HOW TO MISS A CHANCE

(c)Nelma Ward This beautiful photograph, by my friend Nelma who is a member of our local Photographers Group, is a reminder to never put off doing things you're vaguely thinking of doing. You know - someday, or when I remember to take my camera, or the next time I'm there. The Morning Glory has sadly been considered a weed for some time, yet a more lovely flower hardly exists. This one twined about the tiny shed behind the post office. I always intended to take a picture of it. After all, I was at the post office at least once a week. Yet I always forgot to take my camera. And then the post office was given a coat of new paint. Including on the outbuildings. The next time I went there, the painter had torn down the morning glory to spruce up the little shed with his brush. If Nelma hadn't possessed the artistic forethought to snap this lovely image, I'd have nothing but a memory of the morning glory. Stop and smell the flowers, they say. But we're all too hurried, too busy - in my case too slow - for anything but the necessities of everyday life. I once had a chance to buy a work of art, of a type which we'll never see now outside of private collections and museums. Once upon a time wrist and pocket watches were not digital, they had moving parts. And a few talented folk bought up old watches, cheap, pulled them apart and patiently rebuilt them into framed pictures of - cars. The one I saw had been reduced to $35. (This was, I admit, twenty years ago.) I had the money ready in my purse. I didn't have the time, but fully intended to get down there, several suburbs away, as soon as possible. I didn't make it. When I did, the shop was closed, the stock gone. No clockwork sculptured car for me. And some time ago I saw the perfect Christmas gift for my son-in-law, a perpetual calendar of great sporting moments. It was in the gift section at the chemist's. Well, I'm at the chemist's about twice a week, I can pick it up any time. I finally remembered it a couple of weeks ago. It was gone. Obviously some savvy customer also decided it would make a perfect gift. Why on earth had I believed it would wait for me, that I was the only person interested? My ego must be way bigger than I thought, or my procrastination habit worse. Lesson for moi, buy things when you first see them, photograph them as soon as possible, and don't, don't procrastinate!

http://www.amazon.com/Blueprint-Love-Monya-Clayton/dp/160154345X/ref=tmm_pap_title_0










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MY GRANDDAUGHTER'S WEDDING DAY - AND THEIR KIDS LOOKED LOVELY TOO!

Photo by Ray Woodrow.

There she is, our eldest granddaughter, three weeks ago, she and new hubby. On a freezing windy day in spring, and the bride and her bridesmaids wearing strapless dresses! Goose pimples weren't in it.

Their three children were members of the wedding party. Their nine-year old daughter wore a long red gown, and held the hand of her three-year old sister whose ditto red gown was topped by a sweet little white coat. Five year old son was with the menfolks, Dad the groom and his groomsmen. He wore the same outfit they did, and he was the ring-cushion bearer. They all behaved beautifully. Nine year old has been a self-contained soul since she was tiny. Five year old has survived a major episode of being the two-year old terror. Three year old has always been cute and known it. You know how it is, mischief behind a cherubic exterior. And all three are a credit to their parents. (And their grandparents, and great grandparents, of whom I am one of the latter...)

Bride and groom, therefore, have lived through enough to know they are committed. They have survived the stillborn who lived a few minutes, and two more miscarriages. They've survived working different shifts. They've survived buying their own home. Their relationship has not only survived but prospered. Life may offer no guarantees, but I believe they'll survive marriage.

I ALSO HAVE AN OLDER BLOG...

This is one of the clocks my husband makes. Mostly for friends and rellies. I'm not the only creative person in the family! Nothing to do with the subject of the post, of course.

So, if you're further interested in my journey to writerdom, there's another at

http://monyamary.blogspot.com/

WANT TO SEE MY WORK SPACE?

You'll also see this photo of my untidy desk on
http://heroineswithhearts.blogspot.com/ on Friday the 12 th November. Sorry, Paula, didn't intend to steal a march on you, but I can't work out how to delete the thing now!


Scary, isn't it? Messy, yes indeed. I've slowed down, but I'm still collecting books. (Don't take any notice of the year date on the photos, my old digital camera absolutely insists it's 2001, not 2010. And I haven't won the argument with it yet.)

