When the World Grows Still and Silent

There is beauty in silence, or so I have always believed. I never knew snow made noise when it fell until the unending thrum of our electronic world stopped abruptly one harsh winter morning. It was a heavy wet snow that knocked out our power and brought the world around me to a grinding and blissfully silent stop. I stepped outside in the crisp wintry wonderland to revel in the beauty of a world renewed. A world that felt in its pristine whiteness less fallen; less corrupted. Less dark. Less imposing than it did on every other day. I expected to hear nothing. Instead I heard the snow and the gentle sound it made as it lazily travelled from its heavenly source to the world below. This was no blizzard. It was a gentle, heavy waltz of nature. White and wonderful.

This new sound I had added to my repertoire was a glorious discovery; one I never would have made were it not for the silence of the rest of the world around me. I have often asked people since that day if they knew snow made noise when it fell. I have yet to hear a single person answer with a definitive 'yes'. The usual response is a mixture of incredulity and disbelief; as though my goal in posing such a question is to make the other person appear to be a fool. It certainly is not my intent. I long only to share a miracle and a moment.

I often seek the silence because in the quiet comes clarity and inspiration. I live in a world of words. I am a writer. I have loved the written word since my beginning. It is in the marrow of who I am. But my words get jumbled sometimes and unwieldy, so I seek the stillness to help me find that certain something which I cannot find in the chaos of my mind.....peace.

I always thought the silence I sought was an absence of sound. An absence of words. A place where I can see everything but hear nothing. In truth, it is merely a place where chaos has little room to flourish. It is in truth a place of quietude. A place where my words are unhindered and disentangled by the constraints of the world and its worries. When the chaos dies down and my mind begins to quiet, I can once again find the beauty in the words I love so much. The quietness that is not truly empty, becomes my refuge and my place to reconnect with the unending possibilities that become my solace. I find a certain magic in this stillness which enables me to rediscover the hidden miracles of the world around me like the sound the snow makes when it falls to the ground.

I have been told before that one day, the world will not need people like me. Writers....manipulators of the written word. The world has technology and pictures in an endless array of digital formats. In such a world, words are meaningless. They have no place. No real value. As everyone knows, a picture is worth a thousand words. I would say that in some cases, this is true. Who hasn't been moved or inspired by the images of great moments in history like Pearl Harbor, D-Day, and 911? Who doesn't cherish the memories of a moment shared, captured in the image of a photograph to be remembered for all time? We honor our images with frames; we celebrate their whimsy in calendars, cups, tee shirts, and a myriad of products. They make us smile, laugh, and cry, often without a single word spoken. There is beauty in the simplicity of an image and elegance in its silent message.

I would however say one simple thing to challenge that age old saying which makes us believe where photos exist, words are not needed anymore. True silence is a double-edged sword. No image can fill the void that is left when the words cease to come; when the silence envelopes you so completely, there is nothing left. When there is silence...when there are no words any more, the images only remind you of what no longer exists. The silence is complete. There is no peace there; only chaos.

So what am I saying in my exploration of silence and sound? Images and words? Only this. There comes a day for all of us when we are left with nothing more than silence in the room around us and the images of the ones we love. The images are no comfort. They cannot replace the words of love that are spoken no more. The silence is complete in all its wicked intensity. Never fail to cherish the moments when the words pour forth in blissful abundance. Relish the quiet moments, but share them always with the ones you love, for they too may long to hear the sound the snow makes as it travels from its heavenly source to the world below. Not every moment requires a barrage of sound, but do not embrace the silence until its time.

*********

If you enjoyed this blog post, sign up for future posts by clicking "Join this site" on the right of the screen. Also, check out H.L. Stephen's popular cat mystery The Case of Jack the Nipper ~ A Chronicle of Mister Marmee available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. The Case of the Wayward Fae, book 2 in the Chronicles of Mister Marmee series will be out in time for Christmas 2013!

Life Lessons From My Dog: Taking One Day At A Time

For so many of us, as life unfolds, it begins to feel a little like a game of chess. It is never enough to plan for tomorrow; we must stay several moves ahead of the game, planning out aspects of our lives to the umpteenth degree. Parents plan their children's academic careers while their children are still in diapers. Teenagers begin their lifelong battle with anxiety over becoming a failure before they have a chance to enter puberty, and adults (if they are "smart") begin to plan their retirement before they are old enough to buy alcoholic beverages legally. We live so far in the future in our planning, in our hopes, in our worries, we tend to miss out on the important little things that happen around us each and every day.

