PAIDRA'S PEN

LIFE TRAIN

2011-10-25T11:08:00.000-07:00

CALLING YOU

2011-08-03T21:53:00.001-07:00

STREAMS OF CONSCIOUSNESS

2011-06-27T08:11:00.001-07:00

SUMMER TIME AGAIN

2011-06-27T08:04:00.000-07:00

Okay now, I want to see a show of hands. Who out there has ever, or knows somebody who has tried a new diet? After losing maybe ten to twenty pounds, you get sidetracked and the diet goes the by and by. Here’s the part I find most interesting. Within a short time, you regain the pounds you lost plus add five or ten extra as a door prize.

In this article I will show you two things. The first is why you can’t keep the weight off and the second is something you can do about it that actually works. The key to believing what I have to say is for the reader to understand and believe that I have absolutely nothing to gain by telling you this.

Let’s start out by examining the many diets one finds plastered all over the internet and magazines. I will not mention any names for the obvious reason, but who they are is simply a matter of looking in your cupboards.

First, we must examine what these purchased diets accomplish. I will be the first to admit that people actually lose weight on these various plans. But, and sometimes it’s a really large but, what are we doing to our bodies? Do these diets teach us to control our portions? Do they naturally shrink our stomachs? No to both questions.

The biggest thing we must look at is, HOW MUCH MONEY IS BEING MADE FROM THIS DIET, and who is making it? In the world today, it seems a fairly safe bet that whenever something, which on the surface sounds good, comes along, somebody is making money from it.

How many doctors have you visited about your weight who actually told you how to successfully lose the pounds? How many nutritionists have you visited who actually showed you how to successfully lose the weight and the program was free? How long would they be in business if what they said was without any additional expense to what you now are paying for food?

All right, I admit to being a conspiracy buff. That admitted, here’s my version of the great weight conspiracy. Let’s say, I’m a major seller of a diet program. I’m making a killing selling cookbooks, pre-planned meals, pills, seminars, weekly pep talks, ad nausea, ad nausea. Is my object to help you lose the weight, or is it to make money? If my object is to help you lose weight, why isn’t my advice free?

The DIET CONSPIRACY goes something like this. The media, including internet, magazines and newspapers, hype people who do not need to lose any weight. They are nothing more then travel agents for guilt trips. Hollywood can be included in this group.

The food industry produces food that adds inches to the waistline. I read an article where a hidden product is used on potato chips that increases our desires to eat the next one, and the next one, until the bag is gone. Restaurants serve portions that far exceed our body’s needs. Grocery stores have deli’s that drive your taste buds crazy as soon as you walk through the doors. Naturally, you will be tempted to purchase whatever it is that smells so delicious.

Doctors beat up their patients about weight but how many of them actually show us how to get the pounds off and keep them off? While mentioning doctors, how much money is generated from stomach stapling procedures? How many physical ailments are the result of over eating?

How big (maybe I should spell that BIG) is the diet industry? In this I include all of the pills, powders, prepared foods, drinks, cookbooks, weekly meetings, the list goes on and on. I know that millions of dollars are spent by the public, perhaps even billions. Ask yourself, is it actually to these companies advantage for you to loose weight once and for all and keep it off? And, whatever they are promoting, is it free? I ask this because what I will suggest later is exactly that.

We certainly don’t want to exclude the countless gyms and exercise equipment companies. I almost hesitate to include them because I’m sure that many people use these things to tone their bodies as well as keep the weight off. You must admit thought that exercise is often a means used to shed the pounds.

Now, looking at all of these things, are we really to believe that the many people listed here are actually seeking our benefit? If this were the case, why aren’t people able to lose the weight and keep it off? Why do so many people have various sized clothes in their closet? Would it be because they know their weight will change shortly?

I fully realize that there are people out there who are naturally skinny. And, a lot of them are self-righteous about it. They look down their long noses at people who have a weight problem. Their attitude makes me sick but that’s besides the point.

My conspiracy theory is that the entire program is geared to people NOT keeping the weight off. Each of the businesses mentioned are doing their little part to keep the public over-weight. How else would they worship at the feet of their god, the almighty dollar?

Please do not try and tell me that doctors do not know how to help us actually lose the pounds. How many times has it been said as a parting shot, “You need to lose some weight.” When have you heard it said, “You need to lose some weight and here’s exactly how to do it?”

The answer to losing weight and keeping it off can be found at:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rE_IKtutG5o

I want it understood that I have no connection with Anita Mills, the lady featured in this video. I am not in any way financially profiting from sharing this information. I am tired, however, of hearing women’s, and men’s stories of diets that simply either do not work or do not keep the weight off once lost. Anita will tell you exactly how to do both and she is living proof that it works.

This eating plan forces one to approach each meal with some degree of planning and fore-thought. Basically, the eating plan is simply 1) eating no more then eight ounces of food per meal and 2) eating your meals three hours apart. It does no good to cheat or to eat high fat stuff and expect to lose any weight. There are two forces at play here. The first is the ounces of food and time spacing and the second is how the body responds to this.

Let me try and give an example. A car burns fuel the same as our body does. You go to the gas station and purchase your fuel the same as one eats food. The purchased fuel is used to travel a particular distance. The food we eat is used to power our bodies for whatever task is required.

Here’s where the similarities end. When the car trip is completed, the unused fuel is saved in the gas tank. When the body is finished for the day, the unused fuel is also saved, but instead of being stored in a tank, it is turned into fat for potential use another day. The next day, more fuel is added and the fat left in storage. That should be fairly easy to understand.

I do wish to say again that common sense must be exercised when following this eating plan. My parents are following it much to their delight. Dad has lost around 20 pounds already. Everybody already knows that women have a harder time losing weight then men but Mom is very happy with her own progress.

I realize that each meal is only eight ounces, but after a while, balanced meals can be achieved. Also, after a very short time, 8 ounces every 3 hours will actually fill you up. Drinking a lot of water or similar beverage is a must. No sugar drinks, no soda pop, and no sugary fruit drinks are advisable. As I said, common sense must prevail.

I realize that I am being a little sketchy here about the eating plan, but I feel that I have tossed you the ball and you must run with it if you wish. Anita also has a facebook page, I think listed as the one cup diet. That page will be very helpful because she answers questions submitted by women already using the plan.

If you have benefited from this article I would appreciate you taking a glance at my Booklocker.com book page. http://www.booklocker.com/books/4901.html

Thanks,

Paidra Delayno

PROFESSIONAL WOMAN

2011-04-01T21:50:00.000-07:00

WHEN THE FEELING COMES AROUND

2011-01-07T21:07:00.000-08:00

IT'S COLD OUTSIDE SO SIT A SPELL AND WARM YOURSELF

2010-12-25T03:11:00.000-08:00

Fireplace Yule Log Video @ Yahoo! Video

GOIN' DOWN TO JACKSON

2010-08-28T09:41:00.000-07:00

2010-08-28T09:23:00.000-07:00

IMAGINE

2010-05-27T00:28:00.001-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KCkguqa44LA

FORTY MILES OF BAD ROAD

2010-03-16T17:31:00.001-07:00

<a href="http://www.linkedtube.com/ueZrYYEZFAY4a04671f91ef0805853cf7e7a0e4a05d.htm">LinkedTube</a>

STREET POLL

2010-03-13T00:22:00.000-08:00

TODAY IS FRIDAY, OR MAYBE SATURDAY

2010-02-27T16:38:00.000-08:00

Today is Friday, or maybe Saturday. For somebody who is not working and has no children, what day it is means absolutely nothing. The only thing that requires my attention all week is something I must attend to late Saturday night or early Sunday morning. At that, several times I almost forgot to perform that task.

I freely admit to having an occasional mood swing but generally I’m in fairly good humor. I have been noticing that lately I’ve been dipping slightly into not what I would call depression but more just a mild funk. I’m fairly certain its roots go right into the lack of sunshine. I’m a summer girl and I miss being outside.

Nothing stops me from going outside this time of year other then having no desire to get wet. If I have to be out there, it doesn’t bother me getting soaked but I really don’t enjoy being out there for a few minutes and then come back inside. (and no, I have no real desire to enter the wet T-shirt contest) I’m not a cloths horse so don’t enjoy changing outfits during the day.

Usually, what I put on in the morning stays on until I drop into bed at night. There are days however, when nothing gets put on for much of it but that’s another story. Clothing does hold a mild interest to me in the fact that it reflects what’s going on inside our heads. I tend to judge people by what they are wearing. Not what the outfit cost, but what it looks like.

When I was singing, I wore some outfits that I would no longer consider even owning. When one’s voice is not as good as one would like it to be, then one has to do other things to interest the audience. Not much guessing is required to fill in the blanks here.

Getting back to what I was originally thinking about, I was out at the mail box posting a letter earlier this morning. I looked at it for a few minutes sitting in the box. My rural box, which is one of the larger varieties, leaks a bit when the rain gets going. To solve the problem of my mail getting wet, I placed two short pieces of wood in the box to set my letters on.

Anyway, here I am looking at the letter which is now sitting on the pieces of 2 x 4. Something came to mind that I imagine is the crux of this rambling. The mail lady will come by at some point in time and whisk off my letter. It will travel through the U.S. Postal Service until it reaches the destination I inscribed on the envelope. Its destination is out of state so the process will take one or two days.

The letter will be delivered to the address I am sending it to. Somebody designated for that task at that address will go out to their mailbox and bring it, along with all of their other mail, into their office. This person no doubt opens most of the mail and decides who should receive each item.

She or he will read my letter and then unceremoniously toss it into the circular file to be included in some land fill project. I believe that this entire process has been designed by the forces of the universe to let us know just how, in the scheme of things, insignificant we are. There are several things which I know are contributing factors to me thinking this way today, but I don’t feel like discussing them at this point in time.

ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO BACK

2010-02-19T22:26:00.001-08:00

I don’t mind admitting that girls like to keep a diary. I certainly did when I was younger. Sometimes I see this blog as my grown up diary, only anybody who wants can read it. I can’t hide it under my mattress like I used to do. In my as of yet unpublished novel entitled “Professional Woman,” I was able to write about many things I’m going through today. But now because I’m a writer of sorts, I can call it fiction and nobody knows the better.

I don’t mind telling you, my diary, that I’ve been to the school of hard knocks. I made it through in one piece so there’s not much left that can happen to me that will cause me any more grief then I can handle. I’m not bragging, that’s for sure.

