Happy New Year, Everyone!!!
For 2018 I have accepted the craziest challenge EVER by saying I’ll try out “video blogging”.
Below is my first installment. Watch it if you dare!
(Oh, but PLEASE be kind. LOL This is NOT my thing.)
Happy New Year, Everyone!!!
For 2018 I have accepted the craziest challenge EVER by saying I’ll try out “video blogging”.
Below is my first installment. Watch it if you dare!
(Oh, but PLEASE be kind. LOL This is NOT my thing.)
By some miracle, my kids have managed to make it to the ripe old ages of ten and twelve without me being subjected to a sleepover.
Last night that streak ended…and so did my sanity.
For the last three years, my kids have “organized” sleepovers that have always managed to fall-through. Usually in the form that my child and the other children made all of these plans, but forgot one crucial component: forgot to ask their parents! Sometimes I was asked and the other mother wasn’t and sometimes it was the other way around. So, last week when I was asked if two Hooligans from a few blocks away could come stay the night the first night of Christmas break, I said, “Sure.” Never in my wildest dreams thinking it would happen.
Oh, I was wrong. IT happened.
Now, before I give you all the dirty details, I will openly admit that I know that overall this was VERY MILD compared to what some people endure, but for me and my first experience, I was ready to pull out my hair–not not just the grey ones.
Here’s a rundown of events:
5 pm–Hooligans arrive. I start making pizza.
5:20–Hooligan #1 poops something the size of a baby in our toilet. This hooligan will forevermore be referred to as Pooper.
5:25–Eddie informs me that Pooper is ticked because Henry and Hooligan 2 commented on the size of Pooper’s deposit. Pooper threatened to go home. (Sounds bad, but I would have been fine with that.) I talked to the boys about remembering we’ve all been constipated before. It’ll be OK, let it go. (Clearly this kid let one go.)
5:30–kids leave-relief floods me…
5:37–kids return with a TV… they take it upstairs to Eddie’s room…
5:45–pizza cut and served
5:50–kids take their pizza and several cans of pop upstairs. My jaw drops and steam starts spiraling out of my ears. My kids KNOW better than to take food upstairs. We eat at the table only. Taking a deep breath, I mentally dislodge the stick from my backside. This isn’t the end of the world. Besides, it might be better they eat upstairs where I don’t have to hear them belching and smacking their food. It’ll be OK. This just gives me the perfect excuse to make Eddie clean his room top to bottom tomorrow.
7–kids come ask if they can use the big TV in the living room. I surrender the remote and go make myself useful in the kitchen, then decide to go to my room.
8–they start rummaging through all of the DVDs in the closet with such great noise I’m sure our closet neighbor heard…and they aren’t that close. I peek my head out to see how bed the mess is and there is a trail of DVDs from the hall closet, across the living room, to the other hall, up the stairs and to Henry’s room. I swung open the door and declared, the DVD-brick road needs to be cleaned up NOW.
8-1:10–kids are up and down, up and down, up and down the stairs. They have decided to watch their DVDs upstairs but keep coming downstairs for more cans of pop… I can’t say for sure, but I think they each had on average five cans. Note to self: you didn’t hide them well enough, Rose!
1:10–I have had enough and I hear someone rooting around in the pantry. I get out of bed and put a stop to it. “But Mom, Pooper’s STARVING,” says Eddie. Gritting my teeth, I tell them, “I’ll make a big breakfast in the morning. It’s after 1 am. It’s time to be sleeping. No more food and no more pop. Go to bed.” I followed them upstairs and told all four of them it was time for bed. Do you think they went to bed? NO!!! They giggled, stomped, talked loud, thundered up and down the stairs until 4 am. At which point I went in there and about lost it. They’d all written all over each others faces with colored Shapries. I was horrified to find that Henry had a strong similarity to Satan. Telling them all in as calm of a voice as possible that it was time for them to GET SOME SLEEP then I went back to bed as if that was actually going to happen.
4:30–I hear what can only be the front door. I bolt out of bed and swing my door open in time to realize Pooper has decided he’s had enough of me being bossy–he’s going home. Oh and Hooligan 2 is going with him and since he brought his TV, Playstation, and enough clothes to stay for a week my kids are going to help him carry his crap home. I said no. It’s dark out there. Nobody leaves until the sun is up. Fortunately they didn’t argue. But decided they wanted to go jump on the trampoline…with flashlights. I quickly found a movie for them to watch on Netflix, parked them on the sofa with popcorn and told them not to get their butts up until the sun was up.
5:55-ish, Eddie comes to knock on my door. Pooper called his mom and said he had her permission to walk home.
6:15–I walk out to find my boys and the one remaining Hooligan are passed out on the sofa.
9–kids wake up, Hooligan doesn’t like the cereal I have and decides to go home.
Sleepover OVER. And looking around at what could only be described as tornadic activity that has swept through my kitchen, dining room and living room there will NEVER be another sleepover again. My kids, however, don’t realize this because they’re already trying to plan another and I hate to say it, but that won’t be happening!
As I said, I know others have had it worse, so here’s my QUESTION: Please, oh, please, tell us all about your sleepover from hell. I really want to hear someone else’s experience. Misery loves company, you know.
Ever have a “Plan B” day? For whatever reason (weather, traffic, mood, kids misbehaving) your original plan for the day gets scrapped and you decide to do something else? That’s a Plan B day. (The something else, might or might not be better, no guarantees.)
I have these days quite frequently. In fact, some days it’s more like I’m on Plan Q by lunch. Anyway this past August, I was sans kids for a few days decided to take a little drive to Pawhuska, Oklahoma. I’m sure the majority of you will be wondering why in the world would I want to drive to a city with such a funny name and a percentage of you will know immediately: the Pioneer Woman has her mercantile and restaurant there. For those who have never heard of Ree Drummond, the Pioneer Woman and her claim to fame, you’re not alone. I wouldn’t know who she was if it wasn’t for my mom and some lady at my church being so obsessed with her and her dishes. She has (or had??) a cooking show where she prepares down-home, comfort cooking. She’s written several cookbooks and even has a line of dishes and kitchen accessories that you can find at most Wal-Mart stores–which I will admit, I do like her turquoise dishes. She lives on her husband’s family ranch near Pawhuska and in town she owns a general store and deli that has been devoted to showcasing her design line and recipes.
