A Writer’s Life

8 07, 2019

Deviled Eggs or Angel Eggs

By |2019-07-07T15:30:37-05:00July 8th, 2019|A Writer's Life, Make Me Think Monday|1 Comment

Deviled eggs and cookouts go together like PB&J. They are a mainstay at our cookouts.

I use my mother’s recipe. She never wrote it down, but I watched her enough to know to mix enough egg yolks, mustard, mayonnaise, and sweet relish to fill the hollowed whites. Sometimes I use dill relish instead of the sweet. Don’t tell Mother, she’d be appalled.

We serve our deviled eggs on a plate that belonged to my husband’s sister. Most of the time, cookouts around our house also include my aunt’s baked beans, my mother-in-law’s chocolate cake (the one with the secret coffee ingredient that we never told my father-in-law about) and my daddy’s homemade ice cream. It’s a way to include those who have gone before.

On July 4th, as we sat around munching deviled eggs, our conversation turned to why the eggs are called deviled.

Fingers of techno-device-loaded guests raced on iPhones, iPads, and Androids for the answer. In one click Google came to the rescue, revealing interesting things about deviled eggs.

  • Deviled eggs have been around since the first century.
  • The recipe was first compiled sometime between the fourth and fifth century A.D.
  • By the 15th century, stuffed eggs had made their way across much of Europe.
  • By 1800, deviling became a verb to describe the process of making food spicy.

You can read more fascinating details about the origin here

Google also provided the answer to our original question. The term deviled is assumed to come from the heat level of the stuffing ingredients. Spices such as mustard, paprika, cayenne and wasabi add spicy heat. That lends itself to the association between the devil and the excessive heat in Hell, hence deviled.

When served at church functions, deviled egg hors d’oeuvres are called mimosa eggs, stuffed eggs, dressed eggs, salad eggs, or angel eggs. To avoid an association with Satan, of course.

So, do you make deviled eggs? More importantly, do you call them angel eggs?

1 07, 2019

To Back or Not to Back into Parking Spaces

By |2019-06-30T16:45:56-05:00July 1st, 2019|A Writer's Life, Writer's Life|0 Comments

If you’ve read my blog about our l-o-n-g driveway, you know that backing my car is not one of my strong skills.

I hate to back.

I’ve backed into more trees than I care to admit. Once with a church van and vanload of women. It was a dark and lighting was bad, that’s my excuse.

Another time I backed into a friend’s tree. No damage to the tree, thank goodness. I immediately drove to our friend’s repair garage and he pulled the dent out for me. Never told hubby and he never noticed.

I took defensive driving many years ago (to lower our car insurance rates, not for a ticket reversal, I promise). Anyway, the instructor said, “The first movement of your vehicle should be forward.”

He went on to point out that most parking lots are marked so that spaces can be pulled through. That eliminates backing easily.

If the parking spaces are marked at an angle, it’s a bit trickier when pulling out from a pull-through. You must be sure the lane between parking rolls is wide enough to maneuver a turn to head out the correct direction. Or, risk traveling the wrong way to the exit.

The instructor also pointed out that if the spaces are straight and flanked by curbs, you should always back into the space. “You know what’s behind you going in – a curb. Backing out you don’t. There could be a person, a car, a pole, etc.”

I took his advice to heart. I rarely pull forward into a parking space. I back or pull though with my SUV. I am constantly amazed at how many other cars follow the same advice.

When I first started going to the sports gym where I swim every morning, I would be the only car backed in. I noticed when I came out the other morning all the cars were also backed into the spaces.I’m not sure whether they copied me or took defensive driving and had the same instructor.

I admit my backup camera helps when I must back, but I much prefer to pull forward out of a parking space.

What about you? Do you back into parking spaces or pull through when you can?

3 06, 2019

My Zinnias Are Blooming

By |2019-06-01T07:48:40-05:00June 3rd, 2019|A Writer's Life, Make Me Think Monday|2 Comments

I love the bright, daisy-like flower heads of Zinnias. They’re easy to grow, bloom profusely, and provide a great splash of color in a pot or flowerbed.

A primarily warm weather flower, I missed seeing them when we lived in the mountains. The blooms are fun to cut and bring inside to my kitchen table vase. The flowers also attract butterflies.

This year I decided to plant seeds in the large clay pot by our backyard pond and discovered lots of stuff I didn’t know about the flowers I enjoy as I read the seed packets.

