Me And My Best Friend

Who would of thought that my best friend would live thousands of miles away in another country. Not me. I met Lyn on the internet, but we had an instant connection that being a world away couldn't change.

Writing gave me a lot of gifts, not much money, but other gifts. I joined my local Romance Writers chapter and met a group of fun wonderful people, who will stay in my heart for the rest of my life. I never liked groups of women before. They seemed to always have that high school mind set, where there are cliques. But, authors, well they are another breed entirely. Maybe it's the common thread we share? Writing is a difficult endeavor, there is no guarantee you will get published. We all want that big one. A New York Times bestseller!

For me that is not as important as the friends I have made. Honest! Every once in awhile someone will tell me they loved my books. Now that is as good as being on the A list to me. In ten years no one will know if I was on that list. But, the person who read my story and liked it, well they will  remember me, hopefully, if the story meant anything to them, they will remember me and it forever.

Lyn is like an adorable little pixie.Her bright red hair and dancing eyes, coupled with a tender heart, touched me. We have taken two trips to Ohio to spend time together. It's uncanny, she knows what I am thinking before I say it. I can look at her and know what is in her heart. We both love horses. She has had several, I was not so lucky. But, we share that feeling that most little girls grow up with, 'must love horses'. As well as all other creatures. We share things every day, and though she is a million miles away, she is as close as an email or skype. My only regret is that we can't see each other in person. She always makes me smile, and we could have so much fun if she was closer. Her accent is wonderful, and boy does she love tea. Lyn just lost her little Jack Russel terrier, and I share her pain. I have loved and lost several pets, but Lyn assures me they are waiting over the Rainbow Bridge for us, running around an having a terrific time in doggie heaven. I hope they are.
So my advise to anyone who is interested is this. Never pass up a chance to make a friend. They are worth their weight in gold and I wouldn't trade her for her the gold, ever.

The point is, never sit home and wait for life to come to you. Happiness and good friends don't knock on your door and invite themselves in. You have to take chances. If you don't, imagine what you could miss in life, even from thousands of miles away...

We have a visitor today from across the pond! Everyone please help me give a great big Pink Fuzzy welcome to author, Kizzie Darker. I met Kizzie (Kerry) on Facebook and we became friends. When she told me she had just published her first book I invited her to come visit and tell us all about it. So, without further delay, I give you an interview with British author, Kizzie Darker!

1.    Tell us about yourself.

~ My real name is Kerry Louise Ward. I was born in 1979 in a small beer brewing town called Burton Upon Trent UK. I grew up in a small village of Church Gresley but my life soon became complicated.

2.    Are you a full time writer or do you have a “day job”?

     ~ I am a full time writer but I take care of my husband. He suffers from muscular skeletal pain and needs my help throughout the day.

3.    What inspired your latest book?

     ~My love of reading inspired my latest book. I read the fifty shades trilogy and the bared to you series.

4.    Are you traditionally published, self-published or both?

~I decided to go down the self-publishing route. For me it was the easiest way into publishing but hope to have my series published traditionally.

5.    How far do you plan ahead?

~I usually plan quite far ahead. I write notes and add or change them as I go along. I plot storylines as the pop in my head and usually run them past my husband for his approval.

6.    Do you ever suffer from writer's block? If so, what do you do to combat it?

~All the time! When I do I step away from my workspace, take a walk or sometimes switch on my music and chill out and relax.

Excerpt….

I wake. The sun is yet to rise and shine in the Paris sky. I lay in his bed. The strange surroundings do not sit right in my mind for I feel extremely uncomfortable. I can hear noises coming from the lounge. Music from the juke box fills the apartment yet again whilst a cheesy song plays. Really? Do you really have to listen to that Nathan? It’s bad enough that you listen to do ya think I’m sexy let alone sing along to it.

http://smarturl.it/distractionanddesire 

www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Kizzie-Darker/234126980071940

Blurb….