Pawhuska itself is a very small, quant town with those old brick buildings all throughout the streets of downtown. You can’t argue that driving around you feel transported back to a much simpler time until you turn the corner and see this massive line of people that (no kidding) is a block long all standing in line chatting with friends or texting on their smart phones. Apparently people come from ALL OVER THE COUNTRY to go there, not just those who live a few hours away. Not only could I not find a place to park, but when I finally did and walked the four blocks to the entrance and inquired as to how long the wait would be I was told at least three hours. Um, I am sure the restaurant is delicious and I DID drive two hours to get there, but I don’t want a sandwich or whatever else is on the menu (I never saw it) that bad.
So I started back to my car and when I saw a little boutique on my left, I formed a Plan B. Here I am in a town I’ve never been to and likely won’t visit again, it has a beautiful downtown with plenty of other stores and things to see and do. Let’s do this!
I am so glad I did. I didn’t find too much that needed to come home with me. In fact, I think I only bought one thing besides a jar of BBQ sauce that was locally made. Other than that, I just enjoyed looking around at their old buildings and neat old junk from yesteryear in some of their antique shops.
What I find that I couldn’t live without was this:
It’s a little hard to read but it says, “Happiness is like jam. You can’t spread even a little without getting some on yourself.”
I just love this because it’s so true. I don’t know how many times I have gone to do a task or volunteer to do something that I wasn’t super excited about at first, but after I started seeing how people responded and their happiness, I was just as happy and excited as they were. It’s contagious and in a world that seems so cruel and bleak at times, happiness is something we can all spare to “catch” or smear and get covered in!
I have a series of books to give away (either my westerns or my Banks Brothers’ Brides books–winner’s choice) for a random commenter either here on my blog or on my Facebook Page who comments to share either A. their favorite “Plan B” experience; B. what happiness is to them; or C. a picture of their favorite sign/saying/picture in their house.
I won’t lie: I’m weird. Not just me and my fantastic personality, no it goes even further than that. I have had some weird illnesses.
I’ve had fifth’s disease, courtesy of my kids. Shingles from stress. PUPPS (pruritic urticarial papules and plaques of pregnancy) when pregnant. Basically it’s your body being allergic to you being pregnant and you get a seriously nasty and unbelievably itchy rash that covers your belly. It’s also triggered by being a smaller woman and having your skin stretch at a quick rate (multiples can cause this, too). Statistically, 1/150 first time mothers will have some degree of this. Most times it’s just a little rash and goes way after a week or so. When mine was so bad I couldn’t hardly wear a shirt and lasted for the final seven weeks of my first pregnancy my oh-so-compassionate OB (sense the sarcasm???) told me, “Don’t worry. While it’s fairly common to have a small case of this for first-time moms, only about 1/10,000 women have it during their second pregnancy AND only 1/1,000,000 have this for both their first and second pregnancies.”
Well, guess what, I AM TRULY ONE IN A MILLION!
Yep, I got this little treat during my second pregnancy. Only it wasn’t for seven weeks, it was more than seven months! Almost my entire pregnancy. In fact, it was the biggest clue that I was pregnant.
So while I should never be surprised when I’m handed an odd diagnosis, when yesterday I’d finally dragged my aching, coughing, wheezing, near-death self into the doctor’s office I found myself at a loss for words when he said, “Ms. Gordon, I do declare you have walking pneumonia.”
“What?” I asked, silently adding the hell is that?
Turns out it’s another weird disease that’s kind of like pneumonia but isn’t quite as severe as your lungs aren’t full of fluid. Instead, the fluid seems to move around depending on your body’s position and you don’t seem to be getting better on your own. Truly, I don’t know exactly what he said, I was a little pre-occupied being immature and imagining a pair of fluid-oozing lungs walking up and down Main Street.
All I do know is, I have hacked up half a lung and my back is killing me. Oh and there are compassionate pharmacy techs at Wal-Mart! 🙂
Edited to add–I am only on day 2 of my antibiotic but already I feel like a new woman!!!
QUESTION: Have you ever received an unusual diagnosis?
[WARNING: you might want to skip this post if you have a weak stomach–or at least wait until you aren’t eating.]
I love summer sausage. Nay, not love. I LOVE summer sausage.
Summer sausage, however, doesn’t love me…
Around this time of year, my local Sam’s Club will sell have a display full of about 300 logs with a label: “Yard ‘o Beef” slapped on the front. I cannot force myself to walk past the display without my mouth watering and my fingers itching to grab just one…OK two.
And so it was in October I came home from Sam’s with six feet of beef (these things are about as thick as the business-end of a baseball bat). It was all I could do to wait until I got all of my groceries put away before sawing into one. Then, I did a few more chores and I cut off a few more thin slices. I sat down on the computer to do emails and check book sales–grabbed a few more slices for the task. Dinner time came, I wasn’t so hungry so I cooked for my boys and just snacked on another couple of slices. Played a game with my kids and spent an hour of us all doing some clean up. When they went to bed, I decided to watch an episode of Switched at Birth (I just discovered this show and it’s really good). Anyway, I was feeling hungry now so…you can guess where this went, I grabbed that blasted summer sausage log, a knife and cutting board and headed for the living room.
By the time I was ready to head for bed, I realized that in the course of the afternoon, I’d devoured approximately half of that log! Yep, that’s about 18″ of a slab of densely packed beef.
Gritting my teeth, I shoved it as far back in the refrigerator as I could so I wouldn’t have a repeat performance the next day.
I soon found out, that step was unnecessary when an hour later I was awakened with the most painful stomachache I’d ever experienced. Followed by a taste in my mouth so foul my nose and eyes watered. I rolled over to get more comfortable and the situation intensified. Immediately, I shot up. I need to get to the bathroom! It wasn’t a far walk, but alas, the trip was made for naught. Nothing was budging either way. In fact, it just made me sicker. I slunk back to my bed and crawled in, another round of the noxious gasses filling my mouth. Blech. I laid on my side and a HUGE air bubbled filled my stomach. Groaning, I rolled back onto my back and in all of my infinite wisdom, I tried to push my stomach for relief. Nothing.
