Spring Has Sprung

 

Or so they say. You couldn't prove it by Ohioans. We've had the craziest weather. Up and down, up and down, snow, rain, and sunshine. Typical weather for April, with promises of warm weather to come.

It seems like Mother Nature likes to tease us. She'll give us temps and sunshine in the 70s for a few days, then drop us back down to the 30s. Last week we had two days in the 80s, absolutely beautiful weather. Even the 40s and 50s feel cold after those days. Dropping us into the 30s was just downright cruel. 

Fortunately, Ohioans are resilient and we roll with the flow, for the most part. That doesn't mean we don't complain. Ha, far from it. And in a couple of months, we're going to complain it's too hot. Seems like we're not happy unless we complain. 

All in all, we haven't had that bad of a winter, at least not to my memory (which isn't what it used to be). A few bitterly cold days in January - to be expected, and not that much snow. Okay, we had two good snowstorms of six inches or more, and they came one right after the other. But that was about it for snow, at least shovable snow. To me, that's a pretty mild winter. 

Anytime I'm not afraid to drive is good for me. I'm not a big fan of driving, don't like driving in the rain, hate driving in the snow or ice and driving at night in either or is the pitts. Nope, I don't like to drive. Now, don't get me wrong, there are days I'm fine with it. Sunny warm days with no traffic like early Sunday morning on the way to church, or after morning rush hour on the way to Bible Study. Not crazy about driving at night at all, so these longer days work great for me. Wintertime, I won't drive at night, the headlights on other cars are horrible, especially those new headlights. I discovered a long time ago, if you wear sunglasses while driving at night, it does help. But I still don't like it. 

So, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Spring has sprung and in few weeks, we'll really feel the benefits of it, at least we will if it doesn't become summer before we've had a chance to enjoy spring, which also happens a lot in Ohio. Not that I'd live any place else. Nope, I'm Ohio born, and in Ohio I shall die. Hmmm, that almost makes me sound a little like Aunt Beatrice Lulu. If you'd like to know more about her check out the Family Affair Series at BWL Publishing

Oh, and by the way, Aunt Beatrice Lulu remains in hiding, as do my other characters.  I do have a couple of ideas for the story, but the ending still eludes me, without that I can't fill in the middle. If anyone has any ideas let me know.either by email or in the comments below. If I use your idea, I'll mention you as a character in my book (with your permission, of course).  (email address is: rodow62 at yahoo dot com. 

The work in progress started out with Beatrice Lulu's sister, Ethel telling the story, Well which didn't sit too well with ABLL (that's what I call her when I talk about her). No one was going to take over her story. So, she took over and then she shut down. Probably paying me back for trying to let Ethel be the main character. I have a few ideas for things that go wrong for her because we all know everything goes wrong for ABLL, she's always getting into trouble. Nothing big of course, because that's where my problem comes in, she won't tell me what her next big adventure is and how she gets out of it. 

Make Believe World

 https://bookswelove.net/dowell-roseanne/

 I live in a make-believe world. Okay, not literally, but vicariously through my characters.  I decide where they live, name their towns, or sometimes I let them live in a real city/town.  I prefer small towns, maybe because I’ve always wanted to live in one. I especially like towns with Victorian houses and apparently so do my characters, because I use them a lot.  I often say I must have lived during the Victorian area, probably as a mean old nanny. I’m sure I wasn’t the lady of the house, and by house I mean mansion. Queen Anne Victorian homes are my favorite. I love the round turrets, all the gingerbread, and wrap-around porches. It was always my dream to buy one and restore it. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be and I’m past the point of wanting one now.

Back to my make-believe world. I’d like to say I choose my characters, but truthfully, they choose me.  Sometimes I even get to name them, but if they don’t like the name, well, believe me, they misbehave until I change it. And, yes, that’s happened several times. Just because I like a name doesn’t mean they do. The last time it happened it wasn’t even a main character. She was only in the story for a short time, but boy was she stubborn. She refused to talk to me and anything I wrote was garbage, better known as dreck in the writing world.

As I’ve said previously, I write many different genres, from Women’s Fiction to Romance to Mystery and even Paranormal. Most of my books are a combination of romance and another genre. As a reader, I’ve always favored mystery and romance, so it only made sense to combine them.  Mine would be classified as cozy mysteries, the gory stuff takes place off scene.

