2004 Newsletters from
Gracious Jane Marie

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The poor child has had to endure some fun and amusing life experiences as the daughter of Jane Marie.  I recall the time I got a brand new sewing machine.  I went to town making pillows; a housecoat for myself; shorts with zippers, pockets and waistbands for Barbra; a red flannel night shirt for Bruce (imagine how thrilled he was); doggie coats, as well as our wonderful website mascot, Martha Bear™. 

My personal sewing for Barbra came to a halt one day when she was about twelve years old.  I had made what I fondly called her Heidi outfit, a burgundy skirt and matching vest trimmed with embroidered floral ribbon to be worn with a white blouse and white knee socks.  Then she stated firmly, "Mom.  I can't wear this thing again.  I look like a dork." 

No one can get away with calling my child a dork!  No one but the child herself.  Barbra thanked me for all my past efforts since graciousness runs in the family, and said I was never to make any clothes for her.  Ever.

While there are many absolutely talented people who make glorious garments, Barbra made me realize I should stick to simple machine sewing like the projects I design for this site.  It just goes to show children have intuitive instincts to save themselves.

When it comes to fancywork or hand sewing, I can hold my own, especially at quilting and appliqué.  I've even taken classes in French heirloom hand sewing and have the Christening gowns to prove it. 

Just as teens want to control the manufacture and microwaving of their clothing, it is a for-sure-fact they want their own cars.  Barbra was no exception. 

Since her grades were good and she had a part-time job, her father convinced me that owning a vehicle would teach her responsibility.  To his great delight (because he got a "deal") and to her great horror, he bought her a used diesel Rabbit whose color was a light baby blue.  Torn between desperately wanting a car and embarrassment that her vehicle was considerable less than cool, Barbra, drove the thing for a couple of years.  Never mind that we could hear her coming from five blocks away or the fact  the air conditioner had to be turned off for uphill driving and bridge crossing. 

To this day, we all laugh about Barbra's little trials growing up.  Barbra, now a successful businesswoman, realizes we only tried to do what all parents strive toward - to make their children strong by surviving the anguish caused by their parents.

Love from Amelia Island,

Jane Marie

My Own Treasured Friends, 

You might think our home, Stately Martha Manor, is a huge mansion instead of a cozy seaside cottage.  But trust me, it's not large.  It has a small galley kitchen with no windows.  If a person had claustrophobia, they might experience a mighty case of it while cooking.  Fortunately, neither Martha Bear® nor I have that condition.

Sadly, we are unable to view the parlor from the kitchen and especially the television that is in the parlor.  And let me confess that I like television.  

While there is lots of mindless entertainment on the tube, there is also some good stuff like the news, old movies, reruns of shows like I Love Lucy, The Waltons and Little House on the Prairie, and a few other light hearted programs.  Oh, and PBS, which brings out my cultured self.

In order to resolve the crisis of no TV for the cook, my husband, Bruce, went on an all day quest in nearby Jacksonville to find a "deal" on a small television for the kitchen.  He returned triumphant.   

Whilst he was elsewhere in the manor, I got to looking at the TV and the accompanying swivel support that would allow us to mount it beneath a cabinet to save counter space.  I slid the hook thingy of the 8" x 12" support into the top of the TV in the place I originally thought was a handy dandy carrying handle to see how the whole thing would look.  That's when I heard a CLICK.

Hoping Bruce would remain in the other part of the house until I found the directions and read them, I willed myself calm.  Upon opening the instructions, I discovered the second sentence read:  Do Not Insert Swivel Support into Television until Television is Hung.  It may be difficult to remove.  They weren't just akiddin'!  I wiggled.  I gently pried.  I stopped fiddling.  Bruce had entered the kitchen.

"I think I did a very bad thing," said I.  Having lived with me for many years, he narrowed his eyes, knowing the possibilities were endless.  I explained my misdeed and tried to inject a bit of humor by telling him the directions warned not to hang the set in an RV because it might dislodge from the support mechanism due to vibrations while the motor home was in motion.  I suggested we purchase a camper to solve the problem.  Surprisingly, Bruce was not amused.

He studied the unwanted black appendage now affixed to our brand new set, and brought in a flashlight, screwdriver, saw, kitchen knife and all manner of other tools in a fruitless attempt to fix things.  His final verdict:  "Looks like you're stuck with it."

