Thursday, June 4, 2009

Tanya Writes About...Thomas the Train


Whew. It's another sleepless night. I get them sometimes. Today was so fabulous in so many ways only to end with some bad news about a loved one. Sucks.

Yeah, I got my book shipment today, and Marrying Minda is beautiful!
Nicola Martinez designed such a stunning cover...and my hero was ecstatic, promising to read it instantly.

And I had a marvelous day blogging at Petticoats and Pistols, about Minda and the inception of the story.

But night came. I recalled another wonderful day recently, taking the grandbaby to Thomas the Train. If you know any little boy under ten, you know Thomas. We've got boxfuls of tracks and trains loaned to us by the dear boys next door who outgrew Thomas but are saving the huge investment for their own kids. When the antique railroad in Fillmore brought a Full-Size, actual Thomas the Train engine to town, well, we had to go.

A good time was had by all. If only I could see the world through the eyes of a child again, when the only worry was the next toy or cookie. Or tunnel!

Visit my website...I just updated it too. Another sleepless night thing.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Tanya Writes About Going Slightly Nuts



Yes, nuts. I realized I hadn't blogged for a while and figured I might as well blather about my past few days:

The wedding invitations for our daughter are ALMOST ready to go. A couple of mistakes on the inner envelopes via the calligrapher. But enough to make me Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

Then...I thought Conan O'Brien was totally insipid. What's all the hoopla about? A brand new studio? Give me a break. I know I'm old, but if that ranting is really today's humor, dude...kill me now. Give me Leno and Headlines any day.

Hurry, ten o'clock p.m. September!!

Jay's great. He emcee'd the firefighter cancer fundraiser last fall. He rocked. The turnout was great, and I played the cancer card when some young guy out-bid me for a Speed Racer set. I eventually won out and brought it home for the grandbaby, already a car nut.

Enough on that. My promo blog for Marrying Minda is featured today at Petticoats and Pistols. It's a "behind the book" thing about why I chose Nebraska for the setting.

I think today's pictures explain that pretty well.

Oh, and my masochism is settling in nicely: I bought FOUR more rose bushes today at Home Depot. We had lunch at BJ's first...the margherita flatbread pizza is delish, and at Facebook you can download $5 coupons.

Tomorrow is Zumba with my neighbors. I feel like Mrs. McClusky of Desperate Housewives hanging out with them, trying to get that Latin work-out rhythm, but they think I'm cool. Fuego...(that's one of the dance moves. Oh, I'm sooooooo very bad at it.)

The grandbaby was here last weekend, always the best part of any time. Oh, and today is his daddy's birthday, my wonderful, wonderful son upon whom the sun rises and sets. Oh we so lucked out with him.

That's it for now. As you see, blogging isn't exactly my thing. Other than Petticoats.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Tanya Writes About Marrying Minda at Amazon already



Yee haw!

Although the official release date at The Wild Rose Press is June 5, Marrying Minda is already available at Amazon.com. Be still my heart.

Now comes the time of roiling emotions: terror and elation. Wish me luck.

Here's a sneak preview: Mail-order bride Minda Becker arrives in Paradise, Nebraska and eagerly marries the handsome man who meets her stagecoach. His wedding kiss melts her toes. Too bad he's the wrong bridegroom. Cowboy Brixton Haynes can't deny he'd like a wedding night with the eastern beauty, but the last thing he needs is to be saddled with a wife and the three children his brother left behind. First chance he gets, he'll be back point riding along the Goodnight. But leaving Minda proves to be much harder than he expected.

In my opinion, Brixton Haynes is a total hottie

Excerpt:

Night fell soft and silent, and the snuffles of Norman Dale’s livestock comforted Brixton with memories of the trail. Lord, he couldn’t wait to get back.
Habit had him walk quiet as he could from the barn to the house. Even the tiniest noise sparked stampedes on the trail, so his footsteps were cautious wherever he went.