But the great thing is, I have a room to put them in! When we built this house we'd been married more than forty years, the kids were gone and had kids of their own, and in the modest three-bedroom home plan this was supposed to be the second bedroom. Well, hubby has a shed! And in it, among other other things, he makes clocks, like the one on top of the free-standing bookcase on the left. At least it has glass doors, and looks even messier because I've also stored framed photos in it, of our four kids (three boys, one girl). One each of them as babies one year old, and one each of their weddings. And they're in there so they don't get dusty!


I've actually blogged about my work area at http://classicromancerevival.blogspot.com/
On Sunday September 12th, and titled it MY WRITING SPACE - QUICK, FIND THE DUSTER!
But I'd stuck these photos in the wrong file and couldn't, being aged and techno-challenged, work out how to post them there. So aren't these a treat? Because those aren't my only bookcases. You'd think just the built-in one my husband covered one wall with would be enough!

The other free-standing bookcase, on the right, I bought from a second-hand shop years and years ago. It's full too, and you'll notice an overflow on the top! Above it is an old European print picture I bought from a flea market, very old-world library looking. The original oil of the roses, down beside it standing on the remains of my former (read, spare) computer, I bought from an opportunity (charity) shop only this year. It's obviously not a professional effort but it's very pretty and was obviously painted with love. I just had no more wall left to hang it on!

And no, those aren't all my books. There's an old toolbox dolled up with cushions in the spare (third!) bedroom full of more. There's a five shelf cupboard down in the shed groaning at the seams with paperbacks. And in the lounge room there's a two-shelf set of Encyclopaedia Brittanica... Um, and in the corner beside my husband's chair we have HIS books - on a set of shelves made of bricks and planks painted white... All about interesting things like cars, sports, science, humour, woodworking and so on. Poor man.

By now you'll be thinking, this woman is a compulsive collector and reader! You'll be right about the collector part, but I actually get to read much less than I used to. Being slow on my feet means I'm slow getting from one end of the day to the other, and whatever time is left is spent on the computer. Writing, and checking my emails, and writer stuff on the Internet. And oh, all right, playing Solitaire sometimes. Just sometimes...

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME

A rose can be a sweet pea if it wants, right? Nope, it'll still be a rose. But it can call itself Sweet Pea if it wants to.
The reason for this peculiar statement is not peculiar, simply unusual. In modern society anyway.

The Events section of our Sunday newspaper devotes two pages to photos of recent weddings. I always take a look at them. It's interesting to see the wedding gowns etc., but really I try to pick whether the marriage will last. After all, about 46% these days end in divorce. It's quite impossible to work out who will and who won't stick together, because they all look happy and attractive on their wedding day, and anyway it's seldom possible to judge someone's character by their looks. However, there's another little game I play. I work out the bride's new name, that is, add her first name to his last. For instance, if "Kate Featherstone" marries "Peter King", she'll become "Kate King". (Names have been changed to protect the innocent young married couple from my opinions.)

A few months ago this silly game took a good knock. Headline under the photo said TWIST ON TRADITION. And explained this pair were doing it the opposite way. The bridegroom was taking the bride's surname. I've never seen such an example in all the years I've been gawking at wedding pictures. They're an attractive pair, and good-natured - if one judges by looks again. And intelligent; they both work in the medical profession So he becomes "Peter Featherstone"... And he doesn't look at all as if he thinks it'll be a problem. Even though it is his bride's father's surname.

I was intrigued. Granted there's no legal requirement for a woman to take her husband's name - it is simply a custom. And one which started, like many other things, as a French fashion, in the 1500s. The Scandinavians, bless 'em, always elected to name their girls "someone's daughter", as in "Ericsdottir", in the same way her brothers were called "Ericsson". This local civilized practice meant girls kept their family name and weren't required to be called "Mrs. Bjornson" if she married a son of Bjorn. But, of course, "Ericsdottir" still implied her father's name was the more important.

Some women nowadays elect to keep their family surname when they marry. And of course the family surname is their Dad's, and his dad's, and so on back to whenever legal marriage became the "in" thing. They can, of course, choose to be called by their mothers' maiden names. But hold it right there. If Kate Featherstone's mother was originally Judy Blenkinsop, then Kate would be calling herself by Judy's father's name, her maternal grandfather Bill Blenkinsop. (And actually I don't think Peter would prefer Blenkinsop over Featherstone.) And Bill's male forebears were called Blenkinsop, all the way back to the caves, the tribes, and the giver of names, probably a witchdoctor, who landed him with the name Blenkinsop...

