Results for Did She or Didn't She?

Here are the results of my Did Mom or didn't Mom dust her brownies with powered sugar? unscientific survey.  Two out of three people say, YES, Mom dusted her brownies with powdered sugar!  And responses came from all over the country, so I can't really determine if dusting was/is a regional thing. (These are the items that clog my mind.) 

A few of your comments that accompanied your replies are:

"At my request, my Mum made brownies for my birthday instead of a cake." - Jean, Brunswick, GA

"My mother used to bake her brownies with a cream cheese layer." - Ruthie, New York, NY

"My sainted mother always burned our brownies.  She felt badly, so we blamed it on our old oven being too hot." - Joan, San Jose, CA

Thank you to all who took the time to impart their childhood recollection of mother and brownies, two of our favorite things! (in that order)

***************

ORIGINAL QUESTION:
As I was baking a pan of brownies for our church spaghetti dinner,  I got to thinking about having brownies as a little girl. Then I started wondering if everybody's mother dusted her brownies with powdered sugar or left them plain. 

So, in the category of meaningless knowledge, I'm taking a most unscientific survey.  Either email me at graciousjanemarie@yahoo.com with a simple YES or NO in the subject line or respond to this post on Facebook in the same way. I'll give you a week or so to reply. 

If you want to take this matter further,  please leave the state or part of the country/world you're from and I may be able to semi-conclude if powdered sugar is a regional thing. 

Hey, why not? Right?   (Insert Jane Marie's big smile here.)

P. S.  If you're wondering what the rectangular line is around the edge of the brownies in the photo above, I'll tell you.  A long time ago, in a city far away, a wonderful friend told me she always whittles about half an inch or so from the edge of the brownies before she cuts them into squares and serves them.  Why?  Well, the edges are oft times crispy and, therefore, a bit less than desirous to serve.  More importantly, those edges are perfect for the baker to ingest and, if she's feeling generous, share with her family, anxious for a sample. Hmm, about that sharing thing ... (Insert another smile here.) 

(I promise not to add your email address to our list unless you insist. Heck, I rarely send out email blasts since readers seem to find us and our world so readily online.)

Meet Angelique from Amelia Island's Mark of a Man

Angelique 
Amelia Island's Mark of a Man

   Housemaid Angelique is a featured character in my Amelia Island's Mark of a Man, set in 1898, during the Spanish American War in the tiny seaside town of Fernandina in north Florida. Her involvement with one member of the Irish Dunnigans makes for, as I have been told, a compelling tale.

The Rains, The Rage

The Romance...  

Amelia Island's Mark of a Man 

in Ebook and Paperback, part of

The Goodbye Lie Series 

set in north Florida

Read an Excerpt below:

   "She's here ta see Dunnigan-again."
   Pat heard both his jailers chuckling as they entered the three-celled room. Raising his