Sweat started t0 dot my hairline and my stomach roiled and burned with pain as what felt like a ball of broken shards of glass started to move in my intestine. I thought I was going to die.
The ball of broken glass only moved about three inches, then stopped. I clenched my eyes closed tight and repressed a groan, then flipped onto my stomach. Pressure! I need to put some serious pressure under my stomach. Let’s force this ball through! No such luck. Never in my life have I ever wanted to have gas, but at that moment, I’d definitely welcome it.
Gas! Perfect. Clutching my stomach and trying to blow out the nasty taste in my mouth as quickly as I could, I hobbled to the bathroom to see if I have any sort of GasX or PeptoBismol. No and no. Another eruption of nasty taste accompanied by bile surged up my throat and into my mouth. Instinctively, I clenched my belly and just knew 18″ of summer sausage was about to reappear. Nope. Not that fortunate. Nothing.
I glanced at he clock. It was barely past midnight which meant the Podunk dollar store about 1/2 a mile from me wouldn’t be open and my conscience wouldn’t let me drive to town to get the relief I sought while my kids slept. It was almost bad enough to consider waking them. Almost. Thoughts of having to hobble around Walmart at dark-thirty while clenching my stomach and groaning in pain kept me from going. What if someone thought I was on drugs and called the police on me?!
Another rush of pain shook my body and I flung my writhing, hot self up into the bed, waiting to die because surely this would be my last night on earth.
Obviously it wasn’t, but it went by slower than a UPS delivery when you know something’s coming. With each tick of the clock, I could almost hear “sausage, sausage, sausage, sausage, sausage”.
When morning finally came, I felt no better than I had hours earlier and had to take three breaks on my way up the stairs to wake up the boys. (A good old fashioned wake up call might have been a better idea.)
When at last I got them downstairs, fed, clothed and out the door to the bus stop, I flopped like a worm out to the car, climbed in my car and floored it to the dollar store.
“Pepto,” I croaked to the clerk when I walked in.
She blinked at me. “Pardon?”
“My stomach is about to explode,” I said through gritted teeth. “I need PeptoBismol.”
I can’t be sure, but I swear that clerk started giggling. I just followed her outstretched finger and with one hand groping along the racks to help keep me upright, I padded over to the far back corner of the store. Of course. I finally reached the back. My eyes raced across the rows of antacids, gas relief, laxatives. No Pepto or Mylanta. My eyes blurred with tears. No, this cannot be. It MUST be here. I looked again, this time using my finger to help my eyes stay on track. Finally, at the very bottom all by itself was one lonely, pink bottle. Grunting like a madwoman, I leaned so far forward I feared I might fall face first into the display (scarcely concerned about the laws of nature and that it would be this very minute that the glass bubble decided to exit–but secretly hoping it would just to relieve the pressure. Who cares if I’d be too embarrassed to ever shop there again. Relief was NEEDED.).
Making my way to the checkout, I noticed what I had in my hand was some cheap imitation. I didn’t care. it was pink and it was by the stomach relief items. That as good enough for me. I started pulling off the plastic that surrounded the cap and shoved it in my pocket. I got up to unoccupied counter and plunked my bottle on the belt. With a groan, I rang the bell, then twisted the cap off and in a move that would make my germaphobe mom shudder in disgust, I took the biggest key on my keyring and stabbed it through the foil seal on the bottle of knock-off Pepto. Vaguely aware that the cashier was now at the register and ready to scan my bottle of summer sausage antidote, I chugged about a third of that bottle.
Wiping the back of my hand across what I’m sure was a pink mustache dotting my upper lip in the most undignified way, I reached into my pocket and paid the lady, then muttered an apology, grabbed my bottle of serum and grunted back to the car.
Ten minutes later…
Everything was fine and I was contemplating breakfast (just no summer sausage).
And now, I have been cured. Just Sunday I was at Sam’s and walked past the display without having even a twinge of an urge to take one home. No, thank you!
QUESTION: What could you eat (or have already eaten) so much of you could make yourself sick? If you have overindulged, did it cure your hankering? Come on, let’s hear those stories!
For those of you who don’t know (or remember me :-p ) my name is Rose Gordon and once upon a time I wrote historical romance–mostly Regency-era.
Here’s a few visuals…
And when I wasn’t slaving away to write about unsuspecting fellows and their over-scandalous counterparts, I was on here blogging about nonsense like…
(The time I fell through the attic on Thanksgiving.)
(Crazy stuff I’ve found–and maybe bought…–at the fair or craft mall.)
I also shared on here about my failed attempts at crafts:
Held crazy votes:
Or shared stories about my kids:
(100 “signed by author” stickers, plus autograph for 100th day of school; and my kids fighting over a stuffed enema…)
So many of you supported me when I raised $10,000 for MS and looked like an idiot while doing it!
Let me share some seriously scandalous “swag” I’ve picked up at different conventions:
I had so much fun writing over 600 blog posts whether they were stories about the craziness in which I live, a man’s POV of my books, hosting contests and so much more. I have missed out on so much by not posting very consistently for the past three years. A fact I wish I could change–but some things aren’t things you post. Or at least not things *I* could ever post.
Many don’t know that about 3.5 years ago my world tilted on its axis when the happily-ever-after I believed I was living fell apart. I have gone through fire after fire since and in my own opinion, I think I’ve emerged a much different, and perhaps stronger person.
Am I ready to write romance novels again? No. Maybe one day, but not today.
Am I ready to start blogging about the craziness that I now face with boys who are 10 and 12 and have entered into their first year in public school? Oh, absolutely. (Funny sidetrack: on Halloween my kids left for the school bus 10 minutes earlier than they needed to. Why? Because they could and I was in the shower and couldn’t tell them, “Oh, hell no.” When I got out of the shower, I noticed I had received about 5 texts from my kids. “Mom, we’ve been down here for 5 minutes and haven’t seen a single bus. I don’t think they’re having school today. You know, Halloween is a holiday.” Oh, my poor kids who’ve always been in a church school or heaven help me homeschooled for an overwhelming year. I wrote back: “Wait for the bus. You left 10 minutes early. The bus doesn’t even get there until 7:40 and you usually leave at 7:30. Writing me at 7:25 to tell me you haven’t seen the bus and you think there’s no school in observance of Halloween will be posted to Facebook if you two argue when you get home tonight. 😀 Love ya!”)