 I also love ghost stories – not evil mean ghosts though. One such story is Shadows in the Attic and another Time to Love Again. I’ve always been fascinated by ESP, hence my story Entangled Minds – previously published as Connection of the Minds.

My character’s ages range from their mid-twenties to middle age and into their seventies. Yes, seniors need love, too. Geriatric Rebels is a favorite.  It’s fun working with different characters, and I especially like when they add a bit of humor. I really form an attachment to them. Once a character chooses me, I make a character worksheet so I know everything about them, not just what they look like.

I love creating my characters, picking their careers, anything from housewives, authors, teachers, floral designers, and interior designers. Sometimes their careers play a part in the story, sometimes not. The character in my work in progress (WIP in the writer’s world) is a former teacher. It’s not a big part of the story, but it’s something I needed to know. She’s a real character in the true sense of the word. She came into being in a previous story, All in the Family. It started out with her having a small part, but Aunt Beatrice Lulu (ABLL) grew into a big part of the story. Once I finished that book, she popped up again and demanded her own book. Problem is, she takes fits and goes into hiding every so often, which is where she’s at right now and has been for some time. Sometimes she pops up for days of writing. Other times, I get a paragraph or two. I’ve never had a character do that before.

Oh, I’ve had writer’s block a time or two, but once I’m over it the writing flows. Not so with ABLL.

  It’s also fun describing my characters, their hair and eye color, height, even their weight. I’m often asked if I’m a plotter or punster. I tried plotting once and ended up blocked for almost two years. For me, plotting doesn’t work. I usually know the beginning and end of my stories. What happens in the middle is as much a surprise to me as it is to my readers. ABLL is full of surprises. What that woman doesn’t get into. So even though she goes into hiding, it’s generally worth it when she reappears. I’m not sure where she came from, but I’m sure enjoying working with her. Okay, I’ll be honest, a little bit of her is me, a little bit my sisters, and even my mother. She’s a combination of all the people I love and it’s so much fun living in her make-believe world.

You can find my books at https://bookswelove.net/dowell-roseanne/

The Smells of Easter

 I love Easter. To me, it's the beginning of new life. It also brings back many memories. Memories of days long past. 

Easter was a busy time in our house during the ’50s.  It began Holy Wednesday, with the baking of our special Easter bread, Paska*, or Babka, as it’s sometimes called.  My sisters and I helped gather the ingredients and set them on the table. Mom stood on a chair and took out the special round pans from the cabinet above the refrigerator. She used those pans only for Easter bread. I’m not sure why, but this bread had to be round. 

 First, we measured the milk and set it on the stove to scald. Next Mom measured the yeast. I loved the smell of it. One year, enticed by the aroma, I stuck my finger in it and tasted it. I couldn’t’ get rid of the bitterness out of my mouth and my brothers, sisters, and mom laughed at me for being foolish enough to try it.  Of course, no one tried to stop me either.  I wondered how something that smelled so good could taste so bad.  

Once the ingredients were mixed together Mom began kneading the dough.  I thought it looked like fun until I got older and she let me try it. Kneading bread dough is hard work and we had to knead it until it blistered. When she kneaded it enough, it was set to rise.  We often sneaked in the kitchen and pinched off a piece and ate it. Something about the taste of raw dough kept us coming back, no matter how much my mom yelled at us. 

After an hour or so, Mom turned the dough out onto a special board my uncle made for her from an old maple table. She reserved a small piece of dough and cut the remainder into even portions for the loaves.  She put the loaves in the pan and took the reserved dough, rolled it between her hands like a snake and cut off pieces to form a cross on each loaf, and after letting it rise again, she put them in the oven. The savory smell of fresh-baked bread filled the house for hours.  The bread was then stored in plastic bags for Easter Sunday and no trying to sneak a piece. 