Pat Dunnigan

eyes from his newspaper, he saw Angelique's serious face through the iron bars. He looked past her dark dress and the pot of dinner she carried and watched her struggle to lift the corners of her mouth. He smiled at her and, when he did, her brown eyes visibly brightened.
   "Hey, you two," teased Boliver Shagnasty, the fat guard with the malformed ear. "This is becomin' a habit—A habit I could get used ta, real easy."
   "Yeah?" Pat said, ignoring the keeper's true meaning. "Any time you say, I'll trade places with you, Bolly, and you can be the one inside lookin' out."
   "That's kind a ya," responded the big man, his tone sarcastic. "Since it's your sentencin' day, I might take ya up on that offer once you're convicted. Think a the fringe benefits …" He reached out to flick the yellow three-inch trim on the flowery shawl Angelique wore.
   His cohort in uniform laughed as he chewed his own tongue and his spittle splashed Boliver in the eye. "Good god almighty, Banjo!" Boliver wiped at his face with a dingy kerchief. "Unlock that door, you fuzzy-headed idiot! Don't keep the lady standin' there. She can sit in the cell with Dunnigan whiles we have a cup a that fresh-made coffee. It puts me in a good mood ta think his spoiled ass is gonna be residin' here with us for a long time, if the judge don’t send him somewheres worse. And there won’t be no fancy extras neither, once ya get what’s comin’ to ya, boy. Here now, missy, let's have a look inta what ya brung." After rifling through her shoulder bag and lifting the lid on the pot, "Ya passed inspection."
   Boliver winked at Angelique as Banjo's large key clanked in the lock. She flinched under his gaze while Pat surprised himself for taking such strong offense at the verbal abuse as well as the fingering of the housemaid's wrap.
   Pat pushed wide his heavy iron door and took the crock and sack from her. "Don't mind those guys. They're both crazier than pet possums. Here, have a seat," he motioned. "Since Mama and my sisters decorated the cell for me, and Clover toted in that chair, we might as well make good use of it. Once again, my father's prestige in the community affords certain luxuries, bizarre though they seem for a house of punishment. Peeper's braided rug there helps keep the evening's damp away from my feet like those blue curtains keep the sun from my eyes."
   Angelique's silence made Pat uncomfortable. He removed the well-worn baby quilt from around the pot, which was keeping it warm, and placed it on the small oak drop-leaf table. Lifting the lid, the escaping steam carried an odiferous scent that twisted his belly tight. Fish stew. Again. Although she was generally a wonderful cook, this glop was beyond awful. As he stared back at the floating fish eye, he was glad the slop jar was big enough to hold most of the last batch she'd brought. It would serve the same purpose this time, too.
   The pretty visitor wondered how Pat could stand to get the spoon near his lips, let alone put the disgusting substance in his mouth. She'd followed the recipe exactly, too … "This is the last of it. Shall I make another kettle for you? When I told everyone at Dunnigan Manor how you loved it so much, they all saved their portions for you."
   "I'm a lucky man to have such a caring family, that's for sure. Hey, don't you want to share it with me?"
   She'd tasted it once and once was enough. Touched by his offering, nevertheless, she declined, not realizing her expression showed her true feelings. "My word, no. I brought it all for you, seeing as it's your final meal before— before—"
   He strode from the table, leaving the soup untouched. If he were starving, he'd have lost his appetite. He’d let himself temporarily forget his fate would be set and sealed today. What could he do about it anyway?
   "Hey there. Don't feel bad." Another step in the small cell and he put his arm around her shoulders by way of comforting her. In instant order, solace disappeared, replaced by a far different feeling. The reality that the liberty of being this close to a beautiful woman might not be his for a very long time, accosted him.
   He looked down at Angelique's feminine features, her high brow, attractive nose and deliberate chin … and began to chuckle.
   She stepped from beneath his arm and verbally turned on him. "I'm glad you have the ability to find humor, Pat. I cannot."
   "Oh, it's not so much humor that makes me smile. It’s fond memories."  Think of anything, he ordered his soul, anything except her. "You know, for as long as I can remember, Peep has always been old and looked old to me."
   "Don't ever let Peeper hear you say such a thing, although I’m sure you don’t mean it in a cruel way."
   "Of course, I don't. It's just that I will always see her through my eyes from childhood, when we first met her.  I was a little boy and she had gray hair, so she looked old.  I would never be disrespectful of Peeper. I love that old gal as much as any member of my family. I remember one time, when we were kids, we caught her up on a ladder, yes, I'm talking about Peep—short legs, bad feet and all. Anyway, she was up on this eight-foot ladder with a file, filin' off the sharp tips of the thorns on the purple bougainvillea Mama had trellised against the barn."
   "Why in the world was she doing such an odd thing?"
   "It wasn't odd to Peep. She'd seen how little Marie's balloon popped on the thorns and it left her crying. So, in order not to have it happen again and still keep Miss Ella's plant in tack—"
   "She filed off the points!" Angelique smiled herself.
   Laughing, "That Peeper is a gem, pure and simple."
   "She is, Pat. She truly is." Her expression this time turned thoughtful. "What is it, about some people, that makes the whole world love them? That makes them special?"

