The New England Crime Bake - Mystery Conference Par Excellence

This post is a plug for the New England Crimebake, a mystery conference for writers and readers--anyone interesting in the crime-writing genre which includes not just mysteries, suspense and thrillers, but true crime writing, screen writing, well, you name it.

Up front, I have to confess I have been on this committee for eight years now, and was one of the founding members, so this is a writing event near and dear to my heart. We have folks from as far away as California and Florida, so this is by not a conference for locals but for everyone.

In addition to Harlan Coben as Guest of Honor, we have Brunonia Barry (The Lace Reader) who has created a huge buzz with her Salem set novel of mystery and history, which I am eager to read. According to yesterday's Globe, the novel was self-published until William Morrow acquired it for big bucks. Gives hope to all the self-pub grubbing along in their get-no-respect ruts.

Below is a list of reasons why you might want to attend the Crimebake which takes place in Dedham, MA, a short convenient hop from Boston on November 14-16th. The Dedham Hilton is a great venue for a conference and the room rates are fab. I know, having just reserved a room for a road trip.

Back to the Crimebake. One of Harlan Coben's thrillers, Tell No One, is now a first run movie set in France. I read the novel and it was great, with twists and turns that kept the reader engrossed. I've seen Harlan in action as a panelist and he's an entertainer as well as a respected writer.

Here are some reasons, in reverse order, why you might want to schlepp yourself to Massachusetts in mid-November for this truly cool event.

After arriving at the Dedham Hilton, feast on pizza and conversation at the FREE pizza party where you can meet and greet mystery readers, writers, agents and editors. Rub your elbows raw!

Following the FREE pizza party, you get to choose to attend one of two fabulous and FREE Friday night workshops: Practicing Your Pitch with Lynne Heitman, a huge hit at previous Crime Bake conferences or Creating Your Wave with publicist Susan Schwartzman about how to effectively market your mystery in today’s tough market. Schmooze and booze afterwards in the bar.

Yes, another FREEBIE! Crime Bake conference attendees are entitled to sign up for a FREE 5-minute one-on-one session to pitch their work to a literary agent. This year, attendees will have the opportunity to list their top three agent choices. Don’t wait to take advantage of this fabulous opportunity. See below.

The agents are coming, the agents are coming and they include some of the finest, including Janet Reid, Donna Bagdasarian, Susan Gleason, Christine Witthohn, Ann Collette, Esmond Harmsworth, Sorche Fairbank and Gina Panettieri. Yowsa!

Great Master Classes are offered again. Choose two from PLANNING THE PLAYS - "Painless Research" with Kathy Lynn Emerson; WHO'S ON FIRST - "Point of View" with Hallie Ephron; HITTING IT OUT OF THE PARK - "Ten Key Ingredients For a Successful Thriller" with Gary Braver; and PEEWEE LEAGUE - "Writing for Young Audiences" with Peter Abrahams.

Gary and Hallie have new books out. This is such a great opportunity to rub elbows with all these fab New England authors. My writing-group compadre and friend Sibylle Barrasso will be on a panel, Sibylle's first novel, Dark Waters, is coming out next month, and the reviews are great. Folks, it can happen.

Manuscript Critiques are available. Attendees may submit a 15-page writing sample (novel or short story) in advance and receive a one-on-one critique with a published mystery author during the conference. Professional feedback can be an invaluable addition to your writing group and your brother-in-law's snarky comments.

A fountain of forensic experts, including the popular Poison Lady, will hold panels where you an can fill your writing well with ideas on how to commit those dastardly deeds. Or just find out how writer's do it. Or pick up some hints for well, you know. Ahem.

You can dine elbow to elbow with agents, authors, editors and forensic experts at the SATURDAY NIGHT BANQUET where the menu includes delicious food and maybe even a book deal. Your fabulous Saturday night will be topped by “Mystery Bingo” hosted by our own prime-time Hank Phillippi Ryan.

The number one reason to register for Crime Bake today is the NUMBER ONE New York Times, Los Angeles Times and London Times author and our Guest of Honor, HARLAN COBEN.

Hey, don't forget Bruonia Barry, either. If you attend, say hello to Grapeshot at the registration desk or in the bar, esp. in the bar after hours, pounding down the vin rouge tres ordinaire.

http://www.crimebake.org/ Be there!!!!

Barbequed Brisket

This recipe is from the New York Times, and is a good reason not to be a vegetarian. Make sure the brisket has some fat thereon. You'll chill it and take it all off later.
Here's a link to the web site:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/21/dining/213mrex.html?pagewanted=print

I browned and cooked the meat in a broiler pan that was about 2.5 inches high. It's hard to turn the meat (used turkey lifters), so be careful. I covered it with 2 layers of heavy duty foil. You want to cook it leaving enough time to cool it so you can remove the solid fat (beaucoup) from the sauce). This normally means cooking it one day early.

The recipe text (not included on the web site) mentions not buying two 2.5 pounds instead of one 5 pound. One other thing. This time of year (high summer) many supermarket don't have big briskets, or if so, they are frozen, so you need to allow for defrost time.