At the back porch, he set down Minda’s valises and paused to peek in the back window. Her lush curves swayed beneath the simple dress as she readied the children for bed, and he couldn’t fill his vision fast enough. The memory of her soft sweet cheek brushed his fingertips once more, and his heart raced and his groin throbbed. It was the heartbeat he didn’t like; a man desiring a beautiful woman was just what a man did. But a galloping heart might mean a man felt something deep inside.

Even worse, night after night alone on the trail, he’d keep seeing her shining hair sweep across Ned’s shoulders while she kissed the top of the lad’s head. So he pulled out his flask and drank deeper. It was too much like having a family of his own, something he swore he never needed. Suddenly he missed his brother more than he’d missed anything.

Until this minute, he had never felt shy about coming through this door without a knock. His wife’s current disposition gave him pause, but he had goods to deliver and damn, the kids just might like one of his good-night songs. His tongue clicked. Truth to tell, his bride would think him nothing but a rowdy bridegroom wanting a tumble between the sheets. Already she’d tried to disgrace him by letting a room at the boardinghouse just for herself.

Another long hard swig consoled his throat as it emptied his flask. Damn woman.


Don't forget to join me at Petticoats and Pistols (it's a fabulous place to visit every day but my next blog is June 3)...and visit my website. I'm getting some Minda contests ready to go with chances to win a copy.

Whew. Enjoy.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Tanya Writes About Memorial Day...and our fallen heros


Some years ago, I happened to be in Europe on my post-college graduation "grand tour" when I saw it, a cemetery/battlefield dedicated to fallen American soldiers. White white crosses went on forever and ever. My heart ached and tugged with all those emotions we writers are supposed to include in our stuff. Because it was Memorial Day and the graves fluttered with endless little American flags.

Since then, I try to get to our local cemetery at this time every year. I don't know anybody asleep there, but a thousand full-size flags dedicated to local veterans
line the roads of the cemetery, and almost every grave is decorated. I try to find the tombstone of a veteran that isn't and lay some home-grown flowers on him. A top memory is getting to help raise those flags with my daughter's Girl Scout troop some years ago. It's quite a sight, seeing the flags blow in the ocean winds of our community.

But as a little girl, when Memorial Day was actually celebrated on May 30 no matter the day of the week, we mostly picnicked and had fun. Hordes of relatives gathered at the lake for a one-day barbecue. This year, even with the three-day-weekend now, we're staying close to home. That's good though, for I'll be able to make it to the cemetery and find another forgotten vet.

In 1868, a day of remembrance for those who lost their lives serving America was proclaimed by General John A. Logan to honor soldiers and sailors lost in the Civil War. On May 30, flowers were placed on their graves at Arlington Cemetery, and the custom spread on as "Decoration Day" every year.

Southern states apparently refused to recognize the day and honored their dead separately until after World War 1 when the holiday was changed to include all of America's fallen from any war.

(It is said a celebration in 1866 in Waterloo, NY, commemorating Northern troops fallen in the Civil War may have preceded the first "Decoration Day.")

Until 1971, Memorial Day was always observed on May 30...then Congress passed the National Holiday Act establishing three-day weekends for federal workers. Rather than remain a day to recognize and honor those "who gave all," the day has become the harbinger of summer, a three-day barrage of special retail sales and coupons. Camp outs and higher gas prices. A time of picnics and beer and beaches.

However you spend the day, let's not forget those men and women who paid the ultimate price for our freedom. And for those still on the fields of war, let's pray God brings them safely home again.

All gave some...but some gave all.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Tanya Writes About The Elvis Presley Sweet Gum...and others


Howdy. I hope you made it to my blog on hangin' trees at Petticoats and Pistols yesterday. We all had great fun, and the pix are gorgeous. Too bad it's such a sucky subject.

With everybody responding on trees, I just found it adorably coincidental when the morning paper yesterday featured Pack 3663's Wolf Den 5 of Simi Valley, California. To fulfill the requirements to earn the World Conservation Award, the guys planted trees honoring famous people and events that are figureheads of American history and culture.