I’m feeling a little down today. I am a member of several “ning” sites. Yesterday I received a notice from one of them telling me I had been suspended from the site. It’s not all that big of a deal but it did bother me some. The site was probably the one I had done the most work on.

I love writing but absolutely hate marketing my work. I haven’t been able, like so many others, to find a publisher interested in my work. The only option available to me is to self publish which means using a Print On Demand company. The one I use is reasonable and does a nice job.

What they don’t do is market my books. That’s my problem. And of course, that’s just what I want to do. NOT!!! It seems like it’s one step forward and two back. The site in question gave me the opportunity to respond to my suspension. I did and they responded saying it had been an error and that I had been reinstated to the site. What they didn’t tell me was that everything I had uploaded to my site was now gone. Poof! Gone, just like that.

I’m just not sure that I want to start all over again. To say the least, this has simply taken the wind out of my sails. Not that it means anything in grand scheme of things. One step forward, two back.

PROFESSIONAL WOMAN?

2010-02-18T09:48:00.000-08:00

Professional Woman is the title of my latest novel. As of yet it remains unpublished. I keep asking myself why that is. I have two books printed by Booklocker.com, which is a Print On Demand company. I know they would be happy to do ProWo for me. Money isn’t really the problem because I have enough set aside for that.

I am really excited about the book because it isn’t just another action story. I dislike the term ‘chic-lit’ and have gone to great lengths to avoid being included in that category. But, a lot of the story deals with women’s issues so perhaps it could be qualified as chic-lit with one hell of a rifle in the hands of a professional assassin.

Rachael Stortini, the star of Professional Woman, can and does kill someone from a mile away. In most action movies where the shot is taken from that distance, the movie people dress it up to make the scene a tad more palatable for the viewer. What happens in reality is the bullet is fired into the air and arches it way to the top of the victims head. (all computerized) The head literally explodes, along with the arms and torso. This is the only way it can reach out so far from the shooter.

What she learns along the way is to ‘stand in her power’ as a woman working in an occupation normally filled by men. Sort of like a woman carpenter only she gives nailing a whole new definition. When she takes a contract, somebody dies.

Is she angry? Yes. Is she tough? Yes. Is she sympathetic? No. Does she need love? Yes, physical love and knows where to get it, including from her husband who has ‘passed over.’

By now you are wondering why it is that I am writing this if the book isn’t published. If you figure that out, please fee free to tell me because I don’t really know. The book has been sitting in my computer for at least a year, quietly slumbering. This defies all logic because once a manuscript is completed, the normal thing would be to start marketing it.

Oh, I submitted it to two publishers. One wanted to publish and the other never bothered writing back, which is not out of the ordinary for agents and publishers. I know they are busy, but if it weren’t for writers, there wouldn’t be publishers or agents. They seem to have forgotten that.

Okay, you ask, why didn’t I go with the one who wanted to publish? I really feel this book is good (which I realize most authors think about their work) but I felt like I was sending my kid off to camp and didn’t know a thing about the camp ground. I asked the camp director some questions but they weren’t answered to my satisfaction.

If a movie were made from this story, it would be an excellent vehicle for a strong female actor. Rachael is not a weenie by any stretch of the imagination. She does have a handicap ( Traumatic Brain Injury [TBI] ) she’s mute as a result of a car accident. I would imagine the actress would need to be a cut above others because of having to express the frustrations Rachael feels.

Who knows? One day Professional Woman might be published and you can read it for yourselves. If so, I hope you will enjoy it.

HERE THERE AND EVERYWHERE

2010-02-18T09:24:00.000-08:00

THE FOUR WINDS - MELANIE RIDNER

2010-01-04T23:38:00.000-08:00

COME TOGETHER - circa 1997

2009-12-28T06:31:00.000-08:00

Find more videos like this on She Writes

VALLE PINTADO WRITING CONTEST WINNERS

2009-12-24T06:59:00.000-08:00

Valle Pintado Writing Contest is a Tie

Our First Visual Arts Junction
Writing Contest is a Tie.
Contgratulations
Ed Leonard & Jacki Donnelly
A picture is worth a thousand words, as they say, and that was your assignment. Well, more accurately, 500 — 600 words. And writing about the above photo art, Valle Pintado by Aggie Villanueva, was the subject.
Our six judges returned a split decision, so without further ado Visual Arts Junction, and our many contest sponsors, take pride in introducing you to our two winners, and their winning entries. Click on the links below to see the entries on sponsors' sites.
Life in the Valle Pintado
by Ed Leonard (Papa Ed)
Ankles tucked and breathing slowed, I feel the tree dance, my wood platform sways and rocks in the hot southern trade winds. My sad, burnt, drought-stunted valley stretches before me. My humble ranch home swelters in a dry, coarse bunchweed field surrounded by stunted agreste woods that threaten to become caatinga.
Death menaces life like a Samhain specter. Gnarled stick trees grasp each other for desperate support. Their life juices drawn deep to survive the uncommon warm, dry winter. Earth spirits have driven the Numida fowl and the high plains antelope down the Tocantins to richer lands. The loss of precious water and the increased heat are taking a horrendous toll on animal and plant habitats in the Valle Pintado.
I have barely survived another winter. Spring has arrived with little promise, and my energy and will are suffering. I call out to the spirits of the jaguar and of the ocelot who once roamed here. But, they do not hear me.
I close my eyes, intent on escape. I release my saddened spirit. Hawk spirit enfolds me and I soar to a better time. I stroke the heavens and relish a gentle wind with a smooth glide. I alight to proudly perch atop a tall post and search the autumn grass for my choice of scampering breakfast.
The Valle Pintado proudly displays a dappled Autumn abstract quilt with primary colors blended and fused like fresh oils on nature’s canvas. My well-tended red adobe brick home blends quietly and comfortably before a large sugary wave of Palo Verde, Box Elder, and Hop Trees in full glory. My harvested corn patch glows golden yellow and my second growth wheat field rusty red.
A warm wind whispers, flicks leaves loose to float and flip their way to rich soil, and bathes my feathers in ripples. A hazy gray cooking fire screen rises among the trees with the rich smell of mesquite fired meat.
Two distant sandstone buttes, glimmer and flash with life, shrouded in milky early morning light. My world is balanced, healthy, and harmonious. I know now that the natural cycle of seasons will return my ranch to glorious life.
I spot a striped field mouse and launch, flapping lightly, then diving fast to my target. I dive and dive, but my prey remains distant. I linger, but the inevitable change reaches me. My spirit snaps back to my earth-bound body. Hawk has brought me hope and reminded me of the potential of my life in the Valle Pintado.
I resolve to exercise patience, to go back and seal my roof against the rain that must come again, to mend my fence against the predators that will return, to plant my corn and wheat knowing they will be nourished and watered. I resolve to hike to the top of the distant butte blessing all earth along the way. I resolve to come often to my tree platform and to meditate with the spirit of my totem animal, the hawk.
My sadness is gone.
Ed Leonard: My online name is papaed. I've been a compulsive reader and writer for nearly 50 years. I prefer poetry and have over 100 poems posted online. I've never tried to publish a book or articles in a magazine although I've done journalistic reporting freelance for several newspapers. I chose to place the Valle Pintado in the Tocantins watershed of Brazil and researched the habitat, geography, watershed, language, and native animals so that my 500 word piece reflects a possible mystical scenario there. I advocate meditation and peace issues in many of my writings and found your picture inspirational along those lines.
http://www.writerscafe.org/writers/edleonard/
http://papaed.multiply.com/
http://www.ipeace.me/profile/papaed
http://coldcoffee.ning.com/profile/papaed
http://nolan-ruizbooks.ning.com/profile/papaed
Judges Comments for Ed's Entry
What I liked: You made the what and why of your transformations clear without actually saying it. I liked that you didn’t insult our intelligence as readers. That’s good storytelling. I empathized with your transformations; physical, spiritual and emotional, that produced a trust in, and ultimately a submission to, the Great Spirit through nature – a trust that transforms despair into hope restored, and then finally seeing things as they really are.
What could be improved: I know you had a word limit, but I’d like to see it more developed.
What I liked: What an intriguing story of hope. Beautifully painted images; excellent use of the first person POV. Thank you for your contribution to the contest and good luck with your writing career.
What could be improved: My only criticism pertains to the structure of one sentence: Two distant sandstone buttes, glimmer and flash with life, shrouded in milky early morning light. I don’t understand the comma after buttes or the switch from present to past tense (glimmer, flash, shrouded). I wish my own writing problems were so small.
What I liked: The imagery of the story is good and the writer's effort to paint a story with apt descriptions works well.
What could be improved: The story reads like a synopsis for a much longer story. The grammar needs a little attention -- split infinitives and occasional change of verb tense.
d
A Painted Mountain Life
by Jacki Donnelly
It was almost a month since I resigned as Editor in Chief of New York’s most popular fashion magazine “Moda”, but my mental alarm clock was still sounding off promptly at 6 a.m. For the past 29 days this annoyed me, but today was different. Today I started my new life- I left my upscale life and the chaos in NYC. I traded it all in for what I hoped would be a more peaceful and meaningful life.
***
My dearest friend lost a life long battle with cancer. During her last few months I didn’t spend as much time with her as I should have. I didn’t have the time, you know, with being successful and all. Luckily I made it to her before she died. She reminded me to enjoy the life’s little things, and not always focus on money and work. “You are only what you let yourself become.” she gently whispered. And with that I gently embraced her frail hand for the last time.
I finally understood the meaning behind her unsolicited suggestions. She always wanted me to take time off work, to go on a date or read a book, which I refused. I always justified my disregard by her not having or wanting the lavish lifestyle I was accustomed to. I was wrong. Now I sat humbled and dissatisfied.
At that moment I decided to change. I resigned from my job, sold my apartment and packed only the necessities, which included a book I had been working on for over twenty years. I searched the internet for a cabin to retreat to in the mountains. Finally I found a quaint cabin rental nestled in the Apache-Sitgreaves Forest. After a short telephone call with the owner I packed up my car and headed west.
***
I slowly got out of bed letting my feet touch the cold wooden floor. The sunrise was creeping over the mountains and into the cabins’ windows. The fall air had a slight chill with a sweet smell to it. I managed a fire in the ancient woodstove, the only heat source for the small cabin. I walked to the kitchen and poured me a cup of coffee in my only mug. I grabbed a sweater from the pile of clothes on the floor and wrote a few items on a box lid I needed from the market. My chores today were to unpack, set up a space to begin writing again, and groceries.
That would have to wait I wanted to enjoy my first cup of coffee of my new life. I walked out onto the porch and sat down in a rickety, wooden rocking chair. The warmth of my coffee felt good as it trickled down my throat to the pit of my stomach. The scenery took my breath away.
I was overwhelmed with a feeling of awe and tranquility, foreign feelings to me. Such beauty greeted me with open arms on that porch. I listened to the sweet melody of the Mountain Chickadees’ and the Western Meadowlarks’ coming from the forest that surrounded me. The wind was swooshing gently through the Locoweed and Indian Paintbrush wildflowers that outlined the small wooden cabins land. The trees adorning the mountains were reflecting shades of crimson, wheat and amber down to me.
I sat captivated. At that moment, with that warm cup of coffee in my hands, I knew I had made the right choice. Today would mark the day I started to “live” life. A Painted Mountain Life - one I could only dream.
Jacki Donnelly: I currently live in the tropical state of Florida. I am new to writing and am currently discovering my talents. Any commentary on the attached piece would be greatly appreciated. This will be my first piece entered for review! I am very excited and look forward to continuing my path of writing. I am 30 years old, married to a wonderful husband and have a wonderful Boxer puppy named Baxter.
This picture reminded me of a trip we took recently to the Appalachian mountains - Life is so much different in a quiet country setting. I have recently returned to college in pursuit of a degree in English with a Creative Writing emphasis, and so far I am loving every minute of it. I hope to one day become an editor for a small press!
Judges Comments for Jacki's Entry
What I liked: I thought the story was well written and had a great story line. If the Author wished she could make this into a novel.
What could be improved: The one thing I would change would be to describe the picture more in depth.
What I liked: BROUGHT TEARS to my eyes. She obviously was drawn into the picture and let the emotions of it be real in her story.
What could be improved:
What I liked: I chose Jacki's story because of the creativeness of her story and how well it went with the picture. It showed a lot of imagination. That's a good thing! Keep up the good work!
What could be improved: The one thing I would've changed in the story, was that it was told in the first person, a pet peeve of mine. First person should be left for non-fiction stories, in my opinion, such as the author's biography in his/her own words or a memoir. Otherwise, it was great!
The Fine Print: Entries are judged on storytelling quality only. We do not judge on editing, manuscript prep, etc. Congratulations winners.
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Aggie Villanueva Visual Arts Junction: http://www.visualartsjunction.com
Rightfully Mine http://www.aggiev.org/rightfullymine/
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AuthorCulture http://authorculture.blogspot.com/
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Reviews by Cindy http://reviewsbycindy.blogspot.com/
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Shelagh Watkins http://shelaghs.blogspot.com
http://shelaghwatkins.wordpress.com
Kim McDougall Blazing Trailers Blazing Trailers http://www.blazingtrailers.com/
Melinda Elmore Melinda’s Blog Spot: Pen to Paper www.melinda.essentialwriters.com
Fran Lewis Fran’s Website www.gabina.49.webs.com
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Bertha 160 xanga.com bookmarketing.ning.com/profile/FranLewis
www.myspace.com/hotauntiebertha
www.franifashionista.blogspot.com
http://writing4all.ning.com/profile/FranLewis
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D.K. Christi D.K. Christi , Consultant and Author www.dkchristi.com
Jhonny Thermidor Unexplored Oceans of Wisdom www.JhonnyT.wordpress.com
Johnny Thermidor www.JhonnyThermidor.webs.com
Robert Appleton Mercurial Times http://robertbappleton.blogspot.com/
Chelle Cordero Chelle Cordero’s Promo Page http://cce613.xanga.com/
Abe F. March Abe F. March http://www.abemarch.com/apps/blog/
Paidra Delayno Paidra’s Pen http://paidraspen.blogspot.com/
Sandra Kay Sandra Kay's Musings http://www.sandrakayauthor.blogspot.com/
Jo Fulkerson Writer’s Life http://www.freewebs.com/thedesertwriter/
Elena Dorothy Bowman Elena Dorothy Bowman’s Book Blog http://elenadorothybowmansbooks.blogspot.com/
Hank Quense Blog, the writing blog of Hank Quense http://hankquense.com/blog/
Mark Stephen Levy Overland http://authormarklevy.blogspot.com/
Jay Heinlein Publishing Professional http://heinleinpubservices.blogspot.com
J. Michael Orenduff author of the Pot Thief series www.ThePotThief.blogspot.com
Yolanthaiti Harrison-Pace YOLANTHAITI yolanthaiti.blogspot.com

