My "kid" Brandon Beck used to say, "Oh Foot!" When he got frustrated. I might start saying, "Oh Farkle."

I have a confession. I use the "start new game" button frequently when I'm playing that stupid game.  I mean, if you start out with one "1" you know you are going to Farkle, and you won't get even close to your top score...so what's the point?

In golf, that extra try is called a "Mulligan"

A do-over.

It's a bummer that life doesn't come with a "start new game" switch.

There are a lot of things I would change---mistakes I would correct.  My granddaughter wouldn't get Leukemia and my son would still be alive. grinning at us and being a real pain in the butt. But there is no Mulligan button for life.

I was remindeed of that again Sunday. We were having a good time---a family softball game. Afterward, Charlie was going to fry burgers on the Lions Stand grill ( those are the best burgers in the world) and the kids were laughing and yelling. It was great.

Until little Chad took a line drive to the face. It hit him hard. Though I didn't see the actual hit, from Charlie's description I know it was horrible. The sound was sickening. Chad went down like lead.

Blood was everywhere. Charlie took it hard...for him, it was as if our Chad (the little guy's namesake) was lying there helpless and blood-soaked.Sarah scooped the 6 year old up and the two of us raced to the pickup with him. I didn't stop at any intersections but blew the horn continuously as we rushed the little guy to the emergency room.

He passed out and Sarah and I prayed.

Chad was okay. A Catscan showed that there was no brain bleeding and he didn't break any bones. He was a little sleepy, a little sore and a lot bruised up. But okay.

The rest of us aren't so lucky. Why did we let him stand there beside his grandpa? What were we thinking? Charlie and Sarah have had flashbacks to the hit.

I wish we could take it back. I wish we could hit the "Mulligan" button. But we can't. Life turns on a dime. Doctors give us the worst news possible, police officers show up at our doors at two am, and little kids sometimes get in the way of hard-hit balls.

The best we can do is make sure we try to "get it right" when we can, and let our families and friends know that the one thing we wouldn't change is loving them.

Posted by beyonderqueen at 6:22 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

OKay. I want to make some of the amazing buffalo stew we had at Dancing Leaf, but I don't have any buffalo. I put a beef roast on in the crock pot last night and so I have really tender beef.

I don't have jalapenos either, but I do have some anchos that I froze like ...like two summers ago.

And there were no dried pintos at the store. I had to get a soup mix ( dried peas, chick peas, black-eyed peas, navy beans, pintos, red beans)

I don't have any bay leaves. I do have fresh cilantro out on the deck.

And I used my last tomato on sandwiches the night before last. I think I have a can of tomato soup, but that's all.

So my Dancing Leaf stew will be kind of like my Silver Dollar City Skillet: Close, but not quite there...

 Check out my books at www.beyonderqueen.net/annecarylinvitesyou

Posted by beyonderqueen at 11:40 AM EDT

Updated: Tuesday, 25 August 2009 11:52 AM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

I'm a little miffed.

Watching Good Morning America the other day, I saw a piece on Kelly Clarkson.  See. some magazine just airbrushed off about ten pounds on her cover picture. She wasn't happy about it.

GMA host Robin Roberts was trying to promote a healthy self image and she said--several times--that Kelly Clarkson was comfortable with her weight. Happy with her image. Good grief...you might expect someone the size of Cass Elliot.

But Kelly Clarkson is probably a size 10.

Shouldn't she be comfortable with her weight if she is a normal size?

I mean, that's like saying Mariah Carey is comfortable with being a woman. Stevie Wonder is fine with being Black. And David Letterman is okay with his nose. You have never noticed Letterman's nose? That's because IT'S NORMAL. But I'm sure he's comfortable with it

And the magazine editor said they didn't really make her thinner...they just added height. THAT gave the illusion that she was thinner...SO it wasn't her weight she was uncomfortable with...it was her height?

And the only reason they did it, the editor said, was to make a more colorful cover...to show more of the gorgeous dress  Kelly was wearing.

It's called photo-shopping. You take this from someone's picture and add it to someone else's. Then you pare down this and tweak that...WHAT HAPPENS IF THE STAR MAKES A PERSONAL APPEARANCE?

"Hi! I'm Kelly Clarkson the American Idol."

"Yeah Right. Clarkson has itty bitty thighs. And no butt."

"No really, I am Kelly. And I'm comfortable with my thighs."

We need to grow up. Perfect is unattainable...unless you lie about it.

There are now organizations for really big women and men...Fat Clubs. THEY are comfortable with their weight.  But the GMA host wants us to know that someone is okay with being normal.

And THAT makes me miffed because THAT implies that we need an excuse for it.