   Pat walked to the barred window, reached up, pushed the curtain back and let the sun sear his face for a long moment. When he turned around, Angelique was plumping his bed pillow. "Your mother sent along a crossword puzzle book and—"

   When he stepped up behind her to take hold of her shoulders, again, he could feel the tension, even a trembling. She didn't struggle when he pulled her against him. As he savored the way her curves fit to him, his eyes closed and his mind emptied of all thoughts except those of the woman he held close. Time with her was what he wanted, time with her like this. To that end, he turned her and she came into his warmth, her length meeting his. Pat wrapped her in his embrace, and he said aloud what he was thinking. "You feel so soft and wonderful—and feminine." 

   His hands explored her back, seemingly of their own volition. They crept low until they felt the indentation of her waist and remained there resting on her hips. After a dozen or so rapid heartbeats, they made their way up to find the coiled bun, low, at the nape at her neck. His fingers discovered the thin wire of her hairpins. The anticipation of her hair, the color of sparkling coal, tumbling down her back, destroyed any sense of nagging propriety imbedded in him from youth. A physical presence such as hers, her loveliness, her fresh smell, unadorned with fancy perfumes, had smothered his good sense and he hoped it had done the same to hers. The seconds passing, passed too quickly. He would not let them be wasted. He pulled at one pin, and another, letting them fall silently onto the braided rug. As the third came loose, the tip of the braid showed itself and the silken rope began to unwind. 

   A breath of, "Ohhh …" emitted from her waiting lips just beneath his. Her warm hand stilled his movements, and she challenged, "Pat," against his cheek. "You mustn't — We —"

   He wanted this woman. Disregarding the reason he was in this confined place, he blamed the damned law for trapping him here. He cursed society’s scruples for they were depriving him of taking his pleasure and he didn't like it. He instantly determined he could change her mind. His mouth no longer hovered but landed on hers with a rough insistence that demanded compliance. The message he sent was clear to him and he hoped he was making it equally clear to her. At any moment, the will of someone else would separate them. He had to have something to take with him when they parted. He had to.

   Angelique let him invade then raid her reserved manner. Ripped and ragged, her inhibitions should have strengthened in this forbidden place of physical stirring and emotional want. Any warnings trying to rise failed, their cautioning call muted, as she handed all control to him. She didn't care that his day-old growth of beard sanded raw her lips and cheeks. No, she didn't care, for when she'd tasted him, savored him, it was no teasing kiss. In her experience with this kind of thing, he was different from anything and everything before … Was she really surprised? Jack Patrick Dunnigan was all man and all a man should be. He was fun. He was kind. He was caring—to his family, anyway. And, he was purely appealing.  

   His kiss devoured her. Just what should she do? She didn't want to make a mistake. Then again, could she really? Was a mistake even possible in a moment like this, floating as she was on waves of what surely must be defined as passion? She didn't need instruction. All she had to do was follow Pat's lead. Her motions, her actions made their way from her heart to her hands and lips. She recalled her earlier protest to him. How empty that protest really was. There was little conviction behind it. Stolen moments, she'd heard of such things—and now realized the depth of meaning that tiny phrase conveyed. Maybe, if her wish for continuance of this bliss was strong enough, maybe they could go on like this. Maybe they —

   Pat's hand was at the third button of her bodice. He was touching the simple lace edging of her chemise! Some of her hair had come loose from its weave. The remaining length of the braid over her shoulder was an arrow pointing straight down toward hades! Yet, she couldn't bring herself to form the word no. She didn't have to.