FROM THE BEGINNING OF TIME

2009-11-23T21:28:00.000-08:00

You mentioned that I am young and have seen so little of
life. You don’t really know me. I have walked the
Earth since the beginning of time. From it’s very foundation
I have been.

When the oceans were formed, I was here. When darkness
was turned to light, I was here. When ice was formed, I was
here. My sister and I have played with the beasts in the fields.
Their tails like the tallest of trees, their teeth as rocks sharpened
like razors.

We soared with the giant birds across the vast mountains.
From their heights we could see from ocean to ocean.
When they were dying, I took them into my arms and
comforted them. I eased their pain.

I have stood on the very edge of darkness and called out the
names of those who have gone on. When I call, all must answer
for I am the Daughter of Death. No woman, no man nor animal
can resist my call. It is an exercise in futility to ignore me for I
come with a purpose which shall not be deterred.

My Mother’s blood flows richly through the veins of my Sister.
She has been blessed with being the Daughter of Life, for she
brings joy. The Daughter of Life and the Daughter of Death are
the two extremes which go hand in hand, life and death, for they
are a part of each other. My sister gives life and therefore I must
take it back to complete the cycle.

It has been asked for as many years as I can remember why it is
Daughters bring Life and Death. Where are the Sons who have
been spoken of throughout time and time again? Is this not the work
of the warriors? Why not the males who have been written about
for as long as people have been holding writing instruments?
Where are they and why aren’t they doing this most difficult task?

Women are strong but not in the same way as men. We understand
things they know nothing about. Our bodies deliver the sons and
daughters. Our bodies absorb the punishment of men. Fathers,
husbands, brothers, friends, they all take us for granted. Why, you ask?
The answer is simple once you know who they are. We are strong.

ABOUT MY FATHER'S BUSINESS

2009-11-14T23:34:00.000-08:00

There are those of you who feel you have escaped punishment
for your evil deeds.
Perhaps you have caused injury to others
Perhaps you think you have “gotten away” with something
Perhaps you are one of the wretches who have brought so
much misery to others. What was it? You sold them their
first drugs? You pushed them into AIDS? You tore the children
out of the hands of their mothers by your influence? Mere
babes in the woods? What satisfaction did you get by causing
their death? You turned an innocent young girl into a
prostitute? You polluted her first with your own lust?
Perhaps you sold him a gun. You of course had no idea he
was just a teenager. Or perhaps it was a knife you first
put into his hand. The blood of the people he kills is
on your hands the same as if you pulled the trigger or stuck
the blade.
My father is Death. There are times when he passes over people like
you. I am the Daughter of Death and I will not forget who
you are. You’ve heard the expression “There’ll be Hell to
pay?” I wrote it. As my father is, so am I.

FIRST ENCOUNTER

2009-09-21T23:00:00.000-07:00

Why do the really strange things always happen during the night?
Is there some sort of metaphysical transformation which manifests
itself when the light turns to darkness? Darkness, after all, is merely
the absence of light.

Perhaps the dawn of each new day is in fact just the beginning of a
new experience. Could this time frame be when the forces of the
universe change? Is there perhaps two different shifts, day and night?

We hear so much about good and evil. Do these terms apply to light
and dark? Which is which then? So much crime we read about
takes place during the night.

The crimes we don’t hear about take place during the full light of
the sun. I read an article the other day about a woman who had been
raped in her bed at night. Was it because that’s when she was
usually in bed and not because it was dark outside?

Before we pass judgment on the evil of darkness, we need to ask
ourselves how many of us were raped in broad daylight by big
businesses and even our own government. And I’m not talking
about political parties here..

Anybody who believes the Democrats are any better than the Republicans
needs to realign their thinking. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
I make it a policy never to discuss politics so shant even go there.

Yesterday I was working on a story. Before I knew what happened
115,000 words simply disappeared from my computer.
Where did these words go? I can only surmise they went
somewhere out in cyberspace.

I must caution you readers to beware of a man
named Tony Moretti. This man is, as the lost words described, a
man’s man. A lady’s man also!

Throughout the story, women find him irresistible. Men fear
him because they naturally fear things they don’t understand.
Moretti does not have to take what he wants from women -
they willingly give him anything he desires.

I realize I’m getting away from my original thoughts here but
please bare with me. Last night, I went to bed around the same
time I usually do. I had been asleep for maybe three hours
when I woke up, bolting upright in a sitting position. I know
there are people who will assume I have taken leave of my
senses but that does not change anything. I had distinctly
heard my name being called.

I didn’t have to wonder who was calling me. The voice
clearly belonged to Tony Moretti. How did I know this?
Especially considering I have never spoken directly to him.

Then he called my name again. A chill ran down my spine
That’s when I grabbed the revolver from the night
stand. Don’t ask me how but I knew he was in my room.
I can’t be certain but I think he was standing near the
bedroom door.

Without thinking I grabbed the sheet with my left hand and
pulled it over my naked body. Could he see me? I don’t
really know. The room was pitch dark.

“What do you want?” I was finally able to ask. What was fantastic
about this is I no longer have the ability to utter any
vocal sound from my mouth.

“I want you to come with me,” he answered after a moment.

“You’re not even real,” I answered. “You are nothing more then a product of my imagination.”

“Then who are you talking to?”

“Maybe I’m just dreaming.”

“You will come with me in time.”

“Where do you think you are taking me?”

“Cyberspace,” was all he said before leaving.

He didn’t utter another word. Instead I could hear the sound of his boots carrying him across the floor. I jumped out of bed, nearly crashing into the wall because of the darkness. I made my way into the living-room trying to follow him. What I saw was the distinct glow of the computer screen turning into darkness.

