Creaming

By Linda Wood Rondeau

I pulled out my recipe for snicker doodles, an old-time favorite. As I put in the shortening, butter, sugar, eggs and vanilla, the recipe said to blend until creamy.

 My mind flashed to when I first learned how to bake, back in the day when cake mixes were a novelty or used for last minute church suppers.

The kitchen was my mother’s paradise and her instructions were gospel. To deter meant banishment from the stove.

First: “Wash your hands. No good cook comes to the kitchen with dirty hands.”

Next: “Now read the recipe, and put all the ingredients on the shelf.”

Third step, to my mother the most crucial in the whole process: “cream the shortening, butter, eggs and sugars.”

I stuck in the rotary beaters, set it on high and splashed wet globs from one end of the kitchen to the other. “Done,” I said.

Mother knew better, knew I was always in a hurry to get to the end of a project. “Nope. It’s too grainy. Set the beater on low, scrape the sides frequently, fold the batter together and repeat. Let time and the ingredients do their magic.”

Reluctantly, I started again, following her directions blowing out my frustration all the while. “This takes too long.” 

“Creaming is the most important step in the whole process,” Mother said. “If you hurry the creaming, the cookies will come out crumbly. Creaming is what makes them chewy and delectable. Don’t rush the creaming. It takes time but the result is worth it.”

I slowed down and watched with wonder as the goo gradually melded into a creamy, light texture, the ingredients transforming before my eyes.

As I carefully creamed for the snicker doodles, Mother’s words came back to me. I thought about our instant society, how we crave immediate results, the growing tendency to hurry through life in the fastest checkout line. In our haste we blunder through the mix of it all, leaving globs of broken dreams in the muck of our speed.

I thought how the creaming principle is true in all the rooms of our lives, not just the kitchen. We tend to rush for the pleasure without enduring the process. God has given us the recipe for a rich, textured life. If we take the time to cream it, not be satisfied with grainy goo or toss it aside because of its unpleasantness—if we repeatedly scrape, fold and beat for as long as it takes, the grimy gook of our shattered hopes will become that creamed foundation that awakens the flavor of our human experience.  

An award winning author, Rondeau’s stories provide a wide assortment of unforgettable characters who journey paths not unlike our own. Her debut novel, The Other Side of Darkness, a novel dealing with PTSD, won the 2012 Selah Award in its category. Her story, It Really IS a Wonderful Life, featuring a war widow, continues to be a best seller in its category. The popular A Christmas Prayer (renamed A Father’s Prayer) reaches an audience for special needs children. Days of Vines and Roses features an estranged couple battling demonic forces. Joy Comes to Dinsmore Street demonstrates the destructive influence of family secrets. Her loved non-fiction, I Prayed for Patience/God Gave Me Children demonstrates how the experience of parenting teaches us what it means to be God’s child.

Contact her through her website, www.lindarondeau.com, or email lindarondeau@gmail.com or through her social media pages: Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Goodreads.  

               

A FATHER'S PRAYER (ALSO KNOWN AS A CHRISTMAS PRAYER)

Avid Gardening

By Nancy Lynn Jarvis

It’s not a surprise to me that many avid gardeners are older or that many people become avid gardeners in their senior years. Gardening takes experience, not with plants, soils, watering, and fertilizing ― those understandings are skills which can be studied and learned ― but with life.

Young children can have gratifying gardening experiences by planting sunflowers or zucchini or other showy sure-fired plants that grow quickly and we older gardeners may spring for a flat of in-bloom annuals looking for some instant gratification, too, but at heart, we’re plotters who have learned the value of patience.

It’s understandable that when I head to my local garden store to check out the clearance section, I run into other senior gardeners. We stand there passing sad looking potted plants back and forth based on their color, sun requirements, and where we live. We appreciate that there’s no need to be in the peak of glorious bloom to be worthy of love. We like bargains and have the experience to know that, with nurturing and possibly a nap, the tired perennial s we buy for a song will reward us for our care next year.

