Seal the Deal / GBL Diary Entry

I have always loved the idea and look of sealing wax on a letter. It was at the Olustee Reenactment Festival (see Olustee blog below dated Feb. 20, 2012), in one of many of their sutler stores where old fashioned merchandise is sold, that I saw the stamps and wax. So, I splurged and got both a J and an M stamps for Jane Marie. In this day and time when hand written letters are becoming rare, it may seem an odd thing, but not in my world. Now, to whom shall I send a snail mail letter?  Ah, my dear friend Bonnie or the grandparents or an aunt or... Perhaps I'll need more sealing wax after all. That makes me happy!  

Practice #1

Practice #2

***

The Goodbye Lie Diaries 
Fernandina on Amelia Island, Florida
1880s 

Miss Ella Dunnigan

Miss Ella writes: Oh, I am so pleased to hear such delights for you and necessities for us like sealing wax are still available and still in use by people who treasure tradition.  May it ever be so.

 

Battle of Olustee Photos

We were recent spectators at the 148th Anniversary Reenactment Battle of Olustee near Lake City, Florida.  Go back in time to February 1864 as you look at a few of the pictures I snapped.  Attending any reenactment battle makes a wonderful educational family event.  For more information on the history of Olustee, visit http://battleofolustee.org/. 

Alana Bishop poses while shopping at the one of many tent shops set up in Sutler's Row.

Confederate band plays antique instruments during Sunday morning period church service.

Yankees headed toward their camp.



Family tent living.



Washing up after lunch.



Gentlemen soldiers



a gathering of ladies- note little girl playing with hoop



proud posing





During the reenactment battle.

After the battle...

Another Lucy Moment- To Dehumidify or Not to Dehumidfy

Growing up in Pennsylvania, we had a basement that was always damp. To correct that, our father got a dehumidifier.  From an early age, I remember a hose running from the dehumidifier directly to a floor drain.  It has always been thus...until I moved away from home when all things humid left my thoughts... until I lived in Florida these last thirty years. Sure, my husband Bruce would always warn me, "If we don't keep the air conditioning on, our shoes will turn green." With that statement, he proved he is the obvious scientist in the house.  Well, I got to thinking. This often results in a decision that leads us on some sort of adventure...and so it goes like this:

"We need a dehumidifier," I declared.

"If you just leave the thermostat alone, the air conditioning will keep the house dried out just fine."

Naturally, I didn't believe him. So since I have the art of pestering aka nagging perfected plus a $15 coupon I found in the paper for the local hardware store, we bought a dehumidifier for our master bedroom and bath, which I might mention is at the back of the house and closed off from the cat who... well that's another tale. Okay, so we got the machine home, out of the box, removed all the tape holding its pieces-parts together, opened the instruction booklet, decided there were too many instructions to bother with, except it did say to let it run for twenty-four hours before you push the buttons, and plugged her in.  She purred like the kitten who was banned from the room.

We closed the bedroom door, the dehumidifier humming along, ate dinner and enjoyed the rest of our evening. I like white noise to sleep and drown out any activity, including the cat's and the bing-bong of the major grandfather clock in the parlor. To that end, I happily anticipated our machine would lull me to sleep.  When I entered the bedroom, I immediately noticed the room was warm.  It was so warm, in fact, I didn't turn on our electric blanket controls although it was near to freezing this particular night. (Bruce was still watching a movie in the parlor so I bundled him up in his hooded sweatshirt and covered him with a blanket.  I cranked his heated back massager pad to high and there he sat, snug as a sausage in a snowsuit sitting on a stove burner.  He's used to this sort of treatment because I like to keep the house cool in the winter.  Well, he calls it cold but I don't like the way the furnace dries out one's sinus cavities in the winter.  It can't be good for you.)

Back to the bedroom. It was so warm in there, I even turned the furnace off at the thermostat.  I marvelled how the dehumidifier would not only prevent mold in the house but it would lower our heating bills since it appeared to be a heater, too. Just before I snuggled under the warm covers, in the warm room, I applied my lip gloss as I always do each night.  I can report I slept like that baby we all hear about--for about forty-five minutes.  When I awoke, I realized my throat was dry and thought of all the money we would save what with the high cost of Kleenex for I wondered if I would ever again have to blow my nose.  My head felt so dry, I anticipate my brain exploding into flames by spontaneous combustion if I sneezed. And my lips were so dry, I tasted blood.  (Actually, that part isn't true but it sounds dramatic, don't cha think? Besides, they were/are really dry!) 