So, if you’re up to following my blog to follow more about me and my shenanigans, my crazy parenting, unusual finds, ridiculous signs, craft fails, wild tales and other craziness where truth is stranger than fiction, than please stay tuned and subscribed. (After all, it IS called Rose Unscripted.)
If you followed my blog as a means to keep up with my writing progress and being informed of new books only, I will by no means be disappointed if you’d like to unsubscribe.
Again, I want to thank you all. Whether you’ve been a follower since I started blogging in Feb. 2011 or have subscribed recently, it doesn’t matter, I just appreciate that you’ve enjoyed my work enough to sign up!
Election Day is tomorrow! Escape the chaos and vote for your favorite Rose Gordon Hero–
Online of course, not really on your ballot.
So in the spirit of “I cannot handle anymore political turmoil and arguing”, I will be hosting my own list of measures to vote on up on Facebook tomorrow. I am not holding a totally fair vote because I don’t plan to post all the questions here tonight–you’ll have to visit my Facebook Page to vote on all the measures. (And of course there will be plenty of prizes to go around.)
The big question, however, is…Who at the end of the night will be crowned the most beloved Rose Gordon. This hero will get special privileges (don’t they all already??) for the next four years and of course be crowned the King of Rose Gordon’s Heroes at the end of the night.
Now of course with so many candidates, it’s only right to hold a small debate so without further ado, I have brought them all here to give a short speech about why THEY deserve such an honor…
[I should warn you that much like the other debates we’ve all witnessed this year, most of the candidates do NOT stay on topic and interrupt each other often…Be warned.]
Gentlemen, in three sentences, or less, could you please tell us why YOU should hold the coveted spot of Most Beloved Rose Gordon Hero for the next four years. We shall go in order of appearance, Andrew Black, Earl of Townson, we shall begin with you.
BENJAMIN COLLINS, DUKE OF GATEWAY: Pardon me, Rose, but actually I appeared before Townson. *grins wildly and folds his arms across his puffed out chest* And in his own book no less…
That will be enough of that.
ANDREW: Yes, we all remember that profound moment, you made the book start with a bang…or should I say a slap heard around the world?
Enough! You two are starting to remind me of real life too much and I do wield the power to remove you both from the running. Now, we shall begin—in the order of heroes. Andrew, you’re your first.
ANDREW—HERO FROM INTENTIONS OF THE EARL: As Rose’s first hero, I should think the honor belongs to me. Not only as the first am I the one she obviously used up her best traits and dialogue with, but I am also the one whose book has been read most, therefore I am most well known.
shoots a sharp look at Gateway
GATEWAY: *throws hands up into the air* I’m entitled to my own opinion on that. His book might have been downloaded more, but have you seen those reviews?
No and I don’t care to. Paul, your turn.
PAUL—HERO FROM LIBERTY FOR PAUL: I was saddled with Liberty, need I say more?
*sighs* If you didn’t fall madly in love with her by the end, I’d say the honor is yours by default, but…
PAUL: *grins* All right, I think I should be the favorite because A. I got Liberty to stop reading—and quoting—books on propriety; B. I also beat her at her own game; and C. I had my clothes stolen while in the tub, D. beans—that were supposed to be my head—stabbed to an oblivion AND E. am ninety percent sure that my mother-in-law glimpsed me naked. Franky, I’m a damn shoo-in.
Ahem, well, I’m not sure what to say to that. Next?
GATEWAY—HERO FROM TO WIN HIS WAYWARD WIFE: No, Paul, I’m the shoo-in. I’ve been Rose’s most loved hero from the start.
ANDREW: Yes, I recall everyone rooting for you all during my romance with Brooke. NOT!
GATEWAY: As I said, I’ve always been the favorite. Have any of you ever peeked in Rose’s inbox? No? It’s me the young girls write about and tell tales of their swooning and say if Arid Alex over there could fashion a time machine, they’d travel–
SIR WALLACE BENEDICT: I believe you’ve spoken more than three sentences.
*all eyes swing to Wallace who is adjusting his cravat*
GATEWAY: Sorry, chap, I was trying to stop at a prime number.
And I have a feeling you aren’t done yet… Nonetheless, you are for now. Alex?
ALEX BANKS—HERO FROM HER SUDDEN GROOM: If I was playing the pity card like Paul, I’d remind everyone I have the nickname of Arid Alex and was once betrothed to Lady Olivia. *shudders* However, I shall instead remind you all of my intellectual pursuits of a regular subscription to Prominent and Avant-Garde Horticulture, being an avid student of chess, having been entrusted to be the guardian of several young ladies…and as Gateway so nicely pointed out, if anyone was capable of creating a time machine, I’m your hero. Therefore, most beloved hero…again, I’m your hero.
GATEWAY: Are we supposed to applaud now?
ANDREW:I don’t know, but his speech is more worthy of applause than yours.
I won’t warn you two again. One more outburst and you’ll be excused from the room.
GATEWAY: Are you threatening voter fraud?
No! You’ll still be in the running, I can’t delete you from the ballot at this late date, but I will banish you from the room so you won’t be able to have another word. Now, let’s hear from Marcus.
MARCUS, LORD SINCLAIR—HERO FROM HER RELUCTANT GROOM: Hands down, I think everyone would agree I am the most honorable of all of your heroes. Even the ones who are given such an honor in their book title— *casts his grey eyes to where Sebastian, Giles and Simon, the three heroes from the Gentlemen of Honor Series, are seated* —I had a lovely young woman staying in my house unchaperoned for quite a while and not a whisper of scandal befell either of us. Nor was she in any way unmarriagable when she left.
PATRICK—HERO FROM HER SECONDHAND GROOM: *snorts* Sir Wallace might disagree with that. She wasn’t very interested in marrying him after you’d given her a lesson in male anatomy and base desires courtesy of a little book in your library.