She was his distraction, he her desire.

Joanna woods thought her broken heart would never heal again when Luke ripped her world apart.

Upon deciding to take a much needed vacation to Paris, the city of love, would a chance meeting change her life forever?

Nathan Jones moonlights as a successful business man but unbeknown to Joanna he secretly works as a C.I.A agent travelling the world, tackling crime.

He has already lost one love of his life; will he risk it all when he meets Joanna?

Joanna and Nathan have chemistry but will it be enough to make their relationship work?

Will Joanna be able to handle the truth when she finds out who Nathan really is or will it end in further heartache?

Rue Allyn is visiting with the Pink Fuzzy Slipper Writers today. Please help me make her welcome. Rue decided to treat us to an interview with the perfect hero of her latest novel, A True and Perfect Knight. Welcome Rue!

“Getting to Know You”

Most of my author friends have characters who talk to them (mentally that is). I seem to be the exception to that rule. I write like I read, discovering the story and the characters as I go. Not until the book is finished (that’s after several rounds of revising) do I really have a handle on my characters, sometimes not even then. Frequently the characters hold something back. So I thought I’d give you and me a chance to pick the brain—so to speak—of one of my most reticent heroes, Sir Haven de Sessions from A True and Perfect Knight (recently re-issued from Samhain Publishing). Please say hello to Lord Haven de Sessions

1)      What do you do for work?

I’m a knight in the service of Edward I of England. He recently rewarded my service with an Earlship.

2)      Where are you from?

My parents lost their lands and lives during an uprising in Normandy where I was born, but I was fostered at the Dreyford demesne north of York.

3)      What is the one thing about yourself that you would like us to know?  

I am very serious—some say too serious—about my duty and had real difficulty when my loyalty to Edward I and my friendship with Roger Dreyford came into conflict.

4)      When was your last relationship and how long did it last?  

Before I met and came to know Genvieve very well, I didn’t have relationships. Most noblewomen, like those at court, are too shallow in their beliefs. Other women deserve more than I was willing to give.

5)      Do you want to marry or have you ever been married?

I never expected to marry, and I’d say that Genvieve was the last person I could imagine falling in love with. But she’s so strong and cares for everyone equally. How could I not love her.

6)      What do you do for fun?

I play with our children, hunt, and make love to Genvieve.

7)      What are you most proud of?

My wife.

8)      Do you believe in love at first sight?

No. Although I suspect I fell in love with Genvieve at first sight, I was blinded by prejudice and grief for the death of my friend Roger. He was Genvieve’s first husband, and I blamed her for his fall from grace.

9)      What is your most treasured possession and why?

After my family, my horses. A good horse is essential to a knight and almost impossible to replace.

10)  Do you like animals/keep pets? I value my horses and dogs highly but they are working animals. I don’t coddle them, so I wouldn’t call them pets.

11)  How do you spend your spare time?

I’m too busy surviving and keeping my family secure to have spare time. (I told you I was serious.) Thank the Lord for Genvieve. She forces me to sit down and relax with some mead at least once a day.

12)  Where do you see yourself in five years time?

I hope I’m just where I’m at. I can’t ask for more than a loving wife, good lands, good neighbors, peace and a just king.

13)  Do you believe a cup is half empty or half full?

My metaphorical cup is overflowing. J

14)  You have got six months to live, what will you do first?

Provide for the security of my wife and family.

15)  Is sexual compatibility important to you?

It is very important.

16)  Are you a morning person or a night person?

I’m always available, but I enjoy moments shared with my family most.

Thank you Lord de Sessions for taking the time to answer our questions.

“You’re welcome, Ms. Allyn, please tell readers a little bit about the story you gave me, A True and Perfect Knight.”

A True and Perfect Knight—Haven De Sessions knows a hundred reasons despise the widow Dreyford.  The widow is entirely too independent, and a suspected traitor.  Worst of all, she had been married to his best friend—a man Haven arrested for plotting against the king.  Haven believes the treacherous widow should have given up her head, not his childhood friend.  Now an oath to that same friend forces him to protect a woman he does not want and cannot trust.