Posted by beyonderqueen at 6:28 PM EDT

Updated: Saturday, 15 August 2009 7:12 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

What's cooler than ice cubes in your underwear? ( Like you never tried that)

Finding out that one of the stores selling your book has run out. Okay, they didn't buy that many copies to begin with, but THEY ARE SOLD OUT!

Hey, I admit I'm prejudiced about this, but these two books are good. I mean, if you don't blow your own horn, sometimes it goes unblowed...or unblown...

Anyway, with 5 teen boys at home I don't have a lot of time, but I am working on two new books...one fiction and one non-fiction based on the Gary Smalley/ John trent book "The Blessing."

So, here I go again!

Posted by beyonderqueen at 11:08 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

On Thursday, we're getting a new foster child. That will make 5 teenaged boys. Charlie decided we needed a little outing before this all came down, so Saturday morning he told me to wear walking shoes and be prepared to leave at 8:00. Where were we going? IT WAS A SECRET.

The boys sleep in until 9 or 10, and then have their Saturday chores to perform. After that they can swim. Should they need help, one of my daughters lives just across the street. We were set.

At eight, we left in the Camaro and started east. We drove for an hour and a half over countryside that never changed fromn the flat, arid plains that surround Holyoke. Then, suddenly, trees  and lush green grass lined the road. A forest stretched beyond them. We crept through a tiny village and turned off onto a dirt road marked by a small sign that read Dancing Leaf.

After a mile or two, we pulled into a parking area across from a gorgeous lodge-type building.  We were welcomed by a tall, spare woman with bobbed graying hair. She took us into a small cabin marked as the museum, and we settled onto a bench.

For the next half an hour, Jan Hosick regaled us with the history of the area: Dancing Leaf is located near the Allen Site on Medicine Creek...an active paleo-anthology dig. Southwest Nebraska was once part of a huge inland sea, and then it became a tropical paradise, and then a savanna rimmed by glaciers. More types of elephants have lived in Nebraska, Mrs. Hosick told us, than any place in the world INCLUDING ASIA.

We held huge Mamouth teeth in our hands and marveled at the skill of primitive huntsmen as she demonstrated the methods they used to hunt and kill the huge beasts. We followed the progress of these ancestors of the Pawnee until they emerged into the "present" of the appearance of Caucasians in the area.

Then Jan Hosick took us down a path to a clearing where, overlooking the river valley below, there is a reconstructed Indian dwelling. Deer hide tanning processing racks rimmed the place along with covered shelters where the women could work during the day's heat, moving along with the shade. In the center of the clearing stood a moundhouse...something like an earthen igloo.

Then we stooped and entered the moundhouse where Mrs. Hosick explained the artifacts and laid out for us "a day in the life." She pointed out the "carpeted" floor and the hole in the roof through which a square of light fell near the firepit and served as a clock. She told us about the technology of the construction of the house that allowed it to keep out the rain and snow and the heat of the day as well as moderate the cold of the winter.

When we returned  to the main house, the Hosicks joined us in a wonderful meal of buffalo stew, raw vegetables and melons and corn muffins...a meal, she explained, the Indians would have prepared, since they grew fruits and vegetables in abundance.

The cost of a day pass to Dancing Leaf is nominal. You can also camp or rent cabins there. You can even stay in the moundhouse...sleeping on the hide-covered shelves as the Indiand would have. Charlie and I are determined to go back, and to take the boys.

When we returned to Holyoke, both of us were refreshed and excited about this unexpected oasis in the arid plains. If you want to check it out, go to http://www.dancingleaf.com  

And to all of you who aren't as lucky as I am to have someone like Charlie...EAT YOUR HEARTS OUT.

Check out my books at http://www.beyonderqueen.net/annecarylinvitesyou

Posted by beyonderqueen at 10:37 AM EDT

Updated: Monday, 3 August 2009 11:29 AM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

A blogger in Minnesota reviewed one of my books. And rated it A+!  Charlie was net-surfing the other day and he Googled "Campo Savage." Among the other entries, he found this site. She'd rated it in 2006. Amazing, huh?

Anyway, this blogger has read hundreds of books...always has a couple going. It intimidates me.  I do well to read three a month. Of course that doesn't count the books I start but don't finish.

I like realistic dialog. In Christian books, this is hard to accomplish because you can't use swear words, and not all people are Christians...some people 's language is a part of their personalities.

That is my main problem with Lori Wick. She is a good storyteller, but  her characters don't ring true for me because they are so wooden. So perfect. But she is highly published, and you can't argue with her success.

I, on the other hand, write believable dialog ( you get around the swearing thing with some creativity) and am really good at setting a scene. Description is my forte. I tell a good story, too.