I will be the first to admit that I have been caught up in the future's game before. It is an easy enough habit to slip into. I always loved the game of chess, and even as a child, I was a natural at the strategy it required. I was never annoyingly competitive the way some people are. I just loved the challenge of out-thinking and out-maneuvering my opponent; surprising them with moves they could not anticipate. I loved learning from my mistakes and my losses, which were many in the beginning but grew fewer and farther between as I gained experience.

I would focus on the game and make sure at all times, I had at least seven moves planned out ahead of where I was. I always tried to anticipate my opponent's response to each of my moves, planning in turn what I would do next. It was an exhilarating mental exercise. I used these skills when I went to college, and I applied them when I entered the work force. I had every move of my future planned out perfectly, but then life happened.

The one big difference between chess and life is that chess has rules that every strategist must follow. Your opponent can't knock your pieces off the board or smack you in the face with them. He or she can, but they can expect to be banned from the game. Life on the other hand is not limited by such restrictions. There is no etiquette when life knocks you on your rear-end. It just happens, and all the planning in the world...all of the strategy...cannot prepared you for what you weren't expecting. You have one of two options when this happens. You can fold...give up...admit defeat...lay down your king and walk away, or you can pick yourself up...wipe off your bloody knees...allow yourself a good cry (if you are me) and start a new course.

I have been knocked down so many times in life, I have a pillow tied to my bottom for good measure. I plan for the future. Don't get me wrong. I dream of things both big and small. I am a writer. I weave the impossible every day. What I try very hard not to do is allow myself to become so focused on tomorrow that I miss the beauty each day brings. The simple little miracles that uplift the heart and keep you from being eaten with regret if and when tragedy strikes.

No, I didn't attend a self-help seminar to help me reach this moment of clarity, and I didn't gain any wisdom from staying at a Holiday Inn Express. I learned the importance of living each day to its fullest and taking each day as it comes by living my life with my dog, Peanut Pumpkin Pie.

Peanut is a nutball...my silly billie girl. She gives me more reasons to laugh in a single day than anything else. She is my happy place, and I have written about her many times, to the joy and perhaps annoyance of others. I have shared her adventures, her antics, her wisdoms and her copious photos. What I have not shared...what has remained my private struggle...has been the many times I have faced losing my precious little girl.

I have always known my time with Peanut would be too short. Dogs don't live as long as people. We are only gifted with their unconditional love for a short time, but I had always planned on it being at least 15 years of bliss. That was my minimum. The first time I was faced with the possibility of losing her because of her health, Peanut was 3, and I was still a wreck for weeks after she pulled through. She was up and playing with her toys; I was balling my eyes out about how unfair life was. The second episode wasn't much different. She was fine, living each day as a new day while I was looking into the dark, unknown wondering when the terrible day was going to come along and destroy my happiness forever.

Then, it was my turn to scare my family with illness. That is when I discovered what it meant to take one day at a time. I won't go into the details of my illness. It really doesn't matter. It was long. It sucked. It required surgery. That sucked. I was out of work for two months recovering. All the while, my Peanut was there by my side. Each day was a new glorious day for her. It didn't matter what tomorrow brought. Today was the best day. Mommy was home. I wasn't leaving. That was all that mattered for her today.

Peanut knew I was sick; catastrophically sick. When she brought me toys, it wasn't so we could play some rowdy game of tug-o-war or "it's gettin' me". It was so I could rest the toy in my hand, and she could groom it, because somehow she knew that was all I could handle. My recovery was hard, but Peanut helped me get through it one day at a time, without dreading the next day. The next day didn't matter. All I needed was to get through the day I was in.

Peanut and I got through my illness together. We have gotten through a great many things one day at a time since those days. I have never forgotten the lesson she taught me.

The last time Peanut got sick, I was faced with the possibility of her dying. Her liver and gall bladder were damaged by toxins in a high end dogfood, and we didn't know if her little body would pull through. I spent every penny I had to save her and then some, wracking up a massive bill with her vet. We did everything modern veterinary medicine offered as a solution. All we could do once the medicines were given and action was taken was wait and pray. I had a choice. I could either fall to pieces and miss whatever time I had left with her, or I could take it one day at a time and relish each moment Peanut and I had together. I chose the later of the two choices.

Peanut wasn't well enough to play, but I wanted her to have as much interaction with me as I could give her, so I carried her everywhere. I sang songs to her; songs I had made up over the years that had her name in it. I brushed her. I rubbed her ears. I caressed her. I did all of the things I could think of to make her feel the full measure of my love for her. I took one day at a time, and I made sure each day was as full as I could make it. I endeavored as much as was humanly possible to lay down the worries of tomorrow, and I just took one day at a time. Peanut and I are still taking one day at a time.