Moretti had been in my house. It was night time. It was dark outside. Does this make him evil? I sat in my recliner asking myself this very question. I could feel a slight grin beginning to form on my face. And then I remembered. I was still naked but wanting to go with him.

SECOND ENCOUNTER

2009-09-21T22:58:00.000-07:00

I don’t know how it is for other writers but for me, the creative thoughts seem to start hitting me when the sun goes down. Before then, I suppose, my thoughts linger somewhere outside, probably in the garden. There always seems to be something outside that needs my attention.

The problem I haven’t been able to conquer is I seem to wake up around seven in the morning, no matter when I went to bed. If I stay up until one in the morning and get up at seven, that’s just not enough sleep. Usually around four in the afternoon my body starts objecting. The cure seems simple enough. Take a nap.

I realize there are those who will say why not just go to bed at a decent time and forget the nap. My answer to that is also simple. Why? I like staying up late. And besides, the more tired I am, the less likely I am to have one of the dreams that haunt my sleep.

My favorite place to nap is at my computer. Surrounding myself with all of my toys seems to help. I firmly believe in living in the past and stepping into my office points to that. My music is a reflection of the fifties and sixties. I have perhaps over a thousand 33 rpm vinyl records along with a few hundred CD’s and a good assortment of cassettes.

I have three computers (each does something different) and a pretty good stereo music system. As good as my speakers are, I usually use headphones. There is something about injecting the music directly into my head. My headphones are the style that completely covers the ear, which of course blanks out the world. All of these things are in an area I can say for sure is a space not intended for so much stuff.

The reason for telling all of this is to set the stage for the story I have to tell. This is actually the second installment in a story you’ll find hard to believe. The first part has already been posted in my blog.

Today was no different from any other. By four o’clock this afternoon my eyes started getting heavy. My body went on automatic pilot and found it’s way to my desk chair. I turned on the computer, slid in a CD, put on my headphones, and within one song was dead to this world.

That is, until something jarred me awake. Was I dreaming or did this actually happen? When I play a CD on my computer, the screen is half filled with the iTunes box. Not this time.

A man’s face was staring back at me. My mouth dropped open because I knew his name. Tony Moretti is the type of guy a girl just doesn’t forget. He’s obviously Italian. He’s also sexy. I think pure sex would be a better term to use here. He is really handsome. Perhaps the word handsome isn’t the one I’m looking for.

A scar on Moretti’s face started on the forehead, crossed the bridge of his nose, barely missing the right eye and then dropped down across his left cheek, stopping on his jaw to the side of his mouth. His body is that of a god. He’s fantastic in bed and I don’t know a woman who would kick him out for eating crackers. I know what ever inch of his body looks like.

How do I know these things, you might ask. Simple. I created Tony Moretti. He is a product of my lascivious mind. Moretti has been blessed by the gods and is capable of doing things mortals only dream about.

Your next question has to be, if he is a product of my mind, how is it that he’s in my computer looking at me? And, if he’s not real, how do I know it’s him? All very good questions.

I know it’s him because he is like no other man. We’ve all seen these guys on the cover of romance novels. They are a bunch of weenies next to Tony Moretti. And I don’t say that lightly because I know what hunks those guys can be.

“Hello Paidra,” he said.

I think there had to be steam coming out of my T-shirt because I was hot. “Hello, Tony,” I managed to say.

“I’m glad you’re dressed this time.” The last time he saw me I was naked. See the first part of this story for details.

“You saw me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes, ya know.” I’m not what one would consider an exhibitionists but what he was saying didn’t bother me for some reason. Okay, not too much of an exhibitionists.

“What do you want?” I asked him.

“The same thing as last time,” he answered. “I want you to come with me. Except this time it’s different.”

“Why should I go with you?”

“Because I need you.”

“You’ll have to do better then that,” I told him.

“You created me. I’m in a tight spot and I need you. You’re the only one who can help me.”

What’s a girl supposed to say to that? Here’s a guy who could have just about any woman he wants and he’s telling me he needs me. Not somebody else. Me. I can feel the steam rolling off my body.

“Where would we be going?” I asked, thinking of a few spots perfect for making love.

“San Bruno, California.”

“What’s there?”

“The National Cemetery.”

“Hot place for a first date,” I deadpanned, somewhat disappointed.

“Are you coming? Maybe I should rephrase that. You’re coming so let’s go.”

He had just issued my marching orders. I knew I had no choice but to go with him. “Exactly how do we accomplish this?”

“Put your hand on the screen and close your eyes. I’ll do the rest.”

“I need to change clothes,” I hastily told him.

“You look fine.”

“At least my top.”

“Hurry”

I was wearing white pants so I grabbed the first thing I found, a soft green tunic.

“That’ll do,” I heard him call out. Here I was standing in front of the mirror in a different room and he could still see me. Weird. At least this time I had a bra on. I pulled the tunic over my head as I walked back into the office straightening my hair as best I could.

It’s hard to explain what happened next. I had just put my hands on the screen when I felt my body being pulled through a tube. Was I actually inside the wires of my computer? All of a sudden I broke free of the tube and was hurdling through space. Was this cyberspace?

It felt like just a few seconds when I crashed into something. I had the distinct feeling I was in a vice. Then I knew it was in his arms that surrounded me. Damn! This was even better then I imagined. I felt my body go limp. The love scenes I had written about Tony were nothing compared to this.

I couldn’t speak. Besides, what was there to say? Take me? That’s certainly what was on my mind.

Before I could say anything, I felt motion again. We were traveling faster than I thought possible. What was propelling our movement? Then I knew. It was by the sheer force of his will.

When we stopped, the mist we were in cleared. We were in a cemetery. Rows and rows of white crosses and an occasional Jewish star. We had to be in San Bruno.

Tony set me down as if I were nothing more than a bag of feathers. Something told me to keep my mouth shut.

Moretti stretched out his hands and called out in a voice familiar to the gods. “Anittas, my brother, and Alalu, my master, hear my petition. The bones before me are those of fallen brothers. Cause these graves to open and let the bones come forth.

“Fill them with the need to destroy my enemies and cover them with a flesh impervious to the weapons of man.”

Moretti then turned to me and held out his hand. Anybody who knows me is aware that I am mute. I have not spoken a word in years. At this moment in time, there was nothing I could say, no matter how much I wanted to be heard. The fact that I could speak to Moretti is itself amazing. Was I actually speaking or just imagining that I was?

“What can I do?” I finally managed to ask.

“You must breath the breath of life into them,” he said with a gravity that even I had never imagined him capable of.

“Why me?”

“You are a woman and from woman comes life.”

For a reason I cannot explain, I turned and faced north. A wind began blowing through the cemetery. I could feel it pressing my clothes to my body but I wasn’t cold. Where these words came from I do not know.

“Come to me from the four winds,” I called out. “Come from the north, the south, the east and the west. Enter my body and become the breath of life. Pass into these slain warriors and become their breath of life.”

I could actually see the breath leaving my body. It passed from me to each of the men standing before me. When it passed through the last man, I crumpled to the ground, unable to stand any longer.

Moretti again picked me up as if I were weightless. He held me over his head and again called out to Anittas.

“The woman gives life to all men, Anittas. Swift as an eagle see her home for I must leave.”

I felt myself being caught up by a force I could not see. I looked over at Moretti and he was again the Wolf, the warrior of the gods. There were at least one hundred men standing behind him, ready to obey his every command. They turned and left the cemetery.

The next thing I remember was waking up at my computer. The office chair I sit in isn’t intending for napping. The first thing I do when waking up is to reorganize my body into a functional unit. Today was no different, except I seemed to be a little stiffer then usual.

“Wow, what a dream,” I silently called out as I stretched. Then I looked down at my pants and saw the grass stains that weren’t there when I had sat down. Were these the stains of freshly cut grass that covered the graves of heroes?

MEMORIES OF LOVE

2009-09-15T07:36:00.000-07:00

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THAT'S THE BERRIES

2009-09-04T22:39:00.000-07:00

That’s The Berries

The sun was almost full in the sky when I went out to pick today’s allotment of blackberries. I probably should have gone out earlier but first I had to bow down and worship at the foot of my alter, also know as the computer. True, I could hear those delicious black cylinders calling me but the net is the net and I must obey my mistress.

Picking blackberries is something of an art if one wishes to fill the bucket. When I pick berries I always bring along my clippers if I expect to get my quota for the day. Anybody can stand there and pick the perimeter but the real bonanza is deeper into the vines.

I can’t just mindlessly pick berries. I have to study them and analyze the situation. I’m sure I’m not the only one to see that a good portion of the berries are out of reach height wise.

I’ve been picking for over a week now so I’ve had plenty of time to study the situation. I used to just look at the vines and think nothing of them except that a person could mangle themselves in all the thorns. I doubt that I could pick any quantity without scratching myself at least ten times.

This season, I find myself out of a job so picking them brings on a whole new dimension. This is food I’m talking about now. And I should point out, free food. The main clump I pick from is very close to the creek. It must be for this reason that the yield is higher than any others on my property.

After studying the situation closely, I came to the conclusion that each of the vines has a specific function. There are the big fat vines that weave all over the clump. (for lack of a better word) These are the ones that form the structure of the clump.

And then there are the vines that produce the fruit. Once in a while the structure vines produce small amounts of fruit but not often. Their primary function is to spread the clump and hold up the producer vines from flopping on the ground.

It wasn’t a far reach to apply this same situation to us as women and men. There are those of us who’s function is to plow new ground. These are the employers, the explorers, the adventurers, the leaders in our society.

Then we have those who fill in all around the leaders. These are the folks who raise our children, teach them in our schools, make their clothes, raise their food, keep our churches open, and generally nurture each one in preparation for them becoming the leaders of tomorrow. Our children are our fruit.

To reach the berries at the top, I found that cutting out the leader vines allows them to drop down to where I can pick them. Is this not the case with us as well? If somebody comes along and knocks down our leaders, we will have nobody to hold us up. I feel confident that there are those who will come along and “pick” us clean.

Please do not confuse this with some sort of political article because it is NOT. When I say our leaders, I am not just speaking about the government. We have leaders in all walks of life and we need to encourage their growth.

BILLY THE FIG

2009-08-17T10:53:00.000-07:00

"Take your grubby hands off of me, Tex!"