Andrew Jackson Southern Magnolia
Dwight D. Eisenhower Green Ash
Clara Barton Redbud
Gettysburg Address Honey Locust (top photo)
an Elvis Presley Sweetgum
(bottom photo)

It gladdened my heart. I'm kind of a tree-hugger anyway. When friends knocked down half a dozen mature trees to build a new house (had they placed the house differently, the trees could have lived), I felt grief. Dang, trees are our friends. Sentinels against bad weather. Homes for birds...they produce the air we breathe, give us shade and fruit.


My heart still beaks upon seeing old photographs of Lake Tahoe's gorgeous forests stripped bear to provide timber to support the Comstock mines, and giant Sequoias (couple thousand years old) cut down by 19th century lumberjacks just so a single slice could be displayed back east still breaks my heart.

What's with that? Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

And when my hero and I visited Walden Pond, we learned most of the trees had been cut down mid-19th century to provide fuel for the steam train whose tracks border the pond. Henry David must have wept.

Anyway, the Boy Scouts have it right. Go plant a tree!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Tanya Writes About Hanging Trees

Oh, things pile up so in my little corner of the world. Last week saw us four days away from home with wedding plans for our daughter (the first fitting, sigh), an Angel baseball game, and family birthdays...all of which was great fun but put me behinder than ever.

I've got a cool blog going on Wednesday, May 20, at Petticoats and Pistols...on hangin' trees. Finaling in the Hearts Through the Ages Contest with Outlaw Bride, a wip about a horse thief heroine who saves herself from such a tree, inspired some research, and Professor Ken Gonzales-Day of Scripps College kindly lent me some pictures to post. Here's one of them.



To see more, and to find out about these famous, not-so-famous, and infamous trees, stop by Petticoats. It's a great place to hang out with other Western aficionados.

Hope to see you there.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Tanya Writes About The English Language


Well, I'm still pretty darn excited about finaling in that contest. What a way to finish up a difficult week. Follow that with Mom's Day with my family --my ultimate group of people, and life these days is pretty much perfect. Other than missing my pup, of course.

Since I spent quite a few years teaching high school English, I got a kick out of the following ten examples of the intricacies --and nuttiness-- of the English language. Just had to pass them along.

And thanks to the May 2009 issue of Friends of the Blanchard Library newsletter, Santa Paula, California.

We wonder why the English language is so difficult to learn:

1. We polish the Polish furniture.

2. The dove dove into the bushes.

3. The insurance for the invalid was invalid.

4. I spent last evening evening out a pile of dirt.

5. The bandage was wound around the wound.

6. A farm can produce produce.

7. I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.

8. She could lead if she would get the lead out.

9. The soldier decided to desert in the desert. (Was this before or after he had dessert LOL?)

10. The buck does funny things when the does are present.

And here's one of my own. This word has floored me since I was little.

Can the garbage collecter refuse my refuse?

Enjoy! Oh, and I just stuck the Little Women cover in because it's far and away my favorite book and Louisa May Alcott just knows how to use the English language.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Tanya Writes About the Romance Through The Ages Contest


Well, even in my grief, I got some happy news this past week. I finaled in the Historical Division of a prestigious romance fiction contest with a wip called Outlaw Bride.

The Romance Through the Ages Contest is sponsored by the Romance Writers of America special interest romance group, Hearts Through History Romance Writers. Sadly, I must miss the congratulatory breakfast during the national convention this summer in Washington DC.

In this story, horsethief Jessy Belle Perkins, little sister of the infamous Ahab Perkins mentioned in Marrying Minda, saves herself from her own hanging...and tries to hide out as a nun.

Although his heart has been seared by the slaughter of his Apache bride, Cleeland Redd --call him Redd-- finds himself drawn to the injured "sister"...until he uncovers her crimes. Yet wedding up with her is the only way to keep the convent safe. Much less Jessy Belle.