Obviously, not something to make spur of the moment. :)

The stuffed mushrooms as appetizer were from the 1976 Gourmet magazine and were something special, although I greatly cut down the amount of butter. They were something of a pain in the ass to make, because in those days Gourmet gave no quarter. But zowie, were they tasty.

I now have 57 pages, count 'em, in my new manuscript, tentatively title, In Flight. Currently I am researching money laundering and banking in the Cayman Islands, and hoping no one is monitoring my Internet searches, as they might get the wrong idea. Once I researched gambling and got SPAM from the gambling sites for years. I researched moonshine stills in the hills of Georgia for a short story, and pimps for another story.

The moral here is that a writer's searches may encompass lots of weird and even illegal stuff. Oh yes, and the transgender research for Festival Madness. The devil is in the details and so it the believability and yea, the writer's authority.

I roamed far from the brisket, another writerly trait that needs reining in. Sometimes.


Grrrrapeshot

The Dinner Party

I've been cooking up a storm for the last two days, and this is what our dinner guests will be eating. The tart looks fab. I sampled the brisket, which was meltingly tender. Can't wait to try the mushrooms. They look scrumptious.

Dinner Menu for July 26, 2008

Stuffed Mushrooms with ham
Roasted Red Peppers with Feta and Pita Chips

Barbequed Brisket of Beef
Rolls
Corn on the cob
House salad with home-grown tomatoes and herbs


Berry and Farmer Cheese Tart

Bellinis
Wine
Beer
Coffee

Thisbe's Great Adventure

It had to happen sometime. Thisbe, the shyest, most scaredy of cats, stepped out onto the front porch to take the air this morning. When she sees a person, car, dog, delivery truck, she wants back inside. Now! Scratches on the storm door, with her tail the size of a baseball bat. I want in now.

Somehow, the front door got closed, and we couldn't hear Thisbe's hysterical scratchings. An hour passed. I had an aha! moment when I realized, eeek, Thisbe was still out on the porch.

Except she wasn't. My tortoise kitty was no where in sight. But I heard meows. Looked around. Couldn't see her. Looked some more. Ye gods! She is two doors down on the neighbor's porch. Neighbors that have a cat but aren't home. Bawling her head off. Looking right at me. Won't budge.

Yell to S.O. to help with the situation while I race upstairs to don something besides immodest pajamas with an uncertain waistband (read, old and stretched out and liable to fall at any moment). Good for cooking breakfast but not for racing around the neighborhood.

By the time I had changed clothes, S.O. appeared with Thisbe. He had to physically deliver her back to the house. Now, Thisbe hates to be picked up. Some long-held antipathy, but she let him carry her (without scratching) back home. She came in (tail as big around as the proverbial bat), and had lovey time. Calmed down. Probably ate a lot to further calm frayed cat nerves.

She's still reposing on the entry hall floor, eyes enormous, but a more relaxed posture. Saturday morning adventure! For all of us.

First Tomatoes and Insalata Caprese

In our own little garden plot, planted and maintained by us, we had two tomatoes ripen this week, medium size, not cherry. The basil is also coming into its own. Time for Insalta Caprese.

Insalata Caprses is one of the most delicious and simplist things you can make. Hey, even a kid can do this. Recipe:

Pick however many tomatoes you need, from one to four. Pick some fresh basil. Carry your produce into the house.

Here you will need a cutting board and a platter. Get out the EVOO, salt and pepper grinder. From the fridge, get out a nice ball of fresh mozzarella. Slice the tomatoes thinly and put on a platter. For each tomato slice, cut an equally thin slice of mozzarella. Cheese goes on tomatoes. Chop up the basil and sprinkle on the cheese/tomato slices. Salt (judiciously) and pepper, a few grinds. Drizzle the platter with EVOO.

Carry this into the dining room and use nice utensils and put out some decent bread. Sop up the tomato and EVOO juices with the bread. A glass of crisp white wine will make the experience even better.

This is so simple that you need to use the best tomatoes, basil, cheese, EVOO and the pepper has to be freshly ground.

It's a fantastic summer luncheon.

Grapeshot

Please Mr. Landscape Gardener, Make Me A vegetable Garden

Back in the day, if you wanted to grow veggies, all you needed was some vacant land, maybe a corner of the back yard, sun, access to water, usually a hose, something to till the soil, and seeds or seedlings and the sweat of your brow.

Now, all this can be yours by hiring someone to do it. You may pay $10,000 and up, but hey, it's only money. Today's newspaper, and sorry, but I can't recall if it was the WSJ or the Times had an article on wealthy folks hiring others to create their vegetable gardens and even raise their vegetables.

I wonder if these people's kids have whipping boys. Ooops! No one whips kids anymore, or at least not the kind of people who hire other people to grow their vegetables Are these the same folks who have quilting rooms and underwater sound systems for their swimming pools?

Seems to me that our government needs to raise taxes for some. They obviously have to much idle cash. Another article, maybe in the Times, listed the woes of those who have second homes and how hard it is to keep track of what's where, and the perils of leaving the computer, cell phone, mayonnaise, well, you name it at the other place. Ahhhhh. Woe is I!