Genvieve Dreyford has her own reasons to detest De Sessions.  The man is far too handsome, and his reputation as Edward I's most 'true and perfect' knight has swelled the baron’s head.  Worst of all, Gennie believes he betrayed his friendship with her husband to curry favor with the English king.  Now, because of Haven De Sessions, Gennie has lost her home, her title and nearly everything she held dear.  Only for the sake of her family, will Gennie place herself in the power of a man she fears and mistrusts.

So why does King Edward I of England believe theirs will be a match made in heaven?

You can read an excerpt from A True and Perfect Knight at my website or purchase directly from Amazon.com.

About Rue Allyn

Author of historical, contemporary, and erotic romances, Rue Allyn fell in love with happily ever after the day she heard her first story. She is deliriously married to her sweetheart of many years and loves to hear from readers about their favorite books and real life adventures.  Learn more about Rue at http://RueAllyn.com

FB: https://www.facebook.com/RueAllynAuthor

Twitter:  http://twitter.com/RueAllyn

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5031290.Rue_Allyn

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Rue-Allyn/e/B00AUBF3NI/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1 [Good link for purchasing any or all Rue Allyn books]

Blog:  http://rueallynauthorblog.com/

The Vinegar of the Four Thieves is a fascinating concoction, heavily embellished with legend, that supposedly warded off the bubonic plague.

I found this interesting snippet on a site that sells essential oils and herbs called Annie’s Remedy:

“Vinegar of the Four Thieves (Marseilles vinegar) There are many versions of this formula, which is often referenced in herbals dating from medieval times to the present. The French doctor Jean Valent including this one in his groundbreaking book on aromatherapy.

The story goes that this formula was revealed in the 17th century by four corpse-robbers caught red-handed during the time of the great plagues of Toulouse (1628-1631). Their disregard for the contagion thoroughly astonished the judges… The archives of the Parliament of Toulouse record that: “During the great plague, four robbers were convicted of going to the houses of plague-victims, strangling them in their beds and then looting their dwellings: for this they were condemned to be burned at the stake, and in order to have the sentence mitigated they revealed their secret preservative; after which they were hanged.”

***For  the list of ingredients in the recipe and brewing instructions please visit the above link.

From a fascinating, far more in-depth article: Four Thieves Vinegar: Evolution of a Medieval medicine:

“The bubonic plague wreaked havoc in Europe off and on for about 600 years before peaking in the 1300s. Century after century, as late as the 1700s, outbreaks claimed up to half the population. The plague had a big influence on the life of William Shakespeare, having claimed the lives of some of his siblings as well as causing his theater to be shut down during several especially nasty outbreaks in London between 1593 and 1608.

It is well know that the bubonic plague is a bite-based infection. A lesser known fact is that there were many more victims than those bitten by fleas. It turns out that the bubonic plague was often the first step of a progressive series of illnesses. Two other types were pneumonia and septicemia. The resulting pneumonic plague was also very infectious and allowed person-to-person transmission.

This is the period of time responsible for the bizarre images of physicians wearing dark robes, wide-brimmed hats, and masks with long beaks. There was actually method to the madness. These beaks held dried herbs, spices and essential oils which the physician breathed. The robe was doused with a similar fragrant concoction. Scientific evidence today is building support for this seemingly outrageous behavior… many harmful microbes can’t survive in the presence of certain essential oils.

Meanwhile in France another interesting aromatic legend developed around a horrid sounding witch’s brew known as “Marseilles Vinegar” or “Four Thieves Vinegar.” A variety of recipes floated around. One recalled by Scientific American in 1910 included things like dried rosemary tops, dried sage flowers, fresh rue, camphor, “spirit,” garlic cloves and vinegar which was to be taken internally for 7 or 8 days “with occasional agitation.” It was said that this “medicated vinegar was invented by four thieves of Marseilles who successfully employed it as a prophylactic during a visitation of pestilence.”

