The Art of Taking a Break: NaNoWriMo Mania

Hello, everyone.  I’m here with a quick update to thank you all for your support.  Special thanks for leaving  three things to keep me writing my new, and totally “pantser” novel, The Delta Pearl.steamboat-mississippi

My word count is not up to snuff, but this year that is not the point.  National Novel Writing Month is proving to be the “monumental distraction” that I wanted.  However, with 4,000 words into the “story” I still have no idea what the story is!  Now, that’s definitely flying (writing) by the seat of your pants!

For you armchair psychologists, and real psychiatrists…

I knew what name I wanted to give my heroine, yet I struggled with it.  I never noticed it before, but I seem to have a subconscious pattern with naming my heroines.  First was Emlyn in (unpublished) The Dead of Winter.  Then came Esmeralda of Atonement, Tennessee.  (I did not know until last week that Esmeralda means emerald…)

Announcement — a Name

Using gemstone names as a thread throughout the story was one of the few elements I had actually planned.  However, I didn’t know which jewel I should associate with my protagonist (regardless of what I wanted).  Then a character I called The Dealer came to my imagination.  He has a pseudo French accent and is presumably from New Orleans. I imagined his voice as he named my heroine… Émeraude.  Yes, that means emerald (as does Esmeralda), and some people call her Em (remind you of Emlyn?)… Then — it registered that my late sister’s birthstone was the emerald.  So read into all that whatever you want… NaNoWriMo does not allow for luxuries like agonizing over character names.  I gave up trying to figure it (or myself) out and went ahead with the name I wanted, Émeraude.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Wikimedia Commons, Chris Light

Shout-outs!

Thank you for the evocative “things” you readers left last weekend. I’ve already used many of them.  I’m grateful for them, so I want to make some shout-outs today.

Nandini, my new NaNoWriMo writing buddy, sent White Umbrella, Bridge, Tea.  Her umbrella caused me to think of a quirk for that important character called the Dealer. I think his name will be Jaspe, though I’m not certain. (French for Jasper… do you see the gemstone theme for names forming?)  Anyway he often expresses concern for my heroine’s complexion in the sun.

Cheryl, my purple flipflop loving blogger-chef left several things that included Cameo and White Picket Fence.  That cameo might be a recurring “artifact” in the story.  I gave it to my heroine and to a mysterious woman in an old portrait.

I hope you’ll visit these lovely blogs.  Now I’m off to write more for WriMo.  

Mega hugs!

Teagan

 

Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Copper, the Alchemist, & the Woman in Trousers: Episode 33

Indies Agree…

Glenda Ozz

Billie Berk 1939

I love that “Indie” has endlessly different subjects, genres, and formats.  I’m happy that every indie author and blogger is unique.  Despite all that diversity, it seems that all indie authors agree on the importance of reviews – whether posted in a blog, magazine, or on a bookseller’s site.

Oh, I admit to my jaw-dropping awe when an author cheers that they’ve reached the milestone of 100 reviews… I have less than a dozen, so I’m quite impressed, as well as proud of their achievement.  So when one of my earliest author-blogger-supporters wished he had more reviews for his books, I wanted to do something… but I’m not a reviewer. I wished I could wave a magic wand for both of us… but neither am I Glenda the Good Witch.

Jump back a step, because the steam locomotive is roaring back toward the platform at top speed!

Since there was no new episode last weekend, here’s a link to the previous chapter. If you need extra catching-up, look to the top of your screen for this serial’s homepage button.

Yikes! The locomotive is moving so fast, I’m not sure it can stop — but the breaks are screeching and the the whistle blows as it stops on a dime, right at the platform.

The conductor gives you a mischievous wink.   All aboard!!!

33.  Toddlers, Queen, Superior

Billie Berk circa 1900

Billie Berk circa 1900

Cornelis Drebbel levitated above a much bigger version of Leonardo da Vinci’s aerial screw.  It was attached to a large gondola that contained all manner of fantastical contraptions.  Brightly polished brass and crystals glittered in the sunlight that streamed through tall windows from the cloudless lavender sky.

One device looked just like the multi-armed thingamajig from the submarine.  I mean that term literally.  The device was the original thingamajig and such was its proper name.  This one looked newer.  The thingamajig on the submarine went through some rough treatment.  The one in the gondola didn’t show any wear and tear.  (Episode 22)  A malfunction in the contrivance was at least partly responsible for landing us in this purple place.

Cornelis waved down to a pair of mauveine complected chimpanzee twin toddlers who observed him in amazement.  A young female ape watched them from the corner of her eye as she delivered a basket of food to Cal Hicks.  She seemed remarkably unaffected by the floating alchemist.