Life has bopped me in the face so many times since I learned Peanut's valuable lesson. It feels sometimes like life is challenging my ability to just take it one day at a time. Some days it is easier than others, and there are those moments when I find myself reverting to those old habits of plotting my moves far into the future. Then little Peanut comes along with a toy or a scrunchie or a happy sock, begging me to remember the joy in the day that God has given me. I look at her smiling little face I find so utterly irresistible, and I lay my strategizing down once again. I never regret the surrender; at least I haven't so far. It has gotten me through too many other challenges that life has thrown my way.

Leave it to a dog to teach mankind what true happiness is all about.

If you enjoyed this blog post, don't forget to "Join this site!" on the right of the page. Also, check out The Case of Jack the Nipper Book 1 in the Chronicles of Mister Marmee, available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. The Case of the Wayward Fae, Book 2 in the series, is coming soon.

What is Written In the Stars

For millennium, mankind has looked to the stars for answers. We have sought guidance for our future and validation for our decisions going back as far as our written records can capture. It is an age old habit. Even in this modern era of iphones, tablets, social media, and instant communication, we still look to the stars to validate our worth, and we use the same stars to validate the worth of others. If you don't believe me, go to the nearest big name online store, and see if the stars don't tell you something.

As a writer, I know the stars have value. I am not talking about horoscopes and fortunetelling. I am talking about those wonderful star reviews that are attached to every published work. Every writer who puts their work out on the market watches those stars as if their very life depended upon them. In some small way, it does. The life of their work depends upon those stars. Poor reviews can break an author, just as much as great reviews can make them. Every author hopes for 5 star reviews. We shout to the world when they come in. We are slightly less enthusiastic when the number reduces to 4. We are delightfully silent when the number of stars falls to 3 or less. To most authors such lackluster reviews are hardly worth mentioning. In fact, many believe they should be hidden in some dark corner of the world where no one can see their dim light. But I say, there may be something written in those stars that is worth our notice.

Back during the gold rush, everyone was looking for the giant hunk of gold that would make them instantly rich. Few people paid much attention to the tiny flakes of gold that drifted by on the currents of the rivers and streams where they panned. Those flakes and specks were hardly worth mentioning. They were hardly worth the effort to chase after them. After all, what could they possibly be worth?

The industrious few who had the gumption to sift through the muck for the gold dust and gold flakes others ignored or rejected were able to make a comfortable living for themselves. They weren't afraid to accept a less than perfect outcome, and they didn't give up. They may not have "struck it rich", but they did well for themselves.

I still remember the first time I got a 4 star review. When I read what was written by the person giving the review, their praises were so glowing, it made me wonder why not 5 stars? Then I decided to see what was written in those stars. I looked at the other reviews the person wrote. What I saw surprised me.

The ratings this person gave were very dim elsewhere. 2 and 3 stars were the most this person ever granted. I received the highest rating for any book or product. Those 4 stars were a precious gift....the highest compliment that reviewer could bestow. I felt the full measure of that honor as I once again poured over the words that were written about my book. It didn't matter how many stars were there...it was what was written in the stars that counted. I was humbled. I stopped counting the stars and started reading their message from then on.

Later on, after my first 4 star experience, I was searching for a book on a particular topic. Research for another novel. I found a book that seemed to have exactly what I was looking for, but it only had a single review. It was a 1 star review. I had learned my lesson, and sought what was written in the stars. As it turns out, the reviewer loved the book! They had accidentally hit one star instead of 5, and the system would not allow the person to change it. They wrote the most glowing review. Had I not looked beyond the number of the stars to the message behind them, I never would have seen what I needed to see. I wound up buying the book, and I celebrated that decision when I read it.

I have received several 4 star reviews for my first novel, and so far, that is the lowest I have received. I do not expect however to remain unscathed by the disgruntled reader who does not like what I have written. If I have learned nothing else in life, I have discovered you cannot please the world, and in a day and age of social media, the world has the right and the empowerment to make their opinions known. The best thing I can do is receive it graciously.

I have grown to celebrate each review for the gift that it is. Evidence of one more reader who took the time to sit through my work; whether they liked it or not. Whether they could follow the language of my novels or not. The fact that they made it to the end of the book is a joy in and of itself. They finished it. They didn't throw it away when they reached page 10. There is something to be said in the completion of a book.

I welcome the stars in all their number. Even a single star sheds light on the world. Never forget that as children, we wished upon the first star of the evening. We weren't afraid of the solitary star, shining all alone in the sky. We shouldn't be afraid of it now. It has so much to tell us.