Zinnias grow in a variety of shapes – beehive, button, and cactus, and have distinct kind of blooms – single, double, and semi-double. I selected two different seed kinds and planted in the big pot.

Within a week, I had little green seedlings poking through the potting soil. All the rain slowed the blooming process, but once we finally had some sunny days, buds formed then my Zinnias bloomed with a burst of color.

Both seed packets went into the same pot so I’m having fun deciding which blooms are what. What do you think-beehive, button, or cactus?

I can’t decide.

The plant is an annual, so the plants will die off in January or February. I’m thinking next year I’ll plant single varieties in multiple pots.

20 05, 2019

A Child of the Soaps

By |2019-05-17T16:52:02-05:00May 20th, 2019|A Writer's Life, Writer's Life|5 Comments

Long before epic series like Game of Thrones and Outlander kept us breathlessly awaiting the next episode, serial radio shows kept listeners beside their radios.

Busy taking care of housework in 30s and 40s without the benefit of today’s appliances, housewives tuned to tales of Clara, Lu, and Em, three sorority sisters, or Painted Dreams, a story of a mother and her unmarried daughter. Those stories continued from day to day and one story line led to another or multiple story lines.

Listeners, primarily women, lost themselves in the fictional lives. Networks and advertisers saw the great potential of a daytime market and serialized radio stories became daytime television stories.

The televised programs, dubbed daytime soaps because program sponsors were companies like Proctor and Gamble or soap operas because organ music transitioned from one scene to the next, quickly became popular. By 1970, the three major networks aired eighteen different daytime serials.

That’s where I came in.

My Oma’s favorite “stories” transitioned from radio to television. She followed her characters to the small screen and took me with her. We’d have lunch on TV trays and catch up on As the World Turns then return later in the afternoon for Guiding Light. The shows, originally fifteen minutes in length, expanded to an hour presentations. 

The stories were fascinating and progressive for their time. Women didn’t dress like Aunt Bea of Mayberry. They had flawed marriages, rotten kids, and successful careers. In fact, the police chief and head cardiologist of General Hospital were both females.

There were cheating spouses, secret babies, evil twins, amnesia victims, ghosts, time travel, and vampires. The shows aired daily allowing little time to fully memorize and polish lines like prime time shows. There were no retakes with live TV.

Nowadays only four daytime soaps remain: The Bold and the Beautiful (CBS), Days of Our Lives (NBC), General Hospital (ABC), and The Young and the Restless (CBS). But, viewer numbers are shrinking so the number may shrink more.

I rarely watch any of them. They aren’t my soap.

Graphic: The Soap Opera Wiki https://soaps.fandom.com/wiki/Guiding_Light

MY soap was Guiding Light. It first aired on radio in 1937, moved to television in 1952, and ended on my birthday in 2009 after a record seventy-two years. I still miss the Spaulding, Cooper, and Lewis families, especially Reva and Josh.

While some consider soap opera watching a waste of time, I credit my hours of watching with sparking my storyteller gene and providing endless ideas for story lines.

13 05, 2019

Mother’s Day Trivia

By |2019-05-12T13:36:56-05:00May 13th, 2019|A Writer's Life, Holidays, Writer's Life|1 Comment

A long time ago in a land far away, we wore roses to church on Mother’s Day.

I can remember as a child going to my grandmother’s house before church to pick a flower to pin on my dress.I also cut blooms for my siblings.

I would carefully choose the prettiest red roses I could find for me and my siblings, cut the chosen buds and we’d take them home. There, my brother and sister and I would pin the rose to our Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and be ready for church on Mother’s Day.

A red rose meant your mother was living and a white one meant she was dead.

When I tell people about the annual chore, I usually get a puzzled look as if they’d never heard of it. Maybe it was only a Texas thing. There are lots of only Texas things that puzzle people.

Still, it was tradition for our family for many years. After I married and left home I continued the tradition. Once my children became teens the whining and complaining won and I kinda let the wearing roses thing fall to the wayside.

Anna Jarvis started the practice when she honored her own deceased mother with a special day of remembrance at a Methodist Church in Grafton, West Virginia in 1908. By 1914, she had campaigned so successfully that President Woodrow Wilson signed into law the proclamation making Mother’s Day a national holiday.