Haven't any of these people ever heard of making a list? Oh, cripes, I forgot. They hire others to make their lists for them. Yeah, we all forget stuff. S.O. once packed for a weekend in Nantucket and forget his swim trunks. It happens. That's why god gave us stores. But I just can't feel too sympathetic. Yanno?

Off to make a crust to tomorrow's tart. I made the brisket with long, slow cooking in the oven, and a red pepper-feta dip for one of the appetizers. . Tomorrow I fill the tart shell with fresh berries and farmer cheese and whip up some stuffed mushrooms and fresh corn on the cob and we nip over to Bertucci's and pick up some brick oven rolls. Except for the rolls, I'm doing the cooking myself, not hiring it out, if you know what I mean. If we're lucky, there will be some cherry tomatoes that we grew ourselves. We did pay a family member to construct the planter boxes a few years ago. We have one for flowers and one for veggies. The heirloom beets look good. Tomatoes are awesome. And I did it myself.

Grapeshot

What's Better than A First Rate Rant?

I thought I did a credible job a few posts ago, but this guy goes the distance.

Idiots Fiddle While Roam Burns. Note: Holy freaking crap!! Rome, it's Rome, not Roam. Goats do Rome?

http://bigpicture.typepad.com/comments/2008/07/idiots-fiddle-w.html

Mom's Blender Cocolate Mousse With Lemon Cream

I made this yesterday from Bon Appetit and holy freaking crap was it ever yummy! Chocolately with a hint of coffee--and the lemon cream! Yum!

Don't wait too long to make this:

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/MOMS-BLENDER-CHOCOLATE-MOUSSE-WITH-LEMON-CREAM-237920

People With Chaotic Lives and Starbucks Nation

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned "Checkout Line Rage," which is something that I apparently experience more frequently than most shoppers. Today at Roche Brothers in M., there checked out a woman so pathetic that my rage turned to sympathy. Well, kinda sorta.

We picked the shortest line, not noticing the the woman in front of us who was almost thru the line was on her cell phone. This appeared to be a super-important, life-changing, earth-shaking call, and when in the dim recesses of her brain she realized the whole process of checking out had halted because she had to, like, pay for the groceries, she went into high gear on the phone call, "I'm caught in a storm, yada yada, can I call you back, no leave a message for me, yada yada, ad infinitum.

Storm, my foot. It was just raining hard. We were all wet.

Damp and disheveled we stood, the clerk stood, the bagger stood, the woman stood. Finally she hung up and in a flurry (with this woman everything must be a flurry) of apologies wrote a check, dug out her Roche Bros. card, picked another card, yada yada, asked for $20 cash, and all the while I gazed at her handbag, a large, but not large enough affair, with money, a hair brush, a wallet so thick with cards that she must shop everywhere in Boston, a cell phone holder, natch, but of course the cell was jammed into the handbag, far from its holder. Wouldn't you know?

Then came another mysterious transaction, because somehow she had written the check for the wrong amount. Whatever. She needed to dig money out of the bowels of the handbag (not the visible money) and finally, finally, she was off to the parking lot. Hope she found her car keys. Wouldn't bet on it.

Meanwhile, I have gone from check-out-rage to extreme interest. Bleached blond with lots of roots, 40 pounds overweight, breathless, $25.00 worth of cigarette on the bill (which in Massachusetts is only three packs), living in total chaos.

I thought for half a second of offering to be her personal organizer. She obviously needed one. Badly. I mean, who makes a very life-changing telephone call in the check out line? Do you? I hope not. Do I?

I never use my cell in the store. What would I say? "I'm standing in the produce section." Or maybe, "do we have any scallions left in the fridge?" No, I make out my (computerized) list and check everything before I leave. Compulsive. Obsessive. Anal. Do not hold up lines pissing people off for ten minutes.

Then there is the other extreme. No not Grapeshot. The Wall Street Journal today had an article about custom built McMansions, or how the other 1% lives. Some people are really organized. A quilting room? I can just see the specialized storage cabinets for the fabric, a big narrow bin for the quilting hoop. Maybe a foldaway table. Likeway, sewing machine. A special thread case, so every color is evident. A place for everything.

And then there was the underwater sound system for the swimming pool. Who even has time to think these things up?

Our culture has become weird. Below is a link to a "Starbucks" post that tells more about the way we live.
A side note: We were in Berlin on a cold drizzly November day craving a cup of coffee, and found a Starbucks. Big line outside, no seating, natch, inside. Walked down the street and found a Dunkin' Donuts. No line, plenty of chairs, good coffee, even donuts. They had some local flavors you would never find here, like filled with plum jam. There did not seem to be any local coffee places like Tschibo in this neighborhood.


Read this. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121685606602379105.html?mod=googlenews_wsj

Grapeshot

Wired Magazine Rocks!

Holy freaking crap! It worked! Received beaucoup hits yesterday. Wired Magazine rocks! Buzzwords rock! Lego! Linux! Apple! Holy freaking crap! Geek power!

Now we got that out of the way, I can get to the more pedestrian things, like dinner last night.
In the continued effort to conserve gasoline, I try not to run to the grocery all the time, even though it's only 2.5 miles away--that's still 65 cents and one-half hour, and usually some aggro due to experiencing Check-Out-Line-Rage in the so-called quick check out. Is there ever a queue that causes more pain and aggravation?