And that, dear readers, may or may not account for the origins of this herbal concoction, but for more on this bizarre time period, herbal medicines, and disease prevention please refer to the above link.

I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.  Strangely, or maybe not so strangely, the ultimate cure for the plague that killed masses of men, women, and children in England was the Great Fire of London.  It cleaned up better than anything.

For a more in-depth look into that visit: The Great Plague and Fire of London

*Royalty free images

Share this:

• 
  

“A Brilliant Historical Romance!” ~Wanda at Romance Writers Reviews

Excerpt from Chapter Three:   
October 1789, the King’s Arms, Dover,  England

With a petition to the Blessed Virgin that Captain Evans might find her très adorable, Cecile Beaumont lifted her burgundy-striped skirts and swished down the narrow steps from her second floor bedchamber to the scrubbed flagstone entry.

Fortune smiled on her and determined seamen had salvaged her trunk before The White Rose sank and bore all her worldly possessions to the bottom of the sea. That the forceful captain persuaded them to surrender her goods, she did not doubt. They’d plundered some of the cargo.

Uproar followed, soldiers arrived, and shots were fired—a minor distraction to Cecile after the upheaval in France.

Her all-consuming focus centered on her doubtful ability to masquerade as Mademoiselle Devereux. What other choice had she? She must remain in England!

Robust voices assailed her from the thronggathered in the main room of the King’s Arms. She paused outside the arched doorway framed with darkened oak, then stepped uncertainly inside. The massive hearth, flickering white tapers, and oil lamps shed light on the guests, mostly men, quaffing ale and recounting the adventure of the day in lively animation. One man even stood on his hands— comical if Cecile hadn’t been so taken aback. And hardly a female was to be seen. Those women she spotted were serving wenches or more common folk. Surely it was improper for a young lady, whom Cecile made every effort to emulate, to progress unescorted among the boisterous assembly?
Her rescuer had invited her to meet him here whenever she was ready. Or was he her guardian, host?

Whatever he was, her chest pounded like the surf when she spied Captain Evans seated alone at a corner table. His bearing instantly set him apart from the others. His companion, Sir Thomas Archer, must still suffer from his malady, poor man. The captain stared into the hearth as though oblivious of the surrounding commotion. His blond head shone in the mellow glow. He’d changed into a reddish-browncoat, fresh linen—not in the least frilled—fitted leather breeches, and boots buffed to a high gloss. His attire emphasized his rugged masculinity while declaring him a gentleman of the first order. And so he was, his late father a lord, she’d been told.

Should she hurry to his side, or remain as shewas? Calling out to a gentleman in public was unthinkable except under the most grievous circumstances. Hovering inside the doorway while male eyes roved over her didn’t qualify as dire, but she squirmed under their open appraisal. One bold man winked at her. Another made a gesture obscene in any language.

Cecile shrank back. Maybe she should hasten to her room and await a knock on the door. Her empty stomach protested and her heart drummed in expectation of meeting with the captain.

As if sensing her predicament, he glanced around. His blue gaze locked on her and the rowdy assembly faded into the background. A giddy swell surged through her middle, more potent than when she’d met the finest of French aristocracy, and stronger than any emotion she’d ever known—except fear. A goodly measure of that mixed in with the current coursing through her.
If violent emotion seized the captain upon sighting her, he gave no indication. Acknowledging her arrival with a nod, he got to his feet and strode to where she waited. The hint of a smile, reflected in his eyes, provoked a rush of hope in Cecile.~

Historical romance Into the Lion’s Heart is reduced at The Wild Rose Press and available in various formats (even ePub) to suit any e-reader or electronic device. So if you haven’t popped into the Wild Rose Press lately, or ever, give it a try.  But it's also available at: Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online booksellers.

