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.

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!

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.