Tanya Writes About Cowboytown Redux

Sometimes pictures really are worth a bazillion words!



The guys rocking our world.



My hero and me. Isn't he a cutie?



Same here for our dear friends, Charlene Sands and hubby Don.



Grub was good. Shrimp...what else?

Thanks for the pix, Char!

Tanya Writes About Cowboytown

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #6

It's gonna hurt every now and then. If you fall, get back on again.
--Dunn, Brooks, McBride, Terry



Of course, cowgirls do cry. Once in a while when the journey's tough. But...they get those tears wiped off right away, and often with the help of friends.

In this case, it's my dear friend, award-winning romance author Charlene Sands.

Valentine's Day 2008 wasn't a good one for my hero and me. It was his fourth day of chemo (3 X BEP) and already he wasn't in the mood for See's Candy Bordeaux chocolate hearts. I got him some anyway. And the day at the hospital, that first round, was about eight hours long. So Charlene took me out to lunch. It isn't the first time she's "saved" me from crying my eyes out, but normally it's a rejection. This time was pretty serious.

So a while back, she found that Brooks and Dunn were coming to L.A. Did I want to go? Well, duh. So we asked our hubbies, who both like country music and B and D in particular, and it was decided for the four of us to celebrate Valentine's Day a few days late.

Last night was the big night. We had dinner first (shrimp, what else) at Bubba Gump's (all of us knew all of the waitstaff's questions about the movie), then trekked into a throbbing theatre of eager fans. What's not to like about cowboy music? The guys didn't disappoint.

None of them. Not even the two opening acts: Gloriana and Jason Michael Carroll.

(The only teensie disappointment for me was the guys not doing "That Ain't No Way to Go...") But they far made up for it. Pausing dramatically during "Cowgirls Don't Cry..." my hero jabbed me and said, here she comes.

And there she was. In the flesh. Reba joined them on stage for the that magnificent refrain. Wish she could have stayed longer. But wow.

And during "Only in America," there wasn't a dry eye in the house when four servicemen joined the guys on stage. Red, white, and blue streamers shot through the air like a thunderstorm.

And ZZ Topp coming out for a guitar riff. Wow.

Whew. My ears are still ringing a bit, but I am soooo sorry it's over. It was a to-die-for Valentine's Day...just gotta wonder what next year will bring?

Well, whatever it is, I'll have my own personal hero and my wonderful friends by my side.

Tanya Writes About Vincent (Starry Starry Night)

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #5

Love makes one calmer about many things and that way, one is more fit for one's work.
--Vincent van Gogh



I majored in Art in college and last summer's visit to MoMA in NYC was my art history class come to life. Oldenberg. Pollack. Warhol. Rauschenberg. A bazillion others.

Starry Night!

NOT!

That van Gogh masterpiece has long been a favorite of my hero's too...despite his non-art major, so we ran in near delirium throughout the museum looking for it. Finally we had to ask a docent. Tragically, the painting is off-display temporarily.

Sigh.

In a letter to his brother Theo, he wrote, "This morning I saw the country from my window a long time before sunrise, with nothing but the morning star* which looked very big." Painted in the Asylum in St-Remy in 1889, Vincent added the village to the remembered scene, the spire apparently invoking his native Netherlands.

How perfect to have created something so perfect? Even if I do see the scene on placemats and cloth bookbags and other mundane things.

Perhaps Don McLean said it best in his classic unforgettable song.

The world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.


(*Venus)

Tanya Writes About Love on Valentine's Day

Okay, I admit it. I'm a sucker for romance. Duh. Who'd ever suspect that? I guess it started when I was little and my mom made little red heart-shaped jellos for dinner on February 14. The same little pans helped create heart-shaped cakes, and she'd stick ready-made pink sugar roses on top.

And in those days, regular schoolbox Valentines weren't pretty enough for your best friends. In Girl Scouts, we'd paste them on heart-shaped doilies before gifting.

And Daddy always brought Mom a giant box of See's chocolates which she readily shared with the family. What a treat to find in my lunchbox for the next few days a perfect piece of chocolate as my dessert. Back then,, Fifty Famous Fairy Tales was my second-favorite book after Little Women, Disneyland my favorite place to hang out.

Small wonder I now write romance. Sigh. Can't get any better than this.

Even still...I gotta confess the last three Valentine's Days in this house sort of sucked. That's a fact. Last year was the worst, with my hero suffering in chemo. The year before he had an routine but invasive and unpleasant medical procedure on this date. And the year before that, he had a knee rebuilt that he'd busted up chasing forest fires up mountains.

So we figured we deserved a real treat this year....even if it won't happen until February 22. On that night, we'll see a concert by one of our favorite country duos, Brooks and Dunn. We're going with wonderful friends and having dinner first. So it's all good; it's all worth waiting for.

And inbetween, we're having the grandbaby over on Valentine's Night for a heart-shaped pizza, so his mommy and daddy can have a date night all their own. Oh how I rmember the precious days when his daddy --our beautiful son as a little boy-- would sit at the miniature table in his room, pouring and pouring over the little bag of Valentines he'd gotten from his classmates.

So in the spirit of love and St. Valentine, I'll leave you with some quotes* to get you and yours in the mood.



Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.
~~Aristotle

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.
~~ Lao Tzu

Age does not protect you from love. But love, to come extent, protects you from age.
~~Anais Nin

Love does not dominate; it cultivates.
~~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.
~~Nora Neale Hurston

The more I think about it, the more I realize there is nothing more artistic than to love others.
~~Vincent van Gogh

Love is life. All, everything that I undertand, I undertand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only because I love.
~~Leo Tolstoy

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love.
~~Albert Einstein

I'm a lucky one to have met my own personal hero with a love story a million pages long with a happy ending still in the works.

And I'm so thankful. God is love, after all.



*courtesy of History.com and gocityshopper.com

Tanya Writes About Mr. Lincoln At Cactus Rose

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #4

Writing is the great invention in the world.
--Abraham Lincoln

What great words for a writer to read! Today is the bicentennial of President Lincoln's birth, and I've paid homage to this great American at my fellow authors' blog
at Cactus Rose, the Western historical division of my publisher, The Wild Rose Press.

I hope you join me over there today, and throughout the weekend. All who comment and mention my personal blog here will be in a name-draw for a gift certificate for The Wild Rose Press...which of course I hope you'll be putting toward Marrying Minda when it's released in June.

Happy birthday, Mr. President!

Tanya Writes About the Other Side of Everything

aka Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #3



I try not to let it , but sometimes it all plays back inside my head. --Jill Kinmont, The Other Side of the Mountain

I watched it again last night, a movie of such gut-wrenching sadness my chest is still tight today: The Other Side of the Mountain. In my life I've found a few other movies that haunt me, among them Dr. Zhivago, The Way We Were, Jeremiah Johnson but this one is different. Because the events are true and happened to real people.

My hero and I first saw it as newlyweds, the tale of Jill Kinmont--played by a radiant Marilyn Hassett, a perfect 1950's teen with her twinsets and pony tail who is a championship skier bound for the Olympics along with her best friend, A.J. She lives on a storybook ranch in Bishop, California, with an adoring supportive family, is coached by Dave McCoy (the ski legend who would later develop Mammoth Mountain), and is pursued by two hottie hotshot skiers.

Then the unthinkable happens: A.J. contracts the hideous childhood disease, polio, and tells Jill from her iron lung Jill must ski for them both. And so Jill does, until the unthinkable happens again. Fighting for a spot on the U.S. Ski team, she suffers a tragic fall and becomes a quadriplegic. The first hottie ski-boy vanishes when she tells him she'll never walk again, much less ski. But Mad Dog Buek, played by the adorable Beau Bridges at age 30 or so--convinces her of his love and plans a house and life for them.

Then the unthinkable happens: He's killed in a plane crash.

Yes, despite the viewers's tears and aches while watching, you can't help but feel tremendously inspired about human perverance. Not only does Jill survive these tragedies, she leads the charge for disabled people being allowed to pursue teaching certificates and achieve classrooms of their own.

Watching the movie last night, its backdrop of tall, white snow-covered Sierra mountains really hit me, loosing those floodgates of memory and emotion. For today is the day it all started, one year ago. My hero's own journey through the hills and valleys of chemotherapy. That first morning as we left for hospital to start the BEP protocol, the small mountains bordering our county were blanketed with snow.

Just like today, after last night's storm. They look the same. Like Jill, I try to hold it back. But sometimes there's just no way.

Olivia Newton-John sings the theme song, Richard's Window, as the movie ends. By then, even though I know all of this, I was weeping anew. For there's a cowboy in Texas named Richard I've come to know who's got 35 days of chemo under his belt...and many more weeks to go. And I know full well what a tough road lies ahead.

So...no more really needs to be said right now. Other than I will lift up my eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my help.

Tanya Writes About Charles Dickens

On this date in 1812, Charles Dickens was born in Portsmouth, England.

So what? He didn't write romance. But I do. And there is a tie in.

Of course, he's another of my inspirations. During her travels to the UK twenty years ago, my mother brought back a print of Dickens writing in his study. "You hang this up by your desk," she ordered, knowing how I loved to write. Indeed, the print often held the place of honor on my bulletin boards during my years as an English teacher.

Where I taught rapt freshmen to adore (wait for it) Great Expectations, that marvelous, timeless coming-of-age story that I actually see in the plotline of Good Will Hunting.

Those were the same years our local newspaper sponsored a serialized romance novel and held a contest to pick eight authors to contribute to it. I was thrilled to be selected, and yes, my picture appeared in the edition just as school started that fall.

What a great object lesson it was for my students. GE had been serialized itself. In fact, Dickens had to meet a specific word count...and sometimes included a scene or character that baffled the kids. Until they knew the reason why.

Well, to honor him further, Riverside, California (about 2 1/2 hours from home) holds a Dickens Festival every year. This very weekend, the 2009 "Nickel's Worth of Nickleby" Fest is happening in historic downtown Riverside. Events for all ages include plays, street performers, food vendors, educational workshops, musical performances and Victorian exhibits.

I didn't even know until I read this morning's L.A. Times. I intend to get there next year.

