A wronged woman — October 7, 2020

A wronged woman

When it comes to the subject of how COVID has changed our lives, except for working remotely, mine hasn’t changed all that much.

As I’ve I mentioned before in this-here space, I have taken part in the Walmart grocery pickup a couple times. I am not going to get into it at this particular time because I don’t have to tell you everything about my life, but I did not use that service last week when I needed sundries and supplies.

Instead, I chose to go to the store. It’s worth noting that this was only the fourth or so time that I have been inside the store since March.

Anyway, on maybe my second visit to the store during the pandemic, I briefly stepped away from the checkout line to retrieve another item. And when I returned, I saw that another shopper had cut in front of me in line.

As I stood there, seething, I considered my options. Option one was to confront her. I said to myself, “Self, do you want to get into a fistfight?” Self answered, “Sure. Why not? What else do you have to do today? Go home and dust?”

But then I said to myself, “Self, what if she has the COVID?”

So, I decided not to get into a fistfight that day. But I’m not the type of person who can just stand behind someone who has stolen her place in line.

I’m also not the type of person who can just saunter into another line.

So, I decided to use self checkout.

If you are a family member or a close friend of mine and are reading this, I want to give you a few moments to compose yourself. Other dear readers and I will discuss another topic. For example, this summer, I, well, not my physical self, extended the fence in my backyard. For the first time since I’ve lived here, I can see the leaves that have fallen from the hill and onto that part of the yard. It is lovely.

Okay, I think we’ve given my family and close friends enough time. They probably have some questions because no doubt they remember all those times I vowed that I would NOT use the self checkouts. Well, that was in a world before the coronavirus. That was before I deliberated over every public breath I took.

That’s not enough for you? You want me to say the words? Here goes. I was wrong. 

It gets better for you because I’ve actually used self checkout twice.

Of course, the first time I had to ask a Walmart associate for help no fewer than five times. The second time, I asked for help with some lettuce I had gotten for my mom. The associate attempted to show me how to enter produce, but I did not pay a bit of attention. Thus, the next time I buy produce, I reckon an associate will have to enter the price for me.

What’s that? Yes, I plan to use the service again because it is awesome.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

If it makes you happy — September 30, 2020

If it makes you happy

When you reach an advanced age, younglings expect you to have all the answers. I can’t speak for everyone of my generation, but as for me, I can’t even keep track of the questions.

Regardless, sometimes I can offer words of wisdom…

As I’ve mentioned before in this-here column, my sister’s male cat’s name is Gypsy Rosalee. The name was chosen when he was believed to be a she and my sister saw no reason to change said name when she was discovered to be a he. (By the way, if Gypsy’s mother is reading this, she should consider putting Gypsy on a diet or enrolling him in an exercise program. He has packed on the pounds and is close to resembling the fictional obese house cat I referenced in last week’s space.)

Anyway, Gypsy has more toys that I had as a child, and our great niece and great nephew enjoy playing with said toys. Two of the toys resemble a fishing pole. I guess they were designed so that you could cast the poles and the cat would jump to reach the balls at the end of the lines.

Our great nephew likes to wrap the lines around various and sundry items in the house and bang the balls onto the floor and our heads. At least he did until we caught his head turned and tossed the fishing poles into the trash. Of course, this was only after we cut one of the lines off a lamp.

The fishing poles have nothing to do with the story, except to help me illustrate the point that Gypsy has many toys. His feline cousin, Fluff, my brother’s cat, also has toys. Indeed, Fluff has a toy mouse that moves when its tail is pulled.

The mouse is so popular with the children that it caused a minor controversy between them last week. Furthermore, our great niece has included one on her Christmas list. When we adults pointed out that she doesn’t have a cat, she explained that the toy mouse was for her.

At this point, you might be saying to yourself, “Self, isn’t it a wee bit early to be crafting a Christmas list?”

Is it?

