Worst & Best Event of 2012

The worst and best events for me in 2012 have to do with dogs:

The worst was losing my beloved Welsh Corgi, Max. It was in April and I blogged about it here: Max is Gone.

The best was finding a crazy Malti-Zhu, Bella. I received Bella as a Mother's Day present and I blogged about her here: Meet Bella.

Although she's no Max, the unconditional love from Bella matches Max's. She has healed a gaping hole in my heart and has become my new best friend. Never underestimate the power of a pet to kill loneliness and fill you with love.

On a happier note, Max will be a main character in a supernatural book I have begun outlining. His memory will forever live on...

More or Less Hopes

Based upon my failure rate of keeping them, I no longer make New Year's resolutions. Why bother proclaiming I'm going to do something when in all likelihood I will not keep to it? If you think about most resolutions, they're just doing "more" or "less" of something, so instead I prefer to start my year off with a More or Less Hopes list.

I Hope To:

Spend LESS time on-line, especially on social media websites. They really are a time-drain and I'm tired of getting pissed off at people I don't even know.

Spend MORE time on my computer. What? Didn't you just write you want to spend LESS time on-line? Yes, I did. I'd like to spend MORE time off-line, taking all my story ideas off of napkins, matchbook covers, bits of papers, notebooks, index cards, etc., and organize and develop them so I can continue to write books.

Spend LESS time reading reviews of my already published books. Yes, most are good, but the few negative ones hurt, even if, as my cousin says, they are written by women who are probably gold-diggers themselves.

Spend MORE time patting myself on the back for struggling to bring light to the dark situations elderly people may encounter via Fractured Facade. Based on personal e-mails and some reviews, folks appreciate the heads-up and plan to keep a closer watch on their loved ones. Mission accomplished.

Spend LESS time looking in the mirror and bemoaning the loss of my once slender figure. I am no longer twenty and I have had two children, so I'm giving myself a pass.

Spend MORE time working on shedding weight. True, I'll never be the size 3 I once was, but there's no reason I can't lose some of the blubber. I plan to ramp up my workout routine utilizing my bicycle, Zumba Wii Dance games and DVD's of Bollywood exercises. Although I toyed with the idea of joining the Y for warm water exercises for my RA, the thought of getting in a bathing suit amongst strangers fills me with dread. I want to shop somewhere else for clothes besides Ross. BTW, thank God for Ross!

Eat LESS of my favorite foods. I've read the Wheat Belly Diet and it's an impossible task for an Italian to take on. Rather than deprive myself of every tasty thing imaginable, I will make a concerted effort to avoid fattening foods, especially bread, cookies, cakes, pies, donuts, bagels, sweets & pasta.

Drink MORE water. Boring, blah, blech, but necessary.

Drink LESS wine. Nectar of the Gods, calming, delicioso, but fattening and liver-killing.

Become MORE organized. Running a business, raising kids (they're still kids even if they're young adults) writing, creating, and running after a puppy, causes me to sometimes "forget" things. Not my age! I plan to utilize lists more, as well as writing appointments on the calendar where I can see it and not just in my planner which lays at the bottom on my pocketbook.

Schedule LESS. I'm going to learn to say no more.

Spend MORE time with those that appreciate me, and LESS time with those that use me. I am who I am and if you don't like it, oh well, move on. If you take me for granted, lie to me, are unloyal, or are a "false friend," I'm not going to waste my time with you. I don't want to spend any more time on energy drainers.

Worry LESS. I cannot control many things, and I hope to learn how to "give up" my worries.

Love MORE. Not just my family, friends, and community, but I hope to learn to love myself as well. Only then can I love the rest of the world.

I think the above hopes are doable, but I'm not going to stress if I fall of the wagon. Whatever you plan to do in 2013, I wish you all the best in your success. Happy New Year!

Another Day, Another Freebie

Heads up...The Valentine's Day Curse -- A short story is free December 27th & 28th on Amazon. Hope you'll check it out!!! Thanks!

Click here or on the cover on the sidebar to download it.

If you're in the UK click here for a direct link.

It's also available in every Amazon store around the world, Bwahahaha!

My Christmas Miracle

So, if you don't think Christmas miracles really happen, you might want to read this tale. Be forewarned...It's lengthy!

It was Christmas Eve Eve Eve and we had just gotten back from two parties including a Bluegrass Christmas at Dallas' shop.

It was a nice reprieve from the kitchen where I had been spending most of my time making more cookies than the Keebler Elves. It was about midnight when my husband turned on the dishwasher so everything would be nice and clean for me to resume my baking duties bright and early the next morning. About five minutes after it started I heard a cry from the basement, "Elena, get down here quick! We have a serious problem!" I was already in bed and groaned as I made my way down the stairs, "What now?"

I stopped short when I saw water spraying down from the ceiling in the laundry room. "Where's that coming from????" "It's gotta be the dishwasher!" "Well, shut it off!" My husband bounded up the stairs and yelled down, "Ok, it's off!" The stream of water became a sprinkling and then just drops bouncing off the top of the washing machine. I threw a towel on the machine, not daring to look inside at the clean clothes I hadn't yet put in the dryer. We pulled the plug out of the wall so a fire wouldn't start and threw dirty towels on the floor. Exhausted from all the pre-Christmas shopping, wrapping, cleaning, baking and cooking I couldn't deal with it at that moment. We both collapsed in bed.