Summer has that effect on me (and Christmas).  I've indulged in an 'I Remember When' sojourn into bygone days.

I remember when the bubble-head Barbie came out in the early 1960′s, her hair style influenced by Jacqueline Kennedy. When I was eight, I was  overjoyed to receive a red-headed one for my birthday.  Presents were simpler and fewer in those days. Most of my Barbie’s wardrobe was laboriously made by my mother, the ‘store bought’ outfits being too pricey for us. Even so,  my grandmother felt we were quite spoiled.   Anyone who lived through the Great Depression did.  Plus she grew up in China, the daughter of missionaries.  Talk about poor…that dear lady once sewed a collection of my great uncle's old ties together to make a skirt for me.  I was a teenager, so didn't wear it.  She always told me there was no room to stand on pride when you were hard up.  But I took a stand on that occasion.  Now I wish I'd saved that skirt.

Books were particularly special in my childhood, my collection small and continually reread.  The thrill of my life was when my mom ordered a box all the way from England filled with C. S. Lewis‘s the Chronicles of Narnia, not yet available in the U.S. To say I was influenced by The Lion, the Witch and The Wardrobe (and the rest of the series)  is an understatement. I’m still looking for Narnia.  I assume everyone is, but apparently they’re not all…weird.

Given my love of reading, trips to the library were savored. With three younger children to take care of, mom let me check out as many books as I could manage myself.  Thin arms laden, the pile stretched from my knobby knees up to my arched chin as I staggered to the car with my take.  I devoured everything, fiction, nonfiction…even the biography of Lotta Crabtree, which I suspect most children haven’t read.

I remember dirt roads with bumps we’d beg to ride over fast, and endless highways before the age of the interstate.  Traveling from one place to another in our old Chrysler was an arduous affair with warm sandwiches smashed in between wax paper and tepid, metallic sips of water from my father’s Marine Corps canteen.   And that had to date back to the Korean War, unless it was his father's and then we're talking WW1.  

Air conditioning in the car was unheard of then and rarely enjoyed anywhere.  Mostly public buildings.  Few homes possessed such comfort.  Only a fan stirred the heavy stillness of our sweltering summers.  We finally got air-conditioning  in our farmhouse when the older children were well into elementary school with one window unit in the family room where we all camped out together when the nights were really hot.  We now have several units, the height of comfort, except for the parts of the house that don’t.

Childhood trips to the movies can be numbered on my fingers.  Maybe not even using  both hands.  Cinderella and The Sound of Music stand out in my memory.  My college English teacher father, who spent several years getting his doctorate, wasn’t overpaid.  And then I married a farmer, also not overpaid.  As for television, a small black and white set sufficed until I was thirty-something.   Only recently did we acquire a more advanced means of obtaining channels other than the battered antenna, constantly zapped by strong winds, that required my hubby to climb up on the garage roof for adjustments and yell down at the person in the kitchen doorway below, “Can you see it now?” The answering shout was relayed from the person in the living room until better reception was achieved.  I was delighted to discover  Netflix.

As for clothes, refer to the long-suffering mother mentioned above and selfless grandmother at their sewing machines, and hand-me-downs.   I reveled in what some would call a ‘missionary barrel’ of hand-me-downs when my father was in graduate school, my younger sister on the way, and our family as poor as church mice.    I thought a pair of ‘to me’fashionable flats made me look like a movie star and dreamed big dreams.  When I reached the advanced age of thirteen I was awed by a pair of fish net stockings and my first ever lipstick, a pale pink by Bonnie Bell.