"How 'bout I show you a really good time, Paidra?"

"The only good time you could show me is watching

you walk out the door."

"I love it when you're angry, Paidra," Tex said, grabbing a

handful of her blond hair.

"You're hurting me," she yelled, grabbing onto the bar.

"For a saloon girl, you sure think you're something. I ain't

never been in a saloon with such an uppity wench."

"Let go of my hair," she yelled again.

"I'll let go of your hair when I get you up go my room," Tex said,

more to the men around him then to Paidra.

"Let her go," a voice, cold as steel, from behind Tex commanded.

Tex pushed Paidra away and whirled around. Standing behind

him was Billy the Fig. Fig's hand was inches from the butt of the

iron strapped on his waist.

Tex looked at him for a moment, not failing to notice the holster

tied down to his leg with a leather cord. The look in the Fig's eye

welcomed Tex to draw his own weapon.

"I got no beef with you, Fig."

"You just started one the minute you grabbed my girl's hair."

"You mean Paidra is your girl?"

"I have neither the time or inclination to listen to you any more.

Either draw your gun or get out of town. I really don't care which."

"I'm no fool, Fig?"

"Yes you are, Tex. And you proved it by bothering my girl."

The tension in the saloon was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Tex reached over to the bar and picked up his drink. He downed it in

one gulp and stormed out of the saloon.

Paidra turned to the Fig and threw her arms around him. She then

put her hands on his soft cheeks and pulled him down to her waiting,

sensuous lips.

"I love you, Billy," she cooed after they kissed. "You're always around when I

need you."

ALWAYS ON MY MIND - ELVIS

2009-08-13T00:06:00.000-07:00

ALWAYS ON MY MIND - WILLIE NELSON

2009-08-13T00:01:00.000-07:00

SOMETHING NEW - ALLVOICES

2009-06-14T17:37:00.000-07:00

DRUG OF CHOICE

2009-05-26T22:14:00.000-07:00

A very dear lady said something to me that started me thinking. Have you ever done that? Somebody says something and the mental process kicks in and your mind takes you through several steps. It finally arrives someplace totally different than the original thought.

How do we define a drug? Is it a narcotic substance? Or, can it be just about anything that alters our mental state?

“What is she talking about,” you might be asking yourself by now. “The girl borders on being weird but I think she’s finally lost it.”

Before you have me committed, let me explain. I once read that a really hot chili pepper can actually get a person high. What happens is this. The anticipation of having a hot- hot substance in your mouth can actually make you high. We’re still talking about hot chilies now.

The thought of your mouth exploding with pain can actually cause a person to get high. I don’t understand why somebody would do that to themselves. Whatever floats your boat. This is probably a normal reaction until I stop and think for a minute.

I wouldn’t be surprised if we each had our own drug of choice. What is it that gets us high? I don’t think we have to consider it very long because the answer stays just beneath the outer surface of our minds.

I think we all have some secret desire that when fulfilled alters our mind, even slightly. Have you ever wrapped your lips around a really good chocolate pie with super flakey crust? Or perhaps a peach cobble to die for? Can we see ourselves eating something that is just Heavenly? Does the saliva starting flowing at the very thought?

Or, how about a journey into the darker side of life? Is there some secret ritual we perform which takes us to the very edge of ecstasy? I’m not speaking of anything to do with sex. Is there some place we allow our minds to go that brings us total pleasure?

Some years ago a friend of mine lost her husband in an automobile accident. From time to time she has nightmares about it which often result in a splitting headache. Her husband crosses back over to comfort her. She's been told by health experts that she needs to work through these nightmares which will in turn free her from the headaches.

What they don’t know is that she has come to welcome the nightmares and subsequently the headaches. A few minutes with her husband is worth the pain. Is this then not her drug of choice? Does she have a few screws loose? Who knows but is it for us to say? Perhaps we should ask those addicted to anything, not just drugs.

You are probably asking yourself, “All right Paidra, what is the point of this article?” There is none. I just wanted you to stop by.

PRESS THE ARROW AND LET'S VISIT

2009-05-26T21:42:00.000-07:00

FORTY MILES OF BAD ROAD

2009-05-26T21:39:00.000-07:00

New E-Book Release!

2009-05-26T21:36:00.000-07:00

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE - Paidra Delayno

2009-03-10T09:46:00.000-07:00

BURN BABY BURN - Paidra Delayno (Not Me Singing)

2009-03-10T00:23:00.000-07:00

EXACTLY WHO IS PAIDRA?

2008-11-22T05:21:00.001-08:00

1. What time did you get up this morning? 2:30 am
2. Pants or dress? Pants
3. What was the last film you saw at the theatre? It’s been a long time since I’ve been to one
4. What is your favorite TV show? Don’t have television
5. What do you usually have for breakfast? Blender drink with yogurt, buttermilk, soy powder, vanilla, and frozen blackberries.
6. What is your middle name? Dawn
7. What food do you dislike? Beets
8. Who is your favorite singer at the moment? Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn, LeAnn Rimes, Tanya Tucker to name a few
9. What kind of car do you drive? Ford Ranger pick-up
10.Favorite sandwich? My own creations
11.What characteristic do you despise? I don’t mind ignorance but can’t stand stupidy
12.Favorite item of clothing? A quilted flannel shirt that belonged to my husband
13.If you could go anywhere in the world on holiday, where would you go? See America first
14.Favorite brand of clothing? Haven't got one
15.Where would you retire to? Oregon Coast
16.What was your most recent memorable birthday? I usually try to ignore them
17.Favorite sport to watch? Baseball
18.Farthermost place you are sending this? Cyberspace
19. Favorite color Red, White, & Blue
20.When is your birthday? July
21.Are you a morning person or a night person? Both
22.What is your shoe size? 8 – BigFoot
23.Pets? None at the moment but roommates have 3 dogs
24.Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? Second book released through Booklocker.com. Next book moving right along.

25. What did you want to be when you were little? General Contractor like my Daddy
26.How are you today? I just had surgery so am sore
27.What is your favorite candy? I really like dark chocolate
28.What is your favorite flower? Foxglove
29.What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? No particular day
30.What is your full name? Paidra Dawn Delayno
What are you listening to right now? Statler Brothers
32.What was the last thing you ate? Pasta Glop (pasta and whatever is handy)
33.Do you wish on stars? No
34.If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Blue
35.How is the weather right now? It’s dark but probably raining
36.The first person you spoke to on the phone today? I don’t use the phone
37.Favorite soft drink? Ice Tea
38.Favorite restaurant? Chinese, Italian, and variety
39.Real hair color? Dirty blond
40.What was your favorite toy as a child? Plastic record player
41.Summer or winter? Summer
42.Hugs or kisses? Hugs
43.Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate
44.Coffee or tea? Coffee & Ice tea
45.Do you want your friends to email you back? If they want to
46.When was the last time you cried? A few days ago when I saw the new scar on my neck
47.What is under your bed? Mysterious things
48.What did you do last night? Played a card game with the girls downstairs
49.What are you afraid of ? Snakes
50.Salty or sweet? Sweet
51.How many keys on your key ring? 5
52.How many years at your current job? Unemployed
53.Favorite day of the week? Saturday
54.How many towns have you lived in? A lot
55.Do you make friends easily? No
56.How many people will you send this to? Whoever reads Paidra’s Pen
57. Do you have close friends? 1 friend, 1 sister, several internet friends

________________________________________

PROFESSIONAL WOMAN - COMING SOON

2008-11-03T17:19:00.000-08:00

VISIT WITH ME FOR A MOMENT

2008-11-03T12:02:00.000-08:00

PAIDRA'S PEN - VOL. 5

2008-10-14T15:25:00.000-07:00

Greetings and salutations. Welcome to the lastest installment of Paidra’s Pen. That’s me, by the way. I’m sitting here eating a extra dark full-bodied cocoa flavor 85 % chocolate bar. It’s real close to eating the chocolate right out of the cocoa can. I forgot I had the bar so was delighted to find it in my drawer.

I’ve been really busy trying to get this blog up and running. I even did some work on my other blogs. Just straightening up, mind you. I am having so much fun here with fragmented sentences. They have to be my first love when it comes to writing.

Last week, I ran a story about my Dad on a fishing trip. Jean included a comment that I simply have to share with you all. She is a really neat lady. One reason is that she puts up with me. Whatever I ask her for, she lets me have. She lives in Northern California a ways above San Francisco. Out there in wine country I believe. Anyway, here’s the comment.

oleflowerlady said...
Hey, Paidra!

I made it! :o)

Reading about your dad and the fish and the cops...

I had the same kind of problem one time... A couple of local kids had told the police (later turned out to be completely made up) that they were picked up by some guy in a white van that drove them around for awhile and then let them out.

At the time I drove a white '72 Ford Econoline and I was stopped -- first by the sheriff's dept., then by the police in THREE different nearby towns, then TWO MORE TIMES by county sheriff...

Finally, I made a HUGE sign and taped it to the back window of my van with LARGE, BLACK, block letters that said:

"ATTENTION POLICE & SHERIFF'S DEPUTIES! This is NOT the "white van" that allegedly picked up those two kids in Santa Rosa! First of all, THAT VAN was an '80 model DODGE and THIS VAN is a '72 FORD. Secondly, that van had a primered passenger side door whereas THIS ONE DOESN'T and was driven by a MALE. I am a FEMALE and no one ELSE drives this van. I am getting very tired of being pulled over by you guys REPEATEDLY every other DAY!!! You'd think that ONCE would've been ENOUGH!!! Don't ANY of you EVER TALK TO EACH OTHER?
I never got pulled over again...
luv,
jean

*******************

A teetotaler is seated next to a rock star on a flight to Texas. After the plane takes off, the musician orders a whiskey and soda.
“And the same for you?” the flight attendant asks the teetotaler.
“I’d rather be tied up and ravaged by crazed women than let liquor touch my lips,” he snorts.
“Here,” says the rocker, handing back his drink. “I didn’t know we had a choice.”

********************

Louis L'Amour westerns do not stand out as truly great works of fiction but, as the covers state, L'Amour had over 80 million copies of his books in print worldwide. The object of being a writer (other than some measure of personal satisfaction) is to move past the agent, past the publisher, and into the hands of the reading audience. 80 million copies say that quite nicely
.
Elmore Leonard, the author of Glitz and other popular detective thrillers, commented on what technique he used to keep the action in his books moving so quickly. He said, "I try to leave out the parts that readers tend to skip."