The festival has previously presented eleven original adaptations of Charles Dickens' works, including international award-winning marionette artist, David Simpich version of "Great Expectations". Wow, I wish I'd seen that. I'd love to take the grandbaby if they do it again--one of his favorite quiet-times is watching the "Lonely Goatherd" puppet show in The Sound of Music.

Furthermore, GE and A Christmas Carol are two of the original book adaptations written by local writers and directed by Inland Empire artists. My holiday season isn't complete until I read that short wondrous novel and watch George C. Scott's Scrooge on Christmas Eve while I wrap gifts and stuff the stockings.

Numerous cultural events are added each year, such as "Queen Victoria and her Royal Court" and Mr. Fezziwig's Victorian Ball. Other presentations that call out to me are the Victorian teas, costume fashion shows and contests, lectures, book discussions, Evensong Concert, and historical and art exhibits.

But with my family in mind (I am the history buff and museum-a-holic), I'm thrilled that the festival also features Pub Night, a mini-faire for children, and London Marketplace. Here vendors and craft demonstrators sell their wares and costumed characters mingle.

Oh, I have been an Anglophile ever since the Beatles landed in New York...on this date in 1964 when I was still in elementary school. When our daughter planned a study abroad during her junior year in college, she picked England, to my elation. And of course my hero and I hopped a Virgin Atlantic jet soon after she settled in for a visit. When she wasn't in class, she was a fabulous tour guide.

Oh, we had such fun minding the gap.

Tanya Writes About The "Chili Bowl"

The fam holds it every Super Bowl Sunday. The chili cook-off. And the prize is a well-seasoned bronze pot that the winner is expected to take with him (or her!) everywhere they vacation.

I won last year, kept the Bowl displayed in the living room, and remembered to pack it in my suitcase (with notes for the inspectors explaining just what it was) to New York City and Kauai. And although I was sad not to win this year, the Bowl won't be leaving my living room. My hero won it this year!

Even though I didn't win the big one, I decided to post my variation of a recipe I found in a magazine. It was hot, wet, and something you should try at least once...so I named it Oral Sex.

Here goes:

2 1/2 pounds of cooked, chopped chicken. (I cooked mine with garlic and onions.)

32 oz. chicken broth (I used fat-free, low sodium)

1 15-ounce can black beans, rinsed and drained

1 15-ounce can pinto beans with jalapenos, gently rinsed to retain more jalapeno flavor

1 1/2 7-ounce cans Herdez salsa

1 cup nopalitos, drained (these are green cactus leaves and very yummy)

1 4-oz can diced green chilis

1 tblsp. chili powder

1 tsp. ground cumin

1 tsp. red chili flakes

Combine everything BUT THE CHICKEN in a big pot. Bring to boiling, reduce heat. Simmer, covered, for 20 minutes, then add chicken and heat through.

Sprinkle with cilantro before serving. Serves about 6.

P.s. The grandbaby vastly preferred "The Puppy Bowl" on Animal Planet.

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #2

Well, ya can't teach American Lit for ten seconds....and I did it for ten years, and not appreciate Ben Franklin. I mean, he's THE Renaissance Man of the colonial age. As my hero says, if there's a colonial-themed question on Jeopardy, it's either Ben Franklin (person) or Virginia. (place)

And since he appeared twice in today's newspaper, I couldn't resist extolling about him now.

On this very date in 1784, he expressed his disappointment over the choice of the EAGLE as the symbol of America. In a letter to his daughter, he stated his own preference: the turkey.

Now don't get me wrong. I love turkeys. I say grace for the one that feeds me on Thanksgiving. But a national symbol?

An eagle soaring through the sky is something I want to see with my own eyes. The weekend before my hero's diagnosis last January (we already knew something bad was going on; we just didn't know what, or how bad), I read a post at my favorite place on the web, Petticoats and Pistols It's a site created for western romance authors and readers by ten top-selling authors in the genre. (I'm humbled to get to guest-blog there occasionally.) And that weekend, a guest-blogger's wrote about her "bucket list." Things to do before you die, based on a just-released movie starring Jack Nicholson.

And I realized so many of my things to do had come true. I'd made a good marriage and raised two great kids. Seen some wonderful places both here and abroad. Published some books. Witnessed the birth of my grandbaby...

But one thing hadn't happened yet at that time: my hero's return to health.

I was in too much pain to comment about that, then, so I added my next-best-thing-to-do to to that blogpost. Watching an eagle fly.

Tim McGraw sings about it in Live Like You Were Dying...John Denver in The Eagle and the Hawk. I've heard their words, seen eagles on movies. That's enough for now.

Because Ben Franklin left some other wisdom that fits these troubled times.

Contentment makes poor men rich; discontent makes rich men poor.

I am content. (even though I wish old Ben had used inclusionary language. )

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #1

Well, I have agonized for a couple weeks now on what the trend for this blog for 2009 should be. And I finally decided. (Now, I'm not talking "agony" in the actual pain sense. Mental maybe, as I struggle with what to write about. Those bloggers who do it every day amaze me.)

I'm going to blog writing/family stuff when the mood hits. In fact, I still owe the blog "The Big Warm." But once a week I will dedicate one blog as "Ditsy Tanya's Almanac." with apologies to Poor Richard's Almanac that featured the aphorisms of none other than Ben Franklin, another of my literary heroes, thanks to about a hundred years teaching American Lit to high school juniors.