   "Quite a show you two is puttin' on fer us," interjected the nastier of the jailers who had returned. "Me and Banjo surely do appreciate it." The homely sentinel was practically drooling. Grinning a foul, half-brown stained smile, Boliver took another jab. "We hate ta have ta disturb y'all, but seems everybody in town is waitin' ta see ya git yours, Mr. Dunnigan." 

   With fire in his eyes, Pat stepped in front of Angelique, trying to shield her from the perverted stares his selfishness had instigated.

   Her expression sad, she turned her back on the three men while she re-buttoned her blouse. Tying her shawl securely around her shoulders, she left her long hair concealed beneath the wrap, not bothering to reclaim the pins on the floor, which lay witness to her depravity. Gathering her small satchel, she walked past Pat without daring to speak or chancing a glance up into his evocative green eyes. She endured the callous guards tasteless lip smacking as she passed and exited the door to freedom, a thing Pat might not know for some time.   

 Click on the link below for E-books and paperback copies of 

 Amelia Island's Mark of a Man . 

***

Ebooks and Paperbacks in The Goodbye Lie series available now:

The Goodbye Lie 

Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow

Amelia Island's Mark of a Man

Words for the New Year

Composition and Artwork by Andrea Grossman

Annual Holiday Letter

It is time again to acquaint you all with the frolicking fancies which swirled around our Amelia Island family over the last twelve months.  If you are a regular visitor to this blog, you have come to expect the exciting,  grandiose and spectacular in these annual letters.  If not, may we suggest you sit down, lest you are overcome by the thrills our loved ones have experienced.  Steady yourself.  Here goes:

 

The cupboard door was left open.

 

Father won a trip for one to the North Pole.  The accommodations weren’t bad since the polar bear had just been fed.

 

A glop of something fell from the yellow pitcher into the glass of orange juice. 

The rats have moved out.  

 

In order to help with cleanup after a family dinner, Mother asked Son-in-Law where the dish cloth was.  “We use a sponge, but it smells funny,” he replied.  “You can use the pink one in the bathroom, on the floor by the toilet brush.”  Mother remembered Son-in-Law was a boy scout, so he’s always prepared.  

 

Sunday, there was no mail.

 

Daughter counted 37 glass ornaments on the Christmas tree and 18 gold plastic ice cycles.  With such acuity, she will either go into accounting or fishing line untangling.

 

The grass grew and tickled the dog’s bottom.

 

The new neighbors eat dinner.

 

The waves are wet.

 

The rug has a dark spot to the left of the  green-leafed easy chair .  Interrogations are on-going.

 

The streetlight burned out.

 

The family is changing Uncle Knuckle's nickname.  Since he shaved his back and now wears clothes, he doesn't look so much like a chimp. 

There are feathers in the blue pillow.

And so you have the details of another stupendous year in our lives.  May your future be filled with peace, harmony and issues not nearly as challenging as ours!  And please don't eat any more lint. Auntie Wanna's tongue is still stuck to her teeth because her mouth is so dry.

 

Happy New Year Everyone!!!

P.S.  Here are just a few of our Annual Letter reviews we have received over the years from fans.  We are especially proud of all the exclamation points folks have used to show their sincerity. Thank you all:

-What is the matter with you?  This is the dumbest &*^% I have ever read!!!

-Every body is royalty in some way.  You're the Queen of Stupid!

-You have wasted 30 seconds of my life!!!!!!!!

REJOICE

REJOICE, REJOICE,

AND AGAIN I SAY REJOICE!

Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow Excerpt - Grey and Carolena

     You won't like Carolena Dunnigan, featured

female in Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow. A quick temper, a bossy manner and stubborn ways, you'll quickly understand why I say this as you read her less than charming exchange with Chief Engineer Grey McKenna, set in 1889 on Amelia Island, Florida.

