Recently, I had one of the most wonderful experiences. I had the pleasure of accompanying my granddaughter, Anna, to see a production of Beauty and the Beast at the Grand Theater in Wausau, WI. We got all gussied up in our finest, went to dinner at Olive Garden where we had great food and made a toast to ‘us and a fabulous evening’. After, we made it to the therater with time to explore. Mostly we checked out the balcony, but it reminded me of Girl Scout meetings in our local library. We scouts would sneak up into the dark recesses of the three story building looking for ghosts, afterwards coming up with colorful stories of what we’d experienced. Anna’s classmates warned her of a ghost that resides there, so of course, we had to check it out. It was delicious fun!
Before the play began I put us in the wrong seats twice before I got my act together and found the right ones. It was good for a giggle. Then, the play began. The music was golden to the ears, the colorful sets a banquet for the eyes, and the dancing enthralling. Several times, I looked over to see Anna’s face in rapture as she watched.
At intermission, Anna threw her arms around me and said, “thanks, Grammy!” As with the Grinch, my heart gew two sizes that evening. My date with Anna is one of my finest memories. I can’t wait to do it again!!
You know, I just love Autumn. The colors, the sound of leaves rustling underfoot, the snow wafting from overhead…wait, what, SNOW? Yes, it’s snowing outside my window as I write this. So far, it’s not sticking. But that’s not what this is about – besides, I don’t want to give the white stuff any attention just yet. Anyway, to get back on track, I canned pickled beets yesterday. The scent is like none other – I know that’s a cliche, but I can’t help it. The scent of the cinnamon and cloves fills the house, and I just want to bathe myself in it. Okay, I’d look a little wierd after the beet juice turned me magenta. But I highly suggest pickling beets sometime just for the aroma. Today, I baked apple pies. Again – that scent! I’m stopping now – the apple pies are calling me. Yum!
I’ve said many times that I enjoy writing romance for the sheer joy of watching characters come to life on the page – and infusing them with nuances of the characters I see around me every day. In ‘Kissing Livvy’ I was able to take so many influences and apply them to the colorful characters of Butternut Creek. Livvy is almost purely one person who shall remain nameless. Jesse is based on two very important men in my life. They are very similar, yet each one brings something to the character. Sarah was by far the most fun to write. Her ascerbic nature was just plain fun because it’s a defense mechanism – she’s truly not that crabby as you see toward the end. And George – what can I say about good ol’ George? Meeting him, you will see where Sarah gets her gumption, and that a soft heart does lurk just below the surface, no matter how hard they try to cover it up. But Livvy and Jesse, opposite personalities for sure, but an attraction so strong that nothing can keep them apart – even the fear of laying your heart wide open for all the reward just waiting in the wings.
This last Saturday night my husband and I attended Jonesfest in Kennan, WI. The event is the brainchild of a few people in that area who performed in bands when they were younger and felt a need to do something to make sure music education remains alive and well in our rural schools.
We parked our car in a hayfield, walked across a small bridge and down a short dirt road to a cabin in the woods. Tents were set up to shield from the sun and the dew of the evening, white lights danced overhead, food was served for a donation and beverages sold. Admission was free. People scattered the surrounding area with lawn chairs and blankets or sat at tables under the tents. Beyond the seating a giant bonfired lit the night. Someone made a “tiki” torch from a hollowed log standing on end. It was the neatest thing. A fire was lit below and where the tree once had branches, holes had been drilled. The fire raced up the inside of the trunk and came out the holes and burst out the top. It looked like a tree of fire. A few lucky souls won raffles.
The best part was the local talent displayed. Five bands, one hour each. In between people shared jokes and amusing stories. All proceeds went to the schools music program. I would guess that nearly 400 people attended. I cannot commend these people enough. It’s amazing what a few can do. Thank you for such an enjoyable evening!!
I love small towns and the eccentric people that give them color – that’s why I write about them. Of course big cities have their unique citizens as well, but in a small town they become a hallmark, a cornerstone of entertainment.
Our town has a man that walks from sun-up to sun-down, the same route every day. Always in an interesting outfit (personally I love the fur boots and fringed vest), sometimes carrying a fishing pole or a guitar. When he has the guitar out, he’ll sit in our central park and wail at the top of his lungs. In his younger days, he rode an old banana bike through town. He’ll make his own commentary to no one as he walks along and once in a while he’ll stop on a corner and howl like a wolf. Always with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye to see who’s watching. There was a time when he carried a camera and took pictures of butts. No one seemed offended, in fact, it was a badge of honor. Okay, we may be a bit sick, but it was all in fun. Seems everyone in town keeps an eye on him and for the most part, enjoys his presence. People joke that he’ll probably have the biggest funeral this little burg has seen.
Carry on, Waldamore!
Just getting ready to head out to our small town summer festival, Flambeau Rama. Can’t wait to see who I see and find what I find.
I had just a small window of time, but I got in the flower beds and finished putting mulch down on a path. And then the rain came. I don’t mind so much because now I can curl up with a book. A great way to spend an afternoon before getting back into the grind. What’s your favorite way to spend a soggy Sunday?
After an environmental protest goes awry, Livvy Sherman finds herself abandoned on Jesse Tully’s logging job. Taming the Tully men (and women) proves quite the wild ride, but tame them she must if she is to accomplish her secret agenda.
Jesse’s got his hands full with a struggling business, a cantankerous father, a troubled teenager and a crabby grandma. Now he has this hippy-dippy protestor thrown into the mix.
What more could go wrong?