If you enjoyed this blog post, please click "Join this site" on the right of the page to receive notices of new posts when they come out.

Rediscover the joy of reading with The Case of Jack the Nipper available on Amazon or Barnes & Noble. The Case of the Wayward Fae is coming soon!

Finding the Beauty In Numbers

In this world, we put a tremendous amount of emphasis on numbers. Whether it's a corporate business or the world of marketing and selling a book, it is all pretty much the same. The numbers are what we tend to focus on. They are the lifeblood of what we do, or so we tell ourselves every day as we pursue them. The bigger the numbers, the better we feel about things. More twitter followers. Bigger book sales. Higher ratings. The list goes on. We get so wrapped up in the numbers, however, we begin to lose sight of what those numbers are made up of. We forget that each hash mark on our tally sheet represents a soul...a living person.

In my day job, I have been buried by someone else's numbers; someone else's goals. There have been days when I have wondered how I was going to keep my head above the water, much less find time to do the one thing I love to do above all things. Write. It was an impossibly bleak situation, or so it felt. I will not recount how many tears fell for me; I admit only that they came and with abundance. I felt a sense of despair overtaking me, and I did not like it. I thought all was lost to me, until I was saved by a number of my own. It was a single, solitary boy.

A friend of mine from high school bought my book "The Case of Jack the Nipper" for his young son to read. His boy loves mysteries and he loves cats, so my book was the perfect gift to give. My friend is currently serving in the military overseas so his time with his family is currently shared over Facebook posts, Skype, and video clips. My friend posted on my Facebook page a video of his son reading the first few paragraphs of the first chapter of my book. His words were halted as he sounded out vocabulary that was unfamiliar to him, but as the sentences unfolded, something incredible happened. I found the burdens on my heart lifted.

I always thought the greatest gift I could receive as a writer would be a prestigious writing award or my name on the New York Times Best Seller List. Those aspirations are wonderful, and I look to them as future goals. They are part of the numbers game every writer plays a part in. When I played the video of my friend's son reading the first few paragraphs of my book, it ceased to be about numbers and became something more. I had received a greater honor with this young boy's introduction to my book. He was not just another tick mark on my tally sheet. He was a soul...a person. He represented the very reason why I write. The inspiration behind my words. He's not a number to me. He can't be. Not now, not ever.

As a new author, my numbers are small. I am not afraid to admit it. The world is just beginning to open for me, and I am just starting to navigate the waters that are required for my craft. Readers and fans are starting to find my book, and as I add to my list of offerings, that number will grow. Today, however, in my smallness, I find myself grateful for my adversity in someone else's numbers. It helps me to remember how precious each person is who adds to my own.

Numbers are important in this great, big world of ours. We live by them. We die by them. In the world of books, the bigger your numbers, the greater your chances of success. I understand the mechanism behind the numbers. We don't have to be blind to what's behind the numbers, however ~ the individual souls who take joy in the stories we weave for them. I will forever keep the image of my friend's son before me, struggling through the words of my book, seeking to lose himself in the world I created. I never want to forget that with each book sold, there is a heart behind it, longing for escape....longing for entertainment....longing for a connection to the world they have yet to visit. Or better yet, longing to reconnect to a world they lovingly visit over and over again.

Click here to read The Case of Jack the Nipper by H.L. Stephens. Available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other fine book retailers on the web.

Food For Thought ~ The Bread of Life That's Gluten Free

We all know the saying 'a man cannot live on bread alone'. With as true as this adage is to those of us who know its source, there are many in this beautiful world of ours who are denied the enjoyment of bread every day. I speak of those who suffer from Celiac disease or who are gluten intolerant. For them, bread is like poison, and it begins to work its evil mischief within minutes of consumption.

Now one might ask why a writer would be blogging about something like Celiac disease. I could respond by saying I just felt like it, but in truth, this blog is a promise kept to a lovely young woman I had the joy of meeting through twitter. This young woman suffers from Celiac disease, and though I do not bear the burden of the affliction myself, I have a deep love for a sister who does. When I made the connection with this young woman on twitter and discovered she longed for yummy, squishy bread that was safe to eat, I knew I had to share a few of my secrets I had uncovered over the years.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have had a love affair with cooking. I used to sit and watch cooking shows on PBS (mainly Julia Child) before there was anything called cable TV. For me, there was something magical about taking a host of ingredients, putting them together in a bowl, mixing them up, and turning them into something completely unique and delicious. I savored every culinary victory, and I learned from every mishap or mistake. In my family, bread has always been an integral part of every meal. There was hardly ever a meal without it. For me, making something delectable for my family was the greatest way for me to say 'I love you', so with bread being our favorite side dish, I was determined to be its master.