Things I write are intended to transport the reader to a life totally unlike their own. The other day I glanced at a story which sounded interesting. it was extremely well written, but that didn't seem to make it any more enjoyable. The author could have mentally placed me in the scene with only half the words simply by allowing me to use my own imagination. Join me as we let our imaginations wander; mine to tell the story and yours to put yourself into it.

********************

Dear Paidra,
This is a great recipe. Just imagine the aroma! Jane Butel, the Queen of Southwestern Cooking and owner of the "Best Cooking School in the US," designed it.

Mary Cheatham and Paul Elliott, the Collards Folks

Green Chile Chicken
Open-faced or Rolled Enchiladas
Yield: 4 to 6 servings
8 to 12 white, yellow or blue corn tortillas
Oil for frying or chile water
1 recipe Green Chile Sauce
3/4 cup 50/50 mixture of grated Cheddar & Monterey Jack cheese,
or to taste
1 medium-size onion, chopped
1/4 cup sour cream
Garni: Caribe, coarsely chopped lettuce, tomato wedges

1. In a skillet, lightly fry the tortillas in ½ inch of hot oil (or
dip in chile water or just warm the tortillas). Warm four plates
in the oven.

2. For Flat Enchiladas: Place a spoonful of green chile sauce on
the plate, then top with the tortillas followed by cheese, onion
and more sauce. Repeat once or twice more. Top each enchilada
with more sauce and cheese. Heat in a moderate 350 F oven until
the cheese melts. Top each with a dollop of sour cream and a few
grains of caribe. Encircle each enchilada with lettuce and tomato
wedges.

VARIATION:

For Rolled Enchiladas: Dip the lightly fried tortilla into the
sauce and place a strip of each grated cheese and chopped onion
down the center. Roll and top with more sauce and cheese. To
serve a crowd, place the rolled enchiladas in a large, shallow
baking dish, but do not cover with sauce. Just before serving,
heat in a moderate 350 F oven. Warm the sauce separately and add
just as you are ready to serve. Do not overcook or the enchiladas
will be very mushy. Top with additional cheese and reheat until it
melts. Add lettuce around edges before serving.

New Mexico Green Chile Sauce

This basic, yet versatile sauce without the chicken can be used to
create enchiladas, or pour over chimichangas or burritos. Seafood,
beef or beans can be substituted for the chicken.
Yield: 2 cups
1 tablespoon butter or lard
2/3 cup chopped onion
2 tablespoons flour
1-1/2 cups chicken broth
1 cup (or more) chopped green chiles
1 cup cooked chopped chicken
1 large clove garlic, finely minced
3/4 teaspoon salt
Dash of ground comino (cumin)
1.Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Sauté the onion
until soft. Stir in the flour.
2.Add the broth. Then add chiles, garlic, salt and comino.
3.Simmer for 20 minutes; then use for making enchiladas.
Yum!

********************

Sci/Fiography

(some of you have seen this article before but I wanted to run it again.)

You say you don’t care for sci/fi. Is it really true? How many times have you daydreamed about being somebody other then who you are? Have you ever given yourself a super power? When you answer, be sure to include even the smallest item.

It’s obvious you do enjoy sci/fi after all. Sci/fi encompasses a very broad spectrum. It’s not just the really far out and bizarre. Science Fiction is anything other then what is real. For all you died in the wool anti sci/fi people, choke!

Who has watched any of the Jane Austin movies and could see themselves in any of the parts? Is that real? Are you actually an actress or actor and have the part? I doubt it. It's Sci/Fi ladies. One of the things I really enjoy about being a writer is the ability to write myself (under the guise of being one of my characters) into any situation I choose.

If we were able to rewrite the script of our lives, how would it turn out? Because we make an attempt, however insignificant, to keep our feet grounded in reality, we can only write the basic life, and not the outcome of what we have written. If, on the other hand, we write the outcome, then we have no control over how we arrived at that point.

Here lies the dilemma. Do we chance the outcome and enjoy our lives up to that point, or do we go for the end product and not worry about how we arrived there? This issue has been debated for many years. Does the end justify the means, or does the means justify the end?

In my particular case, I chose to write the script and not worry about the outcome. The price was high but I have no regrets. How many women can truly say they were totally lost in their husband's love? The years I had with my husband far outweighed a much longer period of time some others experience. I have been on the precipice and looked down into the core of life itself. How could I possibly wish for any more from life?

*******************

Driving along a country road, I ignored a Bridge Out sign and continued on. But in a few miles I came to a stop: The road was completely barricaded. So I turned around an retraced my route. That’s when I saw this sign on the back of the first: “It was, wasn’t it?” Thomas Roy

A kangaroo orders a beer. He puts down a $20 bill.
The bartender gives him $1 in change and says, “Don’t see a lot of kangaroos in here.”
“At those prices,” say the kangaroo, “I’m not surprised.”

Dave Berry said, “A tool is an object that lets you take advantage of the laws of physics and mechanics in such a way that you can seriously injure yourself.”

Will Smith said, “Part of what makes a human being a human being is the imperfections. Like, you wouldn’t give a robot my ears. You just wouldn’t do that.”
*****
Rod Stewart said, “Instead of getting married again, I’m going to find a woman I don’t like and just give her a house.”
*****
Rita Rudner said, “When I eventually met Mr. Right, I had no idea that his first name was Always.”

I suppose I should get this finished and out to everybody. I know you all have been sitting on the edge of your seats waiting for it. On that note, I think I’ll call it a day and let you all return to your basically normal existence. That is, except for you over there, and you behind that tall girl…. See ya round the bend

Warm Regards,
Paidra Delayno

RIDE SALLY RIDE

2008-10-14T15:13:00.000-07:00

WELCOME TO MY WORLD

2008-10-10T23:24:00.000-07:00

2008-10-09T15:21:00.001-07:00

PAIDRA'S PEN - VOL. 4

2008-10-08T10:49:00.000-07:00

Greetings and Salutations to all of my friends out there in cyberland. Last night was another presidential candidate debate. How did your candidate do? Were you happy with the things he said? I hope so because if he wins, we’ll all have him for four years.

*******************************************

The pharmacist arrives at work to find a frightened-looking man learning against the wall.
“What’s wrong with him?” the pharmacist asks his clerk.
“He wanted cough medicine, but I couldn’t find any, so I gave him a laxative.”
“Laxatives won’t cure a cough,” yells the owner.
“Sure they will. Look at him. He’s afraid to cough.”

*******************************************

I hope everybody is enjoying this new format. I’m hoping it will be much easier to deal with because now you won’t have to download each separate segment of Paidra’s Pen. I had to switch to YouTube music videos because of the copyright problem. Before, I was just sending them to each of you but now they are on the net so I have to be more careful. I’ll still be picking a variety of songs with the hopes there will be at least one each letter that you enjoy.

I’m going to be republishing “Verifiable Evidence” soon. I have a new cover and have run the text through a better spell / grammar check than the first printing. The cover will make better sense than the first one.

I actually had some time to work on “Professional Woman” this week. I’m up to 74,000 words and closing in on the conclusion. On my first pass through a story, I concentrate on just getting the story down. On my second pass though, I work on adding detail and re-wording scenes that require it.

The third pass works on spelling and grammar. My brain must be fragmented because that’s the type of sentences I write. Grammar check sniffs them out all the time.

The forth pass is running the story through spell / grammar one more time. Next the story gets sent in for publication just as soon as I come up with the money. There lies the usual problem.

My publisher, Booklocker.com, will print my stories without review because they have already approved my work. ‘My work’ encompasses several things. Style, ability to tell a story, content, etc. all play a part in their selection of works they wish to print.

Different authors have different styles of writing. Many use the outline method. They sit down and outline the entire story before they even start. I can’t seem to do that. When I start a story I have no idea where it’s going. I sort of write by the seat of my pants, so to speak.

I don’t give much thought to the story until I am actually sitting at my computer. There are times though when an idea will come to me while I’m someplace else. Many times it comes during the night so I keep a tablet next to my bed otherwise I will forget it.

********************************************

Down Home Segment

Friends and Fish

When my parents lived in Scotts Valley, California, they had a friend named Randy. She and a friend of hers hung around with the group my parents ran with. She finally got herself married to a San Jose schoolteacher. He owned an AC Cobra. I’m sure many of you reading this will know what an A.C. Cobra is. It’s the type of sports car most people only dream about. He actually let my dad touch it so he automatically knew Marty was okay.
One of Marty’s former students was enrolled at UC Davis, in the woodsy or Ag programs. He apparently knew the right people because he passed along that the Fish and Game Department was cleaning the cocanese salmon out of a small river near Marysville. My parents were invited up there to partake of some of the fish.
Partake might be something of an understatement. They filled two large garbage cans with the pan size fish. Dad thinks there were over a thousand fish involved in their haul.
My parents had gone up there with another friend who owned a pick-up truck. They loaded the fish filled cans onto the truck and headed for home while imagining themselves stuffing their faces on fish.
This friend of theirs liked to drive slow; the kind of slow that really gets on your nerves after a very short time. The three of them were traveling down a two-lane road and a cop pulled in behind them. He followed for a while and then passed them. Up ahead he's sitting by the side of the road. They passed him by. The car behind them also passed the cop then he pulls back out in traffic.
The two-lane road merged into a four-lane road. Their friend was going at an incredibly slow pace and now the cop was directly behind them.
"I don't think he's after you for speeding," Dad said. Notice the 'after you' part. One never knows when they'll have to quickly distance them self from somebody so it's always good to get a jump on the situation.
The cop was not going away. Since it wasn't speeding, then the only alternative was the fish. The game warden had told them to call him if they had any trouble on the way home. Now in an apparent crisis, nobody could think of the warden's name.
Finally the red lights come on. In a way it was a relief. Nobody can stand when the cop just stays behind you. He knows he's making you nervous. I think he's enjoying it. Anyway, they pulled over desperately trying to think of the warden's name.
A very bright beacon comes on. The officer gets on his bullhorn and tells them to stay in the truck. This is not anything remotely to do with the fish. He then tells them to get out of the truck and keep their hands on the top of the truck's bed. Dad is wondering if their friend had been hiding a secret life or something. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with him or my mom.
Dad steps out of the truck first. What he saw was real scary. At least half a dozen cops are behind them. Several are on the ground in the prone position with rifles pointing at my parents and their friend. The others cops were just standing there with very large handguns pointing their way. They didn't even dare sneeze.
As it turns out, two guys driving a truck like the one they were in shot up a bar earlier in the evening. After it was all over, their friend, the driver, asked Dad if they should offer the cops any fish. Both my Mom and Dad looked at him in massive disbelief.
"I don't think we need to mention the fish," my mom said as delicately a fashion as possible. Dad cut more to the quick. "Shut up about the fish."

