Which is better?

The first paragraph of a book either invites you in to read more or kills it dead.  Furthermore, if the writer doesn't hook you in by the fifth page of the novel, then the entire book is dead on arrival.  Here's where you come in.  Here are two different openings to my current manuscript.  Which is better?  Which one makes you want to continue reading?

Option One:

        Seventy-eight cats.  That’s how many cats Alexandra Merriweather was going to die with.  Maybe a dog or two just because.  

She was certain of this despite the clichéd image of an old lady dying surrounded by too many cats.   

She wondered, too, whether or not she would ever marry.  Remarry, that is.  

A part of her knew that even thinking about the idea of remarriage was ridiculous, especially since her first marriage had ended in divorce.

Option Two: 

       Alexandra Merriweather wondered if she would ever marry.  

Remarry, that is.  

A part of her knew that it was futile to borrow trouble from the future by considering such an idea as remarriage.  Especially when her first marriage ended in divorce.  

And yet, here she was hiking up a steep trail in the state park where she and her now ex-husband had exchanged vows, overlooking a waterfall with their families and closest friends as witnesses.  Today, she had taken a personal day from her newspaper job to hike this very path she tread as a new bride three years ago.

Which one do you prefer, avid readers that I know you are.  Which one makes you say, yes, I want to read this novel?  Of course, you may not like either option and that's okay too.  Tell me so.  You won't hurt my feelings.  

Let the voting begin. 

This is how we play the game Candy Land at our house

Yesterday afternoon, Elias suggested that we play Candy Land.  Good idea.

Both boys clear the kitchen table of their toys while I grab the Candy Land box.

In a few moments, the board is spread out on the kitchen table.  Elias wants to be the red gingerbread boy.  Ethan chooses blue.  I want yellow.

At Elias's suggestion, we don't use the cards that come with the game that tells you how far to advance.  Oh no.  Instead, he dumps all of his piggy bank money onto the table and meticulously places all the pennies, dimes, nickels and quarters along the colorful Candy Land path.  We will use the money to advance in the game.  I'm not sure how the money will indicate how far or how little each player will advance during his turn, but suddenly, we are in a free for all grab of piggy bank money with strict instructions to avoid Lord Licorice.

Then Lord Licorice captures two gingerbread boys, casting an evil Zombie spell on them so the gingerbread boys are now Lord Licorice's minions.  In their Zombie state, they capture Lolly, Princess Frostine, and Mr. Mint.

Wait for it!  Army men to the rescue!  But some of the Army men are bad and side with Lord Licorice while others side with the remaining two good gingerbread boys.  Now, we have a civil war on our hands.  A terrible, terrible thing.

Here's the plan:  the two remaining good gingerbread boys are to lure the bad Army men into Mr. Gloppy's fudge swamp where they will get all sticky and stuck while two good Army men sneak over to Lord Licorice's hideout and disable the power source for the electrical fences imprisoning Mr. Mint and Lolly.  With the aide of Princess Frostine, we froze some of the bad Army men too.

Wait for it!  You must double jump over the electric fences to avoid getting shocked.  (Just one jump means you will get shocked, by the way).  Remember, double jump.

After a horrendous battle (don't forget to double jump) with many casualties on both sides, Lord Licorice is finally defeated, which causes Candy Land to implode and collapse.

Mama, can we do it again?

Well, sure.

If you live in a house full of girls, I bet you never played a game of Candy Land quite like this.

The tooth fairy came to call

Elias's top front tooth fell out yesterday afternoon. He's such a big kid now. Can you believe it?

Last night, he asked "How does the tooth fairy get into the house?"

Um? "Magic," I say.

"How does she know when to come?"

"I'll call her to her let her know your tooth fell out," I  lied.

"How does the tooth fairy lift me up to put the money underneath my head without waking me up?"

Um? "Magic," I respond.

"If the tooth fairy is so small, how can she be big enough to lift me up?"

Um? "Okay, Elias.  Enough questions.  It's time for sleep." 

The tooth fairy left $1.25.  Inflation.  

Shopping

Last Saturday, I went clothes shopping (alone!) for the first time in a long time.  As many of you know, I'm a big fan of the TV show What Not To Wear (although Stacy and Clinton would be appalled that I wear sneakers even when I'm not exercising).

For two hours, I tried on jeans, sweaters, and blouses.  Too big.  Too small.  Too long.  Too short.  Too big here, but too small there.  One after another.  Then back to the racks for more rooting and poking.