Our gardens remind us of who we are, where we’ve been and, who shared the journey with us. In my garden I have an inherited coffee tree.  My sons and I brought it back from a trip to Hawaii for my dad. It’s big now, but fuller than its branches with memories.

I took my sons to Hawaii after their father left me for another woman. I was terrified to make such a trip with a seven and ten year old, but determined life would go on…splendidly. We had an amazing time and learned that we were still a family. The plant we carried back was tiny and shouldn’t have done well in foggy San Francisco where Dad lived, but he was older, and a gardener, and it thrived under his care.

When my dad was in a nursing home near the end of his life, I went there every day to have a cup of coffee with him; he loved his coffee. As I care for his tree now, I know memories of loss and sadness, because those are part of life, but mostly his tree floods my heart with memories of love, adventure, sharing and nurturing, and a life well spent.

My garden has a rose in it that’s as old as I am ― my gardener dad’s doing, as well.  He started it from a bouquet of pink baby roses he brought my mother when I was born. Its trunk is a bit off center and occasionally its leaves look sparse, but it grows and blooms and lives. It’s a tough old thing that has been uprooted and challenged with less than perfect soil sometimes, but it still puts out riots of tiny pink roses. When I look at that rose, like it, I’m strong. 

Especially in my garden.

                    

Nancy Lynn Jarvis was a Santa Cruz, California, Realtor® for more than twenty years and is still licensed but she’s enjoying writing so much, she may never sell another house. After earning a BA in behavioral science from San Jose State University, she worked in the advertising department of the San Jose Mercury News. A move to Santa Cruz meant a new job as a librarian and later a stint as the business manager for Shakespeare Santa Cruz at UCSC.

Nancy’s work history reflects her philosophy: people should try something radically different every few years. “Mags and the AARP Gang” represents a new direction in her writing adventure. After four Regan McHenry Real Estate Mysteries, Nancy put her characters, Regan, Tom, and Dave, on hiatus so she could let Mags and her gang, characters who had been forming in her mind for the past year, tell you their story.

MOST FORTUNE COOKIES STINK

By Carol Howell

I love Chinese Food.  I especially enjoy sushi rolls.   Fortune cookies, on the other hand, are disgusting.  Most of the time, the fortune inside of them says something that isn' a fortune at all.  For example, it might say “You have character”.  That is NOT a fortune.  If it said, “You have character that will lead to great success,” THAT would be a fortune.

Recently, my fortune said, “You will soon be receiving some good written advice.”  I have high hopes that written advice will look something like this.  “Dear Mrs. Howell, we are pleased to announce you have won a gazillion dollars in the ‘Win A Bunch’ sweepstakes.”  Yes, oh yes!  That would be some “good written advice”.  In the meantime, I have decided to use that fortune and this blog to bring you, my reader, some good written advice.

I recently watched the movie “1,000 Words”, with Eddie Murphy.  He portrays a character who, among other things, visits his mother with dementia.  She thinks he is her husband, and he continues to insist he is Jack, her son.  This, of course, does not settle well with her, confuses her, and causes the visit to be less than what Jack had hoped it would be.

When visiting with someone who is not living in the here and now, allow them to set the tone and character of the conversation.  If they believe you to be someone other than who you are, go with the moment.  Dust off your acting skills, smile, and be whomever they seem to think you resemble.  The process may not seem like fun, at first, but watching your loved one smile, liven up, and have a few moments of happiness is really what your visit should be about, anyway.

Eddie Murphy’s character, Jack, had some education ahead of him before he figured out this technique.  You, on the other hand, have just been the beneficiary of the fortune from my recent Chinese food experience.  Please put this “good written advice” to work. 

 Hope that gives you Something To Ponder.

Carol Howell is a Certified Dementia Specialist and Music Therapy Coach.  Her book - If My Body Is A Temple, Why Am I Eating Doughnuts? - is available for e-readers at www.amazon.com and www.barnesandnoble.com .  Her latest book, LET'S TALK DEMENTIA - A Caregiver's Guide is a help for those peripherally affected by dementia, written with her characteristic humor. Contact her at carol@seniorlifejourneys.com or read more at www.seniorlifejourneys.com.   

