Thursday, June 11, 2015



BUY FROM AMAZON


FAN FLIRTING by Karla Stover 
                 
The morning after her coming-out ball, a young debutant sits in the family drawing room pretending to read while her mother writes letters and a parlor maid feeds the fire. When the doorbell rings, the debutant looks up, hope written on her face.  After a few long moments, a  footman appears carrying a silver tray on which rests a nosegay of deep red carnations tied with a piece of blue plaid wool.  “Who are they from?” asks the mother. “There’s no note,” says the girl. But she caresses the ribbon and smiles.  Surely this is the Napier plaid, she thinks, remembering the Scotsman with whom she’d danced the previous night. And surely he knows red carnations mean, ‘Alas for my poor heart’ in the language of flowers. And so she plans her fan flirting for the next dance.
The fan’s subtle language is now dead, but in the days when women were less bold, knowing that looking at a man while carrying an open fan in the left hand meant, “Come talk to me.”  And that perhaps later, after seeing her mother frown, the girl is smart enough to twirl the fan in her left hand, letting the man know, “We are being watched.” The Victorian woman carried on entire conversations with her fan.
At the next ball, the debutant sees the Scotsman and holds her fan in her right hand in front of her face, “Follow me,” and then, oh so subtly, touches it with the tip of her finger, “I wish to speak with you.”
But wait! What is her would-be suitor doing? In agitation, the deb passes her fan from hand to hand—“I see that you are looking at another woman.” The Scotsman half-smiles and nods in her direction, but in vain. The slow-moving fan cooling the girl’s flushed cheeks speaks as loudly as words: “Don’t waste your time. I don’t care about you.”  He appears at her side but she uses the fan to tap her ear, “I wish to get rid of you.”
The hour grows late; the debutant’s mother beckons but the young man refuses to leave her side. She rests the fan on her lips for a moment with her little finger extended: “I don’t trust you. Goodbye.”
And then, at the door, she half-turns, and uses the fan to move a wisp of hair off her forehead: “Don’t forget me.”
In 1923, Agnes Miller wrote Linger-nots and the Mystery House, a young adult mystery. In the book, the Linger-nots discover a secret room containing war artifacts by interpreting clues left in the flowers a young seamstress used when making her sampler—the language of flowers. In the animated opening of Mystery on PBS’s “Masterpiece Theatre”, a lady is seen holding a fan in front of her face—fan language.
You never know what will pop up and where.

                                                
                                                        


Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Wedding Card by Cheryl Wright



As you can probably imagine, I've made quite a few wedding cards over the years.  It's not always easy because I try to make my cards fairly unique.


I recently found a website with a lovely wedding card that was totally different to what I'd seen in the past, so I had to try it. This one uses a paper doily. It looks as though it would be quite complicated, and even time-consuming, but really it's not. (If I can do it, anyone can!)



The background was done with an embossing folder (from Stampin' Up!), and the greeting is from a very old duo set from Gina K Designs. If you are interested in learning how to do the fold, click here.

(It looks like the dress is just one piece, but it's two pieces joined together.)

Sometimes the simplest of designs are the most appealing.

I hope you've enjoyed this card. Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next time!













Links:

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Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/writercheryl
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Sunday, June 7, 2015

Hey, Dad! It's Your Day by Tia Dani



                                                                         http://amzn.com/B00EVXABV0

When we decided to write about Father's Day, a friend, father of two and a non-romance writer, asked, "How can Father's Day have anything to do with writing a romance novel?"

"Au contraire," Tia replied. "Fatherhood could have much to do with it." She mentioned books where the beloved heroes were raising a child or children...and how it only took a heroine's arrival to sweeten the mix. And, of course, men, who weren't fathers, but became one under unusual circumstances. She proceeded to inform him about Secret Baby books.

He shook his head. "Secret babies? You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." She grinned. "There are even stories where the heroine (the mother) doesn't know when or how her baby was conceived."

"Oh." He walked away totally befuddled.

We loved it. Befuddling men is fun.