Did I ever tell you about the woman with the expired $2 coupon for a ham who swore she had the manufacturer's dispensation to go ahead and use the coupon? That sort of thing. People buying ciggies at the last minute and the clerk has to leave the checkout and go and unlock the stupid ass case where the supermarket stashes cigarettes. I mean, it might as well be oxycontin they way they keep them locked up.

O.K. dinner. We had frozen chicken breasts with skin and bones, the real McCoy. I sprinkled same with Penzey's Ozark seasoning, and sauteed in a bit of butter and oil. Meanwhile, I used some oil and olive oil to saute onion, garlic and tomatoes. Tossed in the last of the dried bell pepper flakes and salt and pepper. After that came the Basmati rice, chicken broth, and some yummy gelatinous meat glop from the bottom of the roast chicken container from the store. Added the browned breasts, popped on a lid and cooked until the rice was done. Yowsa! Side dishes were broccoli and a salad made of romaine, white asaparagus, green onion and fresh chopped herbs with some of Annie's Organic Buttermilk dressing. Canned white asparagus makes a decidedly good salad.

The tomatoes (and the rest of the garden) got rain last night, a nice big rain. Ah, nature.

The MAN (Burning Man) Burns in not that many days, and again, I won't be there. Quite frankly, I'm absolutely crushed that Festival Madness has received such a lukewarm reception among the agents (lots of California literary agents) I've queried. Again, no one likes the freaking story, but "the writing has promise." Yeah yeah. For those who don't regularly read this blog, the entire middle of Festival Madness is set at Burning Man. By the way, the photo is the Temple Burning at the Man. 2004, most likely.

Words cannot convey how disheartening it is to have written yet a 5th book, five, count 'em, that gets this lukewarm reception and yada yada, the state of the market, that's right blame everything on the publishers and the readers.

What is totally aggravating, and some days everything is aggravating, (this must be one of them) is that there are countless readers who would gobble this up, the readers of The Shadow Warriors who are waiting for the next book. But since Warriors bears the awful, hideous taint of the self-published and eeeek, POD, since I took it back from the now-disappeared e-publisher and put it in print rather than have an unread e-book sitting there, well, it's kind of like a Muslim girl who ain't a virgin, if you get the drift. Damaged goods. Ah yes.

Hey! I'm sure I'll feel better if I go upstairs and scarf down some breakfast. Raisin Bran. Do you want to know my raisin bran secret? It tastes especially fine with a dollop of heavy cream. Well, there goes the healthy benefits of bran and fiber. Suck It Up.

Eat well, and stay away from novel-writing. These unpublished novels are doing a number on my mental health and sucking it up year after year is no way to live. You shouldn't do that. I'll bear the pain for both of us.

Grapeshot

The How To Issue: I am wired! Yowza! Sweet Fancy Moses!

How's about them tomatoes?


Wired Magazine is trying to help me increase my page views, set up my room for vlogging (no way), look good on TV (problematical), Turn anything into a screen play, (ha ha), dress like a hipster (a not-very-slim hipster) ya know, if just won't work, crash a party, (what party? People still have parties?) make friends with celebrities (you've got to be kidding), feign sincerity (piece o cake), and yowza, the best for last, Get Internet Famous! Ha ha ha ha. I don't live in New York or LA, see above hipster, party crashing, celebrity stuff. The "nobody" who's Internet Famous is Julia Allison who looks like a sexy young lady.

Freaking crap! None of these paths to fame and fortune will work for a middle-aged woman who could maybe lose a bit of weight and tart herself up some.

Use emotionally charged words. Suck it up! Linux, Lego, Nascar, Tarantino, DRM, Apple. Holy freaking crap, do they mean lego blocks? Leggo my Eggo? Surely not.

Hyperbole is my friend? Don't think so.

17 ways to draw traffic? Sex, orgies, celebrity secrets. That's it. I could make up celebrity secrets! Sex, orgies, lawsuits, sound like an infomercial? WTF?

It's not me. Not even close. O.K. Here's a list:
Stuff I have done so far today:
1) work out - aerobics and weights
2) eat Raisin bran for breakfast
3) read e-mail
4) shower and get dressed
5) let Thisbe onto the porch and back in several times
6) drive to town: go to post office, resale shop, town hall, resale shop
7) read Wired to find out how to increae page views
8) Blog
9) Survey the sad state of my submissions to agents for 3 books. Move 5 "not heard froms" to "never will hear froms." Email one agent.
10) Sneak upstairs to watch The Food Channel and read the August (?) Gourmet
11) Plan this weekend's menu
12) Start Grocery list
13) Read some exchange work of other writers
14) Read Boston Globe, Wall St. Journal and New York Times
15) Googled some Chicago restaurants


Jeez, I'm a productive little dweeb. The list lacks a certain je ne sais quoi, a certain fascination--no naughtiness, no celebrities, no shit.

Hey, I tried.

Grapeshot

The tomato harvest begins

Today I picked two nice ripe ones, and a handful of cherry tomatoes. Lots of fresh herbs. We snip them into salads. It's such a joy to grow your own food. The parsley and the basil are doing well. Cilantro going to seed, which is good. That means a new crop soon.

