Antique Elegance

Antique Elegance…. Bridal gowns dating clear back to the 1850s—decades and delicious decades of history in the form of clothing! Doesn’t that sound lovely? It was! Steven, a new friend, invited me to attend and I couldn’t resist. Who could? God arranged it so the show fell immediately before a Texas retreat I was to attend. Isn't it amazing how our Heavenly Father showers us with gifts?

I flew down to Dallas and spent a wondrous day in Richardson, Texas. Models wore the gowns, walked down the center aisle, and mounted the stairs to the stage. Stairs. Century-old bridal gowns of delicate fabrics with gorgeous trains trailing behind….. it sounds like a disasterer ready to happen, but never fear. Handsome young men aided the ladies up and back down. One wore stunning Victorian formal attire; the other wore Regency formal attire.
Each gown got described in detail—and the details charmed me.The 1890’s mutton-sleeved

gown had such ginormous puffs, women wore sleeve bustles! The most contemporary gowns consisted of satins and heavy silk….and then we traveled backward in time to the oh-so-coveted quiana of the 1970s, the Gunne Sax from the hippie 60’s..Silk gowns of the late 40s made from parachutes because it was the only way a bride could get silk during WWII. The Twentys featured tea-length drop-waisted lace with long, long net-lace veils held in place with wax-flower wreaths.The farther back we traveled, the lighter the gowns became until they were whisper-sheer cotton with frothy lace.

Is there anything quite so dreamed-of and individually reflective as a bride’s wedding gown? The 21st Century models didn’t look, move, or act like the athletic, independent women. They took on the aura of the age which they wore—whether this was intentional or inspired, I couldn’t

tell; but it certainly added another layer to the experience. Steven (who owns The Cat's Meow in Midland, Tx) devoted five years to put together this show, and each of the gowns belongs to his incredible collection. Every hour he spent showed in how flawlessly things flowed.

An antique show followed, and I unsuccessfully fought off the urge to buy some goodies. Many of us attended the affair in period attire. I met a grand woman and her daughters Betty Hibbard, Judy & Lynn Bosley, and spent fun time with them. My outfit is an actual 1880 mourning ensemble. I declare, I have a whole new respect for our ancestors! It took me an hour

and-a-half to dress myself. I wore exactly what a proper lady of that era would: a cotton chemise, a corset (yes, with all of those stays and laced tight.) a corset cover, pantalettes, a white cotton petticoat topped by a wool petticoat, topped by a black petticoat, then the heavily jet-beaded bodice and skirt, a capelet, a hat, a chatelaine, and a hand-beaded purse with a tatted hanky, fan, and daguerreotype of my beloved. Though I own the buttoned high-top shoes, I couldn’t wear the because of my broken foot.
I had a wondrous time!

And to top off the day, I tripped and fell at the hotel and broke my right arm/wrist. The lead apron for X-rays wasn’t as heavy as my antique outfit, but it wasn’t nearly as pretty or fun. Several friends are recommending I commission a bodysuit made of bubble wrap!

With non-bubbled friend,

Cathy

Enjoying Texas

This week I'm enjoying a writer's retreat in Round Top, Texas. The Round Top Christian Retreat Center is an incredible setting for rest, writing, and fellowship. When I first came to this place almost a year ago, I was immediately blessed by the owner Euphanel Goad. She is a marvelous lady and has been so much fund to work with. She gave us a tour of the grounds and the various houses available and I was completely sold.

The retreat is full of lovely grounds to walk,






and gorgeous antiques in each of the houses.


As I understand it - this is quite the center of antique shows and festivals. Hmmmm, I might need to shop, but mostly I hope to focus on the Lord and rest in Him.

Having a retreat reminds me of Jesus withdrawing to lonely places. Of course with a total of 17 authors under one roof - it's not at all lonely.

Hopefully next week Cathy or I can post some pictures. Sadly Tammy, Robin, Kim and Judy couldn't be with us - but maybe next year. In the meantime, they can just think of all the fun we're having and plan to join us next year.