Never appreciating a defeatist attitude, I replied, "Follow me!"  We drove to the discount store and purchased a vinyl placemat with Easter bunnies on it. 

Is it alright to turn the TV upside down?" I asked him upon our return home.

"It won't do it any good, but ..."

"Great!  You go in the parlor and watch TV on the big set and don't come back in the kitchen until I call you."  Shrugging, he obeyed 

Up ending the smaller set on the counter, I traced the now permanently affixed rectangular support over the face of the colorfully dressed boy rabbit on the placemat.  I then easily cut thru the soft vinyl.  Turning the TV back to its proper position, I laid the now perfectly fitting section of placemat, plain back side showing, over top of the black support.  Fighting off Button, our baby kitty who has recently discovered the joys of burrowing among clean sheets and towels, I pulled a cloth napkin with a red rose embroidered on one corner from the linen closet.  When I called Bruce into the kitchen to see my handiwork, he marveled at my new TV / knick-knack shelf displaying thee tea pots!  I pointed out that not only did I have more space to fill now, our family motto being No Space Unfilled, but I also had a perfectly good other half of a placement with a pretty girl bunny just waiting to be displayed.  Hmm, perhaps on a wreath on the front gate?

click on the photo to enlarge it

One thing's for sure.  That man of mine certainly must have strong neck muscles, what from all the head shaking he's experienced through the years.   

Love from Amelia Island,

Jane Marie

"Spring has sprung
 The grass has riz
 I wonder where
 The birdies is?"  Unknown

My Own Treasured Friends, 

Our daughter, Barbra, and her husband, Mark, recently built their first home, having moved from a third floor apartment, The Sky Lounge, as Mark called it.  He told us he was sure that in the course of the six years they'd lived in that obscenely overpriced little place, they could have paid for the new house twice over.

Since we are three hours away from them, we were unable to help the new homeowners move in.  While my husband, Bruce, can't quite see the tragedy in this, I would have liked to have been there to direct the placement of Barbra's new furniture.  Of course, I'm very sure Barbra was strangely glad her mother was not anywhere near her new home when the furniture was delivered.

Two weeks after they were settled, Bruce and I descended on the young couple, our little pickup armed with a wide range of what I felt were appropriate housewarming gifts including:  

• The latest innovative slow cooker with removable double bowls to cook two different items at the same time

• My never been used 25 year old butcher block for the kitchen

• A statue of St. Francis for the garden

My daughter and I believe in honesty.   And although the above gifts were a hit, the pastel terra cotta urn with the giraffe on the front didn't fit in color-wise, or so she said.  She certainly couldn't have placed this item in the reject pile because of the long necked critter smiling back at us, could she?

Barbra had taken a week off from work to unpack and, wisely, her husband had not taken time off.  When we walked through their front door, everything had a place and there were no boxes left standing, not even in the garage!

(The child naturally gets this ability from her mother.) 

However, she did ask, "Where's the phone book?"  To which I replied, "How am I supposed to know?  I don't live here."  

(Barbra also gets the skill to ask this type of question from her mother.)

Anyone who has ever moved from one residence to another has stories to tell.  As we ate dinner, we heard tales of THE MOVE.  I walked in on Mark explaining how, sadly, Barbra is the Grim Reaper of Fish. 

"Barbra came home one day with $150 worth of wiggling fish to stock an aquarium in our new bedroom.  It was supposed to help us relax, but you don't want to know how many toilet funerals we've already had. 

"And that sorry aquarium is near my side of the bed.  All night long, I breath that smelly, salty fish-funk."

The weekend we visited was pretty and sunny.  Mark's parents, Barbra's parents (that's us) and the proud homeowners themselves were rearranging, adding and eliminating some of the new landscaping that was included as part of the construction.  We leaned on shovels and rakes as we offered our non-expert opinions about where the Chinese fan palm should be planted.  I believe I heard my dear daughter mumble something about, "Too many chiefs," but that comment was left unchallenged when a friend of the kids drove by.  Stopping, he rolled down his window to ask, "Is this a city project?"  As he drove away laughing at his clever quip, we wisely let Barbra and Mark determine the final location of the palm.

Have staple gun, will travel is a motto of mine.  I recovered a black iron bench in Barbra's guest room.  Until this time, Mark had forever referred to this faux tapestry padded hope chest from his bride's high school graduation as the eyesore.  The new green and gray stripe kept him from further abusive comments, at least until we left.