So why is Lori Wick where she is on the best-selling Christian list and why can't I get Barbour to even send me an electronic reply ( they prefer submissions through email)?

A successful South Dakota author, in a TV interview the other day, said that persistence is key to getting published. His first book was rejected 22 times before it was published ( I can't think of 22 publishers who will look at an un-agented book).

So, the interviewer asked, keep trying and eventually you will make it?

"No, " said the author.   "Maybe not even then."

There's a lot of luck in the mix, too. That's where I have the problem. Who would think you could Farkle eight out of 10 tries?

Check out my books at http://www.beyonderqueen.net/annecarylinvitesyou

Posted by beyonderqueen at 11:30 AM EDT

Updated: Friday, 31 July 2009 11:55 AM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

I am a little put out with my second daughter. She's smart. She's got a great job. She doesn't have to worry about things like writers' block. But I do, especially since she introduced me to a new word. FARKLE.

Now THAT'S a word. So I find myself fascinated with all the nuances, the inuendos, the contexts in which we might find the word FARKLE.

For instance, if you Farkle on a friend's sofa, should you attempt to clean it up before she sees it?

Do you Farkle more after a full meal?

If your speakers are turned off, are your Farkles "silent, but deadly?"

What's the sound of one hand Farkling?

If you Farkle in a forest and no one hears it, does it still count?

When people are scared, might they Farkle in the dark?

And is it better to light that one little Farkle, or to curse the darkness?  

And if everyone lit just one little Farkle, would it be a brighter world?

I can't count the hours I've Farkled away thinking of these stupid sayings. I do know that they are hours NOT spent working on my new books.

Oh, well.  I also Farkle away time painting. To see some of my efforts, Go to my foster care site at www.beyonderqueen.net    and click on the link to my author site. My paintings are in the "About Me" section.

AND "live long and Farkle."

Posted by beyonderqueen at 3:31 PM EDT

Updated: Tuesday, 28 July 2009 5:49 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

Well, the weekend has come and gone. We had the family July birthday party yesterday. There were five celebrants, but one of them lives in Grand Junction so we didn't have the opportunity to see if he still hand "wind" enough to blow out the candles on his cake.

The six-month-old and the little girl turning one sat side by side on a blanket in the grass. They are two generations! And the younger child is the member of the first generation.

Our 12 year old is the uncle of our 19 year old granddaughter and the great-uncle of her year-old daughter. Adoption does that to a family...it makes it impossible to define a generation by age.  So does late pregnancy. The grandmother of that baby ( my oldest daughter) has a two-year-old who is now an uncle, too.

But we are blessed, and we know it. The Bible says children are like arrows in a quiver, and we are quivvering all over! Let's see now...our kids are Marques, Matthew, Michelle, Sarah, Chad ( who beat us to Heaven) Shelley and Shawna. Then, you have to consider all the kids I got through their marriages: My wonderful sons Jason, Greg, Doug and Rob.  That's 11.

Now we get into THEIR kids: Aaron, Annabelle, Tyler, Hailey, Chad, Hunter, Rebekkah, Dustin, Christa, Kayo, Brittany, Alex, Ashley ( as well as her husband Mike) and Alyshia.  RUNNING COUNT: 26

And THEIR kids: Kyah and Ethan.  Did you come up with 28?

That's a lot of arrows, and Marques and Matt haven't even started!

So we partied like it was...2009.

 We wonder a lot what Chad's kids would have been like...so many of our bio grandkids resemble one another. Kyah Faith ( the one-year-old)  has red hair like her uncle had. But those are sad thoughts and birthdays are no time for sadness ( grouchiness, maybe...or senility, but not sadness)

There are only three birthdays in August...and two of those are not in Holyoke. We'll get off easy. BUT CHRISTMAS IS COMING

Oh well. Back to the book. (A new one...) If you haven't gotten to my website yet to read the free book and see samples of the two that are available now, go to www.beyonderqueen.net and scroll down to the link to my author's page.

My birthday's in October...I don't think we're going to celebrate, though. The volunteer firedepartment is away on practice maneuvers that week.

Posted by beyonderqueen at 11:19 AM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

So my computer is back. That is, back in its place on my cluttered desk. It had been gone for two days before my husband missed it. He just thought it was sitting behind the plastic grocery bag with the green stuff in it. He won't touch that bag.  I would have...touched it, that is...before whatever-is-in-it turned green.  And mushy...did I mention it was mushy?

But Charlie would never have moved that bag to see if the computer was there or not ( "Not " was what it was...or wasn't, I guess.) He wanted me to move the bag, and I would have before...I guess we covered that, didn't we?