Tracie

Dieting...bleah

I nearly drooled on my keyboard when I read Judy's blog post yesterday. Chocolate...it's always been a weakness of mine. As a kid, after trick-or-treating, I would swap out all my non-chocolate goodies with my friends for miniature candy bars and Tootsie-rolls. Then I organized it all in a shoebox, made an inventory list which I taped into the lid of the shoebox, and marked things off as I consumed them. (I knew if Dad sneaked a Snickers bar out of there!) I'm no longer a kid, but I'm still as enamored with chocolate as I've always been.

But lately I've been dieting. Yes, the dreaded "d" word.

During my months of illness, I didn't engage in any physical activity. Added to that, down-in-the-dumpedness always seems to waylay me when I'm not feeling well, and I tend to eat when I'm down. (I don't advise eating as therapy because outgrowing all of your jeans is NOT the way to make yourself feel better...) No physical activity plus non-stop eating resulted in waaaaay too much Kim.

Thankfully, the infection has cleared and I'm feeling better now. But with feeling better came the realization that some of this "extra Kim" needed to go. So....a diet.

Did you know that diets and chocolate don't go together very well? Now, you can get your entire day's caloric intake in one box of chocolate, but most nutritionists frown on such choices. So instead, I've been cutting the chocolate from my menus. Painful. Oh, so very painful...

BUT a very kind person on Facebook shared an amazing recipe with me. I can have my diet...and my cake, too! It's called a Coca-Cola Cake, and it just might be the chocolate-loving dieter's saving grace...

So simple: Combine 1 box of chocolate cake mix (any variety) with 1 12-oz. can of Diet Coke (or any of the flavored diet Coke varieties), bake according to the directions on the cake mix box, and voila!--dieter's chocolate cake.

Instead of icing, top the cake with a dollop of Cool Whip Free (no fat, only 3 carbs) and a darling little maraschino cherry or a fresh strawberry, and you won't even feel as if you're depriving yourself. (HINT: Just don't eat the entire cake in one sitting! Cupcakes are the perfect portion size--indulgence without over-indulging.)

As of this writing, I have successfully trimmed 22 extraneous pounds (yay!) and am getting closer to where I need to be. I feel better, health-wise...and I'm feeling better esteem-wise about myself. Both positive things. Hm, maybe this dieting stuff isn't all bad after all. :o)

God bless you muchly as you journey with Him! ~Kim

P.S. -- HAPPY BIRTHDAY today to my hubby, Don, who is dieting along with me! He'll have a candle instead of a maraschino cherry on the top of his cupcake tonight. :o)

At Lake Bodensee in Germany last September.

Deadlines and Chocolate

Now, I know this has nothing to do with history, but it does have something to do with writing. You see, when writers (especially of the female variety) are on deadline, they are known to eat copious amounts of food—especially chocolate. And when there’s no chocolate handy, you can improvise with this cake. It makes a quick dessert for you—or your loved one when you don’t have much time to worry with dinner or dessert. Now, I’m not saying this is Paula Deen quality, but it’s not bad—especially when you’re in a hurry or you’ve just got to have chocolate. I used my favorite Snoopy mug so I didn't have to worry about the cake going over the top. Please note that Snoopy is ice skating. If only I knew how to ice skate, I could imitate his smooth moves out on my driveway this evening.


5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE

4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)
A small splash of vanilla extract
1 large coffee mug (MicroSafe)

Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well.

Add the egg and mix thoroughly.
Pour in the milk and oil and mix well.
Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla extract, and mix again. Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts.


The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!
Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired. Serve to husband or a writer on deadline! My husband doesn't usually look this grumpy, but I told him he had to share the cake with me.

If you try the cake and like it, be sure to let me know. If you try it and don't like it--my apologies.

May you find joy as you enjoy sweet fellowship with the Lord. ~Judy

I've fallen...but I CAN get up!

I was packing yesterday and came across a memory. This is one of the things about the moving process––actually, it's about the ONLY thing about the moving process––that I enjoy... Coming across items or mementoes I've forgotten. That happened to me last night.

Take a look at the golf score card below. Notice the "9" on the sixth hole by Mark's name...