After a truly wonderful and calorie stuffed weekend - Barbra is a great scratch cook - we packed to head home to Amelia Island.  "We ought to date that box, Jane Marie," said Mark.  "I know I'll see it back here in a year and a half, stuffed with some of the junk you're taking home with you this trip." 

"I don't know how they (mother and daughter) manage it," said Bruce, " but we've got more stuff to transport on the return trip than we did coming here."  He was referring to several valuable items that no longer go in Barbra's new house:

• Old baskets with the salt rings on the bottom

• Five foot tall whitewashed terra cotta lamp sans shade - it was too nasty to give away

• Broken ceramic Santa

• Chipped blue bowl

People who don't know me might ask why I want broken items.  Those who do know me think I'm a pack rack.  But only I know the truth, which is I may need a part in the future.  I like to be prepared. 

As we pulled out of the driveway, Bruce hollered out the window, "It'll take me twice as long to unload as it did when we got here.  You can definitely tell we've got a pile of crap in the back."   What a classy guy, I thought, and what a wonderful impression Barbra's father has made on her new neighbors.

Bottom line?  The kids have a beautiful home, and because they now have a guest room, Barbra's parents don't have to sleep on the killer pullout sofa.  Clearly, that's a better thing for everyone and everyone's aching back.

Love from Amelia Island,

Jane Marie

My Own Treasured Friends,  

"If it's worth doing, it's worth doing to excess."  I've often heard my dear husband, Bruce, say this.  Chocolate, giggles and romance immediately come to mind, in no particular order.  Of course, there are excesses of all kinds out there.  

Thermostats - Once when I was shivering from the air conditioner being turned down so low I was breaking the ice cycles off my eyelashes, my husband told me, "I don't care if you have to drink antifreeze and wear a parka, leave the thermostat alone!" 

Now this might sound harsh, but he said it with a smile.  We have been fighting the thermostat wars for years.  He threatens to put a lock box over it.  I sneak around behind him, turn on the floor fan, which I aim directly at his head, then tiptoe to the AC switch and turn it up. 

Bruce also says I have a comfort zone of plus or minus one degree.  As you can tell, this temperature thing is a running battle at our house.

Bananas - I recently overheard the husband of a friend of mine say his wife has a twenty minute window of ripeness when it comes to bananas. Meaning if she doesn't consume the banana within that time period, it is either too green or too ripe for her taste.  Too ripe equates to rotten in her book!  

Light Switches - How about someone who has light switches for the dining room fixture on two different walls?  This person, hmm - let's call him Bruce, insists the switch near the kitchen always be in the up position, while the switch in the hall should be down. 

Why, you ask, would one be so compulsive about this, let alone think of such a concept in the first place?  He says he likes to be able to reach for the switch in the dark.  He wants to operate this complicated machinery with one fluid motion, without fear of fumbling up and down for it. 

Now, my definition of fumbling has nothing to do with wall switches and I don't even watch much football.  I also don't understand the difficulty in thinking, "Hey, the switch is down.  I'll bet if I push it up, the light will come on."  But then, some people, like me, are more daring than others.

Microwaves - When I reheat leftovers in the microwave, there are two degrees at which I serve them, either volcanic or ice cold in the middle.  This is always verified by Bruce who invariably plunges the first digit of his right hand into the center of the food he is testing.  If he screams in pain, I know it's hot.  If I hear, "Cold inside," I know it needs another shot.  I find that simple tests, like this, are always the most reliable.

Cats - Even cats have their excesses.  Have you ever noticed how a perfectly mild mannered, stoic cat will suddenly spring from his tranquility to experience an attack of lick frenzy?  As quickly as it comes, it's over and the animal drops to the floor or the newest burgundy pillow on the bed to further nest the day away.

Fresh Air - We all love fresh air, but then there are some younger people (to whom we're related) (they know who they are) who want both fresh air and the comfort of air conditioning.  Thus the situation of leaving the windows cracked while the AC is still turned on.  It's a waste of money and energy, not to mention the suffering inflicted  on the sensible folk who must witness this spendthrift practice.  Why, one might as well rub jalapeño pepper juice in someone's mother's eyes.

Closets - A well-tended closet is a thing of beauty.  I know because I don't have one.  My husband, however, does.  All his shirts face the same way and heaven forbid a pair of trousers were to get mixed up among the sport coats.  There's a good chance the whole closet would have to be cordoned off until a thorough police investigation was completed.