But there's a way out. Kate could call herself Featherstone-Blenkinsop, hyphenated. This solution, unfortunately, for the reason of sheer length, seldom survives past the two generations, unless the surnames are short. "King-Ash-Bell" anyone? If everyone did it, imagine the length of the electoral roll, the crowding of addresses on envelopes, and the suffering inflicted upon those among us afflicted with a stutter. Nope, won't work.

But wait, there's more. In the first paragraph when I mentioned weddings I also mentioned divorce rates. (Like it or not, one often comes after the other, like the tin cans after the wedding limousine.) Now the men who are divorced are in the fortunate position of retaining their surnames. As for the ladies, most of them would be pleased as punch to get rid of his name and return to their own (well, their father's, who warned her the fiance was no good anyway). But there's usually children to consider, and the poor kids have already gone through enough without having their mother change her name to one different from theirs. So most divorcees reluctantly keep the ex-hubby's surname. Bummer, but at least the offspring aren't confused.

Ladies, it looks like we're stuck our husband's surnames. After all, unless we're sensitive about feminism, it doesn't do any harm. Except for the times we start looking for old girlfriends from school whom we only knew by their maiden names... Anyone have other suggestions? I'd love to hear them.

Though of course, if all men possessed the sensitivity of "Peter Featherstone", nee "Peter King", and take their wives' names, the situation would be at least reversed. He's a brave man, that. After all, he's continuing his journey through life with the surname of his father-in-law. And his father-in-law's father, and grandfather, all called "Featherstone" way back to the caves or the tribes or the witch-doctor who landed the first of them with the name "Featherstone"...

Kate Rose-Sweetpea and Peter Rose-Sweetpea, anyone? Or Kate Sweetpea-Rose and Peter Sweetpea-Rose? One of those cases where the possibilities are endless.

WHERE TO BUY MY BOOKS IN AUSTRALIA

The Pirate And The Puritan by Mary Clayton
Historical Romance, heat level Sweet

Buy at: www.romancedirect.com.au

1704 - Dangerous times, when the British colonies in the America's are threatened by Queen Anne's War. It is not the French but a pirate who captures Mercy Penhall, mute Puritan spinster. Fearing for her life and virtue yet drawn to the captain in spite of herself, Mercy unknowingly sets foot on a path of adventure and heartbreak that will test her courage to the limit. And in the end the secret she carries in her soul threatens to prevent even the small chance of happiness inherent in an impossible love.

Edmund Gramercy is an unwilling pirate, forced to join a hostile crew to save his life. He defies them to spare the captives and the women, but the silent Puritan tempts him like no other.

Can the impossible become possible for the pirate and the Puritan?

Reviews: Jody Allen: excerpt: "A heroine who can't speak and a pirate with a heart..."

Laura Miller: excerpt: "She is intrigued by his protection of her... He is drawn to her innocence and strength..."

Drebbles, Amazon Top 500 reviewer, excerpt: "...a sweet gentle romance... a rip-roaring adventure..."

Kym McNabney "Writing From The Soul", excerpt: "The story kept me on the edge of my seat, eager to find out what happened next."

Donna K. "bookcrosser", excerpt: "Instead of sexually tense bickering, these characters interact with kindness and respect."

TeensReadToo.com (reviewed by Steph), excerpt: Edmund and Mercy give hope to readers that love can overcome anything."

Christy Tillery French "reviewer/writer", excerpt: "An enthralling love story, moving from the high seas to colonial America."

Lesley West, Amazon Top 1000 reviewer, excerpt: "Edmund and Mercy are both damaged by life but are strong and sympathetic nonetheless."

Marion Marchetto, excerpt: "A story of depth and intelligence... A Puritan heroine instead of an English lass of the privileged class."

Beverly Romance Books "Beverly", excerpt: "Without one sexually explicit scene the author has sensuality ooze from the page."

Jackie B, excerpt: "Once I was hooked, I didn't want to put it down."