FOR THIS CHILD I HAVE PRAYED

In a cold, dank cathedral, somewhere in Northern Ireland, I knelt beside my daughter and prayed.

My focus was drawn to the large stained glass window just over my right shoulder. “For this child I have prayed.” The words were so forceful that I went to have a closer look as our tour group was leaving.

The window was given in memory of someone, as most windows are. It was made of brilliant red, green, blue, and yellow bits of glass. A child stood in the foreground.

This message struck home for me as I had so often prayed for the child who was with me. At twenty-three she had reached a crossroads in her life. Should she go to medical school? Would she be accepted? How about the young men she was dating? Was one of them Mr. Right?

I look out the window of our home church and see the graves of children. Some are adorned with small stone lambs or angels. I imagine the heartbreak as two distraught parents laid their little one to rest.

In the mountains of East Tennessee there are graves—really no more than large rocks—outside of the kitchen windows of old farm houses. The mountaineers call these ‘kitchen babies.’ Tiny children, many who died before they could be named, were buried here so that their mother could look out and pray for them as she worked.

I saw a painting of an Ancient Egyptian couple lying prostrate over the elaborate sarcophagus of their child.

What about Mary, as she watched the brutal crucifixion of her first born? How her heart must have broken.

“For this child I have prayed.” The marriage service in my Episcopal prayer book has a prayer that asks for ‘the gift and heritage of children.’

Our children are our future. They embody our past. Our prayers to a good God who loves them more than we can ring out across the world—in cathedrals, through kitchen windows, in simple graveyards of centuries past.

By Edith Edwards

Edith Edwards lives and writes on the banks of the beautiful Lockwood Folly River in southeastern North Carolina. This scenery can be found in her books and articles. She and her husband Don have two grown daughters and four grandchildren--all great people. Edith has just retired after 29 years as a teacher and speech therapist. She has written two books of fiction and coauthored a book of short stories. She belongs to the Writers Bloc--a dedicated group of writers at Holden Beach.

Can Yogi Yield to Yoda?

By H. Kirk Rainer

Returning to Yogi (and life beyond Yellowstone Park), there has been a most interesting development.  Yes indeed, an encounter from a galaxy far, far away.  No; I’m not talking about Marvin the Martian or The Jetsons, but a far more formidable character, chief among the Jedi Knights. Yes, it’s none other than the small but smart, supernatural and strange-speaking Star War’s “Yoda”.   

Yogi is having a close encounter of another kind; one who uses The Force—preferably for good, not bad or evil.  Yogi is not bad or evil, but he does have a credible history of criminal activity:  theft or larceny of lunch baskets.  And with Yellowstone being a national park, such criminal activity could be a federal offense.  So imagine the irony of Boo now fighting crime (with Scobby Doo) while Boo’s bosom buddy is under investigation for committing it (talk about being left holding the [lunch] bag).  

An encounter indeed; for Yoda possesses the power (The Force) to make Yogi’s so-called retirement a rather pleasant one:  his hunger for lunches, his thirst for crime, may be satiated by supernatural

powers so able to extract picnic baskets, lunchboxes and the like with from the unprepared and powerless; and while there is no such thing as a free lunch, there is much merit to the mantra:”The Force be with you”.  

Yogi encounters Yoda.

“Yo-there Yoda, you’re looking very green today.”

With a pensive expression, Yoda crinkles his nose.

“Hungry, you are?” 

“Huh; oh yes, my stomach knows no bounds.  Think of it like—like Space!” 

With a changing expression of annoyance, Yoda asks:

            “’Like Space’, your appetite?” 

            “Yah, you know:  unending in all directions, but fascinating all the same.” 

Yoda, with a tolerance suitable of the being he is. replies:

            “Quite the gift of gab, you have.” 

            “I’m think of myself as gregarious; a friendly fellow with a bit of a quick paw.” 

