1950's Etiquette from Emily Post

My dad and I have a mutual bond: geeky humor. He picked up a copy of Etiquette by Emily Post at a yard sale and we've had fun thumbing through it. While the values hidden in these now humorous cautions are worth considering, times have drastically changed. So just for fun...

Hospitality at College: When Wrong Clothes Spell Failure

If the college should happen to be in a warm climate, naturally foulard dresses or cotton prints would take the place of the warm woolens. But at a college that is, let's say, snow-bound for many months, it is important that the clothes be warm and that heavy gloves, low-heeled shoes, and galoshes be included. Nothing could be more unappealing to a boy that a girl in such unsuitable clothes that she can take no part in any outdoor sports. High-heeled evening slippers in which to walk on frozen snow, and thin fluffy clothes when the thermometer is zero, will not impress any boy as alluring, but will make him wish he hadn't handicapped himself with such a nuisance.

A Few don'ts for Debutantes

Don't think that because you have a pretty face, you need neither brains nor manners. Don't think that you can be rude to anyone and escape being disliked for it. Whispering and giggling are always rude. Everything that shows lack of courtesy toward others is rude.


If you would be thought likable, don't nudge or paw or finger people. Don't hold hands or walk-arm-about-waist in public. Don't allow anyone to paw you. Petting is cheap--and pawing common. Don't hang on anyone for support, unless necessary! Don't walk across a ballroom floor swinging your arms. Don't talk or laugh loudly enough to attract attention, and on no account force yourself to laugh. Nothing is flatter than laughter that is lacking in mirth. If you laugh only because there is something irresistibly funny, the chances are that your laugh will be irresistible too. In the same way, a smile should be spontaneous, because you feel happy, and pleasant. Nothing has less allure than a mechanical grimace, as though you were trying to imitate a toothpaste advertisement. 


Say that to a roomful of today's teens. Hehe. Wait, do I hear crickets chirping?

Adventures In Country Living: Homemade Soap

I decided to make soap. From scratch. And it sounded like a really good idea. A fun, simple activity that shouldn't be too hard to screw up. I watched a video on making soap that seemed easy enough. After watching it a few more times, I was confident. If they could do it, I could do it. Simple as that, right?

The first thing I had to do was order the lye from a soap making company. It came in really intimidating containers with hazard warnings all over it. I knew it was caustic which meant it would burn if I got it on my skin. Not intimidating in the slightest *cough*. Insert cheesy Christmas apron and bright blue rubber gloves. I was certain I could handle this without a trip to the ER.

So once I got all the rest of my various oils, fragrances, and other necessities like molds, spoons, pot, etc., I was ready to go. I timed my soap making adventure to take place during the kids' naps so no harm would befall them, and once they were snoozing away, I set up all the supplies outside so I wouldn't breathe the fumes.

I was ready to go.

All my ingredients were carefully weighed (not measured) and all that was left to do was snap on my rubber gloves and face the dreaded container of lye. After a mini pep talk and a few heart palpitations, I opened the lid and poured it into the bowl. Add the lye to the water only, not the other way around. I kept repeating this to myself as I went through the motions. Immediately, as expected, the pot steamed as the lye heated up the water in a cloud of funky smelling solution. And of course I think I got some on my rubber gloves.

Why is it that once you get in a position where you can't touch anything, every surface on your body starts itching? I sort of wiggled and tried to psych myself out of the crazies as I stirred the mixture, thankful for my rubber gloves. I don't know if it actually happened or if it was just a result of being over neurotic, but I was certain that a drop of lye got on my skin. In a moment of sheer panic, I poured white vinegar on it (as the video instructed) and hurried inside to rinse it all off. My husband, who was sort of poking around, seemed slightly worried for my health and sanity. Once I assured him that I was a highly trained professional and the incident required no medical attention, he seemed only more worried. He may have hovered after this point.

Back outside, I added the rest of the ingredients, coconut and olive oil, to name a few. This is a good point to mention that the video highly recommended using an immersion blender. Well I didn't have an immersion blender and thinking that I would just do it the "old fashioned way", figured it wouldn't really matter. If our ancestors could do it without an immersion blender, so could I. Stirring with a wooden spoon would just take longer. That's OK, I thought, I've got plenty of time.