Let's take a look at the special day that venerates those proud, paternal-driven papas. Fathers have been around since Adam first fertilized Eve, but, it wasn't until the early1900's ministers and women's magazines seriously touted the righteousness of fatherhood. Whatever for we have no idea. We decided to go look into the reason.

It began with Mr. William Jackson Smart. His daughter, Sonora Smart (a neat first name, isn't it?), aka Mrs. John Bruce Dodd of Spokane Washington, came up with the idea in 1909 while listening to a Mother's Day sermon (a holiday which originated two years earlier.)

Sonora, along with five brothers, had been raised by their widowed father, a Civil War veteran. Following the death of his wife in childbirth, Smart struggled to work his eastern Washington farm, while keeping his children clothed, fed and properly reared.

Mr. Smart, an admirable man, considering in the early 20th Century men frequently lost their wives to childbirth. The majority remarried quickly so they wouldn't have to care for children, specifically newborn infants, alone.

Widowed men, often farmers, looked for a widow with children. Marrying her, he not only had a woman seeing to his home and children, her offspring were needed help with the never-ending farm chores. Many second marriages turned into genuine love, others didn't, but both ways, more children were born and families often grew as large as 6 to 15 kids living at home at one time. Now, that's what we call being a fertile father.

Sonora Dodd's proposal was met with enthusiasm by local ministers. The date suggested was the fifth of June (William Smart's birthday), but many of the ministers needed more time to write their sermons, so the celebration was moved to the 19th, the third Sunday of the month.

Word spread and newspapers across the country endorsed this new holiday. One notable supporter to Mrs. Dodd's idea was orator and political leader William Jennings Bryan. He wrote "...too much emphasis cannot be placed upon the relation between parent and child." However, even with notable support and the holiday being accepted across the nation, members of the all-male Congress at the time felt to proclaim the day official might be interpreted as a self-congratulatory pat on the back. (Go figure, huh?) So the holiday remained a minor one.

But it didn't remain a silent one. In 1916, President Woodrow Wilson and his family personally observed the holiday, and President Calvin Coolidge wrote in 1924 that states, if they so wished, should do whatever they wanted as far as celebrating the holiday.

In 1937, New York City founded a National Father's Day Committee and decided to choose a theme for each Father's Day and select a Father of the Year.

In 1957, Senator Margaret Chase Smith wrote to Congress saying Americans should honor both parents. To single out just one and omit the other was "...the most grievous insult imaginable."

Yet, it wasn’t until 1966 when President Lyndon B. Johnson signed a presidential proclamation declaring the 3rd Sunday of June to be identified as Father's Day. In April of 1972, President Richard Nixon signed it into Public Law 92-278.

How about that? It took 62 years for fathers to be officially recognized!

Go...Dads!

Here's a bit of trivia for you. Did you know the Romans observed a Father's Day, every February...but...just for dead ones. Think about it. It could be an interesting twist for a Secret Baby story.

Here's some of our family photos. 




Tia's great-grandparents, George and Katharina Meir (later changed to Meyers) because my great-grandfather wanted to sound more American.
Katharina married George after he lost his first wife, leaving him with two children. Katharina too was a widow with three children. All together they had 10 children.  And, yes, they had a large farm. Everyone worked. Including my grandmother, Elizabeth. Despite she was a girl, she worked along side her father out in the fields


Tia with her dad. Note bandage on my chin. Fell off a stone ledge and split open my chin. Had to have stitches. What can I say, I was quite a rough and tumble kid.


 Grandparents JW and Emma Eaton. Emma was also a second wife. However they didn’t live on a farm. My grandfather owned a barbershop and ice cream parlor. Can’t remember if my grandmother had been married before. I don’t think she had been. But between them they had quite a few children. Can’t remember right now what the total was, darn it. What I do remember my dad was the last one born.

                                                                       Dani and her dad.
            Yes, I'm the little baby he's holding. Uncle Hershel sitting on the curb. This is in southern California.
                                                                                                                                           

Dani's grandparents.
Grandpa H.L Christian and his second wife, Mae. Grandpa had 6 kids when she married him and together they had 6 more including my mom. The little girl in picture is my mother. All worked the farm in Arkansas.





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