If I want to craft my 2021 list on Dec. 26, 2020, what harm will it do?

And therein lie my words of wisdom. If you want to give your male cat a traditionally female name (or vice versa), or request a cat toy for yourself, or eat brownie batter for supper, you should do what makes you happy.

Well, do what you want as long as you’re not hurting others. I wouldn’t advise braining folks with kitty fishing poles.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

No follow through — September 16, 2020

No follow through

As I might have mentioned before in this-here column, occasionally I wake in the morning to find that I’ve forwarded recipes to myself. (Due to my amnesia, I can never remember what I’ve mentioned to you, dear readers. So, I apologize if the existence of these recipes is news to you.)

Accordingly, I’m also not sure if I’ve shared the fact that I rarely follow through and make said recipes.

Upon reflection, I’ve come to realize that this pattern of seeking and finding an “interesting” recipe only to allow it to languish in purgatory began in my childhood. Indeed, when I was a wee lass growing up on the Goff Estate, I amused myself by looking through my mom’s cookbooks.

Better Homes and Gardens’ red plaid cookbook was my favorite and I especially enjoyed recipes that were accompanied by photographs. As I flipped through the pages, I planned the meals I would make in my future kitchen, which would be furnished by merchandise purchased from the Sears catalog.

Most of these planned meals fell victim to my amnesia, but I do remember that I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to make eggs Benedict.

In retrospect, I don’t know what I could have been thinking because eggs have never been a staple of my diet. What’s more, eggs Benedict looks the messy result of a mob of egg-wielding trick or treaters’ attack on an Egg McMuffin.

Maybe the dish caught my eye because, at the time, the Atlanta Braves had a player named Bruce Benedict, and the announcers called him eggs Benedict. All I know is that I’ve reached an advanced age and have no desire to eat or prepare eggs Benedict. 

I still desire to bake and, sometimes, cook new foods, so I spend oodles of minutes perusing new recipes. To my defense, on occasion I do prepare newfound recipes. Last year for the holidays I made cranberry-Brie appetizers that were so well-received that I made a second batch. This spring, I made a blueberry-lemon cake that was wildly successful.

Most of the time, though, I give the recipe a second or third look and come to my senses. For example, I’ve been on the search for a pumpkiny baked good. After finding several, I acknowledged that none of my loved ones or I like pumpinky foods.

Regardless, I’m not sure why I continue to look for recipes I’ll never make. But I am sure I’ll continue to do so.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

Take a crack at it — September 9, 2020

Take a crack at it

One or more of my siblings and I share an unusual trait: We cannot properly open bags of food.

Upon reading these words, our mom is probably shaking her head as she recalls the countless potato chips and cookies that we flung onto cabinets, tables, and the floor due to this deficiency. And that’s not even taking into account all the potato chips and cookies that went stale because the improperly-opened bags could not be properly closed.

Mom is probably also thinking that I could mention that one or more of her children also don’t know how to properly open envelopes, but that’s another matter for another day.

Anyway, I was reminded of our inability to properly open bags again this week when I improperly opened a bag of oyster crackers. Thanks to my ninja-adjacent reflexes, I was able to keep the crackers from being flung onto the cabinet, table, and floor.

The bag was split only a quarter of the way open, but my attempts to stabilize the situation resulted in the split reaching halfway down the bag.

To my defense, the generic brand of crackers had been packaged in a flimsy bag.

I can see my mom shaking her head as she thinks to herself, “Sure, blame the bag,” and adding that if I wasn’t so cheap and had sprung for the brand name then maybe I would have been opening a higher quality of bag.

Regardless, I had to take action to save the crackers from going stale in a flimsy, half-torn bag.

So, I tried to wrap a twist tie around the top of the bag. But seeing how the top was split open, that didn’t work. I then retrieved a chip clip, aka a clothespin, but there wasn’t much to close.