Anyway, two of the judges gave me perfect scores, and a third left some comments in case I want to polish things up for the ultimate judging later this month.

Wish me luck!

Friday, May 8, 2009

Tanya Writes About, well, Dogs



In my heart, they left me too soon. In my head, they were both in their doggie seventies and had lived good, long lives. But it's lonely. Every evening at five-thirty, my inner alarm says it's time to feed the dogs. There's no Marl any more to lay at my feed. No Seau lying noble and elegant in the sunshine while I garden.

No more romps in the park. In fact, since Seau passed, I've walked to the park several times and sat on the bench, just feeling the breeze in the trees and remembering him loping across the grass free and easy, like the young pup he once was. But at the end, he was losing the function of his back legs. And Marl...that sudden cancer, inoperable, inexorable, that took her from us last August still seems surreal. A hundred times a day I hear their tails slapping happily on our wood floors.

My friend Helen told me about the prayer below. I couldn't help passing it along because I know my babies are sitting at God's feet about now, and His hand is petting their heads.

But how I miss them at my side, miss them at my feet, miss them in my heart.

A Dog’s Prayer
By Beth Norman Harris

Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footsteps falls upon my waiting ear.

When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements. And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land, for you are my god and I am your devoted worshiper.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.

And, beloved master, should the great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest - and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Tanya Writes About Her Canine Angel, Seau

My Seau became a canine angel Monday morning at eleven...my brave hero took him because I just couldn't. And at that same moment, I got this Facebook post from my friend Sherryl. She knows my Seau well; she'd been his groomer for years now. It wasn't just Fate that had me read this, just then. It was God, and love, and all that is good.

It was weird this morning, waking up and automatically going to the crock full of dog bones. But there was relief too, not hearing his gasps, not watching him try to get across the floor with his front legs. As my grandbaby said, last time he was here and saw Seau's tail wag: He's better now.



A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead. He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them..

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?'

'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered.. 'Wow! Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked.

Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up.' The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

'Can my friend,' gesturing toward his dog, 'come in, too?' the traveler asked.

'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.'

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

'Excuse me!' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'

'Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.'

'How about my friend here?' the traveler gestured to the dog.

'There should be a bowl by the pump.'

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

'What do you call this place?' the traveler asked.

'This is Heaven,' he answered.

'Well, that's confusing,' the traveler said. 'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.'

'Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell.'

'Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?'

'No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.'

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Tanya Writes About Her Darling Dog


Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #13

If your dog leaves you, he won't take half your stuff. --Cyberspace

But he will take most of my heart.

My beautiful boy Seau is dying, and he's the only one that doesn't know it. The hip displasia has taken a horrific toll, crippling his backside. The strain on his upper body has lately caused dreadful gasping and choking and upchucking and accidents in the house because he can't drag himself outside.

Last night was the worst, and my hero told me softly this morning before church, I think it's time now.

I don't want to believe it, think it, decide it! Because some days he's still so darn strong. Hardly ever though. And he's still so darn beautiful.

We adopted him when he was about five, the vet said. From the boarding school where I'd been on staff. With a new headmaster coming on board that fall, it was decided by all who loved the two campus black Labs that the pups would be better off at the homes of those they'd bonded with best...rather than left to the mercy of a man with a bad reputation who turned out to be even worse than imagined.

So Seau, always my own true dog, came home with me. He fit in like the outer edge of an Oreo cookie with our yellow Lab girl Tawny (RIP 2004, a sudden cancer) and black Lab girl, Marley.

Marley left us suddenly last August to another devastating cancer. There was no hope, no cure. And after those months of my hero's own battle with cancer, the surreality hung over us for along time after she passed. So this decision has been brutal because, as I said before, some days Seau's a bit stronger. His eyes are so bright. He's taken glocosamine his whole life with us, and lately we tried expensive shots and pills, but Nature and Time have taken their toll.

