Numbers by Eleanor Stem

2014 is an even-numbered year. Only a few more hours, a tick of a clock, and we’ll be in 2015, an odd-numbered year.

Which do you prefer, the odd or even numbers? Which years bring you more happiness, or more pain? Do you emerge from those painful years like a phoenix flying from its ashes? 

I like even-numbered years. They seem more rounded, less pointy. Four is more rounded than fourteen, i.e., ’t’ in teen is spiky, the 'ee' brash. Five is less desirous than four, harder to say, to read. Fifteen is definitely on the corrupt side.

2020 is a good round number. Only the 't’s' are a bit spiky. The rest just rolls off your tongue like sweet juice. Tomorrow, 2020 will be closer than we've ever seen it. We're half way through the teens, going into the twenties. My, how time flies.

That doesn't mean odd-numbered years are bad. 2013 that had lots of spikes, and is far too brash, was a pretty good year. My husband and I built a house in 2013, which could be a nightmare, but it wasn't. Our builder was really professional. He gave us no hassles, and now he and his wife are good friends.

Despite odd or even-numbered years, life’s road leads us through the landscape of different experiences.

My husband wouldn’t say he liked even-numbered years. For years, the Universe kept telling him to move out of his status quo existence, but he wouldn’t listen. In 2008, he lost several friends through illness and accidents. In September, Hurricane Ike pushed his house off the foundations, and the world called it a total loss. Two months later, we were married. A true up and down year. By 2009, his whole life had changed, and he was much happier for it.

I believe throughout our lives, we go through issues that make us better, help us to gain a higher spiritual level. Sometimes, we are supposed to make changes in our lives, but we are afraid, or we stall, thinking we’ll be fine if we don’t upset the applecart.

An odd year, 2005, which as I said I’m not too fond of, did that for me. No discreet knocking on my door worked to make changes. Apparently, everything I knew had to be broken before I saw the light.

Almost out of the gate into the new year, I noticed trickles of water running down the wall of my carport. I called a roofer, where not only did the roof leak, but the electrical gizmo that sends electricity into the house was pulling away from the structure. I needed an electrician and a roofer. The kitchen sink kept stopping up and the plumber said the sewer hadn’t been installed properly when the house was built. The entire sewer line under the house had to be replaced. At the same time, the car started leaking transmission fluid. I needed a new car. Then, I went to the doctor for a routine checkup and she said a lump in my breast was 99% cancer. January 2005 had been an eventful month.

My oncologist said, ‘Give me a full year, and then I’ll set you free, healthy and whole.’ With those words, I relinquished my care into her capable hands. This opened up a whole new world for me, gave me freedom to find out who I was. I took off work during the process, sat outside with a cup of tea and listened to the birds in the trees. I focused on the beauty that was all around me. I appreciated the differences in the human psyche, their own trek through life, how they responded to bumps in the road, and I bought a puppy.  

They say it’s not what you go through but how you come out of the experience that makes the difference. If you are a better person for it, then your journey was good. The odd numbered year of 2005 was a good one for me, one of the best years of my life.

Let’s drink to 2015. May this year bring you happiness and good cheer. May your experiences, good or bad, bring you joy.  

http://bookswelove.net/stem.php

Food, Family, and Traditions, by Kathy Fischer-Brown

Food is a topic that, for me, needs little excuse. Not simply preparing and consuming food, but the occasions that have food at their center. And there is no better time to discuss the sharing of good food with family and friends than at holiday time.

While attempting to organize my computer this past week, I happened on a slew of videos. Actually they are converted home movies from my late father’s collection of 8 mm film from the late 1930s when my parents started dating to the 1980s when video supplanted celluloid for recording memories. It was a trip down Memory Lane in many ways, filled with a few tears and laughs, and also a time to appreciate where my love of cooking and baking came from.

There were my grandparents looking young, slim and hardly gray-haired. I quickly did the math and realized I was watching images that were 70 years old or more, which meant that my grandparents were a good 25 years younger than I am today. Back in those days my parents, a few lifelong friends, along with cousins, aunts and uncles all converged on my grandparents’ large Bronx apartment. Invariably, there were scenes of overflowing tables, smiling faces, the special cake…and the women all in full aprons.

My gram was renowned as a good cook. Her brisket was legendary. It was always a treat to arrive at their place greeted by the warm aroma of chicken soup and even warmer feelings of having the family assemble for an event of sorts. My mom and aunt would always lend a hand and we kids would amuse ourselves until time came to dig in at the table.