My morning glories bloom in the morning, blue flowers just like my grandma had. Now if I only had her strawberries and big potato patch. Chicken yard, too, although I wouldn't be up for the slaughter, the dipping in boiling water and the plucking and cleaning--all this yucko stuff done for us now.

The geraniums have finally yelled, "Hallelujia, it's summer!" and are blooming like mad. Hallelujia it's summer! The tomato harvest begins.

I make tomato bread salad, fresh tomato with pasta, garlic and mozzarella, gazpacho, various hot soups, and good old sliced tomatoes. It's a tomato orgy. So let's hear it for the fruit that tastes like a vegetable.

The photo is from Wikipedia. I'll take my own tomorrow.

Grapeshot

The Best Music in the World

The BSO (Boston Symphony) is superb in its summer home at Tanglewood. Friday night on the lawn after a simple but tasty dinner, we heard Leonard Slatkin conduct Harbison's Symphony No. 5 for Baritone, Mezzo-Soprano and Orchestra. The singing came from various texts of the Orpheus/Euridice legend, and the baritone was absolutely riveting. The poetry combined with the singing and the music was so dramatic and satisfying, and I revelled in being able to hear it in the confines of the legendary Tanglewood.

Then we were treated to Mahler's somewhat inscrutable Symphony No. 1 in D, which I also liked, with the cuckoo and the Klezmer band and the funeral procession (like New Orleans, not very solemn by its end) of the animals. This is something to download and listen to a lot.

Saturday we heard the rehearsal for Sunday's concert, and met a new conductor, a young Korean woman named Shi-Yeon Sung. She was lovely and did such a wonderful job on Schumann and then the famous Mendelessohn Symphony No. 4 in A which we all know and love.

I brought my orange-yogurt bread for a Tanglewood breakfast, and we ate in outside and trekked into the shed for the concert. Wonderful and thrilling to have the pleasure and really the privilege of hearing this music. In such surroundings. The Berkshires were green and the weather was hot summer except Friday night when a serious shower preceeded the concert and wet the grass and cooled things off by 20 important degrees.

On the way home, I thought about Festival Madness and heard the planes fly overhead en route to Boston, just like in my book. Festival Madness opens at a folk fest (next weekend) in the Berkshires. Another turn down from an agent this week. It just isn't grabbing anyone. Such a fun book, too. Whatchagonnado?

So, wine and hot tubs and good conversation and wonderful music combine to make a near-perfect weekend. We ate at the Red Lion in Stockbridge for lunch on Friday. Crab cakes to die for. We ate in the garden in spite of the heat. I mean, how can one not eat in the shade of a lovely garden?

Friday was Thisbe's 8th birthday. Happy Birthday Thisbe! She would have probably liked more Mommy/Kitty time, but we'll make it up this week.

My morning glorys are blooming and whenever I look at the big blue blossoms I think of my grandma because she, too, grew them.

If you live in New England, make a pilgrimage to Tanglewood. The music will make your hair stand on end, but in a good way.

Grapeshot

Jeri's Praline Brownies - The Saga Continues- Leftovers from the Symphony

For recipe, see prior post.

The first time I ever sunk my teeth into these fantastic chocolately morsels was at Ravinia Park in Chicago, the summer home of the Chicago Symphony.

Seiji Ozawa was practically a kid. We were suburban moms, and every summer our bridge group of eight young women enjoyed an outing. The lady responsible for that summer's was Jeri herself, and somehow she became confused and the symphony was not playing at Ravinia that night, but instead, a rock group. It might have been The Jefferson Airplane. You get the idea. The air hung heavy with pot smoke.

We arrived in our summer dresses with hampers of wine glasses, tableclothes, and everything Just So, and unpacked the provisions. Looked around. Lots of even younger folks in casual clothes. Long hair, but not the classical kind.

The music started. It wasn't the symphony. We made the best of everything, and enjoyed our feast, especially Jeri's brownies. She had baked two batches. Nirvana.

We heard a group nearby discussing us.
"Who are they?"
"Leftovers from the symphony."

We were vastly amused, because the comment was true, and not spoken meanly, but matter of fact.

Scroll on down to the prior post and snag the recipe. You'll become famous. Give Jeri some credit. Don't pass it off as your own. Nirvana. The experience, not the band.

Grapeshot

Trash Day - My Garbage Runneth Over and Jeri's Praline Brownies

Not only do houseguests cause more shopping, cooking and laundry, they create more garbage due to the additional shopping and cooking.

Wednesday is trash day, and the street in front of our house looks like an apartment house put out the trash. I mean how could so few people create so much waste, and we recycle all the plastic bags, glass and plastic bottles. Sometimes we sneak into another town's recycling area and surreptitiously leave recyclables. Weird huh?

Of course today was the day the cat litter was also changed, and there must be some law that no matter how large the litter box, someone (usually a cat) will invariably miss, and the hotter the weather, the more likely this is to happen.

S.O. went to Home Depot and bought three of those containers of orange odor eating stuff. One for the store room, one for the furnace room and one for the litter box area.