Each time I tried on a different pair of jeans, I repeat to myself like a mantra: "It's just a number.  It's just a number," referring to the size.  I'm annoyed that the sizes are not uniform among the different brands of jeans.  Of course, I'm looking for the perfect pair.  No mom jeans here.

Moreover, I'm getting annoyed at myself.  I typically don't look at my body in the mirror.  Some of my body parts sag, most of it is doughy.  Some might call it zaftig.  (That's an SAT word right there.  Look it up.)

Then I notice on the tag of the umpteenth pair of Levi's that the jeans are made in China.  An iconic American brand manufactured in another country.

Are there any clothes still manufactured in the USA?

Don't get me wrong.  I still bought that pair of Levi's despite my reservations.  After all, the jeans made me look less doughy.  Later,  I checked out the website for Levi's and they do good things: "profits through principles" and working with cotton farmers to use less water and chemicals on cotton.  All well and good.  Still.  An iconic brand of American jeans are manufactured in China.

What would it take to bring back the manufacturing to the USA?

The Seed Catalog!

I am excited!  The seed catalog arrived in the mail last week.  Pages and pages of beautiful vegetables, herbs and flowers.

Lavish abundance packed into tiny seeds.

Every January, I fantasize about all the tomatoes and herbs and flowers that I will grow on my desk.  In turn, I fantasize about all the homemade salsa from truly vine ripened tomatoes or pesto sauce that I will make with my abundant little container garden.  You will envy me.  I might even share.

What are your gardening plans?

Tea Rings

My grandmother Scott made tea rings, pictured below.  (Now a days, most people call them cinnamon rolls.) She gave them as gifts; she sold them at the bake table during church fundraisers.

Once upon a time, I spent Friday nights with my grandmother at her small farm and come Saturday morning would awaken to the house smelling sugar-y and cinnamon-y.  Usually, she was done making her tea rings by the time I got out of bed.  (I'm a late riser, you see.) After I ate cold cereal for breakfast, I would be assigned the cookie detail.  By the time I was ten, I could whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies like nobody's business.  But that's another story.

The photo above is how Nanny made her tea rings.  Very old school, isn't it.  I remember that she had a pair of super sharp stainless steel scissors that she used to snip the dough around the ring before baking. (You could never use those scissors for anything else other than her tea rings.)  After letting them cool, she would drizzle the ring with a little powdered sugar icing and meticulously quarter maraschino cherries to place on each semi-sliced portion.  We were not allowed to eat the maraschino cherries either because they were too expensive or so she insisted.  It was a real treat if she spared one, believe me.

I typically make mine like this: new school.  I think this style is popular right now.  Beside, it's easier.  (I don't have those stainless steel scissors to snip the dough; I have to use a serrated knife, which just isn't as precise.)

In the spirit of Nanny, we are giving the old school tea ring to the neighbors. Christmas morning we will enjoy the new school version, remembering Nanny all the while.  Merry Christmas, everyone.  

The Great Christmas Debate

To send a Christmas card? Or not send a Christmas card?

This internal debate ping-pongs around my head.

It's one more thing to do.  Stamps cost money.  Stop being stingy. It's a stamp, for crying out loud.  You already bought the cards.  Just do it. 


Then today, I get a card from a long lost friend, Meredith. Over the years and two relocations later, I lost her address.  The only time we connect is via a Christmas card.  Last year, she diligently sent me one detailing the latest happenings with her two kids and husband, but there wasn't a return address on the envelope.  So I couldn't send her one in reply.  

Sending Christmas cards is kinda old fashioned in this day and age of digital everything.  What with constant updates on Twitter and FB, e-cards and paying bills on-line, who actually mails anything anymore except credit card companies soliciting for business.

Here's an interesting perspective: most of you know that I work at a major retail bookstore (that shall remain nameless).  Ten years ago, when I first started, we had three to four tables dedicated to holiday cards during this time of year.  Now, we have just one.  Yeah, dear gentle reader, one table.  The cards are getting more expensive and the box doesn't contain as many cards either.  So sending a card is a fading custom.

Back to my point: today I open a card from our long lost friend Meredith to see the smiling faces of her two children. Simply beautiful.  I was overjoyed.  Really, I was, because old fashioned or not, Christmas cards are the one time of year where I communicate with friends long separated by distance.  Especially the friends who are not on FB.  

This time around Meredith's envelope had a return address, which I've noted in my old fashioned address book.  The debate is settled, as you can probably guess.  I'll be sending out those Christmas cards.