Odds and Ends
Spring has finally arrived in Ohio! And not a moment too soon! I’m busy making deadlines but I thought I’d post a few links from some fun things I’ve been doing around the internet lately:
–This past week, on the USA Today Happy Ever After Blog, I got to give my hero, Brad, some badly needed first-date advise! Click here to view.
—FOR WRITERS: I did a post at Romance University on ways to keep tension in your writing. Click here to view.
—Blog interview at Land of Books: Click here to view.
–Lastly, here’s a peek at Meg and Ben on the gorgeous cover for my next Mirror Lake novel, This Love of Mine, coming in October:
Enjoy the amazing weather! (I’m still so shell-shocked from winter, every time I look outside and see green I still can’t believe it :))
Miranda
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My Tale of Willow Ware
I am a dishaholic, I admit it. I recently read an article in Time that said we Americans are overrun with stuff. Stuff is cheaper than ever before–cheap clothing, thanks to places like Forever 21 and H and M, and nonessential goods that we don’t need but buy anyway are everywhere. 
So I am working on purging my room of shame–my attic–of all the fake flowers, Christmas decorations, and kids’ stuff that is probably more sentimental for me than them. But one thing I will never get rid of is my dishes.
When I was younger, I was unenlightened. I asked for everyday dishes for my wedding. What was I thinking!
But my mother-in-law, who is now 85 with dementia, taught me something invaluable about them. For every one of her holiday meals–and this woman could serve 30 without blinking–she would stand by a large stack of dishes, and graciously hand them out as everyone came up to fill their plates. “Go eat,” she’d simply say.
She loved dishes. As we cleaned up, she would say how pretty they were. It made me notice dishes for the first time–their beauty, their artwork. She had a great collection of platters and plates in all different sizes, colors, and patterns and she used every last one of them to feed my husband’s large extended family.
And then she started on me. In one of our first apartments, I had bought a few faux-Willow Ware plates to stick in a hutch we had, just to fill it up. She noticed–oh, man, did she notice–and thus started a years-long quest to gift me each Christmas with every size, shape, and number of Willow Ware accessories that were known to mankind.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I had no idea what Willow Ware even was. But I do now! And I love it. I now have enough of this classic pattern to feed half a city–or at least the family at holidays and gatherings.
The thing that I love the most about this 200-plus year pattern is that it tells a love story. Take a look at the first plate above. It’s the story of a wealthy Mandarin’s daughter (a scholar in Imperial China) who fell in love with her father’s accountant, who was not of the same class. He was thrown out by her father and she was imprisoned in a little house by a lake surrounded by a fence to keep her lover out. Her intended, a wealthy duke, comes for her by boat, bearing a box of jewels. But her lover came for her and they fled across a bridge under **a willow tree**, being chased by the duke, who is holding a whip. The lovers escape to a pagoda but are captured. But the gods have mercy on them and transform them into doves who fly into their happily ever after.
Someday, I hope I’m the tranquil granny who stands before enough food for an army, quietly handing everyone a plate and telling them to come eat. And I hope I get to tell the willow legend to grandkids as they eat off those plates. And I hope that my kids will treasure all the meals we’ve had on the Willow Ware and that these memories carry fondly into all their holidays with their own families. Because for me, I remember the kindness of a wise woman who knew that I would need–and one day treasure–those plates! And I will also treasure the memories they will always bring me of her.
Just…the Beach
Last week, I got to spend some quality time with my oldest daughter, a recent college graduate, when we fled the cold of Ohio for a few days and went to Southwest Florida.
Sunny, warm day, Beach, Southwest Florida. No snow in sight!!!
I must admit, I have this thing for the ocean. Ever since I first set eyes on it at age twelve, I’ve been in love. My daughter feels the same way.
And after the winter we’ve had, holy snowstorm, I felt like I died and went to heaven, standing there in the bright sunshine and not being cold. (See Julie Andrews shot below. Fortunately, I deleted the one of me kissing the ground.)
Here’s what we accomplished on our little trip together:
–We learned the most efficient way to lug large beach umbrellas and lounge chairs every day to a perfect spot on the beach–and back. And plant them in the sand. Without tools. It was worth it, because this enabled us to spend several great afternoons gazing out at the water between reading our books. (Although I was mostly under the umbrella and she was mostly not under it.)
Volcanic Eruption Hibiscus, a flashy chick indeed.
–We counted how many Kindles we saw on the beach every day, mourning that we couldn’t see what bestsellers everyone was reading like you can with a book that has a cover.
–We decided that of all the varieties of hibiscus planted where we were staying, we liked the wildly exotic Volcanic Eruption the best.
–We watched Maid of Honor, one of our favorite flicks. Especially the part where the Scottish guy’s grandmother suggests they name their first son the ancestral Scottish name Athol.
–My daughter took me to my first ever spinning class. For some weird reason, the body part that hurt the most afterward was the front of my ankles. (The rest of my body just went numb.)
The hills are not alive, but I am very grateful.
–We didn’t do much. Ate, biked, walked, sat on the beach, watched some movies. In between her work and mine. And searched for seashells like we did when she was four. And reminisced about past beach vacations when she and her siblings were much smaller. It was a rare, wonderful time with a child who has somehow grown into a adult, and a terrific one at that. With that said, the great weather was just a bonus.
Cover Reveal!
Just wanted to give you the first peek at Olivia and Brad, the couple on the cover for my May 1st release from Montlake. My editor said the idea was to convey a sense of lightheartedness and joy.
Well, I do believe they did it! I love it! The art department at Montlake rocks! This cover really warms me right down to my Ohio-frozen toes. And that’s Mirror Lake in the background…can’t wait to share the details with you soon!
Archie the Snowman, An Extraordinary Story
Once upon a time there was a beloved 24-foot snowman named Archie who greeted children at a local mall from the late 1960’s until 2003. They would walk up to the snowman, speak into a microphone, and he would talk to them about Christmas. His eyes would light up and his voice would project from a secret booth with a one-way mirror.
But alas, as in any great story, tragedy struck. The mall got sold to different owner and the snowman deteriorated and someone threw him away. Ouch.
But in 2011, two wonderful men began a Facebook page to Save Archie. They got thousands of hits on Facebook, people with fond memories remembering the impact that Archie had on them when they were kids.
The community rallied, and Archie was resurrected with lots of love. He was rebuilt, better and stronger than before, but a little less taller (he stands at 15 feet now, and his girth is a bit wider, for true snowman appeal–and middle age, maybe?)
I visited Archie with my 20 year old daughter the other day. We made a special trip, in fact. We listened to him talk to a 4 year old about the truck he wanted and heard Archie tell him to be good. Then my beautiful daughter walks up with her Starbucks in hand and Archie says, “Well, hellloooo there! And what do you want for Christmas?” (It was a different tone than what he used for the 4 year old, that’s for sure 🙂 He had us both laughing. We took pictures and relived fond memories. It was joyous!
It was so great to see Archie back in his rightful place. Of the two men who began the campaign for Archie, one has since died. He was a younger man, in his mid-thirties. I can’t tell from Google what he died from. This saddens me greatly. But it also makes me awestruck. Imagine the change that came from their effort that started so simply and grew into something extraordinary. The impact from what those men started was profound. By spearheading the effort to bring this community institution back, they spread love and joy.
I wish you all a joyous holiday with your families. Reliving fond memories and creating new ones. Getting over the stress and seeing the holiday for what it really is–an opportunity to spend time with those we love.