Last weekend the grandbaby was here, cuddling the big black dog he used to call "Sia" last summer when he really was still a baby. He looked right at me and announced with the authority of a 2 1/2 year old. "Seau's sick. But he's better now."

So we took another slew of pictures of them together, because any day it would be time.

Time. How my heart breaks. But he's a grand dog who deserves to preserve his dignity. Pooping in the house doesn't quite cut it.

And he does have his two "sisters" waiting for him at the Rainbow Bridge. Somehow, because God is good, I know I'll hear a faint bark from above sometimes, letting me know he loves me still.

And he'll peek down and see an empty dog bed because we'll be going petless for a while. The heart can only bear so much.

Good night, sweet prince.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Tanya Writes About Preventing Swine Flu



A bit of levity today....our daughter's upcoming wedding date has started all the urgent details that must be done now. Inbetween, I'm finishing a book, getting my body and recently-repaired foot in shape, taking care of spring gardening, and spending as many hours as possible with the grandbaby. Oh, his mommy and daddy are so generous. I'll be getting the Thomas the Train excursion blogged on soon.

Well, back to swine flu. I'm not minimizing flu...although I prefer to call it H1N1 and I am fond of the piglet species. Two of our local schools have closed for TWO weeks. So to relax everybody, I just couldn't resist passing along this adorable pictorial hint I got from a friend.

Enjoy! And keep well.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Tanya Writes About Arbor Day...and a Special Fifth Anniversary!

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #12

I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree.
--Joyce Kilmer


J. Sterling Morgan, editor at Nebraska' most influential newspaper, established Arbor Day in 1874 to stress the value of trees. Indeed, the event is mentioned in my first Western romance, The Outlaw's Woman, set in Nebraska in 1877. In 1885, Arbor Day was recognized as an official legal holiday in Nebraska, and now is celebrated nationwide on the last Friday in April.

Ah. Trees. The shade is divine. The birdsong coming from the branches the hymn of heaven.

Today is also a special day for my precious son and DIL. Five years of marriage, a lovely welcoming home...and my to-die-for grandson. Ah. God is good.

Happy Anniversary, dear hearts, and many, many more. May your love story be a million pages long!

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Tanya Writes About Earth Day

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #11

After reading Thoreau, I felt how much I have lost by leaving Nature out of my life. --F. Scott Fitzgerald to his daughter, March 11, 1939



The earth is our mother. The native Americans called it so, and for the Greeks, it was Father Time (Kronus) and Mother Earth (Rhea) who started it all. In myth, Antaeus came back to Mother Earth the way real-life Henry David Thoreau kept coming back to Concord. How could he not? Look at that picture of Waldon Pond in early fall!

So why are we so mean to our mother? Grrrrrrrrrrr. I'm a mom myself, and I wouldn't like it.

Well, today we celebrate her. Earth Day is actually two separate holidays observed each year, during spring here in the Northern Hemisphere and during the fall in the Southern Hemisphere.

Earth Day observances are meant to inspire appreciation of our environment and earth's resources. The United Nations celebrates Earth Day each year on the March Equinox. The celebration originated with John McConnell in 1969.

The world-wide observance was originated by Gaylord Nelson in 1970 and is celebrated in many countries, including the United States, on this date, April 22.

It was at an Earth Day rally some years ago that our daughter got the idea for her Science Project on polluted water. Pollution by Dilution. She understood from a display how just a small amount of pollutant can harm a water supply. To demonstrate, she took a cup of food-colored blue water, then slowly diluted it in six more cups until the water was clear.

Well, it looked clear. But if the blue food color had been a poison, the water would still have been harmful to people, plants, and animals.

Hopefully you respect and honor our mother, Nature, each day of the year through recycling, bicycling, taking along reusable shopping bags, walking more and driving less, rescuing abandoned or abused creatures.