 

I pulled out all the stops and purchased a master baker's instruction book. I learned about texture and how to impact the crumb. I studied sour doughs and sponges, and the chemistry behind the breads of the world. I was elated with my artisan breads, paninis, baguettes, and sweet rolls, but just as I was ready to crown myself an amateur master, I began to notice something. Every time my sister ate one of my creations, within 15 minutes or so of consumption, she would be racing to the bathroom with horrible, gut wrenching pain. It never failed.

She had never had a problem with bread before when we were growing up, but in her adult years, my sister became gluten intolerant. It was rare for it to strike in later years, but strike it did. She could no longer eat the foods that had been her favorites. They were now a poison to her system. We bought her all of the gluten free foods we could find here in the mountains, and with their high prices came the let down and disappointment that comes with eating hardtack and cardboard. The gluten free bread we could find was awful and hard as a stone. I think she cried the first time she ate it.

I laid my bread books aside, and took on a new mission of love. I would learn everything I could about baking gluten free and give my beloved sister bouncy safe bread she could love again. It wasn't enough for it to be safe. It had to be fun to eat with a yummy fun texture. Oh the failures I went through and the thousands of hours of reading I did to find out where I went wrong. I cried and prayed and tried again so many times, I lost count. I thought I would never get it, until one day......SUCCESS!!!!

It has been many years since I first began my journey down the gluten free baking road. My failures have helped others I have met along the way, and I hope to eventually write a cookbook of some of my best recipes......the ones that have passed the test of tricking others who have no idea they are eating gluten free breads. In honor of my twitter friend, I am sharing two of my gluten free recipes - my squishy buns recipe and my pumpkin gingerbread muffins. Enjoy!

For sources on some of the hard to find or specialty items, I am providing source links for convenience. I always comparison shop so feel free to do the same. The links just make it easier to identify products and places to find them.

SQUISHY BUNS

Pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees
Prepare a regular large cookie sheet by placing a sheet of parchment paper over the entire length of it. ** Don't use air bake cookie sheets. Don't even go there. Smack your hand away and just say no. If you use them, you will end up with gummy buns. Been there. Done that. Mistake 358. Don't cover the cookie sheet with aluminum foil. Mistake 273. Don't use Pam cooking spray. Mistake 194. The best buns cook on a plain sheet of parchment on a plain Jane cookie sheet.

Ingredients:
3 Slightly rounded cups of Featherlight Rice Flour Mix (Authentic Foods)
2 teaspoons xanthum gum
1/4 teaspoon ascorbic acid (Excalibur Foods) - This doesn't go bad and a little goes a long way.
1/4 teaspoon ginger
   NOTE: The ginger and the ascorbic acid replace dough enhancer and are more effective. They also don't contain hidden soy, which dough enhancer does.
2 envelopes of Knox unflavored gelatin (or 2 teaspoons) (Amazon)
1 Tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
7 Tablespoons white sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons Rapid Rise yeast granules
2 eggs
1/4 cup canola oil
2 cups warm water (Should be the temperature required by the brand of yeast you are using)
(Makes about 12 buns give or take)

In a large mixer, combine together all dry ingredients including yeast. With the mixer on low, add the eggs and oil. Slowly add the warm water to the flour/oil/egg mixture. At first, the flour mixture will form a ball and pull away from the sides of the bowl. As you continue to add water, the mixture will once again begin to stick to the sides of the bowl. You want this to happen. Once the water has been added completely to the mixture, stop the mixer, scrape the bowl, and then turn the mixer on high and mix for 3 minutes straight. Don't skimp on the time. This three minutes does a few things. It adds air to the dough, which adds fluffiness. It also ensures the xanthum gum is well distributed throughout the dough which is important since the xanthum gum acts as a substitute for the gluten in making a tender piece of bread.

Check the consistency of the dough. The batter will be sticky. Remember, this is nothing like making regular bread dough. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you too will reach success. The batter/dough should be like a thick, heavy cake batter. If it is watery or runny in any way, add an 1/8 of cup of the Featherlight flour at a time to the mixture and beat it until the proper consistency is reached. Wet a scraper with warm water and scrape the sides of the bowl. The batter should look like the batter in the photo below.

Once the batter is the right consistency, you are ready to form the buns. I have tried every way to form this dough, and so far, the following method is the best and easiest way to go. Its messy but effective. Any other way, and you will wear the sticky dough from head to toe. Turn on the hot water to a trickle. You will need it while you are forming the buns. Wet your hands completely, front and back. Grab a handful of dough and form a ball, using the moisture in your hands to smooth the lumps. Try not to make the balls too big. They will rise in the oven. Trust me on this. The size in the picture below is a great size for sandwich buns or hamburger buns. I have small hands so you get an idea of the size.