MARCUS: I’d say all four of our wives— *gestures to Alex, Patrick, Sir Wallace and himself* —benefited in some way from Lady Bird’s Ladybird Memoir.
SIR WALLACE: *clearing his throat, and whispering* I can’t complain too much about that book, Patrick.
MARCUS: *stretches legs out in front of himself, crosses ankles* See? Emma’s gift to Edwina was the perfect apology.
ALEX: Your wife gave that…that…filth to my sister?!
GATEWAY: *cackles* Sir Wallace, you rascal! *lets out a low whistle and shakes his head* I suppose it’s true what they say, it’s always the quiet ones who are the biggest scoundrels. *stands and claps Sir Wallace on the shoulder* Since Rose is gesturing for me to get my arse out, I will go, but Sir Wallace, I’d be honored if you’d take my seat over in the Scandalous Series section. I do believe you having a naughty book has entitled you to a seat with the other debauchers. *bows* I shall take my leave now, I had no idea I was in such depraved company.
ALEX: *Scrubs hands over his face.* The image that is now in my head isn’t going away.
MARCUS: You’ll get over it. I do recall spotting a copy of it in your library. Need I remind you that you are married to my cousin?
ALEX: Point taken. Patrick, I think it’s your turn.
PATRICK “DRAKE”, LORD DRAKELY—HERO FROM HER SECONDHAND GROOM: I willingly admit that I made a few mistakes with Juliet, my heroine, but I’d like to think I redeemed myself during our trip to London. Also, if it weren’t for me, poor Simon over there would have never had his happily-ever-after. So in a way, I’m a HERO FROM two books.
ANDREW to ALEX: I think he’s been spending too much with Gateway, he’s getting a swell head.
ALEX back to ANDREW: That or with his wife and now he thinks he’s as good of a matchmaker as all those of her sex think they are.
PATRICK: I hate to tell you two weasels this, but Brooke and Caroline both think they’re some sort of skilled matchmakers, too.
All right, fellas, let’s stay on course. Sir Wallace?
SIR WALLACE BENEDICT—HERO FROM HER IMPERFECT GROOM: 1. Contrary to my book title, I am undeniably a perfectionist. 2. Unlike some of the others in this room, when scandal knocked on my door, I was ready to do the right thing. 3. Despite my love for being impeccably dressed and as proper as a straight pin as Rose put it, when love was on the line, I put my own wants aside and chased her down at all costs.
ALEX: Chased her down? No you scaled the side of my house and broke into her room.
SEBASTIAN—HERO FROM SECRETS OF A VISCOUNT: There is nothing wrong with that.
ALEX: There is when she didn’t invite him to do so.
SEBASTIAN: *face flushing, shrugs* Again, I don’t find anything wrong with it if he gets the girl in the end.
SIR WALLACE: I did. *pushes chest out* And an enlightening little treatise to boot.
Let’s move on to the heroes of the Brides Series. Edward?
EDWARD BANKS, LORD WATSON—HERO FROM HER CONTRACT BRIDE-: Oh? I get to enter the running, do I? I wasn’t sure if I’d get that honor since I’m the only one Rose killed off! I think that means I should forever be memorialized as the most beloved. Oh, is that too morbid? All right, I think ultimately I should be the most beloved hero because I’m the one responsible for building the stargazing gazebo that brought about at least two happily-ever-afters. If it weren’t for me being friends with the late Lord Sinclair, Alex wouldn’t have met Caroline—
ALEX: Or have been engaged to Lady Olivia.
EDWARD: Yes, as I mentioned before, I was lost in celebration that night. Believe me, there was a lot of celebrating. Joseph was finally free from having to visit Bea’s bed and the wine just kept flowing… *waves a hand through the air* Not to mention, I fixed things between Alex and Caro by reminding her that he’s a man. If it weren’t for me and Regina, Alex, Elijah, Henry and Edwina wouldn’t be here and I would have never been born and John wouldn’t have gone to America to meet his wife. And…finally, if it weren’t for me, Andrew wouldn’t have inherited such a beautiful painting.
ANDREW: Thank you. I’m still cherishing it.
JOHN BANKS—HERO FROM HIS YANKEE BRIDE: All right, Edward, we get that you’re making up for lost time of not getting any scenes in three of your four children’s books, but enough is enough. Besides, I know the true identity of that “artist”. Not to mention, you allowed your heroine to sink the Gallant…
EDWARD: She looked so fetching as the boat went down, I’d have allowed her to sink a whole armada had I had one.
All right, gentlemen, we have a lot more to hear from–
EDWARD: No we don’t, I’m the most beloved. *grins* They need not even speak.
JOHN: Now who has been spending too much time with Gateway?
John, it’s you’re turn.
JOHN: As hero to Carolina I have faithfully done my duty and played countless games of charades. I stood up to her beastly parents and rescued her closest confidant. I endured being sewn into a bundling bag, being watched shamelessly on while bathing in the pond, had to bear witness to a dirty, old merkin lying in the street while eloping, and in the end, swept my girl away from her parent’s evil clutches and eventually brought her and my three daughters to London where all of Rose’s stories began.
EDWARD: You’re rather smug, aren’t you, Trouble?
JOHN: *shrugs* The boot fits.
All right you two, nearly two hundred and fifty years later and you two are squabbling like little boys.
EDWARD: We’re brother’s, that’s what we’re supposed to do.
And now, for another set of Banks Brothers—Elijah?
ELIJAH BANKS—HERO FROM HIS JILTED BRIDE: *squares shoulders and slowly looks around the room* Fellas, you can all go home. This victory is mine. You all might think you rescued your heroines, but I—*points at chest*–I did. I not only saved her from being married to a scheming, lying, reprobate who likely would have done unmentionable things to her person, but I did it by shimmying her through a church window in her wedding gown, no less. *chuckles* And no more, either.
HENRY BANKS—ELIJAH’S TWIN AND HERO FROM HIS BROTHER’S BRIDE: What Elijah neglected to mention was said man hadn’t even shown up yet. So how exactly he spared her such a life… *shakes head* Can anyone truly be certain?