It was about that time Bruce came to bed. He also noticed the room was unusually warm. "Let's open the bedroom door and let in some cold air from the rest of the house."  The cool of the comfortably humid air was refreshing and I tried to get back to sleep but ...Well, that's why I'm up in the middle of the night writing this particular blog.  I think the only way I will get back to sleep is from pure exhaustion.  After I type this, I can check my research for Mark of  Man, (my next historical novel), make some clay wings for my fairy, design a leprechaun trap and paint fifty shamrock Secret Pebbles.  That should tire me out, me thinks. 

In the mean time, I recalled Bruce's words- remember he hasn't been in the bedroom long enough to feel his head turn to tinder. I expect he'll be joining in my creative clay sculpting activities any moment.  He said, "Tomorrow, I'll read the directions.  That's always a good place to start."  I told you he was a smart guy.

Now I'm wondering how to counter the powerful drying effects of the dehumidifier.  We could buy a vaporizer.  We could take turns showering and bathing hourly to make certain there was plenty of steam in the room or we could get a machine that is smaller for clearly this monster was intended to dry out a tobacco barn, not our little cozy cottage.  Lesson learned- When buying a new, untried appliance, always save your receipt and, in this case, have plenty of lip gloss handy so you can properly apply it with a caulking gun because you'll surely need it!  

Valentine Images

Valentine's Day to me includes the romance of style. I'm sharing photos of an antique and delicate over-dress given to me by a friend who thought I would appreciate it. And appreciate it I certainly do. It is very thin and meant to be worn "over" a full length frock, probably white.While it is clearly machine made, the detail is overwhelming and inspired by what once was fancy handwork. I have added a pink satin ribbon tied with loose love knots in the dangling tails. A pink rosette on the bow, it is on a pink satin hanger, which compliments this treasured garment.

May we forever find romance in the beauty around us... 

sleeve

pin tucks (delicate seams)

cut work

embroidery

Valentine Din-Din

Bruce and I often enjoy a special Valentine dinner at home. We avoid the crowds, have a chance to make special dishes for such a special occasion and save money to boot.  Here is what we'll have this year.  The recipes are easy and tried and true, the salad and veggie dishes coming from aunts in the family.  These recipes are on our 800 page website, www.GraciousJaneMarie.com, and the links are below.  Enjoy!

Jane Marie's Valentine Dinner Menu

*Aunt Suzie's 24 Hour Salad - http://www.greenlightwrite.com/24hoursalad.htm

*Aunt Jo's Au Gratin Potatoes - http://www.greenlightwrite.com/vegaugratinpotatoes.htm 

*Ribeye Steak by Bruce -  Sorry, we ate the steaks before I remembered to take a picture...

*Milk Chocolate Dipped Strawberries with Sprinkles-

I nuked a couple of Hershey bars and dipped washed and dried large berries in the chocolate, holding the berries by their leaves.  Place them on waxed paper, add a few sprinkles, let cool and dry a good hour and then yummo!

Happy Valentine's Treats!

More New Friends!



(left to right) June, Lee, Jane Marie & Edith
choosing JM's hand painted Secret Pebbles

Beverly getting a copy of The Goodbye Lie for her sister, Melisa,
who loved Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow



I snapped a couple photos of new friends at a Book's Plus book signing today in Fernandina Beach, Florida.  It's always such a treat for me to meet folks and welcome them into my Amelia Island's Goodbye Lie world filled with suspense, family and romance and fun.  The excitement is contagious!

 

To join us, email  me at graciousjanemarie@yahoo.com and/or visit http://www.graciousjanemarie.com/ !
                                                  - Jane Marie 

Moon over Amelia-- Goodbye Lie Excerpt from the GBL Diaries



Nora Duffy



Goodbye Lie Diaries/Excerpt from The Goodbye Lie

1882

Fernandina on Amelia Island, Florida

Nora Duffy writes: I saw the full moon over the beach the other night and thought about Breelan, my cousin...



     Nora watched from the second story window of Dunnigan Manor as a man and woman walked up the drive leading their horses. She recognized Breelan's outline and suspected the man accompanying her cousin was not who he should be.



Full Moon over Amelia Island's Atlantic Ocean

   Turning, Nora crawled back into bed and curled around her pillow. In the dark, she smiled for the happy moments Breelan had stolen this night and imagined the parting kiss of the lovers concealed under a coverlet of soft clouds studded with stars.

Jane Marie writes:

Nora, I saw the full moon, too, and ran out and took a photograph of it for you.  So very pretty and so much bigger than it appears in the picture. Romance prevails with a moon like that, no matter the century...