Anyway, I am not overly fond of green mushy stuff. I had next-day spinach salad for lunch and it was kind of mushy, but it had chick peas and bacon in it that were still solid so it really doesn't count.

I picked up the bag on the desk with the end of the broken yardstick that I couldn't throw away because I might need it if I misplace my ruler, though in a pinch you can use your checkbook because it is usually six inches long so two of them together would make a foot ...and I threw it away. The bag, not the yardstick, silly.

So now I have started on a new book...two of them really. One fiction and one not. Or "non."  Hopefully by the time I finish writing this blog my thoughts will have become ordered ebnough to place them on paper...or on screen...By the way, have you ordered your copies of my other two new books? You haven't? Well, you are in good company. According to Google, there are 304,059,710

people who haven't ordered my book. Don't you want to

stand out from the crowd?

  www.xlibris.com/thegoldtrainconnection   or

www.xlibris.com/backtoreason  

Oh. OH, oh oh.

I think I remember what was in that bag. I believe it was produce from my daughter's garden. Raspberries, I think. You might not know this, but even red produce will eventually turn green under the right circumstances. So will marinara sauce...in time.

Posted by beyonderqueen at 2:32 PM EDT

Updated: Wednesday, 22 July 2009 3:00 PM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink

Wow! Two entries in a row!

Actually, I've been teaching an interesting book to the adult SS class. It is about blessing our family and our friends.  

I think it could have a big impact on our foster care as well.  It deals with the ancient Jewish custom of blessing the children. Every blessing has five elements...touch, spoken word, assigning value, picturing a bright future and commitment to help that future come to pass. In this blog I want to talk about the touch. Next time I'll get to the spoken word.

Touch:  I've discovered with our oldest adopted son ( who had/has RAD) that I can say almost anything to him and he'll accept it as long as I massage the back of his neck as I talk.  And a scientific study of hospital patients indicated that  patients whose doctors touched their arms as they talked to them PERCEIVED that the doctors spent more time with them, even though the period of contact was the same.

Get the picture? At the risk of being too simplistic, it's a great tool.

YOU ( thinking) : okay...I have to get three loads of washing done this morning before the caseworker comes for her monthly visit ( NO...we don't refer to her visit as "the curse." That's another visit entirely.) And I have to talk to Jim Bob about his language again.

YOU (yelling):  JIM BOB!

JB:  In a %$# minute...okay?

YOU: NO, It's not okay.  I don't want you to talk like that. Do you hear me?

JB ( schlumping into the laundry room with ear buds in his ears and wires dangling down his shirt front to an Ipod clipped to his belt) Yeah?

YOU: Take that out of your ears and listen to me. Do you know what people think of you when you talk like that?

JB: Like I care what people think.

YOU: Well, I care. People think you're stupid. That you don't have enough of a vocabulary to get your thoughts out without resorting to turning the air blue.

JB: Maybe they're right.

YOU: NO...They aren't right. (you put your hand lightly on JB's shoulder...if you can reach it. For older kids this works best if they're sitting down or if you tell them to wait while you get a stepladder) You are a bright kid. We both know that. I just want other people to understand how special you are. (You begin to softly rub his upper back) And we are a family. Our family doesn't talk like that.

JB says nothing, but he begins to lean into you a bit.

YOU say nothing but you keep on rubbing.

When you stop, you just say something like:  What have you got planned for this afternoon?  Okay, have fun, but be sure to be home for supper. (Or ANYTHING but a lecture. )

JB puts his earbuds back in and schlumps off again. But it is a given that you have planted a seed in his brain. He felt the contact between you when you gave him the MEANINGFUL touch. Do you know that researchers discovered parents generally touch their kids rarely, and then only when it is necessary? HOW SAD for the kids and the parents.

TOUCH is necessary for bonding. Babies die when they aren't touched. There is a story called "Cipher in the Snow"  http://www.wiktel.net/dgray/cipher.html     which tells the story of a child  who "dissappeared"  because people didn't connect with him.

Sometimes touch is a blessing in itself. My Grandma Petra used to rub my back in church. I felt that she really loved me at those times (though in truth, she could have been massaging an arthritic hand against my back. I wouldn't have known the difference.) My husband still can calm me by rubbing my back.

Try touching one person MEANINGFULLY. Lay a hand on the arm of a neighbor when you meet her at the store. Ruffle a kid's hair.

There are scads of nerve endings in your hands. When they are stimulated by this kind of touch, endorphins are released. You get a buzz too! 

BET YOU CAN'T STOP AT ONE!

Posted by beyonderqueen at 10:24 AM EDT

Share This Post

Post Comment | Permalink