Ditsy was my childhood nickname, and I hated it. Grrrrrrrrrrrr. But might as well put it to use now, as there is nothing poor about my life. It's rich in all the good intangible things.

So here goes:

Be brave. Even if you're not, pretend to be.
--H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

This aphorism is dedicated to the special people in my life who are fighting cancer. Most specifically today it's to a Texas cowboy I met on a testicular cancer loop. You guessed it. That ugly thing came back over Christmas and knocked him in the gut. Right now he's finishing his second week of chemo. Now I know, and he knows, that it's gonna work. TC fortunately is one of the curable ones. It's just such a hard road for a guy to go. It's hard on those who love him. And it's harder than ever on him because of how hard it is on those who love him.

He started to lose his hair today, so he let his little daughter have fun giving him a Mohawk.

So here's to you, buddy. Hang in. One day at a time.


(Ps. I took the picture and used it today simply because I like it.)

Tanya Writes About The Nine-Month Anniversary

Oh, it's well into the new year already and I am way behind on everything already. Blogging, website updating, working on my WIP and doing the homework for my online plotting class. I did get the Christmas decorations down and a doctor's appointment taken care of...when I realized the great news.

My hero just hit the nine month anniversary of his remission!

Yay and praise God. All of you out there praying for him, well, it's working. He golfs several times a week, hangs out with the grandbaby, and totally doesn't understand blogging. Oh, the tragedy that Fantasy Football is over for another year. He loves it so much.

I gotta admit: he's having his routine checkup at this moment. That always makes us both a bit twirly. But I know things are great. And he loves greeting those angelic nurses who helped save him and showing him his strength and health.

When I started this blog just about a year ago, it was to promote Midnight Bride. I'm thrilled at the excellent reviews the book got, and I just entered it in the Award of Excellence Contest at The Colorado Romance Writers. But when that dreadful testicular cancer diagnosis smacked our family in the jugular, the focus of the blog changed...to MY hero's journey, not some fictional one.

Oh, what a journey it's been. Whew. I'm reminded every day of the awfulness of it...because I've got a friend going through the very same chemo right now, a pal I met on a TC loop. So bombarding heaven isn't ever gonna stop. There's always somebody, somewhere out there who needs us.

Since New Year's Day, I've been racking my brain for another theme to re-direct this blog. One of my writer friends blogs on a different smokin' hot romance cover model each Wednesday. Another writes about historical events that happened on the date years ago. Still another tosses out the occasional vocab lesson about an interesting word.

So far, I've had no luck coming up with something magnificent and original for myself. I'm open to suggestions. But for now, I just couldn't resist reporting on this part of my personal hero's journey, nine months of health and happiness. We just got back from a wonderful mini-reunion with the old high school herd so maybe I'll just bore you to death with the ins and outs of my now-normal, placid perfect life from time to time including how and where my writing career leads me. As well as our daughter's upcoming-wedding. I mean, how romantic is that.

So stay tuned and see what happens. Oh, and have a happy new year.

Albeit my greeting does come a bit late. I sorely need a personal assistant and will never be able to afford one.

Up next. The Big Warm

Tanya Writes About Merry Christmas

Ah, Christmas. And I mean CHRIST-mas. Oh, I believe in Santa and our kids believed in Santa. As a first-grader, our son wrote a little essay at school that Santa had brought him a glob for Christmas. Meaning of course, his globe of the world.
(And this was at a Christian day school. No one doubted our faith!)

And that jolly old elf with his belly shaking like jelly never impeded or took precedence over our worship of the Christ-child.

And his little son is just as adorable. The grandbaby held up a Magi figurine from the antique creche I inherited from my grandma--the one my grampa ordered from Germany for her at their first Christmas together in 1917. (It goes from mother to daughter, hence will end up in The Bride's house some year)...and said, Wise man.

So when we examined another nativity scene (I collect them), he promptly said, "Baby Jesus" as he pointed to the manger. When I picked up a Magi and asked who, he said, "Big Jesus." (He actually does look like the adult Lord.)

Yes, Jesus is king. He got me through the roughest periods of my life last year, when my hero battled (and beat) cancer. So I want to share with you something sent to us this Christmas by our dear friends Steve and Linda in Tennessee. My hero's known Steve since they were in elementary school; Linda has been close to me since high school. We've all been friends a lo-o-o-o-o-o-ong time even with many miles separating us.

I thought this would be a great way to end the year...and with January 6 being the Feast of the Magi, Epiphany, I'm still in the Christmas frame of mind.

'Twas the month before Christmas, when all through our land
Not a Christian was praying, nor taking a stand.
You see, the PC Police had taken away
The reason for Christmas--no one would say.

The children were told by their schools not to sing
About shepherds and Wise Men and Angels and things.
It might hurt people's feelings, the teachers would say.
December 25th is just a "holiday."

Yet the shoppers were ready with cash, checks and credit,
Pushing folks down to the floor just to get it.
CD's from Madonna, an X Box, an I-pod...
Something was changing, something quite odd.