As the economy worsens, we think of ways to staunch the hemorrhage of money. Don't buy new clothing. You probably have enough stuff in your closet for the next five years. This does not go for socks and underwear, which need to be replaced rather more often. I have found good towels at Kohl's and at Ocean State Job Lot, by the way. Martex brand at the Job Lot. Who knew?

One needs to be a little bit creative and to bone up on recipes like Puerto Rican Rice and Beans, esp. now that the garden will yield tomatoes and peppers for a great linzano sauce. Email me for the recipe.

On the writing front, and there's always a writing front, I am fifty pages into my new book, with plot twists and turns coming faster than space ships. It's so much fun again. All I need is a bad guy. Have to have a bad guy. Or girl. Love those villians.

Have I touted my most favorite summer annual and perrenial flower/tomato food? It's called Super Bloom. (The begonia in the photo shows it in action). My mom introduced it to me, and for a while I bought it in Arizona, then I bought it in Florida. Still have a two year supply, so maybe I'll get back to Florida before I run out. Weird that you can't buy it in these parts. Viva la regional difference.

Today I'm making the world's best brownies, something called "Jeri's Praline Brownies." You can't imagine how good. We're having a Tanglewood weekend soon, and I need to get some goodies into the freezer to take along.

How many blogs give you the best flower food and the best brownies in one post? I'll print the recipe for the brownies for all my e-friends.

Jeri’s Praline Brownies

2 cups sugar
1 cup flour
4 squares bitter chocolate (unsweetened)
3 eggs
½ lb. Butter
1 tsp vanilla
pinch of salt

Melt chocolate and butter together. Cool. Add sugar and beat until light. Blend in eggs, one at a time. Beat in flour, salt and vanilla.

Topping:
3 tablespoons melted butter (cool slightly).
¾ cup light brown sugar
¾ cup chopped pecans.
Spread topping over unbaked brownies and bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Important: Use a 7 x 10 inch pan.

Jeri was a member of the Riverwoods Super Aces, a ladies bridge club once featured in a famous bridge column much to their delight as they yakked and ate as much as they played cards.

Grapeshot

Where Are the MBA's of Yesteryear?

At the College of Lake County, in Grayslake, Illinois, I took Introduction to Business, and Dumbell Accounting (accounting for IT and secretaries). That's my entire formal business training. The informal training came with 25 years of Information Technology, and two eyes, two ears, a judicious reading of magazines and newspapers. That's it.

So how did I know the real estate bubble would burst? I mean, didn't everyone? I have to stifle my gag-reflex with all the hand-wringing, bailing out, expressions of surprise, business snafu's, and the whole nine-yards of stupidity. What kind of nincompoops are the colleges and business schools turning out?

Why did S.O. and I bust our collective asses six years ago to sell our house before everything went south? I took a year off writing and we put in huge amounts of sweat equity to get the house on the market in the spring of 03. Sweating and puffing and panting and wringing of hands to sell before the bottom fell out. We felt a real sense of urgency. We knew the high prices wouldn't last.

We didn't quite hit the top, but we did all right. Paid of the mortgage and bought our snug little condo. The upcoming tanking of the housing market was obvious to us, and apparently no one else.

I mean, really. What sort of dolts run the banks and brokerages houses? Do they have an average age of 32? 22? 15? Thought so. No bubble lasts forever.

Do I feel sorry for the banks and brokers and the folks with judgment in the toilet? Hell no.
Do I feel sorry for the folks who bought the lie and got in over their heads? Yup.
Do I feel sorry for the folks who thought this was a license to get rich quick and "turned" houses and condos with no investment, who never planned to live there, who played the game and lost? Nope.

We've gone thru these down cycles before. We sold our house in Chicago in the middle of one. It wasn't pretty. The current real estate bust is bad because the boom cycle went so high, up to the clouds and then down, down, down into the sewers in a plunge toware Hades. Didn't anyone remember? Doesn't anyone know economic history? Obviously not those in high financial places. Where are the MBA's of yesteryear? I want to know.

That is the scariest thing of all. That we are led by nitwits and dolts and those who know nothing, understand nothing. Except greed of course.

Oh dear, she said, wringing her hands. Oh dear.

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My Lovely Garden In Mid-July

Love the flowers and some big-assed tomatoes are on their way. This year the sun and rain and climate has been ideal for growing here in New England. We've already eaten some of the heirloom beets.

Cat Blog Day

Thisbe on the desktop.


Ah, the cats, those rascals! Annie escaped from the confines of the house many times, because one of the guests just couldn't remember to shut the door properly. Annie is an escape artist. She sneaks outside and eats grass and contemplates nature for a while. Then someone catches her and hauls her back indoors.

Thisbe is still refusing the high-priced cat food from the vet that she chomped down until the latest bag. Something is obviously different. Annie didn't like it either but has given up the nose-in-the-air business and is scarfing it eagerly. So now in addition to the vet's high-priced kibble, we buy Fancy Feast which has a fancy price. Only the flavors "in gravy" will do.

Thisbe made peace, kind of, with our small guest and did not charge under the bed on sight, even allowed herself to be petted sometimes.

Guest is now gone and Thisbe is out and about the house, begging for catnip, begging for moist food at noon. Ha! Ha! Lots of luck Thisbe. We think you look great with your new waistline and you seem a little more playful, too, not having all that lard to lug around.