As you can see, excess can be pretty silly, petty and bothersome, unless, of course, that particular excess belongs to you. 

Love from Amelia Island (as long as you pass slowly by my desk so as not to dislodge the seemingly hundreds of random sticky notes that map out my existence … )

Jane Marie

My Own Treasured Friends,  

"Two different worlds. We live in two different worlds."  You may know that old love song by Sid Wayne & Al Frisch.  My version, however, is, "Two different shoes, I'm wearing two different shoes.”  Naturally, I didn't make that discovery until 2:14 in the afternoon.  Fortunately, it wasn't the first time, so I'd had experience at being humiliated.  It isn't so bad.  Each time I do such things, I just shake my head at myself and hide my feet behind the desk.

Shoes are not the only things I have mis-mixed and mis-matched. Imagine the offending glories of unintentionally wearing a black blazer with navy pants, tan shoes with green trousers or, worse yet, brown eye shadow on one eye and olive on the other.  I recall the cause of this last incident in particular because as I applied the brown cosmetic to my left lid, I distinctly heard that all too familiar and completely unsettling sound of Spew, our cat, emitting a fur ball.  (Hence his name.)  At least in this case, I had his interruption on which to blame my makeup failure.

Periodically, I have these, shall we call them "lapses?"  No, that's not it.  "Puzzlements?"  Nope.  Aw, how about "overlooks," as in not paying any mind because my attentions were directed elsewhere.  Yes.  Overlooks.

Now, overlooks are not to be confused with mis-confusions. 

• Definition: a mis-confusion is a cross between confusion and a smidge of knowledge resulting in laughter. 

Here is an example.  One day, while exiting my front door to work in the garden, I took note of a small, what I like to call "geyser."  In a shrill, yet pleasing voice, laden with discovery, I called out to my dear husband, Bruce, who I learned after marrying him had always wanted to be a geologist, "Oh Sweetums!  We have our very own personal geyser right by the front door!  Isn't Mother Nature wonderful to us?"

He came running from the back of Stately Martha Manor to join in my excitement, I was sure.  Stopping on a dime, his exhilaration seemed several degrees less than mine as he watched me waggle the toes of one naked foot across the gushing water.

Taking a deep breath, he looked about.  "I have to agree that, indeed, Mother Nature is good to us, my precious pet, but that's no geyser.  Try a busted sprinkler line.  I'll get my hip boots, and you get your glue gun and Reader's Digest New Fix-It-Yourself Manual."

Please refer to May 2003 newsletter for some of our other adventures in Home Maintenance.

My joy short lived, I corralled my disappointment and began lobbing the heads off my roses, which by the way, were dead.

Another mis-confusion comes to mind.  We were on a road trip, my family and I, looking for the first Mexican restaurant we could find.  Being the eagle eye I am, I proudly proclaimed, "There it is!  Est Isio!" 

All heads but mine took several spins around their necks in an effort to find the huge sign before me, but to no avail.  "Where are you talking about," they asked or words to that effect.

I began to grow impatient, "Right there!" and pointed at the black lettering on the sign straight ahead.  When they all began laughing at me in a none too charitable manner, my husband handed me my prescription sunglasses.  "Here, try these on."

I did so to realize that I had mistaken what sounded like Spanish to my single-lingual mind - Est Isio - was in fact, the last line of a real estate sign that read - Est 1910.

I used to think overlooks and mis-confusions were embarrassing. Actually, once the immediate crisis is past, the telling of them can be quite silly.  And silly, of course, is a better thing.

Love from Amelia Island,

Jane Marie

PS Best wishes for a speedy recovery to our own dear friend Bonnie.

PPS Congratulations to Frances of Surrey, British Columbia in Canada.  She's our first international contest winner! 

Frances won a Goodbye Lie pearl necklace from our own VeryShinyObjects.com. 

My Own Treasured Friends, 

You may have seen the popular PBS television program Antiques Road Show where people bring in their priceless family possessions so appraisers can either tell them they should take out extra insurance to cover the value or laugh mockingly at the poor saps who've been dusting Aunt Bertha's hideous and disgusting plastic penguin for 20 years.