Madonna

Madonna is 53 years old and looks great.  I loved the costumes she wore for the Super Bowl half time show.  Yes, the entire performance was over the top but then we'd complain if it weren't.  It wasn't vulgar and that was a plus.  A few times she seemed to be moving in slow motion and her cartwheel was less than Olympic. Maybe arthritis had something to do with it. Then again, it could have been her 4-6 inch heels.  Over all, I enjoyed it, knew the music, had heard her newest single, Give Me All Your Luvin', on the radio today and, if nothing else, appreciate all the organization it took to get so many folks in the right place, at the right time, waving the right hand and kicking the right foot. It was fun!

Year of Living Graciously- February

Feed the birds leftover bread on the beach or in the park.

Another Lucy Moment- OJ

Remember I told you about our bumper crop of oranges this past season?  Well, what we didn't give away, I squeezed and froze so we could have fresh oj all winter long. Bruce wanted to buy some plastic containers to hold the juice but I, ever frugal, decided to use ziplock bags. I figured they would be more malleable and take up less room in the freezer. I was right. It saved room and we did save money. Now for my Lucy Moment. You see, my ziplock bags, filled with golden nectar of orange were so supple and so pliable, they draped themselves over and between the slats of the freezer rack. Why is that a problem?  Because once frozen, their plastic forms would not and could not be pried from the rack. 

What to do?  We could have pulled on the bags and ripped them open, the result being sticky, slimy, half frozen juice on and about the other frozen items.  Remember, as we examine this problem, we are keeping the freezer door open and, thereby, melting everything else that lives in the freezer. Bruce said, "I'll unload the freezer and take the rack outside into the sun for a few minutes until the juice thaws enough for the rack to turn loose of it."

Made sense to me until we discovered the rack was non-removable.  "I'll get the hair dryer!" say I.  I anticipated being electrocuted while using the appliance near the potential wet of the thawed juice.  In order to avoid that, I put on my rubber "duck feet" aka gardening shoes.  There is something about rubber and not getting fried but I never was much for scientific stuff so, I kept the fingers of one hand crossed and ventured forth, dryer in hand.  I aimed at the base of the juice where it came in contact to the rack and flipped the switch to full blast on high heat.  I could feel the cold of the freezer pour out into the room and imagined the whirling cogs in our electric meter spinning like tops at the excess energy expelled for this experiment.  How long would it take to break free a bag or two or all dozen of them? How about 15 seconds?  Yup, in less time than it takes to sing Oh Happy Day, the freezer gave up its prisoners!  The juice was ours! 

Now, what to do with all of it?  Another brainstorm.  Why do I keep getting these brilliant plans of action? I don't know. They just come to me.  The zip lock bags were still 98% frozen, but their bottoms were slightly thawed.  Why not set them on a solid cookie sheet.  Hmm.  The cookie sheet was too big for the freezer.  Instead, I used a double layer of aluminum foil as a solid to keep the bags from draping back through the rack.  Like stacked hamburger patties, I placed a layer of waxed paper between the bags so they would easily pry apart when their time came to be thawed and digested.  So that's what I did. I have triumphed, yet again, over myself!



***

The Goodbye Lie Diaries

1880s Fernandina, Florida

Peeper writes:

Hoo-eee. I admit, I would've done the same thing with my extree juice 'ceptin' I would a used a lit candle and run it under them packs ta free 'um up.



Grandmother Peeper



Everybody Loves Somebody

As you may know, we are down to one kitty now.  We recently went away over night and left Button on her own with bowls of food and water making up two different feeding stations. Our neighbor, Next Door Maggie, checked on her, just to be safe. When we returned, there she was, Button, not  Next Door Maggie, sitting where we'd lefter her but she was not alone. She had found a friend!  Apparently, Button had gotten lonely and went looking for some company. She found some in the form of a small teddy bear in a pink t-shirt with the breast cancer ribbon logo on it, who lived on a branch of my Treasure Tree.  (I'll save the Treasure Tree story for another day.)  It wasn't that the bear was on the couch with Button as in the photo or tossed carelessly on the floor.  No. We found the little bear in Button's bowl of crunchies!  Apparently, she was making sure her new friend had plenty to eat!  Since then, we've seen Button carry her Baby, that's what we call the bear now, from room to room. Not all the time, however.  Since Button is new to this friend/mothering thing, she sometimes seems to forget her responsibilities.  Just when we think she's no longer interested, we get up in the morning to find a soggy, soaking Baby, half in, half out of the water bowl.  We squeeze Baby out, and set her on the window sill to dry.  It must be true love on Button's part because dry, wet or damp, Baby has a home and Button has a baby.  And a fine pair of critters they are.

What a Difference a Word Makes

Someone recently asked me, "Were you formerly married to the mayor of Fernandina Beach, Bruce Malcolm?"