E-books and Paperbacks HERE

     “Where have you been?” Carolena shouted. “All I can say is thank you ever so much for leaving me out in the dark and the cold and damp. I may have caught my death for all you care. And have you gotten me a cabin? Or did it slip your mind that my tail, as you so coarsely put it, was even on board? I’ve been everywhere looking for you so I could give you a good-sized piece of my mind.”
    Grey was shocked by Carolena’s shrewish tone, and she was surprised when he lifted her to her toes by her upper arm and rushed her away from the door and into the passageway.
     “Let me go! Just because you wrassle equipment and engines and things on
this ship, gives you no leave to bully me!”
     He released her once they were a distance from any ship’s activity. The smile on his face was gone. “I don’t give a damn if your daddy and
brother-in-law own this ship, missy, I won’t tolerate you talking to me like that.” His head cocked as if at the point of discovery. "Fascinating, if you don’t sound exactly like that Aunt Noreen of yours. Pity the poor fool who finally marries you.” His searing look intensified. “It’s a lucky thing you’re a woman. If you were a man, I’d pound you flat!”
     "How dare you?” she responded. “Handle me  again, and I’ll have your job!” She was upset. She was so mad, she could spit mud. Grey’s eyes narrowed, and what Carolena witnessed in him frightened her. Her temper disappeared, replaced by bewilderment. Was she afraid of him?
     Speaking softly and slowly, “No one, not man nor woman, threatens my job.” He leaned in closely. “You want to run things, do you? Well here, my dear, I give you full dominion of my responsibilities on the Coral Crown,” adding,
“with my compliments.” Grey pulled away. He ripped the golden crossed anchors from the collar
of his uniform, seized her wrist, and slapped them onto her upturned palm. A casual about face and he walked away, leaving her alone in the corridor.
     She stood trembling, unsure of what to do. In all her ups and downs, she’d never before felt faint. At this moment, she was quite certain she was near to it. It was clutching at her, pinching off the breath to her brain. She leaned against the
wall to recover. She straitened her sleeve where he’d twisted it on her arm and righted herself.  In the event anyone witnessed the spectacle, she spoke aloud, “If that insolent oaf wants to quit and leave hundreds of passengers stranded in the event the ship breaks down, then he’s simply showing his true colors. No loyal crewman would abandon his obligations if his feelings got bruised.” How I’ve misjudged him, she thought. He’s neither the kind man nor true friend he
purports himself to be. He’s an animal!
     Calm down, Carolena, she ordered herself. Just put Second Engineer Casey in charge, and that’s that! Then it came to her. Who was she to be
putting anyone in charge? Yes, she knew about the ship, but all she knew was its interior design. Of its basic construction, she understood only that burning coal in the fire room produced steam, which pushed piston-things, and they turned
engines. Her tongue had gotten away from her, and her interference had caused Grey to quit his post.
     Would Casey take over without talking to Grey? She doubted it because the chain of command was inbred in him the same as in any faithful sailor. When he and the captain learned the reason for the resignation, oh God. What if word gets out among the passengers and back in Fernandina? I can only imagine the rumors. And when it gets back to Waite and Bree and Daddy, I’ll be so ashamed, they’ll probably ask me to leave the business, and rightfully so. When I was a
little girl, I remember Daddy telling me respect can only be given. It can’t be demanded.
     What have I done to myself, my family, and the reputation of the Aqua Verde Passenger Line?  Animal or not, I need Grey.

Dickens on Centre 2016

Jane Marie with Bonnie Johnson,

owner of Southern Touch

      Amelia Island, Florida's second annual Dickens on Centre Festival was pure fun in so many ways, but for me, it was extraordinary.  Why?  Because my historical Goodbye Lie 
novels are set in the 1880s and 90s, not too far from the time of Charles Dickens, who died in 1870.  As I, in period costume on a very chilly Saturday afternoon, greeted visitors and locals in front of Sea Jade, an old-Florida type souvenir shop on Centre Street, the main drag in our historic district, we chatted about the characters in my books.  Here I was wearing the garb of my fictional Dunnigan family, watching other costumed town folk walk past, with the same buildings surrounding us, the same Amelia River to the west and the same Atlantic Ocean to the east, as are in my stories. Inspired, my imagination was and is alive and racing with more adventures to come for Breelan and Carolena, Jack Patrick and Miss Ella, and Peeper and Aunt Noreen and all the rest of our favorite characters.