Retailers promoted Ramadan and Kwanzaa
In hopes to sell books by Franken and Fonda.
As Targets hung their trees upside down,
At Lowe's the word Christmas was nowhere to be found.

At K Mart and Staples and Penney's and Sears
It's the term Season Greetings that touches your ears.
Inclusive, sensitive, D-iver-sity
Are words that were used to intimidate me.

Now Daschle, Now Darden, Now Sharpton, Wolf Blitzen,
On Boxer, on Rather, on Kerry, on Clinton.
At the top of the Senate there arose such a clatter...
To eliminate Jesus in all public matters.

And we spoke not a word as they took away our faith.
Forbidden to speak of salvation and grace.
The true Gift of Christmas was exchanged and discarded,
The reason for the season got stopped before it started.

So as you celebrate "winter break" under your "dream tree"
Sipping your Starbucks, listen to me.
Choose your words carefully. Choose what you say.
Shout MERRY CHRISTMAS, not Happy Holiday!

Other religions don't "offend" me nor shake my moods. I've always wondered by a little baby whose message was "peace to all" is so scary to some.

Anyway, blessings to all in 2009...and to all a good night!

Tanya Writes About "His Christmas Angel"

I hope you enjoy my short story, His Christmas Angel, available now from The Wild Rose Press. It's a free online read of 2,500 words. (Make that 2,497. I actually got under the requirement!) The link here takes you right to it.

http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=180


Hey, what could be better than something quick and FREE during these hectic, economically-challenged times?

When my wonderful editor asked me if I wanted to write a Christmas story, I couldn't possibly resist. Even though I'm behinder than usual this year, it truly is my favorite season. I can barely count up all the Hallmark Christmas movies I've already DVR'd and watched since Thanksgiving!

So...I eagerly agreed. And I decided to take a character from Marrying Minda, my June 2009 release, and give him a love story of his own! After all, school teacher Caldwell Hackett broke his heart when Minda chose hot cowboy Brixton Haynes over him. I figured he deserves some good lovin.'

In the story, he and Minda's sister, Mattie Carter, meet in Paradise, Nebraska, in 1879, on a cold winter's day that's sure to steam up. But of course, the course of love never runs smooth.

So I am spinning off their love story in what I hope is the second of three Paradise-set "Marrying..." books. Marrying Mattie will explore the couple's angst and heartbreak when a wedding guest interrupts their vows in protest just as the preacher asks the routine "If anyone knows any reason these two should not wed, let him speak now or forever after hold his peace...."

Here's a sneak preview:

He checked his pocket watch. Noon. The Saturday stage was set to arrive about now, and his package was due. He needed a new pulley badly since discovering the winch at the blacksmith was nothing but a hunk of rusted junk.

As he shrugged into his overcoat, he couldn't help noticing the angel wings balanced against the wall, and his mood lightened. At least his Christmas Eve pageant was proceeding well. Although, he groused, he ought to demote Charlie Tuttle from his exalted position as a Wise Man. The town's womenfolk had shaped wire into wings for their little daughters, covered the frames with muslin and painstakingly glued on goose feathers one by one.

All he needed now was the pulley....and a grown-up female brave enough to suspend over the altarpiece as a flying angel at the climax of the nativity tableau. So far everybody was too cautious to volunteer.

Cold air covered him as the stage pulled into town. Through the misty condensation on the coach's window, two passengers stared out at him. A man, and a woman so dreamlike, so angelic, she took Caldwell’s breath away despite that broken heart.

Before the driver could jump down, Caldwell impulsively opened the door and offered her his arm. Even through thick wool and chill air, the warmth of her fingertips heated him all the way to his skin. Then she stuck her hand back into a thick fur muff.

He felt its absence like a stab.

The floral scent of her rose on the wind, straight into his senses. His heart hammered. Likely the male passenger was her husband. But when the man stayed put on his seat, Caldwell’s hope mounted.

I'll be getting a trivia contest about the story on my website momentarily so check it out at www.tanyahanson.com

Best of all, merry Christmas to all of you and the angels in your lives.

Tanya Writes About Swedish Woven Hearts

Oh, I'm not a bit Swedish, but I've long loved these woven paper heart baskets. For being so simple, they are so simply festive during the holidays. I can just picture them adding Christmas cheer on the prairie in Cactus Rose's favorite time period--the 19th century. A homespun craft made from materials close at hand.

Years ago, I helped a seventh grade class make them while I was a substitute teacher, so I know it can be done LOL. And one of my favorite places to visit, a little Danish enclave about an hour north of us called Solvang, honors all aspects of Scandinavian culture, and the heart baskets appear frequently about town--especially at Christmastime.

In my first novel, The Outlaw's Woman, the outlaw (who of course is A Good Guy) snowbounds himself at gunpoint with a beautiful widow in her cozy Nebraska farmhouse. He wiles away the time until it's safe for him to escape and shows her how to weave them.

After he's long gone and she pines for him, she makes them to decorate her house when Christmas comes. I even made a few for a book signing.

They aren't all that hard to make...but it does take a little bit of practice. Called jhartkorgar, they'll be hung on the Christmas tree in Sweden and filled with candy or little gifts. Mini jhartkorgar can be strung together to make garlands for the tree.