I replied, "No.  I am married to the former mayor of Fernandina Beach, Bruce Malcolm."  We all had a good laugh about that one!



on the campaign trail



Making the Mark

Mark of a Man Update (Amelia Island, Florida's upcoming historical novel, part of The Goodbye Lie Trilogy, set in 1898):

The five year old boy featured in my story has been called Mac since day one.  A colorful child, mischievous but loving, independent and tender-hearted, this character is one of my favorites. He spouts wisdom and offers comfort with his simple logic.  He was all set in stone until today when I changed his first name. Mac was fine. It was a family name, but I heard another name a few weeks ago and I've been thinking about it and today I hit the "find and replace" keys. From this time forward, little Mac will be called Nugget!  -jmm

Space Found

Our family motto is No Space Unfilled.  Is it because we are unable to pass up a sale, we are old and, thereby, have accumulated much or that we are packrats? Some or all may apply, but whatever the reason, at Stately Martha Manor, we kept my bike in the front hall. How many times did we catch our clothes on the handlbar sticking out or the cat, after sitting on the seat, pushed off from the seat, knocking the bike over. And I recall when the downed bike blocked the front door and it was raining and the power was out and the garage door wouldn't open and we got all wet because we'd been on a stroll and we couldn't get in and as we peeked through the windows seeing the cats all warm and toasty... So after we recovered from walking phenomia...


Note bike in top left of photo.
 Oh happy day!



We cleaned our garage!  You don't get it. I mean, we really did clean our garage! We donated many things we no longer needed and now there is room to walk beside the Graciousmobile while it is in the garage. That is unheard of, in our universe. (Notice I'm saying our as opposed to my universe.  Bruce had a broken hammer handle that was taking up more than its fair share of room, so I must include him.)  Bottom line, it came to me at three o'clock in the morning.  Would my bike fit along the wall by the craftshow tent and betweeen the cooler, dragon kite, nylon fish whirly-gig and in front of the sheets of hurricane window- cover plywood?  By jingo, it did!!  It does!  Granted, when pulling the car into the garage, one must exercise caution lest the handle bar rakes the side of the vehicle, but I have experience caution a time or two in my life of flying feet and fingers.

The question is, do I immediately fill the voided space in the front hall with something like the double stacked pine chests in the bathroom or the handmade wooden three legged stool or the flowerdy Bear Chair? Well for now, the space is UNFILLED!   Can't imagine how long it will remain as such but it feels like the house has doubled in size and as

Martha Bear™ says,  "That's a better thing!"

http://www.marthabear.com/ -teddy bear stories for the whole family

Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow, an excerpt- McKenna Defies His Captain

The year is 1889, set aboard the passenger ship Coral Crown off the Baltimore, Maryland coast:
. 
   "Report to sickbay if you need to, Shepard, or at least open a porthole and get some cold fresh air in your lungs. It may help you feel better.”
   “Can’t, sir. Too many passengers are down with illness. Some are even lying on the staircases until they can be helped to their quarters.”

   Grey turned around to see there were no more couples dancing. The music had been reduced to one violinist who looked as if stroking the strings with his bow was almost more than his weak arm could accomplish.

   “I will remember your dedication to the captain. Thanks again.”
   “Yes, sir. You're welcome, sir.”

   Intrigued, Grey opened the handwritten dispatch recently delivered to him. Whatever it was, he was glad to be only a mile from shore and able to receive it, despite the snow. The Crown was rolling some 10 degrees or more off center now, he guessed, and he found it necessary to steady himself against the bulkhead as he read.

TO: Chief Engineer Grey McKenna
Carolena not arrived. Want no police or family worry. Too infirm myself. Please  come.            Dresher