I try to do all of the above. Happy Earth Day, Mom.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Tanya Writes About the Rude Bridge that Arched the Flood



CONCORD HYMN

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set to-day a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.


Oh I loved this poem the first time I read it. Taught it. When a student essayed on the "Conquered" Hymn on a test, I hardly minded.

And being there, on the North Bridge, seeing the gentle flow of the Concord River...feeling the heroism that still lingers...seeing the Old Manse where Waldo's grandfather watched those first fired shots was a moment to encapsulate in my head and relive over and over.

Forever and ever. Amen.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Tanya Writes About Paul Revere's Ride

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #10

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm."

Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Yes...on this date it all started, the freedoms you and I enjoy. I learned this poem in school, loved it, but it wasn't until visiting New England that I got it.
We even learned on a tourist talk somewhere during our visit that Paul Revere didn't actually row anything LOL. Lexington is a horse's ride from Boston Harbor. But it makes for glorious poetry.

The Old North Church was amazing. Sadly, the other day we attended a funeral at its exact replica at Forest Lawn Cemetery in the Hollywood Hills. (more on that later.)
So was staying at the Concord Colonial Inn where Sam Adams and other revolutionaries held secretive meetings. On the place reeks of history.





This weekend the inn is celebrating its annual Patriots Day complete with parade. Ah, how I wish I could be there.


And sometimes I wish I'd lived there, then. Or later on and hung out with Louisa May and Henry David. And Waldo himself, who I'll write about later, too.

Or not...hmmmmm. Since there weren't flush toilets or antibiotics or....wait for it, computers. The accouterments of daily living I can't imagine living without.

Thank you, patriots. Minutemen. Founding fathers and mothers. God bless America!

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Tanya Writes About Remission: The One-Year Anniversary


Hard to believe how sick he was one year ago. So sick that when the doctor announced remission from testicular cancer on this very date last year, my hero didn't even hear him the first time. I burst into tears, and when our daughter came back into the hospital room and saw me crying, she began to sob, too, thinking we'd gotten dreadful news.

He's hale and healthy and hot, my hero. How's that for alliteration?

We're busy here at home, getting ready for our daughter's wedding next summer. Invitations get ordered next, and I think I found The Dress. On sale, yet. Of course, it will needs the stamp of approval from the bride, but I can hope, can't I?

And today, my own doctor said my foot is healing great; I can now wear a normal shoe (something comfortable with a bit of support, like my Ahnu sneaker. No Choos just yet for these toes.) And drive. myself. My hero has been such a sweetheart, chauffeuring me all over the last five weeks. I think he deserves a break.

And Easter is upon us. Having given up wine for Lent, I can now imbibe again. We'll have a wonderful brunch at our son and DIL's, which means a whole day with the grandbaby, hunting eggs and eating chocolate. I found him a set of camouflage plastic eggs in which I will stuff little cars. My son chuckled. Do you think he'll find them if they're camouflaged?

And we spent today with friends from Florida who showed off their adorable new grandson.

Still, these are still tough days for other loved ones. I'll tell you more some other time. Do keep them in your prayers, though. Death and cancer are just not good things.

But today, as we drove along the coast, I saw the sea daisies that only grow for a few weeks in the spring. Glorious yellow tufts that sit atop scrubby mini-Joshua trees. They brighten life and lift spirits. That's such a good thing.

How I miss them when they're done blooming. Sigh.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Tanya Writes About Scanxiety


Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #9

If I create from the heart, nearly everything works. If from the head, almost nothing. --Marc Chagall

Today, I decided to do Mark Chagall again, for two reasons. This comment fits me to a T. Second, his airy floating colors and shapes calm me. And today I need it.

My hero is the logical one in my life. He teases me endlessly about my lack of common sense, my ADD, my daydreams. I need him. As I know he needs me for just those same reasons.

My heart tell me today's routine CT scan will be free and clear and just in time to celebrate one year remission on Wednesday. But he says, cancer never leaves my head. The reality is always there. He's deservedly nervous today.