Hilltown Families, a grassroots network for families living in Weston MA has kindly let me use their directions for this project. And Hilltown welcomes writers and artists to share their work...so check them out and see if your creativity is a fit!

(The directions uploaded a tad small, so click here as needed, or open the picture in a new window.)

http://hilltownfamilies.wordpress.com/2007/02/13/swedish-paper-hearts/how-to-make-swedish-paper-hearts/

Another fine site, Craft Ideas, has a template for making the sides of each heart.

http://www.craftideas.info/html/swedish_paper_heart.html




And of course, you can construct them in pink and white for Valentine's Day.

Now, how about making a few woven hearts and hanging one on each of your neighbor's doorknobs on Christmas Eve filled with a tasty treat?

Tanya Writes About the Most Romantic Proposal Ever

Yeah, he's a keeper. The guy our daughter has selected to marry LOL. First off, he properly asked my hero for her hand two months ago. Took him to a division playoff game of his favorite baseball team. Said he was re-designing his gramma's ring and wanted to propose during the holidays, so please keep it on the down-low.

My hero of course gave his permission yes but asked if it was okay to tell me.

Of course--said with an ear-to-ear smile.

And I, well, how could I keep something like that secret for two whole months or more? I've been planning her wedding since she was three minutes old...so I told Betty next door and two of my best high school friends at the reunion. Otherwise my lips were sealed.

I didn't even tell her brother!

And the holidays meant so many things! Thanksgiving (his mom and sister came to visit us for the first time; they're both wonderful and it was a fantastic day.) Our daughter's December birthday. Christmas Eve. Christmas Day. New Years Eve...New years Day. Rose Bowl. And on and on.

So was I ever glad the big event happened already the day after Thanksgiving! My mind is already running rampant with Plans. (as well as schemes to pay for them LOL.)

Here's what my future son-in-law did. He planned a twosome bicycle ride along the same beautiful Santa Ynez roads my hero and our daughter rode in September to raise money for Livestrong. The fact that his tire popped eight miles into the 31 and the replacement tube didn't fit didn't daunt her at all.

But considering he'd planned surprise massages at a beautiful bed and breakfast at two p.m. caused a tad of consternation. Fortunately the innkeeper came and got them in a roomy SUV.

After great massages which our daughter reports were never long enough, he'd planned wine and cheese on the veranda. Oily hair and all.


And after wine..an on-your knee proposal even though the late afternoon was chilly and the grass was wet with dew.

Back inside to warm up at the fireplace and make phone calls.


White Star champagne and chocolate colored strawberries.

Red roses which she said she wishes could live forever.

And of course the plan to celebrate each anniversary here year after year!

Oh, and by the way, the ring is one I'd be scared I'd get mugged for LOL. A brilliant surrounded by a ring of tiny diamonds, white gold decorated with filigree he designed, and inside are their two teensie birthstones. Wow, it's gorgeous.

So far, lavender and sage are the chosen colors.

You can bet I'll keep you informed of every luscious detail!

And you guys out there. If you need any ideas, I'd stick with this scenario. Everybody is all smiles in our little corner of the world!

Up next: My soon-to-be-released Christmas story

Tanya Writes About The Pumpkin Patch, Thanksgiving, and well, giving thanks.

Ah, something there is about a child at a pumpkin patch. That goal to get the perfect golden orb. The search, as vital as a long-ago quest for the Holy Grail.

And all of this happening on a blue and gold fall day makes the best memory. --especially when Gramma and Grampa are along for the ride.

The ride this day was on an antique train that took us from Fillmore far out into the country. The grandbaby sat across from me in the red velvet seat cuddling with his grampa. (Their bond is so incredible; I get tears.)


"Choo choo move," he told me earnestly. At the sound of the clang at the crossing, his little mouth made a perfect O; his tiny fingers at his ears.

"Trees!" he shouted in glee as we travelled along. "Bridge" as we crossed a creek.

Once there, there was no stopping the little guy. Scarecrows, cornstalks higher than his tall handsome daddy. Merry-go-round and hoppity-hop balls. And pumpkins big as moons. Of course he ran to the largest one, threw his arms around it...and was steered to one more his size. (You could select any size but had to take it yourself on your lap back on the train. In this case, size did matter.)

The little fam posed atop one for a portrait that's making its way into my Christmas letter. Toddlers everywhere flew past, gabbing in their adorably peculiar wordless language.

For lunch, the grandbaby devoured a cob of corn, his tiny perfect teeth gnawing with gusto. His mommy laughed, the afternoon breeze blowing her blond hair across her pretty face. "I didn't know he'd like it so much. And now corn season is all but over."

But we did manage some corn for Thanksgiving dinner. A day of days to thank God for health, for salvation, for the strength He gave us to get through this past year. To thank Him for the presence and safe travels of our new in-laws-to-be.

Last January, when my hero's cancer diagnosis hit us like bricks in the chest, he held me and said, "I want to watch that little boy grow up. I want to walk my daughter down the aisle someday."

He's getting his wish. He's well. The grandbaby is growing like a weed...two years old next week. And our daughter got engaged last Friday in The Most Romantic Proposal Ever.

So much to be thankful for. So much to look forward to.