   Grey’s response was immediate. He grabbed one of the foul weather capes hanging near the exit and put it on. Wailing wind and ice-spiked snowflakes attacked when he opened the door and stepped over the three-inch high threshold.
   He reached for the rail so as not to lose footing and through squinted eyes, took in the sloshing salt water on the teak deck. He found Captain Rockwell in the pilothouse, checking weather conditions and shouting orders loud enough to be heard over the gale, sounding only mildly less loud than outside.
   “You’ve got the particulars, Mr. Wolfe. Follow them to the letter.”
   “Aye, sir,” the watch officer yelled back, immediately conveying the order to the helmsman fighting the wooden wheel.
   “Mr. McKenna,” the captain said when he saw his chief engineer. “I’d hoped you’d be leading the dancing though I don’t imagine there’s much of that going on anymore.”
   “No, sir. None.”
   "Why did you come up here? You know the standard drill for rough weather. We drive the bow into the wind and take the waves head on. I just pray this weather passes by sun up so we can pull into Baltimore’s harbor then.” Checking his pocket watch, he read twenty-one-forty hours. “It’ll be a long night.”
   “Captain Rockwell, may I have a private word with you, sir?”
   “Aye, Mr. McKenna. Certainly.” Without pause, “Mr. Wolfe?”
   “Aye, sir?”
   “After I confer with Mr. McKenna, I’ll be in the Grand Salon, should you need me.”
   “Grand Salon, aye, sir.”
   “Shall we step into the passageway or would you prefer my office?”
   “The passageway will do, sir.” Grey caught the door for his superior when the roll of the ship would have slammed it closed.
    Rockwell nodded his appreciation and then listened.
   “First, I want you to know Steward Shepard is himself sick and tending the passengers despite it.”
   “Noted. Anything else?”
   “Yes, sir. I have just been handed urgent word from our Aqua Verde office on the Baltimore shore. I must ask for a leave of absence. It’s an emergency.”
   "What is it, Grey? Family?”
   Although he felt as if the Dunnigans were his kin, in truth, they were not.
   “No, sir.”
   “I must have a reason. I don’t need to tell you your presence is crucial to the running of this ship, especially when conditions are poor. Without a solid reason, I’m afraid your request for immediate leave is denied. You will have to wait until we dock in home port in a few days.”
   “I appreciate your thinking me valuable, sir. However, I assure you my second engineer is plenty capable. I mean no disrespect, but I cannot give you my purpose. I’ve been asked to keep it private. If I wait to depart on my mission until we return to Fernandina, I will be squandering precious time retracing wasted miles. I must be in Charleston as quickly as I’m able.” He was caught between his concern for Carolena and his loyalty to her family’s passenger line.
   “I repeat. Without a sold reason, I cannot give you leave.”
   By this point and in any other circumstance, Grey would have peppered his response with cursing. Determined to control his temper because they were professional sailors and gentlemen, he said, “Then I regret what I’m about to say, sir, yet say it, I must. You can transfer me, furlough me, or fire me, but short of locking me in the brig, I will disembark the moment we pull into Baltimore, hopefully at first light.”
   Although his demeanor was still unruffled, Captain Rockwell’s words were grave. “Great God, man. I can charge you with disobeying a direct order, dereliction of duty, and anything else I can come up with. Even more, I can let it be known far and wide that you left your post without permission. You’ll never find a position on any private line of consequence again. Are you willing to surrender a fine career for this objective?”
   Unwavering, Grey answered, “I am.”
   “So be it, Mr. McKenna. For the sake and reputation of this ship, I will not make a disturbance. You have been forewarned of the consequences of your impending actions. I hold you solely responsible. Is this clear between us?”
   “Aye, sir. I understand fully.”
   “Very well then. Send for the second engineer, and I will inform him of the situation.”
   “As you say, sir.”
   “How long do you expect to be gone?”
   “I have no idea, sir. I will report to you as soon as I’m able. At that time, you can proceed as you see fit. Just know I’m doing what I feel I must. I’m sorry, sir.”
   “I am, too, McKenna. Very sorry.”
   Grey touched his fingertips to the brim of his cap in formal salute. The captain returned the same. No more said, and the two turned, stiffly parting, each to his chosen course...

***

LIES, LUST, DEVASTATION - Carolena Dunnigan witnesses the unthinkable and her safe, secure life on Amelia Island, Florida turns to ashes. Vowing to save her siblings, she seeks work and is lured to Charleston, South Carolina. Lust, love, and decades of lies do fierce battle, driving her into Pennsylvania's deadly Johnstown Flood of 1889. It scours away secrets of the past, but will anyone survive the churning undertow of it all? Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow by Jane Marie Malcolm is available in:

Paperback at http://www.graciousjanemarie.com/

Kindle  ($3.99) at http://www.amazon.com/Amelia-Islands-VELVET-UNDERTOW-ebook/dp/B0069SB4XY/ref=sr_1_sc_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1326860125&sr=1-1-spell 

Nook (j$3.19) at  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/amelia-island-s-velvet-undertow?keyword=amelia+island%27s+velvet+undertow&store=nookstore 