 

I ran across this last night and was taken back to an afternoon in Loveland, Colorado, probably seventeen years ago now, when Joe and I played golf with Mark and Michelle Young, some friends of ours from where we used to live out there. Well, Mark's a great golfer but was obviously having an off day. Especially on that sixth hole. I can still see it so well. He kept hitting the ball and it kept plinking into the water. The thing was...Michelle and I got so tickled. We tried not to laugh at first, but you know how that goes. The more frustrated Mark became, the funnier it got. 


I read that card last night, saw the "9", and just giggled. Memories are so precious. So are the friends who help make them.


Then as I cleaned out another drawer, I came across this picture...

It's Mark and Michelle, and me and Joe at Winter Park, Colorado (1990) on our (Joe's and my) first time skiing. Joe and I didn't have any ski paraphernalia, so Mark and Michelle loaned us stuff and off we went! Michelle let me borrow her pink jump suit. Lovely, isn't it? Not to worry, you saw me comin' for miles! 


After a few runs on the bunny slope, Joe and I graduated to greens and we rode the ski lift with Mark and Michelle up to green run called Allan Phipps. My world has never been the same. 


Joe took to skiing pretty naturally. Me? Not so much. Michelle and Joe took on off, blazing a trail. And Mark, patient man that he is (except for golf, apparently), stayed behind with me, giving me pointers, as I inched down Allan Phipps. I don't exactly remember the progression of Mark's words of wisdom and encouragement, but I do remember what they finally boiled down to. "Tammy, keep your butt down!" How eloquent. I remember looking down the mountain, ski tips pointed inward, trying not to break my neck, and being so scared of the slippery slopes and bumps in the trail.


It's funny now, looking back, but it wasn't that day, especially when blind skiers (and I'm not kidding) started lapping me. Truly. I was halfway down the mountain on the Allan Phipps run when a blind skier who had passed me once, led by their guide, passed me again, going down for a second time. There's a spiritual lesson in there, for sure, which I won't delve into now, but the laughs Mark, Michelle, and Joe and I shared once I finally made it down...oh, those are still precious. To this day, Mark says he still can't see pink without shuddering.


In Ecclesiastes 4:10, it's written:

If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!

I'm so thankful for friends in my life who have been, and who are, here to help me up when I fall. Or when I'm going through a "down" time in life. Friends make all the difference.


I pray you have friends like that in your life, and that you are a friend like that to others.


Blessings on your week, and now back to packing,


Tammy

Come see the world through my eyes

I spoke at a local area library on Saturday. The panel had four authors, the other three all writing for the ABA (general market) while I write for the CBA (Christian market). One of the other authors writes contemporary category romances, one writes historical romances, and one writes single title contemporary romances.

At one point, I commented that I love the way one of the other authors saw the world with her head tilted to the side, and when I read her work, it caused me to tip my head to the side and go, "Wow. That is what it looks like from your point of view." She responded by saying she didn't think she saw the world with her head tilted. (Hope she wasn't offended!) She was right, of course. From her perspective, I'm the one with the skewed view.

But to be honest, this is what all writers do when telling a story. We invite our readers to see the world from our particular worldviews. I want readers to see characters and experiences through my particular lens.

Writers who can take me to a new place, help me see things in a new way, experience a new emotion are the ones I want to read. I love to be surprised, even when stories are familiar to me. Depending upon the "expert" who's written a book about this, there are a very limited number of basic plots (somewhere from 13 to about 30) that all stories come from. For instance, Cinderella stories have been told in many different ways, Pretty Woman being a prime example; Beauty and the Beast has been told and retold countless times. It's the different twists and the worldview the author puts on/into those skeleton plots that makes each story unique.

Right now, I'm trying to whip a couple of characters into shape so they can tell their particular story. Maybe when I'm done and you get to read the book, those characters will cause you to tip your head to the side and say, "Wow. So that's what it looks like from your point of view."

~robin

When the Cat's Away

I flew to Dallas today. That five-word sentence sounds so… easy. But it’s never easy to leave home.