So much more life to live.


Up next: The Most Romantic Proposal Ever

Tanya Writes About Friends...and Ralph Waldo Emerson

Oh, I haven't blogged for a while. Sometimes it seems pointless, but we did take a little trip last week. And came home to some disquieting things.

Our elderly boy black Lab, Seau, seemed to be in a major decline. Maybe due to losing Marley a while back. Likelier, the hip displasia. Oh, he's so pretty, a perfect storybook dog...and it's the damnable generations of inbreeding that weakened his hip joints. I told my hero I just can't bear to say good-bye to him, not now. Not this year. He weakly joked that the year had sucked enough already so why not a slam dunk.

Then we just learned someone dearly special to us just got laid off. Along with millions of others in this hellhole of an economy, but it really hurts when it's someone you love.

Cancer reared is ever-ugly head. Richard awaits apprehensively for the results of tests. Stacey is holding Thanksgiving dinner next week--her FIL's cancer came back and he needs hasty surgery.

Baby Aiden (18 months) and Jackie (29) both face brain tumors.

Oh well. I could go on and on and on and on and on about awful things. And I likely would have stayed in this funk if my hero hadn't said this morning: things tend to work out.

And if the comic pages of the newspaper hadn't featured one of my all-time favorites: Waldo.

No. Not the Where's Waldo guy. Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was called that by his clique of Transcendentalists.

It appeared in my favorite (and probably the only comic strip I read)--Mutts. The pup's running through a sunny field with this quote:

I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new. --Ralph Waldo Emerson

So I thought about those who have so enriched me, who gladden my spirits. Who got us through this dreadful year.

There's Andy whom I've never actually met in the flesh. He lives across the Pond in Ireland. But a TC loop brought us together earlier this year. He never fails to send me a funny joke or cheer me on as my hero's "heroine."

Terri and I met several years ago at "Maxine's Literary Cafe," a group of writers who gathered every few weeks for critique. Right now she's got a romantic suspense stalker-story in the works that is based on her own experiences! I do help her edit and wow, it's a stunner. But that's not the reason I include her today. We only met those few times, with weeks off in between, but she is a cancer survivor, too, and she kept track of my hero's BEP protocol. E-mailing me just when I needed an encouraging word the most. God bless you, Terri.

Maxine herself is one of Earth's most special people. My hero adores her...and not just for the cookies she always sends him or the picnic basket full of wine, food and flowers she left on the porch one day while he suffered at chemo. She's spunky, spirited, a true optimist. And she's a gifted poet.

Our next door neighbors, whom we've known for over two decades, make life so much better. Not just helping us with the chemo and cancer and dark times. Just every day things. Like coming over and watching TV with Seau while we were gone, making sure he was okay.

Karen, friend of almost four decades, has metastatic breast cancer and that nasty gunk just won't leave her liver alone. Yet she is ever cheerful, crowing about her newest grandbaby, another one who kept track of all the chemo, sending prayers and love.

And last but not least, my Roberta and Timmy. Sister and BIL of anybody's dreams. Every week during my hero's ordeal, they were here. Presents, food, love and hugs. Prayers that never stopped.

As for Seau, the vet had some new treatments to try, and our pup is hanging in. (The vet and we are in agreement: no heroics. Always compassion and dignity and quality of life. So far, so good!)

And Richard reminds me of something so important: One day at a time. Even if it's sometimes just one moment a time.

Thanks to everybody who enriches my life. Waldo isn't the only lucky one.

Tanya Writes About Hallmark Movies

Oh, it's impossible to stay totally mad at Hallmark.

A few years ago, I went into a giant snit when the programmers removed the wonderful Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman from their line-up. It's one occasion where I actually wrote a letter of compliant rather than carp endlessly to those around me. I got a reply...but nothing changed.

Then I realized how much love is found on this channel. Not just sweet movies with greeting card themes, but Western love. I dvr'd several in the Love Comes Softly series and have been enjoying those lovely flicks one by one, late at night, after my hero takes his beauty rest.



First off, they're filmed practically in my back yard. I just love Simi Valley, California...no one can drive down Highway 118 and not imagine cowboys and settlers and ranchers and women in long calico skirts inhabiting Rocky Peak. And last night, Willie and Missie Le Haye in Love's Long Journey had full-on adventures at Simi's "Big Sky Ranch" ranging from covered-wagoning, cattle driving, and holding off a trio of Very Bad Guys. All the while letting their love and faith show. Reading a significant verse from Scripture often setss the mood.

A few night ago, I'd watched Missie's ma and pa all caught up in troubles and triumphs all their own. And there's more to come. Michael Landon Jr. produces and writes this series, and it's impossible not to appreciate his dad's heritage. Supposedly M.L. Junior learned a lot from "Pa's" years on Little House on the Prairie.


The characters are handsome (including Katherine Heigl, and Logan "Willie" Bartholomew has romance novel cover potential), the plots believable, the scenery gorgeous...and the faith element is something to treasure. I interviewed with an agent at the RWA Convention in San Francisco who suggested I try inspirational romance. They love prairie stories, she said, and with your excellent reviews and your writing history, you're a perfect match.