ELIJAH: Right you are, Henry. I was also rescuing her from the humiliation of being jilted. I thought that was implied by the title. And just because he hadn’t shown up yet that day, didn’t mean he didn’t still have plans for her.
HENRY: That’s true, however, had you not married her and just brought her to safety, you’d have been able to fulfill an earlier promise you’d made.
ELIJAH: Oh, you mean I’d have married Laura—YOUR wife? *cocks head to the side* If what I spied in the garden is any indication, I think you ought to be thanking me.
ELIJAH: My thanks?
HENRY: *stares at him* I’ll refrain from singing carols at Michaelmas this year.
ELIJAH: That’s even better.
Throws hand up. Henry, it’s your turn.
HENRY: *rubs chin* As I just mentioned I did marry the young lady Elijah had promised marriage to. And I don’t regret it. I did first try to find her another suitable husband because what else can you do when a woman you barely knows shows up on your front door stoop and demands marriage? If rescuing heroines is the key to winning, I should say that I rescued mine from herself when she was spitting out phrases in French that she didn’t know the meaning of. And finally, I do believe, I exercised perfect self-control in the carriage while taking my—not my brother’s *scowls*—bride to Scotland.
ELIJAH: And on the way back?
HENRY: Is none of your damn business.
EDWARD: That’s my boy.
JOHN: Only you would be proud.
EDWARD: Had your wife produced a boy, you’d understand. As it is your girls—
JOHN: Are the most scandalous sisters to ever step foot in London, yes, I know.
EDWARD: I was going ot say saints, but your definition works, too.
All right, we need to–
GATEWAY: *pokes his head in the room* Are you hens still clucking? You all know I won this competition before it even started.
ANDREW: Only if you’ve been out there rigging the votes… *arches eyebrow*
MARCUS: Besides, I think you’d do well to spend a little more time around Alex and allow him to explain to you the difference between hens and roosters.
GATEWAY: I can borrow Sir Wallace’s naughty book for that, I’m sure.
Gateway, come join us again. Apparently, without you making inane and unsolicited comments everyone else feels they need to.
GATEWAY–*lumbers in and falls into a vacant chair* Ah, to be the scapegoat.
Now, let’s switch gears and hear from our American heroes—Wes, are you ready?
CAPTAIN WES TUCKER—HERO FROM THE OFFICER AND THE BOSTONER: About as ready as I was for a spirited and slightly angry young lady to come parading into my life, throwing rocks and making impossible demands.
2ND LIEUTENANT JACK—HERO FROM THE OFFICER AND THE SOUTHERNER: Sounds to me like you’re complaining.
CAPTAIN GRAY—HERO FROM THE OFFICER AND THE TRAVELER: Which you certainly weren’t doing when she came. I do believe you went around whistling a merry little tune as you packed your things and strutted up to your new bedchamber in the married officers wing of the barracks.
WES: Indeed I was. But keep in mind, I managed to keep Allison safe from harm of the other men and from herself with a sewing needle. I used her excellent throw to all of our advantage and taught her how to swing a bat—she can now best even the best in rounders.
JACK: Yes, that all sounds so exciting, lest we forget your book isn’t a shoot’em up.
GRAY: No, that was saved for your book. Would you care to share with everyone just exactly what went on at the shooting range that day?
JACK: That was a private moment between Ella and me.
*laughter from around the room.*
EDWARD: Good for you, young man.
Jack, why should you be most beloved hero?
JACK: I certainly went through some of the worst—sent off for a mail-order bride and received a young lady who was angry with me from the start. *face reddens* For which I do take full responsibility. Nearly lost my heroine to a spider. Had to ride a horse with a man who wore little more than an eyepatch over his…unmentionables, sat in the tent of a naked and half-crazed medicine man—and that was only the first half of my tale. As Gray mentioned, I taught my girl how to shoot…*face turns crimson and coughing ensues* and gave her another sort of education as well.
GRAY: *voice dripping with sarcasm* And now, I’ll never be able to shoot at the range again without that thought. Thank you.
JACK: *grins* You’re welcome.
GATEWAY: Would you like me to ruin a few places in England for you?
GATEWAY: *chuckles* Pray continue.
Gray, you’re turn.
GRAY: I do believe I am the most beloved. I had a rekindled romance with a woman I was once forbidden to talk to and because I kissed her–
JACK: Should you remind everyone why you were kissing her?
GRAY: *ignoring Jack, continues*–we were married and I inherited a dragon for a father-in-law.
JACK: *snorts* I have the same father-in-law!
WES: Yes, and thanks to the two of you, he’s now the general at our fort.
JACK: It’s not my fault. I didn’t know Ella’s father was a grumpy old general when I started writing to her. Hell, even Gray didn’t recognize Ella when she first came.
GRAY: And if I had, would you have sent her back?
JACK: Well, no.
GRAY: Then it seems you should stop your complaining about the old dragon.
WES: And you should, too. You both chose to be connected to him. I did not.
GRAY: As I said, if Jack had known any more about Ella’s identity it could have been avoided.
WES: Yes, but then you wouldn’t have had your wife.
GRAY: No, I wouldn’t have–*eyes crinkle and a broad grin takes his lips* and dealing with her cantankerous father is a small price to pay to have her.
Gray, is that all you have to say?
GRAY: No, I have plenty to say if these two would shut up for two minutes. I married a woman who had no reservations in her dislike for me. As has been mentioned, her father didn’t like me either. But even so, she managed to win me over and I daresay, I won both of them over, too.
JACK: That’s the best you could come up with?
GRAY: Yep, I’m Michaela’s all-time favorite hero. I don’t need to be anyone else’s.
*silence fills the room…until broken by none other than GATEWAY* Ah, spoken like a men letting his privates doing the thinking for him—and not the hundred men you command.
GRAY: *shrugs* Her opinion is the only one I value.
That’s very sweet, so then should we stop this competition now and let you all get back to your respective heroines?
SEBASTIAN GENTRY, LORD BELGRAVE—HERO FROM SECRETS OF A VISCOUNT: Hell no. I did not break into the wrong sister’s bedroom and hie my worst nightmare off to Scotland, marry her, lie to her, diligently try to find her another husband while secretly longing for her and praying she wouldn’t wind up with Stoic Simon just to give up now. I love Belle more than life itself, but by golly, I’m the most beloved hero—I’ve even won an award.