Fast forward an hour and a half. I'm still standing there with my stupid snowman apron, stupid blue gloves and stupid wooden spoon...waiting for the famous "tracing" to occur--the point when the mixture has thickened properly. It was here that I learned that talking to a pot of soap and begging it to trace will not actually make it happen. Eventually my soap sort of traced (shhh, don't tell) and I decided to call it good enough. I dumped in pumpkin pie spice, yummy fall fragrances and some oats for exfoliation, stirred it together, and poured the mixture into my well-greased mold to set. After that, I cut it and left it to cure for several weeks.

Of course since tracing didn't actually occur, my mixture was still quite warm and down the road, when we used the first bar, I realized the oats had sort of cooked. Lovely. Just the effect I was going for. So now, I have a lifetimes supply of apple and oatmeal scented soap that is rather homely. But honestly, it works quite well. So if you know me, don't be surprised when you get a bar at Christmas. And when you discover my mushy oat mistake, please just smile and pretend like you didn't read this.

Farewell, Television...

So we have officially gone five months without a TV in our home. Well, the TV is still there but its not hooked up to anything except our trusty VCR.

Now, rewind five months….

As my husband and I discussed the pros and cons of having television, we realized this would mean no more American Idol. No more Top Chef or HGTV or Outdoor Channel. No more…cartoons. GASP! What would we do without a TV? Well, we decided, we’d save a lot of money each month. We did the math, in four years it would be several thousand dollars. I can’t think of a single hour that I've spent watching TV that changed my life. I can’t get a single one of those hours back. And if I reached the end of my life and was given the opportunity to have all that time back, I would take it in a heartbeat.

I remember sitting there watching one of my favorite shows and thinking, what am I doing? If there had been a mirror right there, know what I would have seen? Me, sitting on the couch without moving, staring at the box across from me. Wow. Impressive.

We saw this as our chance. Not only to unplug, but to spend more time as a family. More time getting real stuff done and living life instead of watching others do it. 

Our routine has been to let the kids watch about ½ an hour a day, while missing some days all together. No TV, no problem. We’ve got plenty of good videos for the kids and the library provides extra variety. Plus, there's just way too many fun things to fill up a kid's day than cartoons. Now when the kids go down to bed at eight, instead of one of us plopping on the couch and choosing something off the DVR, my husband and I turn to each other and one of us always asks, “What do you want to do tonight?”

And we hang out.

We talk. Sometimes we both have projects to keep us busy. Sometimes we watch a movie. My new favorite thing we do is read aloud to each other. I love falling asleep to the sound of my husband reading to me from one of his books, or better yet, his Bible. And the other night, I read a couple pages from Thunder Dog and my husband laid there, listening to the real life account of escapees in a stairwell in the World Trade Center.

Of course we could have been watching Lady Gaga do something life-changing on American Idol…tempting, but I think we’ll stick with what we’ve got!

The Pages of My Journal

I keep a journal. I've kept one for as long as I can remember...all the way back to that little book with the gold colored lock and tiny key I kept hidden away in my room when I was a girl.

I've saved every journal I've ever filled. Now, the one sitting on my dresser contains memories from my first son's birth and then my daughter's and everything in between. I've taped memories inside: ticket stubs from a special date with my husband, the little greeting card that came with a gift of flowers from an illness, tracings of my son's feet and hands when he sat with me one night, watching me scribble away. With a broken heart, I've torn pages out of my journal and watched days best forgotten scatter like the wind. It is a record of my life. The good moments. The everyday memories that I couldn't risk forgetting. The not so good.

Every so often, I flip back through my journal and remember where the adventures of life began. I did just this last night. And each time, it nearly takes my breath away. I am once again awed by God's steadfastness in every area of my life. My journal has been a journey of faith. Through ups and downs, I continually see the same thing repeated; God is in control. And each time I scribble that phrase, or its many variations, I know--I believe--that pages and pages down the road of life, I will flip back and think to myself, Yes, He certainly was!