Jane Mare "then"
outside Sea Jade Souvenirs

     The Friday evening before, I signed books inside Southern Touch, also on Centre Street,  with its beautifully old original pressed tin ceiling and walls above and around me and creaking wooden floor boards beneath me. Time stood still, as shop owner Bonnie Johnson, in cut lace apron behind the counter, welcomed her customers in warm holiday fashion. 
     I am already thinking about what to wear next December for the 3rd  Dickens on Centre event. Consider attending the celebration yourself.  I'll see you there!
     For more info, click on: Dickens on Centre

Fun Holiday Ofice Idea, Goodbye Lie Diaries w Aunt Noreen and Peeper

     Kids have Elf on the Shelf. That's the stuffed toy, which mysteriously is moved around the house during the Christmas season, and made to do harmless and funny antics to bring laughter to children anticipating the arrival of Santa.

     It came to me that adults working in an office building could have their version of Hide the Stuffie.  All you need is some smallish form of stuffed Santa, elf, reindeer, teddy, etc., that you have tucked away with the Christmas decorations or in the corner of your child's room.  Just don't borrow the child's favorite toy lest you spoil his or her chances with Santa because they are unwilling to share and throw a tantrum.
     Add a copy of my letter below, filling in the blanks to personalize it for your particular office.  Email the letter to everybody in the place and see how they respond. With delight, I hope. The idea is to get all your coworkers in the holiday mood!

TO:  Our Team of (add silly adjective here)  Employees

 

It has come to our attention that a male has been spotted hiding in various areas of our ____________ building!!! 

 

DESCRIPTION:   (example) 12 inches tall, wearing a red suit and hat, with a full tummy, black boots and a felt beard

 

Should you discover this character in your office, please email all  staff so they know his where-abouts.  Then pass him along, IN SECRET, to some other unsuspecting person’s desk drawer, closet, file cabinet, etc.,  to be found.  We have heard this little fella is one of Santa’s helpers and his job is to completely make it around our building and report who is naughty and nice to the Big Guy!  Just to be clear, everybody be on your best behavior or he’ll rat you out! 

 

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

     By the way, this idea could be for just about any holiday as long as the stuffed item or any item you decide to hide is in keeping with your particular occasion.  Enjoy!

*****  The Goodbye Lie Diaries *****

Late 1800s

City of Fernandina on Amelia Island, Florida

Aunt Noreen writes:  You mean to tell me you would enter someone's office, uninvited?  I have never heard of such poor manners.  Why, a person might be tempted to snoop and that would be most unseemly!

Peeper writes:  Noreena, only you kin turn a good-intentioned game like Jane Marie's atalkin'  'bout, into some kinda nosy-poke bad thing, faster than a goose can empty its bee-hind.  I think it's a fine i-dee and I'll be tellin' Miss Ella real quick  ta do it in her Aqua Verde office.  Hey, she can maybe start the game off by hidin' one a yur handkerchiefs ya keep aleavin' behind, just sos ya have ta come back over ta Dunnigan Manor ta sample my sugar tarts.  No.  We will find somethin' more fittin'  'cause yur handkerchiefs is too heavy-laid with perfume. Tell the truth, Noreena.  Do ya wear so much scent ta cover yur natural body odor, being too lazy ta take a bath like us cleanliness is next to Godliness kind of folks? My, oh my, how I like ta insult ya. Makes my day every time! 

*******************

Grandmother Peeper and Aunt Noreen are fussing next door neighbors who never quit squabbling.  They are both beloved favorites of readers in The Goodbye Lie series.