The next morning I hoped I had had a nightmare and really hadn't experienced what I thought I had. My out of town guest would be arriving by the end of the day, and I still had massive amounts of cleaning, baking, cooking, and wrapping to accomplish. The last thing I wanted/needed was to make a trip to Lowe's to buy a dishwasher. Unfortunately, when I went to get the coffee pot out of the dishwasher I saw it was still filled with water and I realized I hadn't been dreaming.

Everything got put on hold while my husband went to work on removing the dishwasher. I was cursing it, "It's only a year old...I thought Maytag was supposed to be a decent brand! Look at these prices. We can't afford one right now. I'll just wash everything by hand." Although I was having people over Christmas Eve, and a house guest all week, it wouldn't be the ideal situation I wanted, but it was doable.

"Hmmm, that's strange," my husband murmured while laying on his belly with his head under the cabinet. "It's dry back here. I can't see where it's leaking from." "Maybe it's not the dishwasher, but it's leaking from the sink," I ventured. "It's not wet under the sink either." "Let me see what happens when we run water." So my husband turned the water back on and quickly realized that was a mistake. He forgot that the hose normally connected to the dishwasher was still uncoupled. You know those comical scenes where you see a fire hose that cannot be handled spraying all over the place? Yeah, that was us.

"The cookies! Save the cookies!!!" I ran the trays into the other room while water sprayed everywhere, my husband shouting, "Hand me the crimper!" Bella thought we were playing with the hose and she started jumping on my husband trying to catch the spray in her mouth, while I searched for the crimper. Of course I didn't know what the hell a crimper was, so couldn't find it. Meanwhile my husband folded the hose to slow the stream and pointed to the tool. Oh, he meant the pincher! He handed off the pinched hose to me, "Hold this tight while I go downstairs and turn off the valve. Don't let it go!" I tried my best, but after days of abusing my arthritic hands with the horror, I mean joys of Christmas preparations, I couldn't keep it closed long, so I let it stream down the drain, and apparently on top of my husband's head. Bingo, it wasn't the dishwasher after all! I was happy for a second until I was informed this was much worse. It must be a pipe in the wall. Craptastic!

So I had the bright idea that maybe something was jammed in the pipe, like hardened baking oil or something, and all that would be needed to make everything okay was to roto-rooter the pipe. Although my husband didn't think that was the problem, I insisted he humor me and use that piece of equipment that I bitched about him buying when the sewer drain in the basement got clogged. So he did it. And then we turned the faucet on to see what would happen. I heard him scream from the basement to shut it off, shut it off! Apparently we had made it worse as the stream was now a gusher that no number of dirty towels could sop up.

I thought, Christmas is ruined! I could go without a dishwasher, but there was no way I could have guests over without a kitchen sink. What would I do wash dishes in the bath tub like Kramer on Seinfeld? We'd have to cancel Christmas Eve. There was no way we could get a plumber on a Sunday on Christmas Eve Eve. My husband directed me not to panic yet, and he called our plumber who answered the phone. My excitement became as damp as my kitchen floor when I heard my husband say, "Oh wow, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you heal soon." He had just gotten out of the hospital, so he wasn't available.

I wasn't even upset at that point. Actually, I found the whole situation amusing and began to laugh. "I give up. Jesus, I'm putting this in your hands. Whatever happens, happens. I'm tired of cleaning anyway, so it's all good." My husband directed me not to "give up yet" as he had met a friend of Dallas' last week who was a plumber, so maybe he would help us. Nothing to lose, call Dallas. Of course Dallas doesn't have a phone, so the only way to contact him was to track him down. And track him down my husband did. And then they tracked down the phone number of the plumber. My husband left a message, but didn't have high hopes. Joe the plumber called within five minutes, and said he would be right over. And he kept his word.

After he cut open the wall, he discovered a pipe back there was indeed the culprit.

It had rusted right through and would have to be replaced. He advised us to change the entire pipe from the kitchen down into the basement, a major job, but for now he would concentrate on just getting me up and running. He worked almost three hours and completed the job in time for him to watch the Giants on television.

I then found out he was originally from New York! "Couldn't leave a fellow Yankee out to dry on Christmas." After paying him a fair sum, I handed him a large bucket of homemade cookies. He left smiling, and even though we still had a long way to go, we were smiling as well.

Angels really do exist...this time mine happened to be a plumber!

Strouffler Eve

If it's Christmas Eve Eve, it must be strouffler time! Even though I am totally
backed up due to the major plumbing catastrophe, if I didn't make stroufflers Christmas would be ruined! No, not really. Anyway, here's the recipe for anyone that wants it:



6 eggs
4 cups flour
2 1/2 tsp baking powder
3/4 cup sugar
3 tbs Crisco

Mix flour, baking powder and sugar. Add Crisco. Make a well in the middle and put eggs into it. Mix together until smooth. Make long snakes, cut into pieces, then roll by hand into balls. Make them small -- they expand!