After watching that program one evening, I looked about our cozily lit parlor - low lighting sets the mood and conceals the occasional dust bunny and its larger cousin, the dust rabbit - and wondered the worth of all our treasures.  My eyes fell upon the low-rise bookcase I personally constructed from scrap wooden siding many moons ago.  Now a crisp white with pale floral decoupage and X slats in the back to keep it standing upright, I guessed I might get five dollars at a yard sale on a cloudy day when the sun didn't glint off the nail heads I had neither sunk nor filled in with wood putty.

Ah, but that isn't a good example of our riches.  In a lonely corner stands a chest of drawers that evokes fond memories.  When our daughter was born, this lightweight, i.e., cheap piece of furniture was filled with her cloth diapers and undershirts, her tiny dresses and handmade sweaters and knitted hats and booties.  This chest was later relegated to the guest room where it held my sewing supplies for some years.  Needing something presentable and close at hand to hold my myriad of crafting odds and ends, and having the family motto, No Space Unfilled, I shifted my sewing goodies elsewhere.  The chest took on a new purpose and appearance once I'd painted and decorated it.  My husband, Bruce, says it looks Italianate in design to him now.  That's high praise coming from a boy born and bred in the back country.  They're experts about such things there, he assures me.  Heck, knowing his opinion is a close second to those guys on TV, I can rest assured that the worth of that old chest is probably somewhere between that of a baby grand piano and a rusted hood ornament from a Ford Pinto.

And I just know the porcelain doll leg with the brown painted booted foot has to be worth something.  Or the small plastic statue of St. Joseph, at least I think it's St. Joseph, that sits on the pump organ and watches me exercise my ankles and damage my eardrums - he's a keeper for sure.

Then there's our trunk/coffee table.  We hauled it from someone's curbside trash during a delightful evening's walk, carted it home, disinfected, painted and hand decorated it with butterflies and wild flowers way back in the dark ages.  Just because Bruce said it was originally an old smelly footlocker someone had tossed out, doesn't mean he's always right.

What about my teddy, Wink E Bear?  He is surely one of a kind.  I got him when I was a very little girl.  I'm not saying he's an antique, at least not quite yet.  But since I always took care of my toys, old Wink E is in great shape except some of his eyelashes are falling out.  As a child, I used to take tweezers and sit for long minutes removing lint that had imbedded itself in those precious synthetic hairs. 

Our collection of gems will surely be worth the price of a new car when it passes to daughter Barbra.  For now, I wish only to trick her into taking that delightfully cracked bentwood rocker she hates so much.  It would free up  space for even more treasures!

Love from Amelia Island,

Jane Marie

My Own Treasured Friends,  
 

By this time, many of you know me well enough to believe I have been accused of possessing the ability to turn out a pretty good phrase on paper.  What you don't know is I can be quite a chatterbox as well. 

Just ask Bruce, my sweet husband, who sometimes refers to my style of speaking as "jabber."  While this used to offend me mightily, I have determined that one person's jabber is another's main means of communication.  Therefore, as Clark Gable's gangster character says to Norma Shearer in A Free Soul (1931), "Ah, you'll take it and like it!"

Now that my historic romance novel, The Goodbye Lie is available to the public, I am being called upon to do interviews.  This is the norm in the great world of marketing.  But when the reality of speaking to reporters and groups comes upon me and my jabbering is reduced to one word, "Yikes!"

When my very first interview was scheduled at our home, I fretted over the huge possibility that I might come off as a silly goose with the mind of a doughnut.  But on thinking over the situation, I reasoned the gleam of our shiningly clean home, Stately Martha Manor, might distract even the most hardened journalist from any verbal fumbles I could make.  Fortunately, Bruce did what needed to be done.  He went outside, extension-poled-soapy brush in one hand, hose in the other, and washed the house.  It was unthinkable that the reporter who was to interview me might actually lay eyes on the any speck of dust and/or leaves caused by the previous day's storm. 

I rallied to help stage the scene by moving my menagerie of ceramic/plaster/cement rabbits, bulldogs and pigs from the hearth to the foyer in a most becoming arrangement.  This way they could watch for the arrival of the reporter who would make or break me with my own words. 

After a surprisingly restful night's sleep, I arose at 7 to see Bruce in the kitchen on a folding chair next to a TV tray that held his coffee cup!  I had graciously warned the previous evening, "You'll have to change your routine tomorrow morning, dearest.  Don't you dare get any goobers on my freshly ironed tablecloth!"  He had heard and obeyed!  What a man!