Your book isn’t the only one to be nominated for an award, Sebastian, (gracious this man needs to be taken down a peg), Patrick, Edward and John have been finalists, too.
SEBASTIAN: Ah, but they all came in second. I won. And a reader’s choice, nomination style entry no less.
EDWARD: Not true. I won some something or other once, too.
SEBASTIAN: Nobody seems to remember that. Not even the contest officials when it was time to publicly reveal the winners. But me? Oh, they made up this huge poster of my book. The thing was so big, Rose couldn’t get it back home from the conference. A local friend—and saint—kept it at her house for almost two and a half years until a mutual friend happened to be driving across the US and brought it to Rose. See, it’s right here!
GATEWAY: I think I’ve found my match for most conceited.
SEBASTIAN: Exactly, the Gateway Era is over and the Sebastian Era has begun.
SIMON APPLETON—HERO FROM PASSIONS OF A GENTLEMAN: I still can’t believe Isabelle chose this for herself.
HENRY: Ha, if awards were given out for which hero made Rose bang her head against the desk most while writing their book, Elijah would win handidly.
SEBASTIAN: And Simon would win for most re-starts.
JACK: Gray would be a close second for that one.
Hey now! Stop airing MY dirty laundry. Giles, are you ready?
GILES GODDARD—HERO FROM DESIRES OF A BARON: I don’t need this award. I married Lucy a woman who loves me no matter what I say and do. With Lucy came Seth. The boy asks me uncomfortable questions about the origins of babies, when unsightly hair will appear, and now calls me Papa. I already have my reward.
SIMON: And don’t forget a brother.
GILES: How could I? You’re the reason I was questioned about the appearance of body hair.
SIMON: And the reason you met Lucy.
GILES: Yes, it was because of you we met, but you certainly didn’t have any intentions of backing down.
SIMON: I’d met her first.
GILES: And it was obvious that she didn’t return your interest. At least it was obvious when I read the book—living it was a different matter.
All right—again, more bickering brothers! Simon, you’ll have your turn in a bit–
SIMON: Of course I will. I already had to wait two years to get my book, why not wait longer to have my turn to speak.
In order of heroes, I think Gareth is next.
GARETH, LORD WORTHE—HERO FROM THE PERFECT LADY WORTHE: As many of the others have said, I already feel like I’ve won because I was blessed to have such a wonderful heroine to spend the rest of this life with. But…since Rose is twisting our arms for these speeches, I will say that I am indeed gentlemanly and clever. I was the HERO FROM her first novella who apparently knows exactly how much is in my bank account and takes abbreviated naps throughout the day. Not to mention, I married my best friend’s younger sister against his wishes, that’s pretty damn brazen and heroic, if you ask me.
GATEWAY: Twisted your arm? Hmmph.
Aaron, your turn.
AARON LENTZ, HERO FROM MISTLETOE & MICHAELMAS: I had to endure a Christmastide stay with the straightforward Duke of Danby. The man is so obsessed with matchmaking, I went to his house as part of my duty as a vicar and less than a fortnight later I was in need of one myself. Also, for the record, it should be mentioned, my name wasn’t always Aaron. I was given that name the afternoon the book was submitted because another story in the anthology had a hero with the same name. How is that for enduring?
JOHN: I wondered how you ended up with what was originally my name.
I confess, I confess! Aaron is telling the truth. His name was different when I wrote the book and I had to change it. John is also correct—his name originally was Aaron. But when I was typing Aaron, my fingers were moving so fast I’d capitalize both As. Plus, Intentions of the Earl didn’t need anyone else with an “A” name. Now, let’s move onto our next hero: Joel.
JOEL CUNNINGHAM—HERO FROM JESSE: BRIDE OF SOUTH CAROLINA: What can I say? I was commissioned to bring the girl I’d once loved more than life itself one hundred miles in my wagon to a train depot so she could go off to the wilds of Montana and marry Mr. Perfect—which couldn’t have been too perfect or he wouldn’t have submitted an ad for a mail-order bride. I kept my hands to myself—most of the time, my trousers buttoned up—a blasted hard thing to do at times and reined in my sarcasm–
No you did not!
JOEL: And no you did not have this book done by Oct. 26, 2015 like you were supposed and yet you still told everyone you had. If I remember right you were only 1,000 words in.
What has that to do with anything?
JOEL: Nothing, other than I was the perfect hero to write about. If I hadn’t been so easy to write about you wouldn’t have gotten this book done in under a week.
GATEWAY: Dang! Here I thought my book was the fastest at ten days.
JOEL: No, mine took less time but after meeting you today, I see why yours took so long. You’re a fountain of fodder.
GATEWAY: Thank you. I enjoy being complimented.
JOEL: Yes, and so does my wife. Who, I’ll have you all know I managed to win over on that trip despite fear of her father catching us, being robbed, having to sleep outside, meeting a deranged man who loves his junk more than Andrew and Gateway hate each other and more sarcastic remarks than have been shared here today.
You are correct, Joel. On all scores. James?
JAMES NORTH, EARL OF WYNN—HERO FROM THE WOOING GAME: I daresay this award is in the bag for me. Charlotte and I had a nasty first start. Blooming humiliating all the way around if I dare say. However, I managed to win her—even woo her—and all by sending her anonymous letters of admiration, a feat not even the notorious Banks men—or heroes of the Banks women–could pull off.
GARETH: The first missive you sent her, wasn’t so anonymous….or charming.
JAMES: Shhh! I made a mistake. You’ve made one I’m sure.
SIMON: Is it my turn yet? Have I waited long enough?
Yes, Simon, you can go now.
SEBASTIAN: I don’t know why you’re bothering to, I’m sure everyone has already decided.
GATEWAY: Yes, they only needed to hear the first three.
ANDREW: Nope. Just the first one.