Over the years, after my family moved from The Bronx to Long Island, our house or the cousins’ alternated at being the epicenter of our culinary gatherings. My mom was a great cook, often replicating in her own kitchen what she’d learned from her mother. She didn’t “experiment” much back then, but after we moved to Connecticut, her talent for throwing sumptuous dinner parties took hold. My sisters and I would help out in the spacious kitchen, mostly chopping this or peeling that, but as we were then in our teens and tweens, food preparation was not at the top of our priority list.

By the time my parents retired to Florida, my mother’s skills had blossomed into the awesome category. Long before that, when I was a new bride and my husband and I moved away for a while to teach at a college in Indiana, I often asked my mom how she made certain dishes. She sent me recipes, some in her impeccable script, others typed on office memo sheets, which I still have tucked away into my first and still favorite cookbook. 

Over the years, as distance separated me from sisters and cousins, and the older generation passed on, cooking became a passion, a way to maintain a hold on the past and a link between those of us who remain. We no longer spend our holidays, birthdays, and other celebratory occasions in those large joyful gatherings of my childhood. We have scattered over distances that make such get-togethers impossible. My two kids are grown, and there’s a grandson, and my sisters have their own families. But when we do get together for whatever reason, the highlight of the visit invariably involves the preparation of an incredible meal, riffing on an old favorite or discovering something new.

The only things missing are those cool aprons.

~*~

Kathy Fischer-Brown writes historical novels for Books We Love, Ltd. To find out more about Kathy and her books, please visit at: www.kfischer-brown.com

Digital Fitness Monitor--The Gift That Won't Stop Giving by Connie Vines

It is nearing the end of December and the New Year is shoving itself to the forefront of everyone's mind.  All the Christmas goodies have been consumed or given away in festive holiday containers to family and friends.  Leaving many of us looking at the calendar and wondering which day to begin storing away our exuberant display Christmas decorations; or deciding which holiday cards to keep or recycle.

I, however, I am spending my morning staring out my office window at a profusion of lovely southern California greenery, listening to "The Martini Station" on Slacker Radio and slipping a cup of warm water (flavored with a bit of lemon) and tormenting myself with my Digital Fitness Monitor.  The same Digital Fitness Monitor I purchase with my birthday gift cards (I am a June baby).

Mind you, I'd much rather be working on my next release: "Gumbo Ya Ya: for women who like romance Cajun and men HOT & SPICY!"  Instead, I'm crawling on the floor to insert a tiny usb thingy into the center of my PC tower (why is the tower/tower door covers and background/ and the 'usb thingy' the same shiny shade of black? Why?  Camouflage, maybe?  No.  No, that can't be the reason.  The real reason being:  black is the perfect venue to highlight 'finger-print' marks.  Thankfully, for my sanity's sake, the monitor and wearable clip is in a somewhat-eye-catching shade of burgundy. (Easily located in the bottom of my black-lined handbag where the device may reside if things don't go well during our 'honeymoon stage".)

That said, I'm back on my PC, where, after rotating though an endless round of 'personal' questions on the set-up and download screen, I'm ready to begin. Unfortunately my device needs to have the battery charged for two hours.  You guessed it, I'm back on the floor yanking out the usb sync device and replacing it with the tiny (black) charger while trying to decide which end of the burgundy fitness monitor to shove into the charging unit.

Success!

While I am waiting, reach for my iPhone and log on to MyFitnessPal with it's scanner and pre-programmed/personalized selection of my fave, and often selected foods, over the past three years.  Even though it's time for a change (I did join an upgraded gym six months ago), and those same twenty pounds have come and gone. . .and returned numerous times over the past five years. Change is always a challenge.

Is this a challenge I'll like?  I very much doubt it--I love my coffee (Starbucks: Gingerbread Latte, hold the whip) way too much.  Will I give my new digital fitness monitor the old college try?  Yes.  After all what choice do I have (the darn thing was expensive!).  I'll grumble, I'll complain, but I will use the digital device.  After all, "Ask Dr. K", newspaper columnist and physician and professor at Harvard Medical School, says that most people use the devices and adopt a healthier lifestyle.  He also has the results of surveys and studies to backup his findings.

I can't argue with proven success.

However, I draw the like at wearing the device while I sleep--I don't care if a wrist band, complete with Velcro fastening--and you guess it--in a nice shiny shade of black, came in the package!

Wishing you a New Year filled with joy and many blessing, as well as an E-Reader filled with wonderful stories from Books We Love Authors.

See you next month!

Connie