Character Quality: Meek

In the age of pop culture where spunky go-getters are incredibly popular, I am still a fan of the meek woman. I think many of us when confronted with that odd little word have the simple reaction of substituting the "M" for a "W."

But there is a great difference between a woman who is weak and one who is meek. Allow me to explain.

You're looking at the very pretty Hattie Morahan who plays Elinor Dashwood in the BBC series Sense and Sensibility. I know, you've heard it from me before but its one of my favorite movies. This is why...

Elinor was meek.

The bible calls those who are meek blessed. (Matthew 5)

It does not say passive.
It does not say pitiful.
It does not say doormat

It says blessed.

In Sense and Sensibility. Elinor Dashwood loved a man. Her sister Marianne also loved a man. Both sisters loved and lost. Yet one embraced the realization with meekness and a humble spirit, no doubt relying on the truth that her fate was in the hands of the One who created her. The other stitched her heart to her sleeve, parading her distress for all to see and feel and was so self-consumed with her own misery, that she forgot anyone else existed in the world.

It isn't until the end of the story that Marianne speaks to her older sister about her regrets of her relationship with the wretched Mr. Willoubhy whom she nearly married.

Elinor asks, "Do you compare your conduct to his?"

Marianne replies, "No. I compare it with what it ought to have been; I compare it with yours."

There is something attractive about a woman who is meek. Though she is not loud in her ways, she accomplishes much. She is a safe haven for the hurting. A glow to those who are lost. A warmth of understanding and maturity. Wise words come from her lips and sound council can be found in her friendship.

Because she does not live in fear. She stands fast in the promises of God:

"LORD, You have heard the desire of the humble; You will prepare their heart; You will cause Your ear to hear, To do justice to the fatherless and the opressed..." (Psalms 10)

Photo credit: Sense and Sensibility (BBC), 2008

Don't Be A Stagnant Writer: 5 Helpful Tips

Write with purpose and be flexible. It's important to have a game plan in mind. There's much to be said for well thought out character outlines and scene summaries. I have plenty of them on hand. But sometimes its just plain OK to hit the keyboard with reckless abandon, with no destination in sight. Crank up the radio and channel the inspiration that fell in your lap earlier in the day. Have fun with it. Be crazy. Don't edit. I've written some of my best scenes this way and talk about an adrenaline rush. In a nerdy, writer, sort of way ;)

Play with different genres. I know writers hear all the time to "pick a genre and stick to it." Wise advice, to be certain when building a platform and readership, but when it comes to just you, your writing space and imagination, feel free--better yet--take the liberty to play around with different story ideas, time periods and locations. I mostly write historical fiction. Petticoats, wagons and butter churns pretty much make up my world, so to keep from losing my mind, I allow myself to play with crazy plots as they hit me. Recently I put down two chapters of a contemporary suspense-kidnapping-romance. Might not jive with the whole Appalachian brand thing, but it sure was fun and it helped stretch my writing muscles and was a ton of fun to hash out. And one never knows...wait do I smell a future Christy Award? Kidding!

Get critiqued. And I don't mean by anybody. Your mom, aunt or grandma do not count. Because one of those ladies just might think that Daisy Lou Starlight is a great name for your heroine. *hand to forehead*

Get critiqued by someone (better yet several someones) who knows the ins, outs, ups and downs of good writing. Yep, it'll sting. I sort of think it's supposed to. Kind of like a really tough workout. You might not feel so great while your in the middle of that seventh treadmill mile, but your body will thank you for it later. So will your book...and your agent and your editor. And mind you, not all critique groups (or critique partners) are created equal. I've had my moments of tears. But those moments were few and far between. Equipped with a little discernment and a learners heart (read that last part five times), you will find your writing and storytelling grow in ways you never thought possible.

Learn from what you read. Didn't like that last beach flick? Thought that mystery was some of the greatest writing ever? Don't just put the book aside with a satisfied sigh (or fling it at the wall). Let it marinate. Shoot, take notes if you want to. I typically analyze everything I read and when a line stands out at me as being totally amazing, I take a moment to figure out why and how. What makes it so special? What's the writer doing here. It's not just luck...it's a craft. And if a story line isn't doing it for you, study the characters--is something about them bugging you? Is the plot just going nowhere? Too many pet phrases? Take note for your own writing on what to avoid and what to embrace.