SIMON: Well, aren’t you both rather cocksure? Haven’t you ever heard of “saving the best for last”? My book was “in the works” for two blasted YEARS. Rose received emails inquiring when it was coming out. People asking why they couldn’t find it. She even received a very nasty email about tying her to a chair and making her write it. I daresay, if the emails are to be believed, I would consider this contest already over. Name me the winner and hand me my crown.
SEBASTIAN: Just because they asked about you and demanded she write your book doesn’t mean they liked it. Heck, if sales reports are any indication, I’d honestly say your book is the least read book Rose has written!
SIMON: That’s because everyone read your book and hated you so much they didn’t want to risk reading the others in the series for fear of encountering you again.
SEBASTIAN: Again, may I point your direction to Exhibit A?
All righty then, I think we’re done.
GATEWAY: No closing remarks?
No, you’ve all said more than enough already. All right ladies, you’ve heard what they have to say and tomorrow—on National Election Day—you can cast your vote for your favorite Rose Gordon Hero on Facebook. Please read over this as many times as you feel are necessary and share with your friends who might like to vote.
From just outside the window of my living room where everyone had gathered…GABRIEL ELLIS—FUTURE HERO FROM HIS PENNILESS BRIDE: Damn. She’s been receiving emails about the whereabouts of my story for four years—that’s before more than half of these fellas were heroes—I now have another four years to get my story, read all of their books to dig up the most gossip and I’ll be an easy win next go-around.
Ah, Gabriel, you forget…since your story hasn’t yet been written, you could be the most scandalous of them all!
GABRIEL: Marjorie! Let’s run away. Now!
This originally posted March 2011–and is “set” before the book, Liberty for Paul.
Good afternoon, Paul. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me (like you had a choice).
No problem. It’s my pleasure and…er…duty.
Oh, stop that scowling. Just saying the word duty isn’t going to lead to talks of propriety. At least not from me.
Good. Tell us, how would you describe yourself?
Yes, and your personality traits if you will.
Hmm, well, I’m slightly above average height, I have green eyes, blondish hair, wear spectacles. I don’t know what else you want me to say.
Do you have any distinguishing marks or scars on your body?
(Coughs) Yes…er…a scar. Next.
By the way you’re blushing, Mr. Grimes, I daresay you have something to hide.
No, nothing to hide.
So you do have something. interesting. And where, pray tell, is it?
That information is unnecessary. Next question, please.
Fine. I’ll let the matter drop. For now.
You’re welcome. All right, what are your feelings about Liberty Banks?
(No immediate answer)
Sir, unclamp your jaw, please and answer the question.
Liberty and I have an unusual relationship.
That’s an understatement. Now, would you be so kind as to explain your relationship with Miss Banks?
It’s a love-hate relationship really. See, we both love to hate each other. Kind of. Well, actually no. It’s more like she has a passionate hatred that seems to consume her soul toward me and I just merely find her annoying. Unfortunately, her undisputable hatred for me has led to several…shall we say, uncomfortable moments for me.
Where to start… Let’s see, she’s openly called me a coward and questioned my manhood, she’s “inadvertently” elbowed me in the groin and she’s hurled a book at my head that knocked me unconscious and left a bump the size of an egg on my forehead for a week.
Hmm, that doesn’t sound very endearing.
No. It doesn’t.
So is it safe to say you wouldn’t enjoy being married to her?
Now, that, Ms. Gordon is an understatement. I have no desire to be in a room with her, let alone married to her.
All right, calm down. We won’t speak of her anymore. Let’s talk instead about you.
What would you like to know?
Who is Lucy Whitaker to you?
I didn’t see that one coming. She’s a woman I once admired.
All right. I proposed to her. But it was a long time ago and I don’t wish to discus her, her son, her wretched aunt or anything that has to do with that family.
Understood. Let’s talk about your relationship with John Banks. How exactly did you and Liberty’s father become acquainted?
He agreed to act as my mentor last spring when I approached him about a sticky situation that was going on in my church.
A sticky situation, you say? Care to divulge?
Mr. Grimes, I’d have never thought you’d be so difficult to interview. You’ve a mark upon your person you don’t wish to discuss, a former love interest you’re not inclined to talk about and now you hint at secrets you will not share. You seem to be far more interesting than the bore we met in Intentions of the Earl. Do you have anything further to say for yourself?
No. I don’t think so. Oh, wait. Something about the way you’re looking at me just now makes me think I’m going to marry, fall in love with and share all my secrets–including my scar, former proposal, and unpleasant church situation–with that hoyden Liberty Banks.
You’re a smart man, Mr. Grimes. All those things and so much more will be happening to you very soon!
Last night I had to use a public restroom. The germaphobe inside of me screams and throws a fit whenever I enter one, but sometimes you do what you gotta do…
As I entered the stall, my eyes caught on something shiny on the floor: a quarter. Cringing at the very thought of picking it up, I went about my business and soon realized, there were more coins on the floor.
I counted them up: one quarter, two dimes and a nickel; 50cents.
Hmmm, 50 cents. Do I take it or leave it?
Mentally, I weighed the pros and cons:
PRO–50 cents is 50cents, I don’t care how you get it. It all spends.
CON–It’s only 50 cents, is that worth touching money that’s been on the bathroom floor?
It was at this moment that I realize that if I don’t pick it up, someone else will. Thats just the facts of life. Someone will pick this up–and use it. Which further made me wonder how much of the change that was currently in my pocket had ever been on the floor of a public restroom–or worse.
I’ll let your minds decide the fate of that particular 50 cents (if it went home with me or someone else) and I’ll pose a question to all of you:
Would YOU have picked it up? It is money and it all spends and chances are you’ve unknowingly touched some with a sketchy past…
Or would you have left it alone?
If you’d have left it alone, how many coins would need to be there minimum to tempt you to pick it up?
(Okay, I wrote this very early this morning and my mind went in all sorts of wrong directions! LOL)
A few weeks ago I posted some links to some rather funny, albeit satirical, commercials for Quilted Northern. Today, Ragu!
A mother’s spit–the old school Magic Eraser for faces:
No parent would try to secretly replace a deceased pet, would they?
And finally, my personal favorite:
Hope you all enjoyed those as much as I did. Now that I’ve had my comic relief I’m headed back to the sofa to chronicle more of Simon and Henrietta’s antics.