Place the completed ball of bun on the parchment and completely rinse any remnant of dough from your hands. This is important. Otherwise the next bun will stick to your hands. If it starts to stick, rinse your hand under the water. Form another bun, and repeat. Try to keep your hands as clean as possible in between buns by rinsing off residue of the dough of the previous bun. You can make sandwich buns, hoagie rolls, or hot dog buns with this batter. It just depends on the shape. When the last bun is formed, scramble an egg in a bowl and brush the egg gently over the buns.

This egg wash will help provide a beautiful golden brown color on the finished buns. Let the buns rise for 20 - 25 minutes on the counter before baking. Place the buns in the oven and bake for 18 - 20 minutes or until a nice golden brown. Remove the buns and allow them to cool completely on a rack before trying to cut into them.

Variations: It can be fun to liven up this bread by adding herbs and spices to the dry ingredients. A few tablespoons of Parmesans cheese with Italian herbs can be a great addition to spaghetti night. Just decrease the sugar to 3 Tablespoons. Otherwise the sweetness will overpower the savory. Experiment with other herb blends at leisure.

One of the great things about both these buns and the following muffins is that they both can be frozen successfully for long periods. To process, Cool completely, then simply wrap each bun/muffin in Glad Press and Seal and place the wrapped items in a Ziploc freezer bag. Put the bag in the freezer and remove the contents at will. By wrapping each one individually and then bagging them, you prevent them from getting frostbite in the freezer. To warm them up, take them out of the freezer, wrap them in a paper towel, and pop them in the microwave for 10 - 15 second intervals until they are warm and soft. Then enjoy. It is that easy.

Heavenly Pumpkin Gingerbread Muffins

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees
Butter the cups of two regular size muffin tins
(makes 24 muffins)

2 Cups canned pumpkin
4 eggs
1 1/2 cups white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
8 Tablespoons butter, softened (real stuff no imitations - you sacrifice enough already)
1 Tablespoon Vanilla (real stuff no imitations - you sacrifice enough already)
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon xanthum gum
3 1/3 cups Featherlight Rice Flour Mix
2/3 cup of water

In a large mixer, combine the first 13 ingredients (up to the xanthum gum) and mix well. With the mixer on the lowest speed, begin adding flour 1/2 cup at a time. Do this very slowly. Flour will fly everywhere if you don't. Between each addition of flour, add a little bit of the water. Again, do this slowly or you will wear it. Allow it to mix thoroughly between each submission. Once all of the flour and water has been added, turn off the mixer, scrape the sides, turn the mixer on high, and mix for 3 minutes. At the end of those three minutes, the batter should look like thick, fluffy cake batter like the photo below.

 

Pour the batter into the prepared muffin tins. Place the tins in the oven and bake for 25 minutes. Allow the muffins to cool in the tin for a few minutes before removing them to a cooling rack.

 

 

Now you are ready to munch away on muffins that are as fluffy as they are flavorful. Just prepare yourself, however. You might not be able to eat just one! Bon appetite!

Life Lessons From My Dog ~ Simple Kindnesses Go a Long Way

Sometimes the simplest gestures make the most profound impacts......

Somehow we have developed this misconception in our society that in order for something to matter....in order for it to 'count'....it has to come in some grandiose package. Whether it is buying a gift for someone we know, making plans for that special night out, or making the right first impression, we think bigger is always better. We tend to apply the same mode of thinking when doing things for others, and unfortunately, our grand schemes tend to trip us up. Before we have a chance to be a blessing to someone else, we have talked ourselves out of whatever it was we were planning because it just got too hard. I am just as guilty as the next person for wanting to do too much and finding it impossible to live up to my own expectations. I have learned from watching my little Peanut, however, that simple kindnesses can go a long way in blessing the lives of those around me.

I know what you are thinking. How can a dog show kindness, much less teach others how to show it? I am reminded of a story about a man named Lazarus who sat by a city gate every day. He was ignored by all who passed him because he was disabled and riddled with sores. The only souls who showed him any compassion were the little dogs, who took pity upon him and licked his sores. I know. Gross, right? It was a simple kindness that was profound enough to be recorded in the pages of the Bible. Pretty impressive when you think about it, and pretty humbling when you remember what a simple gesture it was to give poor Lazarus comfort in his suffering.