Most times we don't let it bother us, that ugly thing that came to live with us last year. It's been thwarted by gruelling chemo (3 X BEP) but tends to buzz around like a big fat stinky fly whenever a test or scan or blood work or doctor visit looms. I look at him, strong, hale...his hair kept short ala' Justin Timberlake to remind him, to remind us both that each day is a gift.

So I know today is a gift. As was this past weekend, with the grandbaby spending the night and our beloved sister and BIL visiting on their way north. And I know the scans will be clear. It's just...the frickin' seed of doubt the ugly thing left behind. It's called Scanxiety, and it's real, for survivors and their families. Two guys from our TC loop sent us private messages of good cheer. One is my cowboy friend in Texas...himself done with chemo just last week but sicker than the proverbial dog, awaiting his own CT Scan on Friday.

So if you're reading this, some prayers and good thoughts for my hero, for my cowboy, for all taking this tough journey, would be most appreciated.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Tanya Writes About Colors...and Marc Chagall



Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #8

All colors are the friends of their neighbors and the lovers of their opposites. --Marc Chagall

I just remember loving his work, Chagall's, when I studied Art in college. And although I spend most of my current life creating on the page, I do love the smell and slide of oils and paint on occasion. Colors smush in that way only oil paints can. In fact, when I got in a creative slump one time, my prof said, are you rich?

Spoiled, I replied.

Then get yourself some oils. You'll like them better than arcyllic. And how right he was.

I guess it's kind of like writing: typewriter vs. computer. Both work but one is better.

And Chagall...not only was he Russian and Abstract (I am both)...but I love the legend that every painting features his wife Bella somewhere in the composition. And with Notting Hill being one of my all-time favorite movies, well, remember the Chagall poster in Will's blue-doored house that was "how love should be" and snooty actress Anna gives him the original oil after being so mean to him? Sigh.

Now IMO, that's the stuff of great art and fiction. Agree?

Next up: Scanxiety

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Tanya Writes About Astrocytoma Glioma and Turk Is Toast


This blog was initially inspired by romance heroes, when I published my book Midnight Bride last year. But it quickly evolved into a blogspot honoring real-life heroes, people in my life kicking cancer in the ass. Including my precious husband, my personal hero, who celebrates one year remission on April 8.

Here's someone else dear to me, who's literally kicking ASS-trocytoma glioma. It's an ugly brain tumor she named "Turk" that struck her a few months ago. Since them, surgery, chemo and radiation are working, but Turk is still taking his ugly toll, and more is needed to fight this vile brain cancer.

My daughter's sorority sister Jackie, of the gorgeous smile and lovelier spirit. They've gone from Rush week and invites and winter formal and spring breaks on a cruise ship to post-grads living at the beach in Hermosa to young career women. They visited Australia together.

Then Turk reared his ugly head.

Jackie spent this last weekend with my daughter, and some of the conversation was heartbreakingly poignant. "Don't you ever worry about wrinkles. Embrace getting old," she said. "I might not get to."

And I feel myself flush with shame. Here I worry that the L'Oreal lip plumper isn't working.

To help kill Turk and his buddies afflicting other people, I ask you to help support Jackie's "Turk is Toast" team, raising funds in San Francisco on May 2, 2009, in a walk sponsored by the National Brain tumor Society (NBTS).


Turk is Toast!


T.C. came upon us during a rainy weekend....we thought it was a hernia. Jackie's Turk came upon her during a normal day at the office.

No one can know. But every knowing person can care. Find it in your heart to help.

Thanks, and hugs.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Tanya Writes About Being Good to Your Dogs

Ditsy Tanya's Almanac #7



Get a lot of sleep, a lot of exercise. Eat real good. Say your prayers. And be good to your dogs. --Mickey Rourke on how to survive hard times.

Well, I'm getting back to the blog. I hope to get a digital copy of my x-ray so you can see the screws, and until then, I'll save pontificating on convalescence for another day.