Maybe this is why people lose considerable weight on those diets where you have to buy the food. Let's face it. How good could frozen dinners really taste? So the dieters eat less and less and of course lose weight. When the folks where I formerly worked brought the diet meals in for lunch, I would also ask, "how is that?"

The answer was invariable, "it's O.K.," which meant it was edible and would stave off hunger, but that was all. It's O.K. Never a compliment. Reading the ingredients alone was a horror show. Meat Product?

Once I ate Weight Watchers macaroni and cheese and it tasted like it had soap in it. Was nowhere near O.K. Gross is more like it.

Many kids who grew up in households with convenience and prepared foods that are half-chemicals have no palate and would not know real food if they ate it. Pathetic and sad. Once I read answers that people now grown had given when asked, "what, if anything, do you still hold against your parents?" and one man answered, "they never served butter. They never told me about butter."

So don't be one of those parents who hand out the frozen pizza and chicken fingers. Cook real food. Make your kids help. Start the day with fresh fruit and whole grains and scrambled eggs with chives.

That was a pretty long rant. Will rant for pay. Will rant for free. Will rant for any reason.

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Wild Turkey

A flock of wild turkeys arrived across the street in the woods around dinner time (for them and for us). Significant Other caught one of them after crossing the street--caught on film not physically, of course. After they left we put out some corn we keep for the waterfowl. The turtle doves found it first.

A day of basically good stuff. The Shadow Warriors got a nice review that went up on the Barnes and Noble and Amazon sites. I now have two reviews on Amazon. Would you believe it, after five years? That's the great thing about POD. The book stays in print and the author can continue to flog it, promoting ages after the pub. date.

If you want to read the review you can click on the Amazon link on this blog.

My garden looks unbelievably lush with a rainbow of colors. The $1.00 miniature rose is going to bloom. Tomatoes are like a jungle.

We spent yesterday on Martha's Vineyard, ferrying and busing and driving and gawking and eating and riding the carousel, and picking up a bit of a sunburn. Now it doesn't get much better than that.

So, now it's off to divvy up the blueberry tart, and scoop up some vanilla ice cream and dig in. We had my from-scratch tuna and noodles tonight--I make my own white sauce and season it with salt, pepper, dried bell pepper flakes, onion, chives, and a few hot pepper flakes. We put crushed potato chips on the top. I also use (drained) tuna in olive oil. More expensive, but it tastes like something. Hate tuna in water. Yuck!

Here is the Amazon link. Buy the book. Read a female techno-thriller. How cool is that?

http://www.amazon.com/Shadow-Warriors-Judith-Copek/dp/1591099609/ref=sr_1_1/002-6972218-2422421?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1188504043&sr=8-1

Miles to go before I sleep.

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We visit the Bass Pro Shop

Today we made the trek to Foxboro Stadium and the Bass Pro Shop.

Lots of animals, stuffed and bronzed, live fish, guns, tackle, clothes, food, target shooting, even toys and all manner of sporting goods. If you want to go into the woods in total camoflage, this is the place, and you can even bring a camoflaged cooler. How suave is that?

Significant Other, Adult Male Relative, and Small House Guest were wowed by different aspects. SHG liked the toys: tiny tents, coolers, action figures, all the stuff that her Polly Pockets may need including male action figures.

AMR was just short of "sharpshooter" with the guns. Don't know how they do that. Must be lasers. Lots of fun. The outhouse door flew open, bear came out, crow jumped up and down, all becaue of the rifle.

AMR found cool shorts on sale. I browsed but refuse to wear horizontal stripes. Makes plump look downright fat, and fat fatter, and even skinny becomes round. SHG doesn't like tank tops.

I see adult influences, but not being a tank top gal myself, I don't push her into such attire.

We leave with purchases, but without dropping a bundle. Discovered Bass Pro Shops has cheap suet, just like Ocean State used to have but doesn't, for the same price. Suet is hard to get in the supermarkets in summer (the birds stop eating? Why hadn't I noticed?) but the woodpeckers and other suet eaters, never mind the squirrels and the ugly blackbirds and the catbirds and even the chipmunks, are still ravenous, with babies to feed after all. Except for the cat bird who lets others do her chick raising. Bad bird.

After all the rain the garden is so luxuriant and the astilbe are blooming proud and straight, and every flower is in its glory. Even the indoor geranium has decided it's high time to put forth a few blossoms. Yay!

Tonight we're grilling pork chops and SHG can eat the pasta leftovers, and yummy they are with farfalle, asparagus, Italian cream cheese (mascarpone), chives and parmesan flakes. Topped with toasted hazelnuts. Yum! Sometimes vegetarian is fab.

I need to write something before tonight. This book is still speaking to me.

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The Seagull's Revenge

For our harbor islands tour, we took along a partial sack of stale movie popcorn to feed the seagulls. They ate it and retreated to a puddle where they could get the salty taste out of their beaks. A few minutes later a seagull deposited a disgusting mess on my 4th best T-shirt. Fortunately, I had a cotton sweater that I could wear so that I didn't have to wear the yellow "S" all afternoon.