To take things one step further, if a book has a strong impact on me--whether good or bad--I sometimes look it up on amazon and read some reviews. This helps me gain a little outside perspective. Maybe readers agree with me, maybe not. But it's helpful to know what others think. What makes them tick. Could very well be the same readers that rate your novel one day. So their opinions carry a good bit of weight.

Learn from the pros. Last but definitely not least. I've chatted recently with other writers about my journey toward publication (which might I add is getting REALLY close! But that's a whole 'nother post) Anywho, the best advice I can usually give is to READ BLOGS. Yes, read blogs by the pros. Agents. Editors. Authors. You name it, if its good, read it, study it and see how you can apply it to your own writing and career. Think of it as a free creative writing and marketing education. I can't tell you how many times in the past I read blog posts or articles on how to write the perfect pitch. Then how to write the perfect query. Proposal. And so on and so on. There is a wealth of information on the web (and in many fabulous books). Take advantage of it. Learn. Learn. Learn.

I'd love to hear what advice and tips you all have to keep from being a stagnant writer!

First Home School Days

Well we have officially begun home schooling. Yet isn't home schooling something so many moms do? Whether they send their kids to school or teach them at home? I think so. Playing blocks, coloring, learning numbers and letters and so many other activities are really teaching our children, so the transition into official schooling can be a smooth one.

We've casually done preschool up until now. Levi, who will be five in November has had trouble with numbers. Right now he has just mastered counting up to the number twelve. Some kids that I know of can count much higher by this age and at first I was worried because Levi really struggle in this area (sometimes making me want to bang my head against the table) but once I realized it was OK to slow down, it took the pressure off of both of us. And trying to work with a stressed out mommy is no fun for any child. It was time for a change.

We made a game by cutting out small pieces of cardboard and I spread them out in the center of the living room. Levi had so much fun jumping from one number to the next (whichever number I called out) like a frog on lilly pads. Other times I'd do a scavenger hunt by placing the cards in a special spot and after telling Levi what number I needed, he'd race off and find it. There was lots of laughing, high fives and woohooing as we played these games. And for a squiggly, wiggly, four-year-old, counting and numbers became a pleasant time again.

On the other hand, when it came to letters, I hardly had to try. He just naturally picked it up. Now we're working on sight words and he's picking those up just as quick. Once I realized that he knew about 20 words, I made him his own little book out of construction paper. I printed off sentences that included the words he knew, simple things like "Levi and Mabry run." or "I said truck." (I taught him a couple extra words like truck, dog, his name and sister's name, and a few others to make the storybook a little more possible.) He loves that he can read what the little book says and has such fun reading it with his grandma or dad and showing them what he's learned.

In all this, I'm learning just as much as he is. A joy of home schooling is that I can pace Levi differently in the various subjects so he's learning at a comfortable rate with enough of a challenge to find his successes thrilling. And his two-year-old sister insists on learning along with us. She hates being left out. So even though she's just a tiny tot, she wants me to show her the flash cards and I'll help her say them back. She thinks it's so fun to be doing what brother is doing and it makes it so much easier to have her close and participating so I don't have to worry about what trouble she might be getting into somewhere else in the house. Most of the time, though, she keeps busy scribbling on scratch paper. And her brother has the most generous heart. He admires her wild scrawling and points out what he sees. "Look, May. You made a boat." And my favorite was when he said..."You made a beaver tail, good job!"

Oh, and I almost forgot about the picture above! I grew up reading the Little House books and have been waiting for the right time to read them to the kids. I wasn't sure how well they'd get into a story with so few pictures, but they love sitting down each day and reading several pages and it gives Levi and I a special time to simply chat about what we're reading. He can ask questions and it's a great opportunity to explain history and pioneer life. And my time of having my children at home with me is only going to be a season. I'm so thankful to have them with me, learning, laughing and being together as a family.