But actually, my podiatry problem is the reason for this almanac. I found Mickey Rourke's comment in a magazine the nurse gave me to read while I waited.

Right now, this is an homage to dogs. Since I'm a chick-lit, romantic comedy kind of girl --throw in the occasional Western-- I admit I'm not really a Mickey Rourke fan. But after reading that comment, this guy holds my heart in his hands.

Dogs.

I never had one until my hero got me a Border collie at the pound. We were newlyweds in our early twenties who had managed to buy a house. A brand new one, in a pretty little tract surrounded by lettuce fields. And a house needs a dog.

Well, the fields are gone now, and so is that precious little black and white pup. Romping with her at the Rainbow Bridge is the brown poodle Teddi my dad gave me shortly before his death in a car accident when our son was four months old.

After that, we had the Oreo Cookie. A yellow Lab and two black ones. With Tawny (yellow) the head dog, in the middle with a black on each side while we walked, it was both Cookie and Chariot Race with three hundred pounds of Labrador gaining inertia.

When Tawn died at 12 1/2 from sudden cancer, five years ago, I fell to the floor in grief. Anytime I saw Vincent on Lost, I broke down. But with two still at home, the grief ebbed. Then last summer, my Marl left us. Too quick. Again, cancer. Inexorable, inoperable. When I called the vet to arrange her last visit, I broke down in sobs, and my Marley ran to comfort me.

My hero had gotten her for me when our daughter, the youngest, left for college so I wouldn't be all alone during those stretches he spent all over the state fighting wildfires.

The third, our boy Seau, we adopted when he was about five. I wanted to change that ridiculous name, but our kids are Trojans and they refused. Big Seau fit into the fam like he was triplet to the other two.

And along the way we got two grandpup little girl English bulldogs, and a host of niece-pup mini-dachsies. There's a Corgi in there somewhere now, too.



But our big boy is failing. He's pushing 13 and the hip displasia has taken a dreadful toll. We know he deserves dignity and compassion, so we know it's coming upon us, that easing him over the Rainbow Bridge.

So I say my prayers...and am better to him than ever.

In fact, I'm going to hobble downstairs right now to give him a hug. And send off another little prayer.


Make that a big prayer. Nice and loud.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Tanya Writes About Chief Joseph and his Journey

...at my publisher blog http://twrpcactusrose.blogspot.com

Go check it out. I'm still very under the weather so wanted to point you to something actually inspiring and not whiney.

I will fight no more forever.
Heinmot Tooyalakat*
October 5, 1877


* Also known as Chief Joseph. His Nez Perce name translates to "Thunder Rolling in the Mountains."

Listen for him.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Tanya Writes About Spurs



Oh, I wish I was writing about cowboy spurs. I don't actually like the concept of something sharp and icky smacking into a neat horse's flank...but they are a part of Western culture. And that's where I set my books.

These spurs aren't meant for walking...they're hooked all around my right big toe! Now, I don't know about you. But I never gave my big toes much thought until one of them hurt bad and began to impede my regular life. What a lot of trouble a bad big toe can be!

I saw a podiatrist just before our dream trip (New England) which, as you know, was just before the nightmare--my hero's bout with testicular cancer. Now it's time to fix that bastard so I can dance at our daughter's wedding.

Dr. N says I can't do anything for ten days but read and watch TV...and computerize if I'm able. So I don't know when I'll be Back to the Blog.

I'm hoping like crazy to be able to get a proposal off to my wonderful editor, at least make the downtime worthwhile.

And my hero tells me with a big hug, now it's my turn to take care of you.

Sigh. What a guy.

Saturday, February 28, 2009

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!

Monday, February 23, 2009

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.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

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)

Friday, February 13, 2009

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

Thursday, February 12, 2009

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!

Monday, February 9, 2009

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.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

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.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

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.

Monday, January 26, 2009

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. )

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

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.)

Monday, January 12, 2009

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