            “What of me do you think?”      

            “Well, since you ask, I think you should summon The Force and work me up some lunch”

Raising his staff toward a KFC, Yoda concentrates on a 9 piece bucket of traditional chicken.

Yogi, with some awareness and anticipation of what’s levitating his way, remarks: 

            “Now that’s what I call a force for good!  You are the man.”

            “And smarter than the average bear, you are.” 

H. Kirk Rainer was born in Atlanta Georgia, on June 16, 1961; at the present, and for the foreseeable future, he has made his home in Alabama. 

At this time in his life, Kirk is busy in the general direction of writing; both in training and in practicing this new found endeavor.   At the same time, he continues to ply his skills and education as an industrial engineer.

His writing is largely a reflection of his own experience through post-divorce and non-custodial life (around year 2000). To this purpose, he has gained much support and understanding from such organizations as:  the American Coalition for Fathers and Children (acfc.org); Alabama Family Rights Association (alfra.org); Protect Fathers' Right (protectfathersrights.org); and allied resources.

To learn more, please visit www.hkirkrainer.org  and  www.alwaysfather.com.

TAKES TWO

TAKES TWO

By Ada Brownell

Only a few days ago Science News featured a study in Hungary that found dogs have long-term memory. I could have saved them the money and the trouble. We had a male poodle named Macho who remembered the vet’s office from the parking lot, even though he hadn’t been there for six months. He dragged the leash the wrong way with his brakes on when I headed for the door.

Macho could detect what was ahead when I started gathering up towels and doggie shampoo. He’d head for the hills--a spot on the couch under a pillow or anywhere, in an attempt to keep from taking a bath.

I haven’t been around many animals, but I’ve seen chickens who could recall how to peck a certain place and receive food, and I’ve seen all sorts of critters, bugs and slimmey things that have memory. Then why, when a human gets old will a name he knows as well as his own escape him?

One day I couldn’t think of the word “pretzel.” I burned my brain going through the alphabet but it wouldn’t come. In the middle of the night I woke and there it was. I had it! Pretzel! No longer was it that little squiggly thing we deep fry and sprinkle with salt or cinnamon and sugar.

Am I developing Alzheimer’s Disease or another form of dementia? How could I tell? But I’ve heard if you can’t remember something important and you know it, you’re probably safe.

One blessing I’ve discovered is being married helps. When we take off in the car, one of us might point and say, “Where are you going? It’s that way.” Or one of us might yell, “Look out!” and prevent an accident.

Sometimes it takes two of us to prepare a meal. But being married comes in handiest when we’re talking. We fill in the blanks for each other when the other person can’t think of a name or word.

When God created marriage, he said “Two shall be one flesh” (Genesis 2:24).

I’ve discovered when you’re senior citizens, it takes two to be one.

                                                      ***

Note: Emerging evidence from the Alzheimer’s Association Find a chapter near you suggests there are steps we can take to help keep our brain healthier as we age.

 “Mentally stimulating activities strengthen brain cells and the connections between them, and may even create new nerve cells,” a spokesman wrote.

• MAYO CLINIC STAFF http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/alzheimers-disease/DS00161/DSECTION=prevention say we may be able to lower Alzheimer's disease risk by reducing risk for heart disease. Important factors that also may be involved include high blood pressure, high blood cholesterol, excess weight and diabetes.
• Mayo Clinic’s experts for those at high risk of dementia encourage physical activity, cognitive stimulation, social engagement and a healthy diet. They also teach memory compensation strategies that help optimize daily function even if brain changes progress. Keeping active — physically, mentally and socially — may make your life more enjoyable and may also help reduce the risk of Alzheimer's disease.

A.B. Brownell has been writing for Christian publications since age 15 and spent much of her life as a daily newspaper reporter. She has a BS degree in Mass Communications and worked most of her career at The Pueblo Chieftain in Colo., where she spent the last seven years as a medical writer. After moving to Springfield, MO in her retirement, she continues to free lance for Christian publications and write non-fiction and fiction books.