And I can't say I haven't thought about it. My hero's journey with the cancer and the chemo put me in the right frame of mine, and my faith has strengthened beyond measure. But the thing is: I just love sex. Curtailing all things physical behind a closed door just isn't in me. Yet.

But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy the inspies I read and watch. I do indeed. Some of my favorite authors and good friends write them. So just maybe...

Right now, though, I try to imagine myself in those days of yore, and the romance of it all hits me. Then the reality does. I'm used to California scenery where the coldest it gets is 40 degrees. There isn't a blizzard in sight. I like washing machines and electric lights, antibiotics and indoor plumbing.

Truth is, I'm a big wuss. I don't think I have the stamina to live in the Old West.

But then you never know. I've already gotten through some things I just never imagined I could.

Tanya Writes About Bumper Stickers

My hero and I are getting in shape. He's put on some of the pounds chemo took off, and me, well, I've pretty much bypassed my digestive system with the chocolate chip cookies and accumulated them directly on my rear.

So...we're in exercise mode. Hence, beautiful new bicycles from REI...comfy walking shoes. An exercycle in the writing room so I don't forget.

And as I ride my new bike around the streets in my little corner of the world, ruminating on important things like autumn breeze and kids walking home from junior high, I find my eyes zeroing in like tractor beams on the bumper stickers stuck to the bumpers of the cars parked along the curbs.



Hmmmm. I have concluded the following. My neighborhood must have the world's greatest concentration of magnificent school-age children. My Child is Student of the Month. My Son is Student of the Trimester. All Students Are Students of the Month at XYZ School. My Daughter Made the Honor Roll. Et al, infinitum.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a proud parent, too. They were both National Honor Society, got scholarships and one was cum laude. And I got bumper stickers too in those days. But ours were peel-off. They didn't affix for life.

So now that 47% of the voters get to scrape off McCain-Palin 08 stickers, I decided to see what other bumper adornments make the grade.

Here are a few I found in my research. (I'll pick and choose a few from farther along in the alphabet some other time.)

A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.

A fine is a tax for doing wrong. A tax is a fine for doing well.

A fool and his money are soon partying.

A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

All men are animals, some just make better pets.

All men are idiots, and I married their King.

Always try to be modest, and be damn proud of it!

Always use tasteful words. You may have to eat them.

As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in public schools.

Born again pagan.


Born free...Taxed to death.

Constipated people don't give a crap.

Condoms are easier to change than diapers.

Fight Crime: Shoot Back!

Exxon Suxx.

God must love stupid people, he made so many.

Got brains?

Happiness is seeing your mother-in-law's face on the back of a milk carton.

Heart attacks... God's revenge for eating his animal friends.

He who dies with the most toys wins.

He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless dead.
My personal fave?

Exxon Suxx.

Because it does.

How about you? What stick-on witticisms tickle your fancy or...decorate your car?

Tanya Writes About Presidential Trivia and a Prize

My hero and I voted early on, thanks to mail-in ballots. Can't say I'm sorry it's all over. The tons of junk mail I tossed likely cost a forest of trees their life. And those dumb recorded campaign phone calls? Like anybody with a brain would even listen to the end of those babblings.

Last fall in New England, my hero and I first saw bumper stickers and yard signs naming Ron Paul. Then there was Hillary. Never could quite go there...seems her real claim to fame was being married to a president. Then came a young whippersnapper with an unusual name. An old guy with a war-hero past. And an Alaskan who kills animals. Yikes.

Well, whatever your opinion of Sarah Palin, she is a good sport. The Tina Fey spoofs are hilarious, and Palin did a great job displaying humor and self-deprecation.

And whatever your opinion of McCain, nobody doubts his patriotism, his amazing resilience and survival, his love of country.

Whatever you say about the prez-elect, he's no trust-fund baby using family wealth and connections to climb the executive ladder. He was raised by a humble, penny-pinching gramma (Although those very same facts likely propelled him into Columbia and Harvard anyway LOL.)

And whatever you think of Joe Biden, he's a heck of a success considering he wasn't yet thirty when a tragic accident killed his young wife and baby daughter, grievously injuring his two little sons. Takes courage, faith and character to survive something like that.

So now that I have pontificated...I am not normally political unless it comes to the killing of innocent animals (Grrrrrrrrrrrrr....), I thought I'd leave you today with some presidential trivia.

If you'd like to get your name in for a little prize, just e-mail me the answers to the questions below. Come on. It's an easy way to win a Starbux gift card! (More than one correct response gets put into a drawing. I prefer Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, but what the hay.)

tanhanson@aol.com



1. Which U.S. college claims the most presidential alumni?

a. Yale
b. Harvard
c. Georgetown
d. Princeton


2. What is the most common religious affiliation of U.S. Presidents?

a. Presbyterian
b. Episcopalian
c. Lutheran
d. Roman Catholic


3. How many presidents served as Vice Presidents?

a. 7
b. 11
c. 12
d. 14


4. Who was President in the year Marrying Minda is set? ( This is easily found at my website,
www.tanyahanson.com )

a. Ulysses S. Grant
b. Rutherford B. Hayes
c. James Garfield
d. Chester A. Arthur


Let me hear from y'all. And God bless the U.S.A!