I considered storing the crackers in Ziploc plastic bags. Not that I spring for the brand name, but you get the drift. But I didn’t want to waste bags, and this was definitely a multi-bag job.

Next, I looked in the pantry cabinets. In the bottom drawer, I found a container that had once held lemonade mix. And not just any mix. It had held Country Time mix, so you know the container is top quality.

Most of the crackers fit into the container and I was able to salvage enough of the flimsy bag to hold the remaining crackers. And I must say that, with its easy to open lid, a former lemonade mix container makes a perfect current cracker container. And it can be properly opened by one or more of my siblings and me.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

No more words — September 2, 2020

No more words

As I’ve mentioned before in this-here column, I keep track of the books I read through Goodreads. Although I don’t take part in the discussions offered by the website, I do read reviews and peruse book-related questions.

In fact, just the other day, my eyes settled on the following question posed by a fellow reader: Is it ok not to like a book?

Well, yeah.

That’s like asking if it’s ok not to like a certain food, person, or blog. I could never imagine asking permission to dislike, well, anything.

Anyway, the question also addressed an issue that haunts book readers – to finish or not to finish a book that you’re just not into.

With one notable exception – a trashy memoir of a Z-list actress that was even too tawdry for me – in my youth I finished every book, story, or reading assignment I started. It mattered naught that my mind occasionally wandered and that I didn’t always retain the material. I read every word.

But in my junior or senior year of college, a literature professor assigned an Ernest Hemingway story that was basically a fishing manual. That was the first of many times to come when I wondered if anyone could actually die from boredom.

The professor frequently quizzed us on assignments, so I pulled out the abacus and determined that I could fail a potential quiz and still maintain my grade. Thus, I did not read the story. (By the way, it wasn’t The Old Man and the Sea. I don’t remember the title, but, for reals, it was basically a fishing manual.)

Thankfully, we were not quizzed on the boring story. Nor did the professor engage us in a class discussion. What’s more, this did not set a precedent for me. I still read every word and finished every book, story, or reading assignment I started.

As I’ve gotten older, however, I’ve developed a self-diagnosed attention disorder and I’ve become even more impatient. I’m also not into self-torture, so I will not finish a book that I’m not into. Indeed, the book that led me to the Goodreads question about whether it’s ok not to like a book…well, I didn’t finish it. In spite of the good reviews and laurels heaped upon the book, I could not spend one more word with the characters.

It would be wrong to say I didn’t care what happened. Hence, my visit to Goodreads. It’s just that I preferred spending a few minutes rather than a few hours learning the characters’ fates.

And that’s ok. Because everyone has different likes and dislikes and maybe the next book will be so good that I’ll wish it contained more words.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

Kick the bucket — May 14, 2019

Kick the bucket

for blog“Murder at the Dinner Bucket Diner,” the fifth book in my cozy mystery series, is now available for purchase at Amazon.

Those of you who have been following the exploits of amateur sleuth Maggie Morgan might be saying to yourself, “Self, somebody’s been killed at the Dinner Bucket? Was a pork chop the murder weapon?”

Of course, those of you who haven’t read the other books might be saying to yourself, “Self, did she set a murder mystery in a bucket?”

Don’t be ridiculous. And, not to sound like Captain Obvious, but if you’d read the books, you wouldn’t have to ask such a question. The Dinner Bucket, as it’s known to locals of Jasper, the county seat of the fictional Geneva County, is a diner that serves home cooking like potato salad and the aforementioned pork chops. The diner’s original owner named it in honor of her dad, a coal miner. The black lunch bucket he carried into the mines remains on display in the diner.

My dad also carried a black lunch bucket, which he called a dinner bucket, into the mines. So, whilst writing the first book, I had the idea, which some have described as brilliant, to bestow the name Dinner Bucket Diner on the eatery.