Move Over MacGyver

My phone died today and I fixed it! I admit, it took me a full three minutes to figure out how to get the back off without cracking the plastic case.  A paper clip and nail file helped in that effort. Hmm. The square thing, I guessed, was the battery.  I lifted that off and, by jingo, it was a battery, or so I thought.  I did take note that writing was on the underside of the battery- so I could put it back in the right way after I performed surgery on the corroded, now partly green, three springy metal prongie thingies. A tissue, the letter opener, a pencil eraser and a little spit, cleaned those prongs.  I put the battery back in, snapped the case closed- well, that took another two and a half minutes- and I tried the phone.  It worked,--for about ten seconds then cut off.  I opened it again, made sure all was right side up and turned the phone on again.  Hmm.  It turned back off in short order.  With my letter opener, I pressed up from the bottom edge of the battery, holding it tight against those gold prongie thingies. The back still off, I turned on the phone and it stayed on. What could I use to keep the battery tight against those contacts? Why two thicknesses of envelope, of course.  Slipping/jamming the paper between the case and the bottom of the battery, I was successful in stabilizing said battery in the perfect position to power the phone. After all this practice, I handily snapped the back casing on in a record two minutes time, dialed my husband, Bruce, and proclaimed my victory! Perhaps this fix will last a few minutes or a few hours.  All I know is that any day I don't have to go shopping for a new phone is a great day!  

Biltmore!

During Christmas, we were fortunate to visit the breathtakingly beautiful 250 room Biltmore mansion, begun in 1895, on 8,000 acres in the mountains of Ashville, North Carolina. I've seen it on Home and Garden TV, but in person, like most things, it is so much more wonderful. While others we were with toured the interior of the home in two hours, Bruce and I trailed behind. After lunch in what was once the stables, we returned for a couple more hours, as we continued listening to the information on the self-guiding audio tape, plus asking questions of the staff, as we soaked in every inch of elegance. 


Since Biltmore is still family-owned and self-funding, we didn't regret one penny of what we spent because it all goes to their coffers to keep the place going. Had we the time, we would have stayed a second day to enjoy the massive gardens, winery and shops plus so much more. Watch a few videos and get a taste of Biltmore at http://www.biltmore.com/, and if you're ever nearby, stop for at least a day. Anytime of the year there will be a wonderful time of the year there.

Jane Marie

PS  We were not permitted to take photographs inside the mansion but I learned in museum docent training to always look up with regard to architecture. These are just a few of the details I found! 

Please Pay Attention

Forget my husband, Bruce Malcolm, is the former mayor of Fernandina Beach, Florida, and local politics is major in our lives. Every four years, I devour presidential politics.  I listen and watch and read all about it. No matter who you want to win, and I will refrain from saying who I like, please pay attention. Get to know the players and the process will grow on you. Listen, listen, listen and learn, learn, learn, then vote, vote, vote. It's not too early to start this process because we are the adults here and owe it to our kids!

God bless America and Happy New Year! 

Here's to the Future

HAPPY NEW YEAR

from all of us at
 GraciousJaneMarie.com!!!

May we all treaure the gift of reading...

Jane Marie Malcolm

Nancy Kamp

Martha Bear

Pickle bearling

Pansy bearling

Art bearling

Teddy O

Airborne

Wink E Bear

Mr. Buzzbee

Spew

Bird

Breelan Dunnigan

Carolena Dunnigan

Jack Patrick Dunnigan

Marie Dunngian

Michael Dunnigan

Miss Ella Dunnigan

Peeper

Grammy

Aunt Noreen

Nora Duffy

Aunt Coe Fries

Warren Lowel Duffy

General Dogsbody

Mr. Wickers

Taffy Wickers

Lil Cheese Wickers

Bruce Malcolm

Bob Harkins

Kate Brown

Captain Fancy Patch

and all the others who contribute to and participate in our stories, website, blog and wild, wacky and wonderful world at GraciousJaneMarie.com in the 19th, 20th and 21st centuries!

Velvet Undertow on Kindle & Nook NOW!

My historical suspense novel,  Amelia Island's VELVET UNDERTOW, is now on Kindle and Nook, just in time to help you use those Christmas gift certificates. HA!

KINDLE Buy: $3.99
http://www.amazon.com/Amelia-Islands-VELVET-UNDERTOW-ebook/dp/B0069SB4XY/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1325131676&sr=8-2

NOOK Buy: $3.19
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/amelia-islands-velvet-undertow-jane-marie-malcolm/1019217795?ean=9781449029203&itm=1&usri=amelia+island%27s+velvet+undertow

Annual Holiday Letter 2011

My Own Dear Friends,

Since our lives on Amelia Island, Florida are chockfull of dubious delights, artificial adventures and loony-bin hilarity, we want to share just a part. Here goes:

Father works in a factory. A rat fell from the ceiling onto his shoulder. Father became disgruntled when they changed brands of pencils. Management offered him a lateral transfer from white socks sock stretcher to black socks sock stretcher. He realizes this is an honor.

Daughter only run one marathon and three triathlons this year. She is 7/8 inches shorter than she was twelve months ago, using the excessive pounding on her feet, as the reason. The family knows better. She's just lazy.