***************************************

Jeff’s blind date with Suzanne was bad from the start – in short, they loathed each other. Fortunately, Jeff had asked his friend to call him so he’d have an excuse to leave if the date wasn’t going well.
When his friend called, Jeff pretended to be in shock. “I have to leave,” he told Suzanne. “My aunt just died.”
“Thank God,” she replied. “If yours hadn’t, mine would’ve had to.”

***************************************

Recipe Time

QUICK CHICKEN
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 can cream of chicken soup
1 c. milk
5 lbs. cut up cooked chicken
1 pt. sour cream
1 pkg. Pepperidge Farm stuffing mix
Mix soups, sour cream and milk. Add chicken. Mix all ingredients and layer in baking
dish alternating with stuffing mix. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour.
------------------------

SWEET & SOUR CHICKEN
1 frying chicken, cut up
1 tbsp. melted butter
Dash of salt, pepper, ginger
3 celery stalks
1 can pineapple (chunk)
2 tbsp. brown sugar
3 tbsp. water
1 1/2 tbsp. soy sauce
1 tbsp. vinegar
1 red pepper (optional)
Rinse chicken, place skin side up in oiled pan. Pour melted butter over chicken.
Sprinkle chicken with salt, pepper, ginger, diced celery. Bake chicken at 325 degrees for about 20 minutes. Drain pineapple juice into cup. Blend in brown sugar, water, soy sauce, vinegar, cornstarch. Pour mixture over chicken in pan. Top with pineapple chunks and pepper.

***************************************

Well, that’s about it for this week. If anybody has any comments, don’t hesitate to write me at ddinpaidra@yahoo.com.

Also, check out my other sites listed in the right hand column of this blog. See ya round the bend.

Paidra

ME & BOBBY MC GEE - JANIS JOPLIN

2008-10-08T07:59:00.000-07:00

THE BLACKWOOD BROTHERS

2008-10-08T07:44:00.000-07:00

DEBBIE BOONE AND THE BOONE SISTERS

2008-10-07T12:27:00.000-07:00

PAIDRA'S PEN - VOL. 3

2008-10-07T09:44:00.000-07:00

Whack! Right on the head with a rolled-up magazine!
“What was that for?” the husband shouts.

“That,” his wife says, “was for the piece of paper I found – with the name Laurie Sue on it.”

“But dear,” he says, “that was just the name of a horse I bet on when I went to the track.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll let it go… this time.”

Two weeks later - Whack!

“Now what?” he wails.

“Your horse called.”

Hey everybody! How goes the battle? The presidential stuff is really getting interesting, isn’t it? Like any presidential election, this is history in the making. I’m certainly not recommending either candidate, but just be sure the person you vote for is the same one you want picking up that telephone at three in the morning.

There are three kinds of people in the world – those who are good at math and those who aren’t.

That joke has so many variations. I once heard there are two kinds of people in the world. Italians and those who wish they were! Any group can be inserted.

It looks like autumn is fast approaching. I’m seeing leaves starting to turn. For me, that’s not a good sign because I’m strictly a summer girl. I love the sun. I think I’ll stick a Beach Boys song in here soon.

Have any of you checked out a new site I’ve been using? It’s called “Paidra’s Pen” Pretty original, wouldn’t you say. Actually, it’s a ning site. Ning sites cover all sorts of subjects. Anybody can add on to my site or start one of their own. It’s a lot of fun and if a person looks around the entire ning community, there is A LOT of stuff out there.

Ning is nothing like gather.com. It’s much more serious and people are exchanging ideas and tips on whatever subject interests them. You really should check it out. I know several of you already have.

http://paidraspen.ning.com

LEMON CHICKEN SAUTE
6 chicken breast halves, boned and skinned
3 tbsp. all-purpose flour
Non-stick cooking spray
1/4 c. margarine
1/3 c. teriyaki sauce
3 tbsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. fresh garlic, minced
1/2 tsp. sugar
Rice, cooked
Roll chicken in flour to coat. Spray 10" skillet with non-stick spray. Add margarine and melt. Add chicken breasts. Cook over medium heat until chicken is lightly browned, about 5 to 7 minutes. Turn chicken, cook until lightly browned. Remove chicken and set aside. Stir in teriyaki sauce, lemon juice, garlic and sugar. Return chicken to pan and simmer 3 minutes. Turn chicken and continue cooking until fork-tender, about 2 to 3 minutes. Serve over rice. Serves 4 to 6.

RED BEANS and RICE
INGREDIENTS
1 pound dried red beans or kidney beans 1 large hamhock from left over ham, or sausage
2 tablespoons margarine or ham fat 1 large onion, finely chopped
1 or 2 clove garlic, finely minced 1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon red pepper 1 small piece bay leaf
1/2 teaspoon oregano powder 2 large ripe tomatoes or canned whole tomatoes
Directions:
Pick and wash red beans.
In a large sauce pan boil 1-1/2 quarts water, drop in the beans, boil 1 minute. Set aside until they cool.
Cook onion in fat until tender. Add to beans, with garlic, hamhock, tomatoes, bay
leaf, salt, and pepper. Cook over high heat, then reduce to simmer until tender, about 2-1/2 to 3 hours.
Take out hamhock, cut meat away from bone and add to pot of beans. Add oregano.
Serve in soup plates over rice. Chopped scallions over this is delicious.

That’s The Berries

The sun was almost full in the sky when I went out to pick today’s allotment of blackberries. I probably should have gone out earlier but first I had to bow down and worship at the foot of my alter, also know as the computer. True, I could hear those delicious black cylinders calling me but the net is the net and I must obey my mistress.

Picking blackberries is something of an art if one wishes to fill the bucket. When I pick berries I always bring along my clippers if I expect to get my quota for the day. Anybody can stand there and pick the perimeter but the real bonanza is deeper into the vines.

I can’t just mindlessly pick berries. I have to study them and analyze the situation. I’m sure I’m not the only one to see that a good portion of the berries are out of reach height wise.

I’ve been picking for over a week now so I’ve had plenty of time to study the situation. I used to just look at the vines and think nothing of them except that a person could mangle themselves in all the thorns. I doubt that I could pick any quantity without scratching myself at least ten times.

This season, I find myself out of a job so picking them brings on a whole new dimension. This is food I’m talking about now. And I should point out, free food. The main clump I pick from is very close to the creek. It must be for this reason that the yield is higher than any others on my property.

After studying the situation closely, I came to the conclusion that each of the vines has a specific function. There are the big fat vines that weave all over the clump. (for lack of a better word) These are the ones that form the structure of the clump.

And then there are the vines that produce the fruit. Once in a while the structure vines produce small amounts of fruit but not often. Their primary function is to spread the clump and hold up the producer vines from flopping on the ground.

It wasn’t a far reach to apply this same situation to us as women and men. There are those of us who’s function is to plow new ground. These are the employers, the explorers, the adventurers, the leaders in our society.

Then we have those who fill in all around the leaders. These are the folks who raise our children, teach them in our schools, make their clothes, raise their food, keep our churches open, and generally nurture each one in preparation for them becoming the leaders of tomorrow. Our children are our fruit.

To reach the berries at the top, I found that cutting out the leader vines allows them to drop down to where I can pick them. Is this not the case with us as well? If somebody comes along and knocks down our leaders, we will have nobody to hold us up. I feel confident that there are those who will come along and “pick” us clean.

Please do not confuse this with some sort of political article because it is NOT. When I say our leaders, I am not just speaking about the government. We have leaders in all walks of life and we need to encourage their growth.

*****

An acquaintance of ours was – how do I put this delicately? – not well loved. So when he died, I was amazed to see how many people showed up for his funeral.

“I’m not surprised,” said my husband. “As P.T. Barnum said, “Give the people what they want and they’ll show up.”

*****

I hope everybody is playing my music selections. I do make an attempt to have some variety but as this is my newsletter, they have to be songs I enjoy.LOL

I hope you all have enjoyed this weeks Paidra’s Pen. As always, the music is from the past and still understandable. Please feel free to drop me a line if you have any suggestions or comments. And, as always, if you know anybody interested in reading this, be sure to pass the word. I will be e-mailing everybody when the new letter is out so if you know anybody who wants to be notified, have them send me their email address.

ddinpaidra@yahoo.com

My blog:
http://wwwddinpaidra.blogspot.com

My ning site:
http://paidraspen.ning.com

My “Verifiable Evidence” book site:
http://www.booklocker.com/books/2812.html

My “Forty Miles Of Bad Road” book site:
http://www.booklocker.com/books/3637.html

See ya all next time!

PAIDRA DELAYNO

MONTREAL SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA

2008-10-07T09:42:00.000-07:00

HE'S ALIVE - DOLLY PARTON

2008-10-07T09:36:00.001-07:00

SOME VELVET MORNING - NANCY SINATRA & LEE HAZELWOOD

2008-10-07T09:18:00.000-07:00

PAIDRA'S PEN - VOL. 2

2008-10-07T06:14:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the second addition of Paidra’s Pen. I received favorable comments from you the readers so will be pressing on with the next addition. See, it’s your own fault. If nobody had said anything I wouldn’t be doing it again.

Last weekend I slithered on over to the ocean with the two girls who share my house. It’s not often that I leave my humble abode but a trip to the coast was more than I could resist. On Saturday the fog was in and the temperature was down. Sunday, just as we were getting ready to leave, the sun came out so we stayed and had lunch. Both of which I’m all in favor of.

Fred comes home from his usual Saturday golf game. “What a terrible day,” he tells his wife. “Harry dropped dead on the tenth tee.”

“Oh, that’s awful!” she says.

