed his wife and raised two daughters he taught to be independent women. I found out he and the owner of the company had been close friends for many years and that even though Charles was retired and financially independent, he came in early each morning to work long days to help his friend who needed someone to oversee the paint shop and trucking business since we were located so far from the main office. Charles did not have to work. His was a labor of love. The more I got to know him, the more I admired the man.

We spent a lot of lunches talking about things we enjoyed, like our passion for bass fishing. We talked tackle and good fishing holes. We shared stories of our lives and families. When the holidays rolled around, we hit on the topic of favorite foods. When I told him I loved sweet potatoes, he got excited, telling me he was bringing me a surprise. Right before the Thanksgiving break, he brought me a square aluminum pan filled with what he called the best sweet potato soufflé. He told me it was made by a woman who was more family than housekeeper and had been with his family for many decades.

I took the dish home, baked it as instructed and was convinced on the first bite that I had never tasted a sweet potato casserole-type dish as good. When I saw Charles the following Monday and asked for the recipe he said, “There isn’t one. Our housekeeper just makes it and she doesn’t know how to write it down.” He went on to explain she was very old and grew up during a different era – she never wanted to learn how to read and write. I assure you Charles would have provided a tutor and anything she needed as he felt it was important for women to be self sufficient and educated, no matter if they were his children or not. So I told Charles to go sit down with his housekeeper and write down what she did. He laughed, since no one ever told Charles what to do…but he came back in a week with that recipe.

During that December my husband and I joined Charles and Sue for a meal with their family where Charles got to show off his trophy bass on the wall. Over the months leading up to December as Charles and I went to lunch, I had started including other painters and office staff on some lunches so they would get to know this terrific guy. I count myself fortunate to have gotten to know the real Charles who was so generous of spirit.

He gave me one of my greatest December gifts by becoming my friend.

In the spirit of sharing as he did with me, I give you the famous sweet potato recipe that has been passed down for generations and was never written down until Charles spent a Saturday deciphering the recipe.

3 large sweet potatoes – sliced ½” thick to cook faster
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
4 oz. Butter (1 stick)
½ cup whipping cream
1 t. vanilla
Juice from 1 orange squeezed
1 bag large marshmallows (Note – I had a UK friend who hated marshmallows so you can put pecans on top if you want)

*Preheat oven to 350 degrees

Directions:
Boil potatoes until a fork goes through center easily then drain and mash. Add all ingredients to the potatoes except marshmallows. Whip with electric mixer until smooth. Pour into a large casserole dish. Bake uncovered for 45 minutes then spread marshmallows across the top. Bake until marshmallows are toasty brown. (Can make this in advance and freeze then cook the day it’s needed.)


Today is a special day for Dianna as she has a new book out. Dianna normally writes romantic thrillers, but this is something a bit different. MIDNIGHT KISS GOODBYE is an urban fantasy that is part of the Dead After Dark anthology (St. Martin’s Press/Dec 2, 2008), which includes stories by #1 NYT best seller Sherrilyn Kenyon and NYT best sellers J.R.Ward and Susan Squires.

For an excerpt on any of her stories and more on NYT best seller Dianna Love visit www.AuthorDiannaLove.com



Stop in tomorrow to find out how to DEAL WITH HOLIDAY STRESS by our own Dr. Deb.

Labels: books, December, friendship, gifts, holiday recipes

posted by Dianna Love @ 1:00 AM 13 comments

Friends Helping Friends

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship, and about the kinds of things friends do for one another and expect from one another.

A very dear friend of mine was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. She and I belong to a close-knit group of writers, and everyone in the group has rallied around to support her in whatever way they can—providing transportation and accommodation when she has to travel to the city, and accompanying her to appointments and medical treatments. My friend finds this quite overwhelming. She told me that she’d do exactly the same thing for anyone else but would never ask for it or expect it from others.

When I thought about what she said, I realized I feel the same way, even though there’s no logical explanation for it. Why soldier through a terrible ordeal alone when I can surround myself with the love and support of my very dear friends? I believe that somewhere in the answer to that question lies the true meaning of friendship, and that perhaps we don’t have to ask our friends for help because in our hearts we know they’ll be there when we need them.

Lee

Labels: breast cancer, friendship, support

posted by Lee McKenzie @ 1:22 PM 5 comments