Auntie Rantie took Lucky to the store and they never returned. We sure miss that dog.

Cousin Freddie is considering being either a lingerie model or a lady cab driver.

Son-in-law is much better now.

Father enjoys having his eyebrows licked by the cat while he watches the wrestling channel.

Mother's orange crop was abundant this season, but blemished because she used no pesticides. Embarrassed by their spots, under cover of darkness, she left a box on the church doorstep. Dreada, the nasty neighbor, saw the whole escapade, and is now blackmailing Mother. Her price? The use of our paperclips on demand. We wonder how long we can endure.

Son ate his finger.

Bird passed away and Father put him in the freezer until the ground thawed enough to dig a hole.

Granddaughter learned how to drink from the left side of the glass.

The cat, we'll call him Gleet, hacked-up a big one.

Father stubbed his toe and said, "Shucky darn!"

We had a frozen pizza on Wednesday.

The Atlantic Ocean is still in the same place.

Merry Christmas from Amelia Island

PS To find earlier Annual Holiday Letters from Our Family and to get a better understanding of our exotic lifestyle, visit http://www.greenlightwrite.com/newsletterarchive.htm

Say It Ain't So, St. Joe

Take a look at the picture of our front yard to the right.  Note the absence of one, Saint Joseph.  Yes, friends, in the middle of the night, someone absconded with the third member of our Christmas family. We thought perhaps it was the wind but after searching the neighborhood and asking any and all if they'd seen him, the sad answer was the same.  No.  Because he lights at night with a bulb, he not only was snatched, he was unplugged! This means the crime was premeditated!

I used to work at our local downtown Christmas shop.  One day I discovered the Baby Jesus was missing from his little manger. I was horrified until I said to myself, "If they want and need him that badly, they can have him."  I'm thinking along those lines with regard to Saint Joseph. If they need him for some good reason, to their minds that is, then you have him with my blessing.  If they took him only for the purpose of vandalism, then I suspect their little prank will haunt them every Christmas of their lives. A mild haunt it may be but a haunt, nevertheless.

Merry Christmas one and all- and I include YOU!

***
from The Goodbye Lie Diaries - Miss Ella
December 1880s
Fernandina, Florida                                                                              

Dear Jane Marie,

Thievery of any kind is abhorrent, but to steal a symbol of the Holy Family is near unspeakable. May we all be so forgiving as you. May your Christmas be blessed and may the new year being the best of delights.

With sincerest love,

Miss Ella

Santa Paintbrush Ornament

I saw a similar Santa Claus ornament made from a paintbrush in a Lowe's magazine. I ran to the dollar store, got a few inexpensive brushes in different sizes and we were off!  I goosed mine up from the sample photo in the magazine and the result is pretty cute.  It can be made in an afternoon with paint you have around the house if you do much crafting at all.  Add some cotton balls for his hat trim and a mustache and  wahoo!  This is a fun family project for the children, too.

You'll need:

1 paintbrush, any size

paint for handle- 2 colors

paint for face- white mixed with a splash of pink & pink for cheeks

paint for eyes - black with white for reflection

cotton balls

glue, ribbon to hang & scissors                                                  

glitter paint (optional)

1. With scissors, trim the corners off the bristles, rounding the edge to look like a beard.

2. Paint the handle, front and back, one color.  When dry, paint a second, contrasting color on the handle making stripes or dots or whatever design you want.

3. When dry, mix a splash of pink paint with white and paint the face on the metal band of the brush, front and back. 

4. When dry, dot two black circles for eyes with the tip of the handle of a large craft paintbrush or the eraser of a pencil. When eyes are dry, add tiny dots of white for the reflection which will bring the eyes to life.

5. Dot pink on the face for cheeks in the same manner.  When dry, add clear glitter paint, if desired.

6. Stretch several cotton balls to look like fur and glue all round the the paintbrush, front and back, for the fur trim.

7. Take a small piece of cotton, stretch for the moustache, twist in the middle and adding a drop of glue, only in the center, press in place.  When dry, gently twist the tips of the moustache to make them pointy, if desired.

8. Cut a 6 or 7 inch piece of narrow coordinating ribbon, slip it through the hole in the handle that is hopefully already drilled when you purchased the brush, knot the ribbon, and hang your decoration. :-)

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

Gingerbread House of Your Own

We made our Gingerbread House from a kit purchased at the grocery store. We bought extra gumdrops thinking there would not be enough candy in the kit to make it fancy.  Wrong.  There was plenty of candy. We were forced to eat the gumdrops so as not to waste them, of course.

The gingerbread roof and walls were pre-made.  All you have to do is follow the simple instructions and "glue" everything together with the white frosting which is included. The frosting sets in a few minutes so you can complete the house in an afternoon.