      

I Did It !

Avert thine eyes!!!!

           This might seem an odd time to talk diets, being in the middle of the holiday season.  Most reasonable people would wait to discuss such until the new year.  No one has ever accused me of being reasonable. 
     Therefore, it is no secret that I am celebrating my 31st year of dieting. My plan has been to either lose weight, notice how original I am in my efforts, or to keep weight off.  Then there is the goal of lowering cholesterol. That's my recent focus.  In the words of my husband, Bruce, “If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing to excess.”  That must be why we get along. We’re prone to extremes.  
     And so, for the last three months, this particular diet has consisted of fruitsies (as my father called them late in life) and veggies.  We all understand the importance of such. Every day for breakfast:  low sodium V8 juice and nuked instant oatmeal with water and natural plant sweetener.  Then we have what we call phony eggs.  You know, the ones with no fat, no cholesterol, no nothing.  Happily, they make pretty good scrambled eggs.  Add some salsa and yummo!  Slice an apple on the side for dessert, sprinkle on a bit of cinnamon, which is supposed to be good for you, and you have minute touches of a gourmet meal. Perhaps green peepers stuffed with no fat cottage cheese steamed on a bed of marinara sauce on top of the stove or chicken in the slow cooker with a light mushroom soup and drinking sherry gravy- add salt and pepper to taste. How about that delightful treat of an entire bag of frozen broccoli sprinkled with lemon and pepper, thawed and heated through, of course.  (I was using the lemon/pepper you sprinkle on from the little condiment bottle. Even at 60% reduced sodium, we're talking salt bomb!  Then someone suggested I use fresh squeezed lemon juice. Doy!!!!)   

     No eating at restaurants allowed except when a friend arrived from out of town. I couldn't very well expect her to join my diet.  After all, I had a 30 year and 364 day jump start on her. So, we went to a Mexican restaurant.  I had greens, tomatoes and sliced avocado. My taste buds were satisfied, even if the visual of her gobbling away on her triple cheese enchiladas will haunt me till death.
     But the most suffering I have endured was no pasta, no cheese and no chocolate!!!  Ladies and gents, I can proudly say, I did not cave.  Shocker, right?  Yes, to me, too, since the G in Gracious Jane Marie might well strand for gluttony. 

    Someone told me to pop a daily dose of natural olive leaf and chlorella which is supposed to be good for everything from left-handedness to uneven eyebrows. Now Bruce just told me he heard a doctor interviewed on the radio saying that you need cholesterol to hold the body together. Oh, I like that. Still,  I'll try to be good and not eat the entire pan of brownies, again, myself. 
     If this post rambles and I guarantee it does, blame it on calorie deprivation.

     Disclaimer:  I am not a doctor, nurse or orderly.  However, I was once a junior nurse’s aide as a teen. Should you trust my medical interpretation on any matters of health, may I suggest you see a shrink because, how should I say this ... You're nuts.

P.S.  It's probably a better thing that Miss Ella, instead of me, is in charge of the menus for the Dunnigan family's Aqua Verde Passenger Line in The Goodbye Lie series.  She seems somewhat less extreme than I am.  

Peeper's Patterns-Goodbye Lie Diaries

Fernandina on Amelia Island, Florida
Late 1800s

Grandmother Peeper writes:  From these here photographs Jane Marie helped put on this blog a hers, you can easy see what I dun. This is how it happened. I was asittin' on the front veranda at Dunnigan Manor.  That's where I live.  So, I saw some leaves blow across the drive and recalled a thing me and my ma dun when I was a wee child.  I dumped my knittin' from the pine needle basket I wove when Marie was a babe, got myself down them steps some how, what with my bad feet hurtin' somethin' fierce this day, gathered all kind a different leaves and began my project ta make a table scarf.
    I found a bit of muslin material I had left from cuttin' a test pattern fur Breelin's garden print dress last season.  I drawed me a rectangle ta fit the table, long-ways, cut it out, hemmed the edges and then headed out ta  Clover's workbench in the barn in the back.  I brushed away the sawdust ta make it nice and clean.  Then I laid out them leaves in  as pretty a pattern as you ever seen.  Very careful like, I laid the material over top, so as not to disturb the pattern with them leaves amovin'.  After that, I took a hammer and pounded the juice outa them leaves.  The leaf juice is what stains