Interesting fact I uncovered as I researched about the tradition, both Jarvis and the President Wilson insisted that the spelling be singular possessive — Mother’s Day — to encourage a personal rather than generic observance.

The wearing a rose tradition makes the day even more personal. Red to honor. White to remember.

I’m thinking it would be nice to revive the tradition. Next year, maybe my rose bushes will be blooming, and I can pick a white one to wear to honor my Mother in Heaven.

15 04, 2019

Easter and Hot Cross Buns

By |2019-04-06T15:01:33-05:00April 15th, 2019|A Writer's Life, Holidays|3 Comments

Easter time brings hot cross buns to bakery shelves. I love hot cross buns, almost as much as I love fruitcake at Christmas.

Fruitcake I can find year round. Hot cross buns, not so much.

Traditionally, the spicy, sweet buns made with currants and raisins then marked with a cross on the top are to be eaten on Good Friday to mark the end of Lent.

The frosting cross on top represents the crucifixion of Jesus, and the spices inside signify the spices used to embalm him at his burial.

Me, I can’t wait that long once I spot them in the bakery.

I do try to ration myself to one bakery package a season.

I don’t think I’m going to make it this year.

My first package of nine buns is down to one.

8 04, 2019

Spring and Piddlin’

By |2019-04-06T14:49:51-05:00April 8th, 2019|A Writer's Life|2 Comments

Spring brings out my lackadaisicalness. I’m not lazy, but something about a warm spring day has me doing a lot of piddlin’ around and not staying on task.

I find myself staring into space or watching a cardinal bathe in our water fountain instead of attending to what needs to be done. Or, I’ll wander outside randomly pulling weeds and hours will pass.

Last night I pulled an invasive weed from one of the boxwoods at the back of the yard. Not a bad thing, in fact something that needed to be done, but that led to trimming the Brunfelsia, better known as yesterday, today and tomorrow plant.

SOURCE: B.navez – Self-photographed, CC BY-SA 3.0, commons.wikimedia.org

The shrub lives on the neighbor’s side of the fence, but hangs over into our yard. The blooms start out purple, fade to lavender, and finally turn white over days. Hence the name yesterday, today, and tomorrow. A plant can have all three at once, which makes it lovely to look at.

Unfortunately all parts of the plant (flowers, leaves, berries, and seeds) are considered toxic to animals.

If one of my four legged boys were to eat a seedpod or branch, they could die. That’s why I trim it to the neighbor’s side of the fence.

Again, my piddlin’ led to a very necessary thing, but not what I was supposed to be doing. I should have been inside fixin’ supper.

Who wants to eat when you can enjoy the outdoors?  Too soon it will hot and humid and we’ll be huddling inside in the air conditioning. You have to piddle and take the spring days while you can.

I tried to explain this to my hubby and doggies. They weren’t particularly sympathetic.

25 03, 2019

The Swim Team

By |2019-03-24T05:24:42-05:00March 25th, 2019|A Writer's Life|1 Comment

I’m on a Swim Team. A very small swim team.

Three of us gather Monday through Friday at the local indoor pool. I don’t know all their names. We rarely speak. Yet we’re a dedicated team. You have to be leave to your house early enough to be in the water at 5:30 am.

Two of us arrive at about the same time usually between 5 – 5:15 a.m. We stand at the door silently. I’m not sure either of us is fully awake. The minute the door is unlocked, we grab our allotted two towels and head to the pool at the back of the building.

Power-swimmer heads directly to the pool. She’s in the water by the time I’ve stripped to my swimsuit under my sweats and stuffed my belongings in a locker.

She swims non-stop. Breaststroke, backstroke, and underwater. Flippers on, flipper off. Without a break. I’m in awe of her stamina.

Basically, I’m not a swimmer. Though several different state Red Cross swim instructors have certified me drown proof. Of course, that probably has more to do with my BMI enabling me to float forever than skills.

While Power-swimmer has her strenuous workout, I walk and doggy paddle in my lane then do chin-ups on the therapy pool equipment and a series of exercises with water weights.

Team member #3 arrives shortly after we’re in the water. I know her name-Char. She walks like I do and our paths cross. Talking’s allowed. Char also swims so once she starts the laps it’s all business. No chit-chat.

Other swimmers join us from day to day. Mostly lap swimmers. Not as intense as our Power member and none swim for as long as the team does.