I flew to Dallas today. That five-word sentence sounds so… easy. But it’s never easy to leave home.
My family can survive without me. My husband watches infomercials and invariable buys some oddball thing. The funny part is, it’s usually a kitchen gadget—and Chris’s one claim to culinary fame is that he BBQs a mean steak. Juicers, brooms, a set-it-and-forget-it rotisserie, a dice/splice/slice thingamajig… I’d rather have those than the time we weren’t on the same wavelength and he bought a 1929 Ford Model A. But he promised me it’ll be my car when he restores it. One of these days.

The dogs are lonely. They get special treats like cans of beef stew. And who’s going to keep an eye on Max so he doesn’t (ICK!) catch a possum and drag it into the house?
My son manages to use good dishtowels or bath towels for a project out in the garage, thereby destroying them. No one wipes up the oily/greasy handprints on the doorsill. Perfectly good leftovers become science experiments in the refrigerator.
Dumb stuff. But I race around to try to catch up on everything. It’s the Impossible Dream. Before I leave home, I wind up staying up all night. It’s no wonder I can fall asleep on planes. I pack way too much stuff. Computer, books, office junk. CDs, a camera, a phone charger. Makeup. Since the plane might fall from the sky or a cabbie could get us in an accident, I have to pack the right unmentionables. And can a woman have too many fuzzy socks with her? Shoes hadn’t been much of an issue in the last year because with a broken ankle and then a broken foot, I only packed one of each pair of shoes!
I’m giving a talk on Medicine in the 1800s, so I packed up antique medical equipment. The poor folks in TSA probably saw the x-ray of that suitcase and took a second look, then opened up the suitcase. Judging from the jumbled condition of my suitcase, they never learned to pack efficiently.

Airlines use overweight suitcases as one of their fundraisers… so I use the bathroom scale. The bathroom scale is about the only thing I don’t try to stuff in the suitcase. Well, that’s not quite true: I keep pushing the dogs out of the suitcase. If I could bring them with me, I would; but there’s not a suitcase big enough to hold them, and they are each more than twice the fifty-pound limit. And if the TSA opened those suitcases, they’d never get Max and Tux back inside.
Yet I’ll be ready to fly to Southern California again because home is where the handprints and muddy footprints are.

My family can survive without me. My husband watches infomercials and invariable buys some oddball thing. The funny part is, it’s usually a kitchen gadget—and Chris’s one claim to culinary fame is that he BBQs a mean steak. Juicers, brooms, a set-it-and-forget-it rotisserie, a dice/splice/slice thingamajig… I’d rather have those than the time we weren’t on the same wavelength and he bought a 1929 Ford Model A. But he promised me it’ll be my car when he restores it. One of these days.

The dogs are lonely. They get special treats like cans of beef stew. And who’s going to keep an eye on Max so he doesn’t (ICK!) catch a possum and drag it into the house?

My son manages to use good dishtowels or bath towels for a project out in the garage, thereby destroying them. No one wipes up the oily/greasy handprints on the doorsill. Perfectly good leftovers become science experiments in the refrigerator.

Dumb stuff. But I race around to try to catch up on everything. It’s the Impossible Dream. Before I leave home, I wind up staying up all night. It’s no wonder I can fall asleep on planes. I pack way too much stuff. Computer, books, office junk. CDs, a camera, a phone charger. Makeup. Since the plane might fall from the sky or a cabbie could get us in an accident, I have to pack the right unmentionables. And can a woman have too many fuzzy socks with her? Shoes hadn’t been much of an issue in the last year because with a broken ankle and then a broken foot, I only packed one of each pair of shoes!

I’m giving a talk on Medicine in the 1800s, so I packed up antique medical equipment. The poor folks in TSA probably saw the x-ray of that suitcase and took a second look, then opened up the suitcase. Judging from the jumbled condition of my suitcase, they never learned to pack efficiently.

Airlines use overweight suitcases as one of their fundraisers… so I use the bathroom scale. The bathroom scale is about the only thing I don’t try to stuff in the suitcase. Well, that’s not quite true: I keep pushing the dogs out of the suitcase. If Ii could bring them with me, I would; but there’s not a suitcase big enough to hold them, and they are each more than twice the fifty-pound limit. And if the TSA opened those suitcases, they’d never get Max and Tux back inside.