Peeper

the muslin, like grass stains the children get on them sailor suits they wear.
   Go on now and make yourself a leaf pattern table cloth or use it fur a quilt backin'.   It's very great fun fur adults and little ones.  Just be atakin' care that nobody hits their finger with the hammer.

   P.S.  Even though this is a stained pattern,  it is best ta iron the leaf marks so they don't fade much when ya get ta laundering your beautiful creation.
     

For Info and Purchase of The Goodbye Lie historical series on Amelia Island, Florida, click this link!

New Friend

St. Michael's Craft Fair was well attended and I was one of the vendors there. As usual, I met many new people. One sweet woman stood out.  Meet Emma from Chicago.  I first met Miss Emma and her husband while signing books on Centre Street in our historic downtown Fernandina Beach on the island.  She'd gotten a copy of The Goodbye Lie then. She turned up at the craft show, told me she'd also read Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow and this day took possession of the third novel in the series, Amelia Island's Mark of a Man.  It is always a treat for me to discover folks who "get" the characters and "get into" the stories.  That is always my hope and Miss Emma is one of those people. 
     I chatted with others, discussing the fact that St. Michael's church is featured in the novels because the fictional Irish Dunnigan family attended there in 1882. It struck me how my characters and I live parallel lives in so many ways.  They go to church and have craft shows and potluck dinners, the same as I do.  The difference is just a few years, 134 is all.

A Simple Thank You

Yes, this is a simple thank you to all veterans for a job well done and far beyond the measure of civilians. We are proud to recognize you have keep this country going by offering your life for all of us to be able to live in a still free United States of America. God has blessed us with you.  May He continue to bless our wonderful country each day into the future. 

Goodbye Lie Silly Theme Song Video Comments

     Say hello to Pirate Ry with her pet pal, Swiney, both pictured here.  They star in The Goodbye Lie Silly Theme Song video.  Click on the link below to watch the video and read some of the comments about it sent our way.  See if you agree.

Click here:
The Goodbye Lie Silly Theme Song 

Comments:
Looks like you guys had fun making that video. ha ha ha -Linda in in Alaska

Have you all applied for the Sun Dance Film Festival yet? - LS in Florida

It Was Great!  I passed it along. Lee in Florida

Oh, I opened it and watched as soon as saw the link! VERY funny !! My granddaughter and I both laughed ! Her favorite part is the "piggy". I guffawed at your Bruce holding the paper tube to his eye patch !! LOL !!! Good work, girl! - BS in Missouri

I still get the giggles when I see this !  Annie in California

It was hysterical.  If I hadn't already read it, I would run out and buy your book [Amelia Island's Velvet Undertow]. In fact, I am going to buy one to send my younger sister.  She will love it. - Sally in Florida

It must be wild living in your crazy world! This video is just plain goofy! What with all the wonderful romance in your books, a very disagreeable Aunt Noreen living right next door to your characters to keep things stirred up, your typical family relations like in real life (families are families, no matter what era), your blog which is so diversified (in a very fun way, of course), your recipes, your Goodbye Lie Diaries, your ... Well, you're just too much, Jane Marie. We need more whimsical people like you in the world.   -Lisa G in Utah

Purchase The Goodbye Lie Series here!

The Shadow

Just in time for the shadows of Fall, here are some fun pics I snapped of our singing spokes-doggie, Abby, enjoying a bit of modeling in the sun's spotlight! 

right snout

Abby proudly displaying her neck length