One thing I learned and will do when I make another ginger house is that rather than putting the walls and roof together, then decorating  the whole thing, I will decorate the walls first as they lay flat. Once dry, I will glue them in a vertical position, completing the house.  The reason for this is that it's difficult to keep the decorations from sliding down the walls until the icing sets.  You have to hold the decorations in place until they are stuck where you want them.

This project was much fun and I understand why building a Gingerbread House is a tradition with so many.

Merry Christmas all! 

Year of Living Graciously- December

December - Don't deny yourself holiday treats. Just don't eat the entire tray.

A Wishbone Thank You

We received this email from a reader:

I just wanted to say thank you for the article on the history of the wishbone. In my family breaking the wishbone after the holidays has been a tradition carried on by my grandmother as well as my mother, sadly both are gone now. I fully intend to carry on the tradition, however I have a broader understanding of what the whole ceremony is about now. I found it to be fascinating how something so simple can have such a history behind it.


Thank you so much for the information and satisfying my curiosity.

May you have a happy holiday season!

With gratitude, Dale

***

I'm glad you enjoyed the article, Dale.  For those who missed it, I've reprinted it here.  The original is on our website at http://www.greenlightwrite.com/wishbone.htm

 Wishing on a Wishbone

by Jane Marie

Our Thanksgiving dinner, perhaps like yours, ends with a special ceremony. Around Stately Martha Manor, our patriarch, Bruce, will ceremonially place the wishbone, the "pulley bone" as his grandmother called it, on the lighted shelf above the sink. There it remains until Easter when it's bone dry. Then we dust it off and use it for its main purpose - not as a support for a turkey's head, but to bring good luck to the person who comes away with the largest piece of bone in a little tug of war for two. For anyone unfamiliar with this tradition, each person takes hold of one end of the turkey's double-pronged clavicle. They pull until it breaks. The winner gets a wish.


There are several tricks that might help you win the contest.

• Place your thumb higher up on your half of the wishbone and give a quick snap. Sometimes this works. Sometimes it doesn't.

•Try using just your first finger alone, or your first finger and thumb to exert a little extra pressure.


All this competition began at least 2,400 years ago with the Etruscans who lived on the Italian peninsula. The Etruscans believed fowl were fortune tellers because the hen announced she would be laying an egg with a squawk and the rooster told of the coming of a new day with his early morning crowing. A circle was drawn in the dirt and divided into twenty wedges that represented the twenty letters in the Etruscan alphabet. A piece of grain would be placed in each wedge. A hen would then be allowed to peck at the grain. As she ate, a scribe would list the letters in order and those letters would be interpreted by the high priests to answer questions.

When one of these chickens was killed, its collarbone was considered sacred and left under the hot sun to dry. Anyone was permitted to stroke an unbroken bone and make a wish, thus, the name wishbone. The Romans took many of the Etruscan customs as their own and since everyone wanted good fortune, they fought over the bones, breaking them.

It is said that the phrases "I need a lucky break" or "I never get a break" come from being the loser in this tug of chicken bone contest.

The English heard of this superstition from the Romans and called their wishbones merry thoughts after the merry or happy wishes that most people desired. When the Pilgrims arrived at Plymouth Rock in the New World, they brought along the custom of breaking the wishbone. When they discovered the northeastern woods of North America were filled with turkeys, they changed their custom from the chicken bone to the turkey bone.

Every time you have the privilege of breaking the wishbone or witnessing someone else doing it, just remember that's how they did it way back when. Wayyyyyyy back.

Eating with Memories

We began a tradition that everyone can participate in and enjoy.  Each year, on the same plain table cloth and with permanent colored markers, each of us draws/writes and dates a sentiment they are thankful for or want to share. Be sure and put newspaper under the tablecloth so the marker doesn't stain your table. Once done, iron the drawings to help set them so they won't run so much in the wash.  Yes, some permanent markers will get fuzzy - see mine below. No matter, we can still read it and that's what counts.

While we dine, we study the art and accompanying script surrounding our plates and laugh and remember our times together.  Give it a try and make new memories with those you love.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Jane Marie

***
1882 November
Fernandina, Floria

Miss Ella Dunnigan * writes:



Miss Ella



What a grand idea, Jane Marie! All can join in and draw on the tablecloth, even the little ones. Thank you for sharing. From Dunnigan Manor through time to Stately Malcolm Manor, may we slow our lives and take stock of all God has done for us. Be blessed on Thanksgiving day and every day.

*Miss Ella is matriarch to the Dunnigan family from Jane Marie's historic fiction novels, The Goodbye Lie series.