Back to fashion.  When my children were small, I labored at my sewing machine and even made over some of my own clothes into little shirts, pants, and smocks for them (and embroidered the fronts). Again, mom and grandma sewed much appreciated contributions, and Grandma knitted sweaters.  Children weren’t expected to be as well dressed in my day, or my children’s, as they are now.  As long as we had something suitable for church, and when I was small that meant petticoats, white gloves, and a hat.  Sales had to be really good for my mom to buy ‘ready made’ clothes.  Ditto for  my kids.  They even sold sweet corn at a roadside stand in the summers to earn money for back to school clothes.  But all of this built character, right?  Made us more appreciative of what we have.   (*Image of little Beth)

No Kleenex in my childhood.  We used handkerchiefs which were washed, and if one was  fastidious, ironed.  Some of them were quite fancy, possibly family heirlooms.  Again, I wish I'd saved some.  I'd dress my Betsy McCall doll in the prettiest ones.  

Furniture?  In our family, with rare exceptions, you inherited it, or someone still living gave you some pieces, or you made/refinished them yourself.    Food?  A lot of home cooking/canning.  Some less than appetizing meals when mom got into a hardcore health food phase.  My sister recalls groats, but only once. 

Again, I can count on my fingers, maybe with both hands, how many times our family ate out as I was growing up.   And eating between meals was frowned upon or we’d ‘spoil our dinner.’  An occasional snack, maybe.  

Didn’t like your supper?  Too bad.   Probably why I have the urge as an adult to eat whatever I want, whenever I want.   But we kids played outside all the time and were wiry and fast.   Little danger of obesity among the youth back then.  Those were the ‘Timmy and Lassie days’ of riding our bikes all over the neighborhood as long as we were back by suppertime.  Now we want to know where our children are every second, and understandably so with all the pedophiles at seemingly ever corner.

Have we really come all that far?  In some ways, yes, in others, not so much. When I was young, we feared the Russians, the Cold War, and Nuclear proliferation.  Now, its Muslim Extremists.  And they’re worse than anything I recall, and I was one of those kids who had to hide under their desk in elementary school as part of a practice drill for what to do if…as though that would have saved us from a nuclear attack.  We also practiced taking alternate routes home which had me stopping off in a golf course to play–alone–at the age of eight.  Great plan. (Not me in the pic, just a random child from that era doing the desk drill thing).

What are your memories?  Do you lament the old days?  Those Russians don’t seem so scary now, huh?

My mother came across an interesting old book in among many other antiquated volumes in their home called Gunn’s New Family Physician written in 1864.   She said the book has some marvelous remedies and many suggestions and exercises for better health.  Some remedies, however, are better than others.
In the section on ” Shower Bath,” Gunn says, “When convenient, the shower bath is an admirable thing–to be followed, of course, with proper friction and exercise. The morning is probably the best time to take it. In order to take this bath properly, it is necessary to have a box or apparatus constructed expressly for the purpose.

Most of my readers, probably, will know how such an apparatus should be made. It is sufficient to say here that it consists, essentially, of an arrangement by which the water is allowed to fall upon the body in a series of small streams at the same time, and the greater the surface upon which they fall, the better.

Usually these baths are so constructed that the streams fall perpendicularly, and strike upon the head and shoulders only. ..Where there are no better means at hand, an assistant may stand upon a chair, or in some elevated position, and pour the water upon the bather from a common watering-pot, which will answer as a very good substitute for a more perfect machine.

The benefit of the shower bath consists mainly in the general shock, and consequent reaction, which it produces upon the nervous system, and the organs of the skin…In order to derive the full benefits of the bath, the water must be cold…”

I shudder at the thought of a cold shower.  But Gunn goes on to “applaud the benefits of “The Full Bath,” which consists of immersing the whole body in water. For this purpose, a tub, vat, or bathing trough, is necessary, which should be large enough to take in the whole person, and be sufficiently roomy to admit of freedom of motion. Should the cold bath, after all proper efforts, be followed by paleness of the skin, dullness and inactivity of body and mind, with more or less chilliness, it is not likely to be useful, and should, for the time being, be abandoned.”

You think?

*Pic of the robustly healthy John Gunn and his book. Women in late 19th century bathing costumes