Yet I’ll be ready to fly to Southern California again because home is where the handprints and muddy pawprints are.

Keep warm!
cathy

Rough Places Plain

I've always been a fan of Handel's Messiah. Even as a child I was enthralled by the sounds of praise and adoration. A couple of my favorites have to be the Hallelujah Chorus and Unto Us a Child is Born. However, I'm also a great fan of the opening:

Comfort ye, comfort ye My people, saith your God; speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem; and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned. The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness:-Prepare ye the way of the Lord: make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill made low, the crooked straight and the rough places plain.

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together;for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.

I love that this is taken directly from Scripture, and I find it such a blessing when times are rough as they have been this week. There have been far too many troubles and sorrows to list them all, but among them was the death of a beloved uncle, the news that our granddaughter is losing parts of her vision, our six year old grandson is on a suicide watch and our 3 year old grandson has been diagnosed with developmental problems and autism.

Coupled with this was bad news for at least five people I love. The rough places didn't seem plain at all.

However, even in all of this I know that my Redeemer liveth. I know that one day Jesus will return and set everything to rights. I know He will Comfort His people and that His glory will be revealed!

I take hope in God's promise to one day put everything in order, and I covet your prayers.
Tracie

Back to School...

As many of you already know, in my former life I was a teacher. I spent my final teaching years in a 5th grade classroom at Morgan Elementary School. I LOVED teaching. I loved the kids, loved watching them grow, loved how they grew me... When God said "close the door," I sorrowed over the loss even while I celebrated what He was making available to me.

With the release of my first young adult novel, I've had the opportunity to talk with students about the writing life. This past Tuesday I enjoyed the singular pleasure of returning to Morgan Elementary and speaking with...you guessed it...the 5th grade classes. What a joy--like coming home.

I put together a PowerPoint, and the final picture featured my stack of published works beside a picture of myself in 1966--the year I verbally expressed my desire to be a writer someday (I was five at the time). The kids seemed amazed that I held onto that dream for 40 years before seeing my first book in print. I assured them that God-planted dreams are worth cultivating, no matter how long it takes.

After my presentation, I opened the floor to questions. So many hands flew into the air! Their enthusiasm ignited my enthusiasm. The longer I stayed, the more I missed my classroom days. It was very hard to bring my time with them to a close. I handed out bookmarks before leaving and encouraged the kids to pursue their dreams.

As I drove home, I couldn't help but think about the verse in Jeremiah 29 that says God makes good plans for His children--plans to give them hope and a future. I find it interesting how my teaching days prepared me for this writing life. I'm not keen on being in front of people, but my years of presenting to kids prepared me for presenting at workshops or speaking events. I taught social studies and writer's workshop--both excellent subjects for someone who would eventually become an historical writer. Although "being a teacher" wasn't necessarily my childhood dream, I loved it, and God certainly used it to help mold me into the writer He wanted me to be. I'm sure glad there are no wasted steps in a God-designed journey. :o)

I'll have more "author visits" with groups of students, and I know I'll enjoy them, but this one with the Morgan 5th graders will always be special. The dedication in Katy's New World reads "To the many boys and girls who entered my fifth grade classroom at Morgan Elementary School. Thank you for challenging and enriching my life." I can only hope I was as much a blessing to them as they were to me.


May God bless you muchly as you pursue your God-planted dreams! ~Kim

Whip Around Wednesday

That’s really not what my blog is about, but it’s how I’m feeling this evening. Seems like when I’m close to a deadline, my turn to blog whips around faster than the spin cycle on my wash machine.

Tammy has completed her book and Tracie mentioned that her latest had arrived. So here I am honing in on the deadline for the final book in the Daughters of Amana series and celebrating the release of the first book in that same series. Somewhere to Belong released February 3. And just like these other gals, I’m thankful for the privilege God has given me to do something I love. Each new book is a thrill and it’s my constant prayer that my books will touch hearts and honor Him.