Fry them in tall pot in Crisco. Place cooked balls on a brown paper bag.

In a large pot heat a jar of honey with a 1/4 cup sugar. Stir until thin. Throw balls into them, mix with wooden spoon to cover all of the balls. Then plate and sprinkle with nonpareils.

Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Bella's Back!

Yay, the cone of torture is gone! Bella's boo-boo looks good so she got the all clear. When the cone was removed underneath was a matty mess. Just missing one week of bathing made her look as if she has never been washed. Tangles, matts, and dirt. When the vet said they could give her a bath and groom her as best as possible I jumped for joy. Her floppy ears were horribly matted and I couldn't even think of how we would fix that. Well, the only solution was to shave them. She looks like a different puppy, doesn't she?

I have to say she handled that cone pretty good. In fact, she adapted so well to it that when she wasn't trying to rip it off her neck, she found other uses for it, like hiding the antibiotic pill in it when she pretended to eat it. I caught on quick to that ploy. When it was raining out she would use it to catch the drops and then lick the inside of it to quench her thirst. In the backyard, the cone made a handy shovel to rip up the roots of trees and flick rocks in the air. Cabinet opening became one of her favorite pastime's. She learned how to wedge the corner in between the doors and pop them open. I learned I needed to hide her treats in a different spot once I found the entire bag gone. This was last night's booty. Guess what it is...

Right now she's zooming all over the house..."I'm free! I'm free!" Of course I know when I'm not looking she'll get her revenge somewhere. I'm just thrilled I won't be woken up in the middle of the night by a cone in my face, or have to remove her from under the bed because the cone became wedged behind the headboard.  And no more playing hide the antibiotic in cheese. Look at her toss her food dish in the air and slam it against the wall. I guess she's telling me she's hungry. Bella's back to normal!

Keep the Lights Shining Bright

The other night my husband noticed that one of the five lawn stars was not shining brightly. Upon further examination, he discovered that someone had intentionally cut the wires. He was pretty steamed up and I couldn't blame him.

In fact, it was me who said a couple of weeks ago, "Why do you even bother lighting the house and property up? It takes you three days to do it and costs us too much in electricity. It's not like the kids are small anymore and we won't be having grandchildren visiting us anytime soon. So why do you bother?"

At that time his response was something to the effect of, "Bother? You think spreading good cheer throughout this miserable neighborhood is a bother? I don't mind the time it takes. I like seeing the beacon when I come up the hill; it brightens up the darkness. The little kids on the block really enjoy seeing our house. Just look at their faces light up and when the school bus passes they always wave you said. Even the adults stop by and tell me thank you. I don't think it's a bother at all. It's a tradition. We're expected to do it."

That was his response then...after the cut wire, this is it now, "That's it, I'm done. The third time was the charm."

Third time? What third time you ask. Well last year someone cut the wires between the lights on the four little pine trees at the far corner of our property. At that time I defended it saying it must have been an accident...someone probably took a short cut through the woods and didn't realize wires were between the trees and accidentally broke through them. My husband didn't buy that "theory." He showed me the clean, cut wire and although I agreed with him, I just shrugged my shoulders and asked him to fix it. He did.

The year before that was the year of the defiling of the deer.



My husband was really steamed that someone had put them in a compromising position, not only because the motor had burnt out on the once-moving buck, but he worried about the little ones across the street at school seeing it. At that time, he began pulling the lights down, and the only reason he stopped was because my daughter asked him to please wait until her birthday was over. After he cooled down he realized it was just a teenager stunt and he got over it.

I have a feeling he may not get over this one though. Whoever it was had to make a concerted effort to do harm via carrying a knife, sharp scissor, razor, box-cutter, or whatever, on them or, if they were in a car, stop, get out, and walk onto my property to do the damage. That does not leave me with a warm and fuzzy feeling and frankly, it wouldn't have mattered whether they had shot out a bulb with a gun, or, as they did, cut the wire with a sharp instrument. Both methods are destructive and belligerent.

It makes me wonder. What lurks in the mind of someone who consciously goes out of their way to hurt, harm, or even kill someone? Obviously, I'm not talking about the star -- my husband already rewired it so it's shining brightly again. I'm talking about harm to innocents. There's no one on this earth that can put together a life when someone deranged decides to snuff out someone else's light.

I believe our focus should be not so much on the weapons of choice a sociopath employs to commit their horrendous act, but more so as to the why they've made that choice. And perhaps even more importantly, what could have/should have been done to prevent them from making that choice.

Now I'm not saying that the teenagers, if they are even teenagers, who have damaged our decorations for the last three years are sociopaths, but to me, there is something "off" about them/him/her. And I only hope that the people around that person is aware that something is not "right" with them and looks to help them, before it's too late. Parents are the first line of defense. Teachers, friends, family and neighbors should also be aware that they too are part of the "protection system."

It's up to all of us to keep the lights shining bright...