At 9 a.m., I met the pretty little reporter at the front gate and escorted her inside.  Striving to be the ever attentive hostess, I offered her coffee, tea or juice.  She asked only for water, which I served in a china tea cup atop a matching saucer and with a pink linen napkin.  Fortunately Button, our baby kitty who loves to play in water, only stuck her paw in my guest's tea cup one time.  Could that be why the reporter never actually took a sip?  When Button stuck her nose in the reporter's purse, I considered locking her in another room - Button, not the reporter. 

My goal was to impress the reporter, and I think I definitely did - one way or another.  I know I said something about something.  If I think about it, how could the article be bad?  As I told the her, I like to write about what I enjoy, and what I enjoy is sharing our Gracious Living world with you all.  That is certainly a better thing!

Love from Amelia Island,

Jane Marie

PS  Read Alison Trinidad's article about Jane Marie, Author's passions come to life in writings.   

more press doings

PPS Congratulations to Arlene of Naperville, IL, our latest contest winner.

PPS  Enter our new contest to win a Goodbye Lie Golden Dreams Necklace.

  click on the photo to enlarge the photo of our latest prize from VeryShinyObjects.com - this contest has closed

My Own Treasured Friends,  

Remember when you were little kid and your mother, grandmother, aunt or other female in your life used to tell you what to do and not to do?  If they said to do it, you did.  Why?  "Because I said so," was often the response. 

Attempting to reason with a small child was not as common back then as it is today.  And often, rightfully so.  Have you ever seen a young mother in the grocery store trying to explain to her whining little one exactly why he is only allowed to buy one kind of sugar cereal as opposed to the other two boxes he has clutched to his tiny chest?

Now that I'm mostly grown up, I can see that the old rules were usually good ones.  Usually.  How do you weigh in on these?

• Don't watch television with no lights on in the room.  You'll strain your eyes.

• It's alright to chew gum as long as no one knows you're chewing it.  [Huh?]

• Eat all your carrots.  They're good for you.  You've never seen a rabbit wearing glasses, have you?

• Red heads can't wear pink.  [Not anymore.]

• Always close the kitchen drawers after you get something out so you don't spill food inside them.

• Turn all the pan handles away from the edge of the stove when you have children so your babies won't pull boiling water down on them.  [Excellent advice!]

• Never clean your fork off with your mouth when want to try another type of food on your plate.  You'll just have to eat mixed flavors until the second bite of the new food.

• Turn the water off while you're brushing your teeth so you don't waste it.  [Amen]

• Button your sweater or you'll get a cold in your chest.

• Don't tilt your head to eat a hotdog.  Keep it upright and tip the hotdog.  [But all the ketchup falls off, Mom.]

• Hold your stomachs in, girls.  [Still trying to.]

• Don't lick an ice cream cone.  It's not polite.  Only use your lips.  [Quite a trick.]

• Never wear a sweater with a dress.  It breaks the lines of the dress.

• Always put the lid on the pot if you want it to boil.

• At least be able to sew on a button, hem a skirt and repair a ripped seam.  [When I'm grown, I'll be rich and have servants to do it.]

• Get an education so you'll always have something to fall back on.

• Don't sit on the damp ground.  You'll get a cold in your bottom.  [This is one of my all time favorites.]

Love from Amelia Island,

Jane Marie

My Own Treasured Friends,  

Since the holidays are fast approaching and a major part of those holidays involves eating, I got to thinking about the cooking disasters I've had over the years. 

There was the occasion I put a tablespoon of salt into deviled eggs when the recipe called for a teaspoon.  I did that to our dear mother, Martha Marie, and she never said a word.  Or how about the time I made my husband's favorite birthday dessert, chocolate cake with boiled white frosting just like his mama used to make him - except I forgot to add the vanilla.  Of course, if you enjoy that smooth creamy taste of liquefied chalk, forget the vanilla in your frosting and chalk it is.

But my all time favorite calamity happened relatively early in our marriage.   We had made a deal with one another concerning my cooking.  Since Bruce was new to my culinary skills or lack thereof, I told him, "Now listen, honey.  If ever I prepare something you don't particularly care for, just politely push back in your chair and suggest we go out to dinner."

Well, time happily danced by and, being a good little wife, I scoured cookbooks in an effort to make the perfect meal every time.  You can imagine my delight at discovering a wonderful sounding recipe for the slow cooker.  I'll never forget the intriguing name: Fish Stew.  I had heard of the healthful powers of a good chunk of fish, so I was a player. 