Holy Thursday was beet-making day.   My mother used fresh beets and horseradish for this delicious relish*.  After she cooked the beets, she grated them on the small side of a grater and suffered many a skinned knuckle. In later years, she purchased six cans of whole beets and a jar of horseradish from the grocery store. I’m not sure what gave her the idea, maybe she got tired of skinned knuckles, but one year she brought out her old meat grinder and attached it to the table, added the beets, grinding them into a finely shredded consistency. I loved watching the beets come through the grinder.  After the beets were ground, mom boiled vinegar, added sugar to it, and mixed it with the beets. When it cooled she added horseradish, tasting it until it was just right.  The vinegar blended with the pungent horseradish and filled the house with its stinging smell. If we got too close it made our eyes water.  

On Good Friday Mom baked a ham and boiled kielbasa.  The kielbasa had been in the refrigerator for several days and very time we opened the refrigerator door, the rich garlicky aroma tantalized our taste buds. Sometimes we opened it just to get a whiff.  As the aroma of the ham and kielbasa wafted through the house our mouths watered, but since it was Good Friday, samples of the delicious smelling meats were forbidden.  We could hardly wait until Easter.  

 Friday night, Mom made sirok*, Easter cheese.  We called it yellow thing.   My older sister and I cracked several dozen eggs into a large pot and beat them with the electric mixer. Mom filled another larger pot with water and set it on the stove to boil. After we added milk, sugar, and nutmeg to the eggs, we beat the mixture a little more. Mom then took the mixture to the stove and set that pot inside the large one, creating a double boiler.   We took turns mixing it since it needed constant stirring.  As the mixture began to curdle, it formed a solid almost scrambled egg texture. The liquid separated and turned a bluish-green. Once it curdled, Mom poured it into a colander lined with cheesecloth.   While it drained, she tightened the cheesecloth into a ball and tied it.  She hung it over the sink from a hook and let it drain overnight.   In the morning, she removed it from the cheesecloth. The sweet-spicy smell of the nutmeg lingered for hours.  

Saturday afternoon, Mom sent one of us to the attic to get the blessing basket.  She lined the basket with a towel, set a loaf of bread, a large piece of ham, kielbasa, sirok, several hard-cooked eggs, and a small container of beets into the basket and covered it with a fancy white doily that she crocheted especially for it. The blessing of baskets was a custom from the old country and even though we lived in Ohio, many churches carried out this tradition. Some still do  and my sister and her family take a basket to be blessed every year. It's a family tradition for them and even the kids, although grouwn still go with them, but that's another story. 

  My father, sisters, and I took the basket to church. This was a special service and before the blessing, we removed the doily.  The Priest went up and down the aisle sprinkling Holy Water over the congregation and baskets of food.   

Easter Sunday after church, Mom took out the blessed food and everyone had a small piece of it for breakfast. After smelling all these delicious aromas for the past four days, we savored the taste. Easter was not only a time to rejoice in the new beginning through Christ but a time to share the love of family and good food.  

 

*Paska or Babka is sweet bread usually with yellow raisins. 

*Sirok – a yellow round ball made from equal amounts of milk and eggs (1 dozen eggs to 1 quart of milk) add sugar and nutmeg to taste.  

 

Beet Relish 

6 cans whole beets grated 

½ cup white vinegar, boiled 

2/3 cup sugar   

Horseradish to taste 

In a large bowl, grate the beets.  Boil the vinegar. Add the sugar to it and let it cool slightly, then pour it over the beets.  Add horseradish to taste. I start with 2 tablespoons, but depending on hot you want it more can be added. 

Geriatric Rebel Available from BWL Publishing

 Forced to stay in a nursing home while undergoing therapy, seventy-two year old, Mike Powell refuses to get out of bed, won't cooperate with the nurses, and won’t take his medicine. At least not until he meets Elsa. The tiny, spunky little Elsa sparks new life into him.

Seventy-year-old, Elsa is left in the home while her son takes a family vacation. She joins forces with Mike, setting the home on its heels, and later discovers deception and fraud. Can they find happiness together?

Who says life begins at 40? Life is wonderful at any age, as long you're willing to live it. Elsa Logan and Mike Powell prove it. And I want to be just like them when I grow up! One of Roseanne Dowell's best, and my personal favorite!
Elsa Logan bears a striking resemblance to a romance writer I know who shall be nameless but whose initials are R. D. ~ Romantic Suspense Author, Gail Roughton

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