One day a head popped up in the lane between Power Swimmer and me. I had not seen him come in or enter the water. Scared me that I was so unobservant then Char said the guy swims totally underwater. Since my cardinal pool rule is never to get my face wet, I won’t ever see him until he gets out of the water.

After an hour, Power-swimmer and I leave TM #3. We wave good bye as we head to the locker room.

The others aren’t on the team. They don’t follow the rules: Come every day. Swim an hour. And rules are rules, you know. They’re welcome to join. But that means I’d have to tell my other team members about the team and the rules.

19 11, 2018

Let the Holiday Shopping Begin

By |2018-11-13T16:58:29-06:00November 19th, 2018|A Writer's Life, Book Release Announcement|2 Comments

Good news for those of you who have started your shopping already. I have a new release to offer.

Book Blurb

When David Sands lost his wife, he promised he’d sell their condo contents and donate proceeds to their non-profit that supports families of MIA and POW soldiers. He’s been procrastinating for three years.

Debra Hughes, antiques business partner and best friend to David’s late wife, promised to look after David, to help him through his grief. Debra kept her promise to her friend, but the strong feelings she developed for David rocked her calm world.

Now the estate executor requires David to fulfill his promise and hires Debra to oversee the antiques sale. Will David and Debra be able to work in close proximity without avowing their love and declaring new promises -- this time to one another?

It’s taken awhile to get this one written. Lots of life erupting, but at long last Book 4 of the  PROMISES series is here.

There are now four published novels telling a continuous story of two men and one woman who met at Eighth Army Headquarters, Yongsan, South Korea in the sixties.

The idea for these stories came from my days as a Department of Army Civilian at Headquarters, Eighth Army. Though the books are completely fictional, you’ll find much from my days in South Korea sprinkled throughout.

Each sequel is a standalone novel that chronicles the stories of Lily Johnson, Alex Cabot, David Sands, and Shirley Carlson from the turbulent Vietnam War years through the decades that follow. To paraphrase a reviewer of the series, if you were around in the sixties, you will be immersed with memories. If you weren’t around then, you’ll understand better what it was like.

Buy links are in the column on the right. Simply click on the book cover. Or click here for my Amazon author page.

22 10, 2018

From Lizards to Headlights and Taillights

By |2018-10-16T13:26:41-05:00October 22nd, 2018|A Writer's Life, poetry, writing|1 Comment

Many years ago one of my grandsons lived next door. He was home-schooled and sometimes I helped with his homework.

Writing was his least favorite subject. Fast forward to his first year in college and he loves his creative writing class. He sends me links when the Southwest Baptist University newsletter publishes his work.

His most recent publication was a poem, which reminded me of another homework poem, one I’d helped him with years ago. That poem was about a lizard.

Lazy lizards leap from leaf to leaf

As green as a Sprite can

Lizards like to hide under the weather

Running, hiding, and sneaking around

Crazily, hastily, and hurriedly leaving their tails behind them

The miniature lizards are tiny compared to the big, blue sky

You can read about the do-your-homework challenge we had before he finally wrote the lizard poem here.

His newest poem is about seeing headlights and taillights as he journeys back and forth to college. I’ve copied it here, but you can also view it in the SBU Student Media Organization newsletter here.

As I drive down these roads

Each day, every night,

I look up, I look back, and

I see headlights and I see taillights

The taillights in front, the headlights behind

When they travel this life with me,

The headlights ahead and the taillights in back

When going to places I've already seen.

There might be a lesson here or there might be none,

But I do know behind each pair of lights is a someone.

He may be an old man with nothing but the past,

Or she may be a young girl nervous about class,

They could be a happy couple, but then again maybe not,

Or it might be somebody having the same thought.

Maybe they’re hurting, or maybe they're fine

Maybe they've given up or maybe they're still trying.

Will I ever know, and do I really even care?

Because what do I give them but the occasional stare?

Are they in need, and if so, why?

Could I help them, should I even try?

If they're as real and loved as I am, or maybe more,

Then why is it they're so easy to ignore?

Is it because I don't know them individually

But can only speak in generalities?

The answers to these questions I may never know

But I frequently ponder them as along these roads I go

And each day, and every night,

I look up, I look back, and I see headlights and I see taillights

Looks to me like we have a budding writer joining his multi-published father, Dr. J.B. Hixson, and his Nana.

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