I gathered all the required ingredients, i.e., carrots, onions, mushroom soup and, of course, a large carcass of formerly floating flesh.  I chopped, spindled and, indeed, did mutilate, the ingredients, tossed them into the cooker, covered it, turned the heat setting to high and let 'er rip.

Whilst the fish stew bubbled in the kitchen, I scurried about cleaning and dusting the manor in anticipation of Bruce's arrival from out of town.  All hot and sweaty from shoveling dust bunnies like a stevedore does his coal, I then cleaned and dusted my person.  Glassware sparkling, teeth all bright and shiny, the house and I were ready.  Shortly after Bruce came through the door, he and daughter Barbra sat down to dine with the scent of perfectly cooked fish permeating all the crevices of our home.

I ladled up a goodly portion, first for Bruce and then a somewhat smaller, although still respectable, serving for the child.  Since I've never been much of a fish lover, I refrained from serving myself, content to nibble on a salad and cornbread.

When the steam cleared from the scalding servings, Barbra was the first to sample my creation while Bruce and I discussed our past week's happenings.  I glanced at my beautiful daughter as she inserted a spoonful of my concoction into her mouth.  In less time than it takes a kitty to cough up a fur ball, Barbra's shoulders were heaving and she was making this - this gagging sound. 

Bruce immediately reprimanded her, saying that such antics are not appealing, especially at the table.  "Eat your dinner and behave!" he commanded the little thing.  He smiled at me and as his lips closed over his own spoonful, he, to my great horror, had a reaction not unlike Barbra's.

Remembering our bargain, Bruce sweetly suggested, "Let's try that new Italian place around the corner, shall we?"

You guessed it.  I burst into tears and fled the room in the same way I would have had he confessed I was, in truth, his sixth wife and he had his eye out for number seven!

That crisis was eventually averted by Bruce's patience and insistence that I always feel better after ingesting a few good meatballs with the trimmings. 

These days, half the excitement of eating around our house is guinea pig night, which means trying out a new recipe for the website.  GraciousJaneMarie.com has its standards, you know.  We strive for the most delicious of tempting flavors to share with you.  After all, our chief tester has sampled the depths of cuisine with that special fish stew.

Happy Thanksgiving to all our friends around the world!

Jane Marie

Dear All,  

These are a few highlights of our very exciting 2004.  We do hope you can stand the stimulation.

Last year's Christmas kitty has grown so fast, she's long as a piece of rope.

Mother always wanted a Chia Pet®.  No one in the family ever got her one, so she made her own.  Should anybody overhear the parrot asking, "Where are my seed treats?" just tell them to check out the green, hairy boiled egg on the mantle.

Father's latest motto is: "Remember this and bear in mind, a goose's tail sticks out behind."  Father has such deep thoughts.  Everyone realizes how fortunate they are he is willing to share his pontifications.

Father turned the TV on 366 times last year.  Mother turned it off 367.  There is a concern that the family might need a new calculator because the math doesn't add up, and everyone understands the importance of accuracy in all matters.

Mother is taking a correspondence course in French.  She is trying to work the new words she's learned, like "ménage à trois," into every conversation.  Neither she nor Father is sure what it means, but Father thinks it adds an air of sophistication.

At the company picnic, the waiter poured boiling water on Father's wingtips.  He's alright now that the top ½ inch of skin has peeled off his feet.  He just has to tighten the Velcro® on his shoes now that his feet are smaller.

Mother is irritated with the telephone company.  She calls them daily to inform them that often the phone has an irritating ring and she can only stop it by picking up the handle part.  Mother is so clever.

 Father has become quite deft at soaking the labels off his whiskey bottles for the $2 rebate.  He is courageously doing his part to leave a grand legacy for his children.

And after shaving father's neck, Mother created what looks to be an alien variety of dandelion at his nape.  He is so proud of his wife and her artistic ways.

Mother and Father caught colds while singing in the church choir.  Knowing that it is better to give than to receive, they shared their germs with everyone they met.

On special occasions, Mother and Father visit the local stationary shop together to search for the perfect greeting card for one another.  Once found, they never buy them.  This is their way of saving the trees.  

Season's Greeting from Florida's Amelia Island,

Jane Marie

800+ pages

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