Due to the catchy name, I had always planned to set a mystery at the diner. The particulars evolved over time, but here’s a synopsis of the finished product:

When Gypsy Hill collapses during her shift at the Dinner Bucket Diner, customers attribute her death to a virus. But with doctors unable to point to the cause of Gypsy’s sudden illness and police unresponsive to investigating her death, reporter and amateur sleuth Maggie Morgan takes up the case. She soon learns that the temperamental young woman was engaged in various feuds. She also learns that the suspects in the case, including a chatty waitress, a thrice-widowed bookworm, and a man who looks like a goat, harbor secrets of their own. And just as Maggie inches closer to discovering the answers to Gypsy’s secrets, another resident of her small Kentucky town collapses at work.

This post originally appeared in the Appalachian News-Express.

Murder at Moonshiner Days now available — May 19, 2017

Murder at Moonshiner Days now available

dfw-mg-mamd-cover-3d-nologo.jpg“Murder at Moonshiner Days,” the fourth book in my Maggie Morgan cozy mystery series, is now available at amazon.

On the eve of the annual Moonshiner Days festival, first-grade teacher Jennifer Wagner is found with a meat thermometer sticking out of her neck. A year later, police in her small Kentucky town are no closer to solving her murder. As the town prepares to welcome thousands of guests to another Moonshiner Days, reporter and amateur sleuth Maggie Morgan begins to wonder if Jennifer’s killer has ties to the festival. With the sounds of backfiring jalopies and bluegrass music filling the air, Maggie pokes around Jennifer’s life, exposing deep, dark secrets. Just as she inches closer to solving the challenging case, another crime is committed, a murder suspect ends up in jail, and Maggie is forced to deal with a personal crisis.

Pay to play — May 12, 2015

Pay to play

My cozy mystery, “Murder at Catfish Corner,” begins with the discovery of a woman floating in a pay lake. For those of you unfamiliar with the term “pay lake,” it’s a stocked lake at which you pay to fish. Pretty straightforward, right?

As it turns out, one of my best friends had never heard of a pay lake, and she suggested I remove the reference to it from the book blurb. Although she argued that alluding to a pay lake would confuse potential readers, I kept it in there.

I must admit, her professed ignorance surprised me. After all, my research had located pay lakes as far north as Michigan and as far south as Alabama. Of course, she lives in Maryland, so maybe I should have investigated points east as well.

Anyway, the idea to construct a mystery around a pay lake came to me during a discussion about local landmarks. When the conversation veered to the subject of a pay lake, I envisioned a body floating face-first in the water. At that point, I knew I had the makings of my next mystery and a morbid mind. Okay, I’ve been aware of my morbid mind for decades.

Utilizing a pay lake also allowed me to revisit the antagonistic relationship between two characters in the series: Tyler, the young reporter who never misses an opportunity to make fun of Eastern Kentucky, and Joe, the newspaper editor who never misses an opportunity to put Tyler in his place.

When Tyler derisively refers to Catfish Corner as a glorified pond and belittles residents for paying to fish on private land when the area’s ample creek banks would serve the same purpose, Joe informs him that pay lakes do not exist only in Eastern Kentucky.

Besides, fishing on a creek bank might not yield anything bigger than a minnow. (Pronounced locally as minner.) But a pay lake offers the promise of a significant catch of the day.

Murder at Catfish Corner now available — April 19, 2015

Murder at Catfish Corner now available

“Murder at Catfish Corner,” the second book in my Maggie Morgan cozy mystery series, is now available at amazon.

“Murder at Catfish Corner” opens with Hazel Baker found floating in Catfish Corner. Neighbors in Hazel’s eastern Kentucky community wonder how the retired nurse ending up drowning in the pay lake. Unwilling to accept Hazel’s death as an accident, her sister enlists reporter and crime buff Maggie Morgan to prove Hazel was murdered. As Maggie tries to focus on the case, she’s distracted by her well-meaning boyfriend, her ex-fiancé the police detective, and a crime that hits close to home.

Guest author interview — February 9, 2015