Joe the Dreamer: The Castle and the Catapult  http://buff.ly/XeqTvH or https://www.createspace.com/3962829

Swallowed by LIFE: http://buff.ly/TLkr0a

Confessions of a Pentecostal: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0088OP460

      Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/#!/AdaBrownellWritingMinistries

     Twitter: @adellerella

     Blog: http://inkfromanearthenvessel.blogspot.com

MOSES WAS AN OLD DUDE

By Carol Howell

Did you know Moses was 80 when God called him to talk to Pharaoh about freeing the Israelites?   

Moses was an old dude, for sure.  

Then God decided to give Moses a break, and He arranged for Aaron to come along and help Moses.  Guess what?  Aaron was 83!  Now I’m not so sure I would consider an 83 year old man to be much of a helper, but we all know God has a sense of humor.

Our pastor used this passage of scripture in Exodus as the text for his sermon this week. 

 Being someone who works with senior citizens every day, and someone who writes about senior citizens in both blog and book format, this little tidbit of information on Moses and Aaron caught my attention.

I think it is one of the ways God reminds us to recognize the benefit senior citizens have in our lives.  

We are often quick to disregard their stories or ideas.  We seem to forget they have knowledge beyond anything we have experienced.  We ignore their education, both formal and informal.

God decided to call on the wisdom Moses had gained in his 80 years on Earth, and He enhanced that wisdom with Aaron and his talents garnered through 83 years of being alive.  If God looks this way on the senior citizens, shouldn’t we?  Hope that gives you Something To Ponder.

Carol Howell is a Certified Dementia Specialist and Music Therapy Coach.  Her book - If My Body Is A Temple, Why Am I Eating Doughnuts? - is available for e-readers at www.amazon.com and www.barnesandnoble.com .  She is currently taking orders for her soon to be released book - Let's Talk Dementia ...With A Splash of Humor.   Contact her at carol@seniorlifejourneys.com or read more at www.seniorlifejourneys.com.   

SELF-PUBLISHING UNMASKS SLOW LEARNERS AND SISSIES

By Lin Cochran

Nobody has ever accused me of being a slow learner until now, but I wasted a lot of time and money learning how to do something I could have learned quickly and for free had I only known about publishing partners.

First, a course exploring self-publishing clarified what I had always suspected—traditional publishers take all the fun out of it. You do all that work writing the book, only to end up hating the title and cover they put on it, because the marketing department has to justify its existence. Two additional courses and every book I paid hard-earned money for were unnecessary.

The majority of books on self-publishing are about how they used to do it. Like most things digital, self-publishing changes every 15 minutes. Nobody told me the books would be obsolete five minutes before I bought them.

As it turns out, the most expedient way to publish your own book, be it print or digital, is to go straight to the source. For print books, that usually means CreateSpace or Lightning Press. I used CreateSpace. Lightning Press expects you to know what you are doing. For e-books, Kindle and Smashwords are the way to go. I used both. CreateSpace, Kindle, and Smashwords act as publishing partners. Your success is their success; therefore, they all provide complete details for formatting books to be published through their venues. For free. And when some detail or other changes, it is announced on their forums or in a blog. They assume we are participating in their forums and reading their blogs. It is a mistake not to; they provide free, up-to-date, accurate, possible-to-follow (if not easy) instructions, and a way to check your work to see if you did it correctly. You will be amazed at how small errors that would go unnoticed on a computer screen become glaring zits on the nose of Miss America once viewed in book form. Just follow the instructions provided by your publishing partner.

To publish a print book, set up an account with CreateSpace and list the working title. Make up the details as you answer the questions asked by CreateSpace. This will force you to think like a publisher. This is not easy for writers, but now you are a writer and a publisher, so learn to think like both. Head straight for the blogs and forums.