“You’re not kidding,” says Fred. “For the whole back nine, it was hit the ball, drag Harry, hit the ball, drag Harry…”

Somebody was asking me to write a little about my experiences with the Print On Demand publisher whom I use. The first thing of vast importance is the necessity of having a really good Spell/Grammar check on my computer. I can’t stress enough how importand that is. One of my failings as a writer is fragmented sentences. Grammar check thinks nothing of pointing them out.

Once the story is complete, the next thing I have to address is the cover. I think most of you have figured out that this is a low budget operation and if I am to have something done, I will be the one to do it. The finish book cover is 8.5 inches by 5.5 inches. The cover I submit has to be 9.5 inches by 6 inches to allow for the printers trim lines. Whatever design / picture I use has to cover the entire area. In other words, I can’t put a stripe around the edge to make up the difference.

I have to wait for Booklocker.com, my printer, to let me know the width of the spine before I can submit the finished cover. I usually print up my covers a half dozen times before I’m happy with the one I send in. On “Verifiable Evidence,” I wasn’t happy with the final cover once it was printed. I am planning on redoing the cover.

As many of you know, I used a pseudonym, Loren Douglas, on “Verifiable Evidence.” The new cover will use my real name. Having two names didn’t work out like I was hoping. For anybody interested, you can find an article I wrote on this subject at:

http://writersweekly.com/this_weeks_article/004884_08272008.html

Writing a novel, I think, is the easy part. Marketing is what requires a LOT of skill. A skill, I might add, that I don’t posess. Marketing a business, such as a nursing home, is a horse of a different color. In any given town, there might be 1 to 20 other nursing homes, depending on the size of the town.

Novels, however, have to be advertised on the internet, which as you know, is a tight little group. NOT !! Everybody and their brother is hawking something on the internet. A good portion of them are pushing the novel they wrote and think is the greatest thing since sliced bread.

The author has to create a presence on the net. That is where the vast amount of time goes. As many of you know, I have spent the last year on gather.com, a social site. Now I have signed up with some others.

1. http://paidraspen.ning.com
2. http://www.ezinearticles.com
3. http://www.squidoo.com/pollyklass/lessStress
4. http://wwwddinpaidra.blogspot.com
5. http://freeiq.com/paidradelayno
6. http://www.6dgr.com/fortymiles

I think there is a Facebook account, Myspace, YouTube, two video sites, and who knows what else. I get so confused trying to remember all of these sites along with all of my blogs and websites. It’s getting so bad that I’m finding the need to revamp my system. Something about a list comes to mind.

“As I was admitted to the hospital prior to a procedure, the clerk asked for my wrist, saying, ‘I’m going to give you a bracelet.”

“Has it got rubies and diamonds?” I asked coyly.

“No,” he said, “But it costs just as much.”

Ellene Cook

Recipe

ORIENTAL CHICKEN WINGS
6 chicken wings
1 sm. clove garlic
1 scallion
1/4 c. soy sauce
2 tbsp. honey
2 tsp. rice-wine vinegar
1/2 tsp.g rated ginger
1/2 tsp. oriental sesame oil
Pinch of cayenne
1 tsp. sesame seeds
1 tbsp. chopped fresh coriander or parsley
Remove wing tips and cut wings in half at the joint. Mince garlic and scallion. Combine
soy sauce, honey, vinegar, garlic, ginger, oil and cayenne in a microwave safe dish.
Add wings and turn to coat. Marinate at least 30 minutes, turning twice. Put larger
wings at the edge of the dish. Cover with plastic and vent. Microwave on high for 5 minutes.
Rotate plate and cook 5 minutes longer. Transfer wings to a serving plate. Return
marinade to oven and cook, partially covered on high for 2 minutes. Pour marinade
over wings and turn to coat. Sprinkle with sesame seeds, scallion and coriander. 12 pieces.

For those of you following the progress of my latest novel entitled, “Professional Woman,” not much has been done this last week. I did get everything finished and turned in for “Forty Miles Of Bad Road,” which should, but won’t, give me some extra time.

The program I use to do my slide videos has been screwing up lately. I’m not sure what to do about it. I do hope you all enjoy the music.

I’ve had so much to do this week that I just didn’t get another Down Home story finished. I thought it was more important to get this out so will go ahead and do so. I would really like to hear back from everybody because I seem to be having problems getting it to everybody. I can’t figure that one out.

If any of you know somebody who would be interested in receiving Paidra’s Pen, please have them send me an e-mail address so that I can include them on my list. They can reach me at this e-mail or at ddinpaidra@yahoo.com

Thank you so much for spending a few minutes with me.

Warm Regards,
Paidra Delayno

CHATTANOOGA CHOO CHOO - TUXEDO JUNCTION

2008-10-07T06:12:00.000-07:00

BLOWIN' IN THE WIND - PETER, PAUL & MARY

2008-10-07T06:03:00.000-07:00

PRETTY WOMAN - ROY ORBISON

2008-10-06T23:44:00.000-07:00

PAIDRA'S PEN - VOL. 1

2008-10-06T23:23:00.000-07:00

This is my first issue and needless to say, I am excited about doing Paidra’s Pen. I’m uncertain as to how I should describe it. It’s not really a newsletter. It’s not some literary work worthy of far reaching acclaim. It’s just stuff about me and things I’m writing. Hopefully, as time goes on, I’ll have pieces written by my readers.

I hate constantly using the words ‘I’ ‘me’ and so forth. Until we get this thing rolling, you’ll have to bear with the writer. (Is that better?) Two things you will never see here are political banter or vulgarity. “I have my standards. They may be low but I have them.” (Bette Midler)

“Daddy, do all fairy tales begin with the words, ‘Once upon a time’?” the little girl asked.
“No,” he replied. “A whole lot of them begin with the words ‘If elected, I promise’”(American Legion)

As some of you already know, I’m getting my second book ready to publish. I submitted the text and then the cover. I had to know the amount of pages before I could submit the cover because that determines the width of the spine. Booklocker.com, who is printing the book, wrote back and had some issues with the cover. I redesigned it and sent it back.

It’s amazing how much goes into getting a book out. If a writer has a standard publisher, then all of this is done for them. Those of us who use a Print On Demand publisher, either do just about everything ourselves or have it done. Have it done as in fork out the loot. When the budget is slim to none, the above said writer has to do everything themselves.

I don’t mind doing the covers. I completely understand the concept that my covers will never be comparable to a professional cover but then again, I work a LOT cheaper than the pros. My biggest problem is getting potential readers to purchase the book.

This newsletter is, obviously, intended to introduce readers to my stuff. I hope the process is enjoyable though. The word ‘Hope’ being the key word here.

I started a series called “Down Home Stories.” These are short stories about my parents I find either amusing or interesting. My parents were something of modern day pioneers. They bought raw land and build their own houses. On one piece of land, they actually milled the standing timber and used it to build the house. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy these accounts.

Another thing I want to do is include music videos. These are simply a song I enjoy in video form. It’s easier for me to send it out that way. I will try to vary my selections in order to have something for everybody. One thing I have is a lot of music.

Down Home Stories

Cats by the Power Pole

When they were first married, my parents lived in an apartment on the east side of San Jose, California, My father was doing drywall for a man named John. He became my dad's best friend. No matter where my father's vagabond spirit led him, John was always a constant in his life. Dad could pick up the telephone knowing John would always be glad to hear from him. John was the type of man who Dad knew would always be there if he needed him.

John loved to tease my mom, probably because she was (and is) quite gullible. On this particular day John called on the phone and Mom answered. She as of yet wasn't totally familiar with John's voice and she didn't recognize who was calling. He proceeded to tell her he was with the power company. His office had received reports that there were dead cats by the base of the power pole just outside of their apartment. He asked if she would mind looking to see if the reports were in fact true.
Thinking she was being of help to the power company, she went outside to check on the cat situation. When she came back to the phone she reported that there were in fact, no dead cats anywhere near the pole. John could contain himself no longer and burst out laughing. The little light of recognition came on and Mom instantly knew who he was. She hung up the phone, mad I suspect.

It’s really humid in the woods, so the two hiking buddies remove
their shirts and shoes. But when they spot a sign saying, “Beware
of bears,” one of them stops to put his shoes back on.

“What’s the point?” the other says. “You can’t outrun a bear.”

“Actually,” says his friend, “all I have to do is outrun you.”

Cooking Section

Please understand that I am not a cook. I am a good eater though. I just thought this recipe might gussy up the newsletter a tad. I have zillions of recipes in my computer and could fire one of them and a song a week at you for the rest of your life. I’m prepared to say that I don’t care how young you are.

SHRIMP CREOLE
INGREDIENTS
1/2 pound fresh shrimp, peeled, deveined and washed
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 bay leaf 1 small piece of bell pepper, cut fine
1/4 lemon 1/8 teaspoon sweet basil
1 - 1/2 cups water pinch nutmeg
1 - 1/2 tablespoons cooking oil
1 small piece of bayleaf
1 small onion, chopped
1/8 teaspoon red pepper
1 clove garlic, mashed
1/2 teaspoon cornstarch
1 cup whole tomatoes, fresh or canned
A small amount of green onion
1/2 cup tomato sauce
Liquid from boiled shrimp
Directions:
In a stew pan, add water, salt, bay leaf, lemon and shrimp. Cook over medium heat. When
water comes to a boil, cover and cook 5 minutes. Drain and reserve liquid.
Saute onion and garlic in oil until tender. Add tomatoes, shrimp broth, sugar, and bell
pepper, reduce heat and simmer 15 minutes. Add sweet basil, nutmeg, red pepper and salt
to taste. Cook a few minutes more.
.
Make a paste with corn starch and 2 tablespoons water. Stir it into the sauce; stir and cook
until it thickens. When ready to serve, add the boiled shrimp, parsley and green onion.

Music

Today’s selections include one 60’s Rock & Roll, one Orchestra number and one Country Gospel number. I have some newer music but most of it is country. I see you gagging over there. Stop that right now!

A married man should forget his mistakes. There's no use in two people remembering the same thing!

I hope you have enjoyed stopping by to visit. If anybody has any suggestions, don’t hesitate to drop me a line.

Warm Regards,
Paidra Delayno

SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA

2008-10-06T23:16:00.000-07:00

THE LION SLEEPS TONIGHT - THE TOKENS

2008-10-06T23:06:00.001-07:00

JOHNNY CASH & THE STATLER BROTHERS

2008-10-06T22:58:00.000-07:00