My little Peanut is an amazing little girl, and yes as her mommy, I am extremely partial to her in every way imaginable. She marvels me every day, however, in the way she is with people. I learn from her so often by observing her and how other people respond to her. When I fell in love with Peanut as a puppy, it wasn't because she was the most playful, licky puppy in the bunch. She actually was the most quiet, thoughtful one. In fact, as I sat there on the floor amongst her yappy little brothers and sister, Peanut sat there on the floor watching me, as though she was deciding something about me. When she had made up her mind, she walked over to me, through the throng of siblings. She put her two tiny paws on my knee, never once taking her eyes off of mine. It was as if she was asking me to bring her closer. I of course obeyed the silent command, and brought her near. I could smell the sweetness of her puppy breath as she sat there regarding me. She sat there silently, staring into my eyes, as though she sought the very center of my soul. She put her little muzzle to my lips and bumped me, and I knew she had chosen me at that moment. I knew I couldn't live without this incredible little girl. Peanut was four weeks old, yet I felt the magic in her even then.

So what does all of this have to do with simple kindnesses? Everything! What makes dogs so special.....what makes my Peanut so special is the fact that no matter who you are, no matter where you came from, you are never invisible. Peanut acknowledges everyone around her. When I take her out shopping, she greets the world with her eyes and her cheery face. Every person is worth her glance and acknowledgement. You can see it in their faces as Peanut rolls by, flashing her sweet little toothy smile - each person feels special. Now admittedly, from time to time, there are people who have triggered the growl in Peanut. (I call it her inner bicious. It's vicious...only grittier.) It doesn't happen often, but I usually trust her instincts....that she is detecting something about a person I can't detect myself. When these moments occur, she still is acknowledging the person, even if she is not welcoming them to come say hello.

Acknowledgement is important. We all crave it. We need it as validation of our existence in this world. It hurts when we feel invisible. It is so easy to lift the cloak of invisibility for another person simply by saying hello or offering a smile as you pass by. Think about it. How often do you greet the greeter at the local big box store? How often do you smile at or say hello to the person cleaning the bathroom at your office building? Do you even know their name? Have you ever said hello to the Salvation Army bell ringer at Christmas when you didn't have any change? It is a simple kindness to do these things, to acknowledge the hidden masses of people around you and let them know they aren't invisible. It takes no effort at all.

Many times when I shop with Peanut, it is like running the gauntlet. I cannot take very many steps without someone coming up and asking to pet her. I love it because it is one of the ways I can show kindness to others by allowing them to share some of the magic of my little girl. Peanut is always so gracious and gentle too. She responds to others' gentleness as well, and will often lick the hand of those who treat her with a soft touch. It is her way of saying 'thank you'. It is a simple kindness, and its effect on people is as extraordinary as if she gave them the key to the city. Better even, because I don't think the city could hold the same appeal. We have lost the habit of saying 'thank you' to each other. We tend to take things for granted. We expect things from people because it is their job....because they are supposed to do whatever it is we think they are supposed to do. Serve us, give to us, entertain us, clean up after us. There is magic however in those two simple little words when said with a sincere heart. Thank you. Thank you for putting this report together. Thank you for making my stay so pleasant. Thank you for standing out in the cold and pumping my gas. Thank you for your service. Thank you for doing what I could not or did not do for myself. Thank you just because. You can transform a person's day with a simple thank you. It is the simplest kindness imaginable and perhaps one of the most powerful.

I could go on and on with examples, but I think the point is made. A simple kindness is something anyone can do. It takes so little effort but can have a huge impact on those around you. It is so easy, a sweet little dog can do it. What holds us back so often is our fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of making a fool of ourselves. Fear of making a mistake or getting it wrong. There is always a chance our kindness will be rejected. It is the risk we take in life every time we step outside our door, but we lose nothing when we reach out to our fellow man and acknowledge in some small way that he or she matters. It is a cup of water to a parched soul. If my little Peanut can boldly approach each day showing simple kindnesses to everyone she meets, the least I can do is try and live by her example. Thank you friends for reading to the end!

When Love Breaks Your Heart ~ Saying Goodbye To My True Sir Happy Heart

There is a saying that behind every myth or legend is a grain of truth; no matter how small the grain may be. The same may be said for every story conceived by the heart of man. Somewhere between the layers of fiction and fantasy.....amid the fanciful scenery and unknown realms.....wrapped inside the quirky habits and eccentricities of the characters that draw the reader ever deeper into the story they enjoy lays some truth about the writer's heart. Whether it be a writer's love of the history so artfully woven into a historical novel or a striking resemblance of a villain to a writer's own real-life nemesis, reading an author's stories will tell you something about them, no matter how insignificant the revelation may be.