I thought I’d share a few pictures from the very first trip my husband I made to Amana. I posted at least one of these in a newsletter some time ago, but the picture of us sitting in the giant rocking chair is one of my favorite memories from that visit. And if you go and visit in the Amana Colonies, you can crawl up in that chair and have your picture taken too—be sure you send me a copy if you make the visit.

In Somewhere to Belong, one of the places you’ll read about is the kitchen house where Berta and Johanna work, so I’m including some pictures of the inside of one of the kitchens that is open to tourists who travel to the Colonies. You need to disregard that air conditioner sitting on the floor in the picture to the left--they didn't really have those. :) Although communal kitchens no longer exist, this one has been maintained so that visitors may have a glimpse into the past. That’s me standing outside the kitchen house with Brandi Jones, a curator at the history center. Some of the women were known as ‘paring knife sisters’ (don’t you love that designation) and they would sit on the back porch with wooden trays on their laps while they snapped beans or sorted spinach—a way to visit with one another and enjoy the outdoor weather while they worked.

So, if you can’t make it to Alaska in the near future, I highly recommend a visit to the Amana Colonies in Iowa. You’ll enjoy ‘gut’ food, friendly people, and lots of history. And don’t forget a visit to the Woolen Mill, the candy shop, and bakery or the General Stores. You'll find a General Store in both Main Amana and High Amana.

May you find joy as your experience God in your surroundings. ~Judy

P.S. My husband’s surgical procedure went off without a hitch although we are still waiting for pathology reports. Continued prayers in that regard are greatly appreciated.

Just hit SEND

I just hit SEND, and Within My Heart––all but the epilogue, which I'm writing––is winging its electronic way to my editor's inbox. Gracious, this book has been a struggle. I started it at the end of 2008, got a few chapters written and then Mom was diagnosed with cancer last February. And then my world kind of tilted.

I'm not sure whether God has brought the stories I've written in order to help me with the struggles I'm going through at the time, or if the struggles I'm going through at the time just happen to find their way into my stories. Feels like a Forrest Gump question, huh? But whichever way it works––and I think maybe it's both, as Forrest would say––I'm grateful for the journeys God has led me on with these particular characters. But I must say...

I'm SO GLAD this first draft is done. Whew! My editors have been beyond patient and I'm grateful. I'm also grateful to you, Deb, for reading and helping me to maintain perspective. Writers often get so close to the story, we can't see what's right in front us. So thank you, friend.

And now...I'm getting out of this house for a little while, and am going to go grab a Venti Iced White Chocolate Mocha Skinny with Whipped latte (as if anything with whipped cream could be "skinny"), or something else equally decadent that I absolutely should not have. Then I'm coming back to start packing this house. I welcome shorter term goal-oriented tasks. Especially after the last fourteen months.

Blessings on your week,
Tammy

P.S. I often listen to the Forrest Gump Suite as I write. It's playing on my laptop now, in fact, as I'm typing this and a light snow is falling outside. Beautiful. Okay, where's my latte...



I almost forgot! The winners of the drawing for a copy of Fellowship Songs, a CD of worship music are:

VERONICA

and

JACKIE SMITH

Ladies, please send me your snail mail info through my contact page on my website and I'll send you your CD.

14th Century Homeowners' Association Rules

I serve as the treasurer of my homeowners' association. Being on the board of directors of the HOA has been, for the most part, an easy experience. All the same, this Arts and Culture piece from the Smithsonian magazine's January 2010 edition gave me quite the laugh.

 I thought it might do the same for you, especially if you love to read medieval novels.

MANOR RULES: What if these meticulously planned communities are not just a modern phenomenon?

Ah, the homeowners association, which dictates everything from the shape of your shrubs to the color of your house. Such meticulously planned communities are generally thought to be a modern phenomenon, but a recent archaeological excavation near England’s Hamme-on-Rye unearthed a 14th-century document that suggests otherwise.