Same for an eBook. Download Amazon’s free how-to style books, which walk you through formatting your manuscript for both Kindle and Smashwords. Some details are significantly different, especially when uploading. Again, blogs and forums fill in the blanks, but I only learned this after 18 failed attempts to publish Love of my Lives on Smashwords. Eighteen! before it was accepted into the hallowed Premium Catalog. I feared slow learning had aged into no learning.

Every now and then I have to go look on Amazon to make sure the book is still there. It proves though slow I may be, I’m no sissy.

About the Author

Atlanta native Lin Cochran is author of three non-fiction books on spiritual principles. She lived in Florida for 30 years, where for she wrote newspaper features and columns for a local newspaper, and was a columnist for an international magazine. Now she writes and lives in Salem, South Carolina, with her husband and Lily, a rescued Labradoodle, plus a rescued tabby cat named Silver.

 Love of My Lives is her first novella. It is about reincarnation, romance, and murder.

Learning to self-publish opened the way to becoming an instructor at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI) associated with Clemson University, where in March she will be teaching a short adult-education course titled, How to Publish an e-book.

About Time

By Dr. Jeri Fink

Time. It's not what it used to be.

Old time didn't automatically (atomically) adjust to power failures, time zones and daylight savings. You had to set and wind regularly.

Time changed. One day my son gleefully announced that he was "done" with time. He exchanged a collection of corny birthday and graduation wrist watches for his iPhone. "For now on," he grinned, yanking his phone from his pocket like a switch blade in West Side Story, "I only tell time from my cell."

He invited me to join the next generation. I didn't dare confess that I liked clunky tick-tocks. Me - old fashioned? I stopped wearing watches on my wrist, around my neck, and on pinky rings. Secretly, it felt retro - a return to the ancient days of pocket watches. It reminded me of the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland.

I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date

Low-tech problems with iPhone time-keeping began immediately. I couldn't see tiny digital numbers without glasses. They were blurry lines floating atop wallpaper photos of my grandchildren. There were aps that had larger numbers but I couldn't make out the icons on the home page. The truth was chilling. I needed reading glasses to tell time.

Time became a two-step process: locate the iPhone and whip out the reading glasses. Of course we all know that reading glasses disappear like socks in a washing machine. Where did I leave them? Were they cowering beneath pages from the crazed psychopath in my latest book? Did I abandon them in the refrigerator between untouched low-fat and sugar-free snacks? Or were they among toys scattered by my staggering grandson when he wore my readers and played dizzy?

17-year old Shari intervened.

"A watch," she said sagely, "isn't about time anymore. It's a fashion statement."

That's when I fell off the fashion cliff.

I didn't need glasses to tell time on those "fashionable" old-fashioned faces. There were no buttons to push, dim digital numbers or iPhones to locate. It was real time.

My first "fashion statement" was a large purple device called an "Ice Watch." It came in a plastic cube with endless potential.

I had to have one in pink as well.

"Try Swatch watch," Shari advised. "You can match every outfit."

I took her suggestion. The moment I walked into the Swatch store I was hooked. Who knew I had the soul of a geezer fashionista?

I bought a watch to match every mood as well as every outfit. They came in flavors - Strawberry Jam, Dragon Fruit, Fresh Papaya and Berry Sorbet - all zero calories. What could be better? I began to hum my version of the 80s song:

So many watches, so little time. How can I choose?

I bought a watch case to store my rapidly growing collection. I bought a second watch case. I waved my fashion statements in front of envious eyes, languishing in timely heaven. And I ignored those nasty remarks about Freud and metaphors.

Now I have a new problem. Everyone knows. I'm greeted with glares if I ask an innocent question like what time is it?  

No one will answer me.

Will you?

Dr. Jeri Fink is a proud geezer and the author of hundreds of articles and nineteen published books. Trees Cry For Rain, her latest book, is a gripping historical novel where the past crashes ruthlessly into the present. It can be purchased at amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com.

Her new series, Broken, consists of five separate novels that follow dramatic, related paths from the Spanish Inquisition to modern times, including the psychopaths who lived in each era.

Visit Jeri at her website http://www.drjerifink.com or email her at drjeri@drjerifink.com