Actually I was shat on twice this week, the second time by a fellow writer who used such comforting terms as "sentences are so choppy . . . characters such smart-asses. . . no editor is going to get past the first paragraph before rejecting it."

And maybe that is actually happening. If I hadn't had editors and agents tell me I was a good writer, I'd be desolate. Now I'm just . . . bemused.

My characters are computer types who are not the most touch-feely people in the world, because they are mostly thinkers, not feelers. Although scratch a thinker and you will au fond, find a feeler. Of course, a few were feelers, and deciders. We did a TDF session in our IT department once, and 85 percent were thinkers. The thinkers were all exhausted by a full day or having to interact with others. . . we wanted to be in our cubicles programming.

The "feelers" went home energized. I don't know what writers are. Or readers. Apparently I don't know much of anything. Does that make me like Socrates?

Doubt it.

The fireworks after the Pawsox game were totally awesome, as was the traffic after the game. We ate all the junk foods except cheese fries and cotton candy. I draw the line somewhere.

Back to my awful characters and bad sentences.

Cheers!

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Island in the Stream

Yesterday we left on a small ferry for a tour of the Boston Harbor Islands. The first adventure was finding the ferry dock, as the Google directions were well, basically wrong, or obscure. I don't know. Three adults couldn't figure it out.

We found the place, no sign, and got on board a tiny ferry which took us to Grape, Bumpkin, Hull, and finally Georges Island, where we found a huge old civil war fort, picnic tables, seagulls, and a pleasant place to while away the afternoon.

Took our lunch and beverages and even a table cloth but no booze.

Enjoyed the harbor views, the colorful markings of where the lobster traps were set, the buoys, and the whole nautical ambiance.

Arrived home via the GPS, which we should have programmed to take us there, but we have found the programming sometimes takes longer than getting there. Anyway, GSP took us thru the back roads of Quincy and to a spot where we could navigate from. Quincy is one of the worst towns ever to find your way around in, and they don't believe in a lot of street signs and certainly do like to keep the local tourist bamboozled. I wouldn't even want to think of the non-local tourist. It would be ugly.

Today we're seeing a Pawsox game and the fireworks afterward. Dinner at the ball park. Tomorrow we're doing the tacos we didn't cook last night. So tired we treked to the 99 and had a bang up meal of prime rib and barbequed ribs and deep fried asparagus, caesar salad, hey, we were hungry as well as pooped.

Tonight there will be 500,000 people at the Hatch shell and the fireworks, and we have decided this is just a bit much. Quite a bit much. And one can't line up on the Longfellow Bridge this year, always a good viewing spot.

I hope the music is better than past years. Sometimes they get carried away with pop music that isn't very good. I favor John Phillip Sousa on the 4th of July, along with the 1812 overture and patriotic songs. Can't help it. Just an old fashioned grrrrl.

You read it here first.


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A Day of Firsts

Today I made homemade dulce de leche ice cream and baked bread from scratch. How domestic goddessy is that? The ice cream is to die for. I had to order the dulce de leche from a Mexican grocery on the web because I haven't been able to find it in the Boston area. With gas $4.00 a gallon these days, it's certainly cheaper to pay the postage than to run all over town.

The bread is my regular food processor recipe and we ate the better part of a loaf for dinner, which was green salad and pasta Amatriciana.

Tomorrow night is tacos night.

My small guest and I saw "Kit Kittredge, America Girl" today. The film was set in 1936 during the depression and brought back so many stories I heard as a kid about those times, still in everyone's memory when I was young. I had two uncles who went "on the bum" as young men, and rode the rails. One became a very successful businessman who always loved travel. Maybe catching those freight trains got into his blood. My grandma took in boarders and sold eggs and made pajamas out of the feed sacks just like in the movie. It isn't often you see a period movie that doesn't get something wrong, and except for Kit having money to buy film for her camera (my mom took a lot of photos, too), everything seemed believable. My grandpa always fed any hobos who came to the door asking for food.

I have to confess that I would be completely banboozled if anyone came to our door asking for food. Give your local food pantry an extra donation this month.

Managing to write a bit in spite of the domestic commotion. My garden grows more beautiful and lush (good rain today) with each passing week. We're going to have serious tomatoes this year, and the beets will soon be ready. The astilbes joined the flowers blooming this week. The clematis is a star this summer.

Off to write a bit more. I am enjoying this book.

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Why Didn't They Ask Me

I am constantly amazed at the stupidity, cupidity and surprise by people who should know better. Like stock brokers and mortgage brokers. They are still expressing surprise about the housing bust. It was a sure thing. Sure. I mean, you loan money to people who can't pay it back and tell everyone that prices will go up forever and bang! Sure it was a sure thing.

The other thing I could have told them was about gambling. Today's Wall Street Journal had a story about the economy is Las Vegas tanking because people are gambling less and buying fewer expensive clothes and tchotchkes (spelling?) with the economy in the toilet. The aces who predict our economic future thought Las Vegas was recession-proof. Come again? Why would anyone think that? Yes, that and gas will remain at 1.98 a gallon forever.

Lots of people have been smoking some pretty good shit, as they say.

Oh yeah, and I have a bridge for sale.