A covenant set to hand this Twelfth Day of June in the year of our Lord 1365 between the Manor by the Meadow Association of Freeholders and the owner in fee symple. Whereas the owner hath entered into this covenant in order to enjoye the especial liffestyle offered by the Manor and to avoid all unnecessary discord, the owner doth hereby acknowledge and acquiesce to certaine rules to ensure the faithful and serene enjoyment of the properties hereby governed, to witte:

Colour Of Abode
In the interests of achieving a pleasing harmony and a clene appearance for the community, the colour of the exterior of each abode shall not be changed without leve. If leve be granted, the abode may then be peynted only with one of the following colours: riverbed clay grey, cow dung brown or farm field burnt umber.

Security
A balliff charged with keeping the peace is authorized to settle disputes both publick and domestick. Manor hath further entered into contract with the Guild of Sorcerers to provide 24-hour, state-of-the-arte security to ward off the predations of trolls, hobgoblins and Frenchmen.

Safety Provisions
Each abode shalt be provided with an exterior barrel. Said barrel must be kept full of water to assist in the dousing of fires whether started by the hand of man or mouth of dragon. Barrel water must not be used for drinking, bathing infants or drouning witches.

Lighting
Manor hath provided torches throughout the community for the convenience of all. However, all torches must be extinguished by curfew and not reignited until the following dusk so as not to obscure viewing of God’s celestial firmament.

Clinic
Manor doth operate a clinic at the barbershoppe to provide physic and the healing artes to all residents. Bledeing, leeches and the treatment of excess humours are available upon request. Herbes and medicines will be administered to those possessed of the supplementary potion plan. (Please note that neither exorcism nor treatment for curses is available on site.)

Business Prohibitions
No owner is permitted to conduct a pryvat enterprise on the premises, whether as taverne keeper, trader in holy relics or seller of used oxcarts. Exceptions may be made for brewers and alchemists willing to share 30 percent of their production with the Association.

Gardens
The owner shalt be permitted a garden wherein the following vegetables may be planted: oynouns, gourdes, garlec, lekes, letys and caboches. In addition, owners may cultivate herbes such as belladonna, nightshade and henbane for personal use—though the sale of such herbes is prohibited, owing to their properties for causing fevered hallucinations of the brain.

Weekly Entertainment
Manor shalt provide weekly entertainment at the Commons on behalf of all residents. Forthcoming events include a joust tournament, the Hamme-on-Rye performance of “Punch & Judy Fight in the Crusades,” the observational humour of the stand-up Jester, Otto the Corpulent, and an elucidating lecture by Sir Charles Wentworth, founder and co-chair of the Flat Earth Society.

Refuse Removal
Refuse shalt be removed on every Tuesday and Thursday. Homeowners should throw any mullok and other unwanted materials out of their windows to the footpath below. Barrels are available near the Commons for the recycling of parchment and chainmail.

Piece by David Martin

Illustration by Eric Palma

I hope the above caused you to begin your week with a smile.

~robin

What Are You Doing?

Since it’s Valentine’s weekend and I write romance, is it any wonder my love in on my mind? When it comes to relationships, there are different types of love:

Storge: Parent-to-child love

Philos: Brotherly love

Platonic,: Affection without sexual relationship

Eros: Sensual love

Agape: God’s perfect love.

No matter what kind of love exists in a relationship, there’s something that hits me over and over again. Love isn’t just a word. It’s not just seeing someone and being indifferent: It involves making choices to invest yourself into a relationship—however shallow or deep and profound it might be.

But they all have something in common: Love involves action. Just as faith without works is dead, Love without action is impossible.

So here’s the fact: LOVE IS SOMETHING YOU DO.
It’s offering friendship or assistance.
It’s a gentle word when you have the perfect comeback.
It’s filling the gas tank on someone else’s car.
Or kneeling down and playing games or praying at the bedside.
It’s saying you’re sorry first
It’s setting aside time and reserving it for that person.
It’s speaking kindly,
It’s reading the Bible and praying.
Reading to someone who can’t.
Or a million other things.

In the end, it’s not talk that makes a difference.
Love means being aware of weakness, turning a blind eye, and wrapping the other person in our forgiveness.
It means giving—of self, time, ability, support.
We can say we love—but in the end, words are empty.
Love is something you do.

God first loved up by sending his Son.
Jesus acted—by laying down his life on our behalf.

What are you doing?

I’m going to be very busy this weekend—and in the future.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Cathy