To read The Chronicles of Mister Marmee will reveal much about me and my heart, for it is a tribute to one of the greatest love stories of my life. It is a love story that will forever shape and influence me no matter where my life may lead me. It is a love I cannot and will not ever forget. On Tuesday, February 19, 2013, the real Sir Happy Heart - the inspiration for the Sir Happy Heart in the Chronicles of Mister Marmee series - died. He would have been 15 years old February 22.

Sir Happy Heart, or Happydog as we were prone to call him, was a miniature black and tan dachshund. He was a small dog - about 15 pounds - but there was nothing small about this bighearted little boy. In so many ways, he was a giant even among giants.

Trying to capture the essence of my Happydog in words is like trying to capture the magnificence of the universe with a single photograph. It is a task which is impossible to accomplish because the tools are inadequate for the task. Oh certainly, he was as much a down-to-earth dog as the next spectacular canine companion, but there was something about Happydog that made him different. It was his spirit, and anyone who ever had the privilege to meet this little dog felt it as clearly as one feels the sunlight on their skin on a warm, summer day.

Happydog survived demodectic mange, 2 serious back surgeries (within a month of each other), and a host of other illnesses that would have put any other dog down. We jokingly called him our million dollar dog because we spent every penny we had and maxed out every credit card to save him each and every time. Had he been any other dog, he would have succumbed to one or all of these physical battles, but Happydog was a fighter that wouldn't give up, so we didn't either. And he pulled through, every time. I thought he would live forever. He marveled his vets and the specialist who worked with him. He humbled them when they said he might never walk again and he did within hours of the surgery, but that was just the way my little miracle boy was. His spirit wouldn't let him give up. He kept fighting, right up to the very end.

Happydog wasn't just a fighter. He was a soul mate, and not just to me but to each member in my family. Happydog was my momma's dog, but I guarantee if you were to ask anyone in the house who his favorite was, they would whisper behind their hand (or paw), "It's me!" He just had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in his world when he was with you. When I had my tonsils removed and had an arterial bleed.....twice....Happydog lay with me and never left my side. For six weeks, he lay on the couch with me watching and waiting for me to get better. In 2011, when I ended up in the ER where doctors found massive tumors in my abdomen, and we feared it was cancer, after the surgery and for two months during my long recovery, Happydog lay in bed with me watching and waiting for me to get better.

It was just his way to always be there, like my beautiful black and tan guardian angel. When I was in school, he did homework with me and when it was time for a break, we played. Is it any wonder that such a glorious heart would become the breath of inspiration for The Chronicles of Mister Marmee? Oh yes, I know, Mister Marmee is a cat who tells the tales of his adventures with his beloved friend Sir Happy Heart. But if you listen carefully, as you read the words of the story, you will begin to hear the melody of the heart of my boy in the tenderness and charming refrain of Mister Marmee as well. For I can no sooner separate the voice of my boy from my two favorite characters than I can remove the love I have for him from my heart. He is everywhere within the pages of my books.

Through every word of the Chronicles of Mister Marmee ~ The Case of Jack the Nipper and through most of the first draft of the Case of the Wayward Fae, my own Sir Happy Heart lay with my little girl Peanut Pumpkin Pie and watched me write his adventures.

Now that my Happydog is gone, there is a void in my spirit that defies description. I did not know I could feel such pain as this. I know in part it is magnified by the loss of my beautiful Jessie Bess in November of last year, just three short months ago. He was another glorious dog who left me way too soon. For Happydog, there is a special sense of emptiness for he gave life to the stories I love to write so much. For a time, I feared his voice would be silent forever, buried beneath a grief I could not overcome. This weekend however, I dared to try...to face what I feared the most.....the unbearable silence of my boy's stories. I am still working on the ending of the Case of the Wayward Fae, and I need to finish it for Happydog. I need more than anything for his story to continue. For it to end would be like losing my Happydog all over again. The most miraculous thing happened as I once again looked upon the written words that represented in some small measure the spirit of my boy......his voice once again came alive in my head.

I may have lost the precious Happydog that brought such joy everyday to me, but I still can celebrate and share the spirit that gave him life. Sir Happy Heart.....my Sir Happy Heart.....will live on in the pages of each new novel in the Chronicles of Mister Marmee series. It is the greatest testament to his love for me and the greatest way I can honor him for 15 years of selfless love and devotion. I know one day I will see my boy again if God deems me worthy to run among the angels, for surely that is where my Happydog is. He was an angel come to earth for a time who has returned back to heaven. Run free my little love. I will miss you, always.