“Why thank you Itsy,” Hicks told the woman as he took the heavy basket.  “This is enough for everyone.  Thank you so much, my dear.”

She quickly took each toddler by a hand and moved to meet one of the coverall clad chimps.  He seemed smitten by her.  She glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder as the chimpanzee handed her something that disappeared into the folds of her skirts.  Some token of his affections, I supposed.  It was hard to tell with the purple coloring but I thought both might be blushing.Victorian Magazine 1891

“Tsk, tsk,” Cal said with a shake of his head.  “That boy will never win Itsy’s heart.”

“Itsy?” I had to ask.

“Why yes,” Cal began. “She’s taken on the extra work of looking after the twins during the day. Both parents were injured in a carriage accident, and aren’t able to chase toddlers terrible well. Itsy was maid to my son Nate’s grandparents. When they passed on, she came to work for me,” Cal said and then cast an astute glance at me. “I take it Itsy has a counterpart in your colorful world.”

“I believe so,” I said, nodding.  “Bitsy is a maid in the inn that belongs to Ignatius Belle.  Their voices are rather similar.  And Itsy is just as unimpressed as Bitsy,” I added with a chuckle.  (Episode 2)

My own words bothered me in some indefinable way.  I suddenly felt uneasy.  It seemed like there was something I should remember.  However, I was distracted by Cal Hicks.  He was looking at me in a most curious way.  It made me think something was amiss.

“What is it?” I asked worriedly.

His eyes quickly scanned the worktable.  The amethyst ape picked up a mirror and handed it to me.  There was a smudge of soot on my cheek, and for a moment I thought that was what the straight-laced ape meant.  However, with one of his thick fingers he pointed to my hair.  A broad ultraviolet streak ran from the crown of my head down the length of my otherwise dark brown locks.  The irises of my eyes had taken on a violet hue.

Police NewsBefore I could stop my surprised reaction, I inhaled sharply.  I glanced at Copper.  I didn’t want the girl to notice my concern.  Fortunately she ran over to Cornelis, and tossed some tool up toward him.  The alchemist caught it with a glowing yellow-green thread of magic.

I was afraid to look at the measuring device that looked like a toothpick holder.  It already showed warning shades of violet.  But I forced myself.  I removed the device from the flowered carpet bag.  The thin rods were various shades of violet and purple.  Only one was still lavender.  None at all were colorless.  At least the crystal bird at the center was still clear.  Cornelis said it might be too late for us to leave the amethyst world if the bird turned purple.

Cal Hicks cleared his throat nervously and broke eye contact with me.  He called everyone to the basket of food, but hardly ate anything himself.  He turned back to work fervently on the improved aerial screw.  Though he couldn’t levitate like the alchemist he seemed to work almost as quickly.

Coverall clad chimpanzees ran back and forth, fetching all manner of things that Cal requested.  Copper returned to stand at his elbow, handing him various small tools.  I suspected that sometimes Cal pretended to need something, just to let the girl think she was helping.Punch mag

Earlier Cornelis was utterly intense as he poured over an assortment of papers he’d gotten from Cal.  There were maps, magazines, playbills, and newspapers.  I couldn’t figure out what he could be looking for in such an assortment.

However, the alchemist saw links from one thing to another that I would never see without it being pointed out to me.  He seemed to make some alchemical sense of the stack of papers and abruptly levitated up above the flying machine.  Suffused by that yellowish green aura he began making enhancements to the aerial screw.

As I looked at magazines bearing images of well-dressed simians, all in assorted shades of purple, I was struck anew by how much like our own world this place populated by apes really was.  I couldn’t help smiling when I saw a magazine cover bearing the image of an elegant female ape wearing an intricate lace gown, jewelry including a tiara, and holding a scepter.

“Is this your queen?” I asked Cal Hicks in delighted surprise.

Queen Victoria 1859

Queen Victoria 1859

“Why of course,” Cal replied, as if I had questioned the obvious.  “That is Queen Triumphia,” he said, immediately recovering his perfect manners.  “Haven’t you a similar monarch in your world?”

I grinned at the name Triumphia.  “Yes, although it isn’t exactly my queen, the English queen is called Victoria,” I told the amethyst ape.

Cal grinned back at me as he compared the name Victoria to his queen’s name.

Cornelis gave a whoop of success.  “This is far superior to the first model!” he cried.

With a sharp pop he disappeared from his spot in the air above us.  An instant later he popped into the gondola of the aerial screw.

Itsy wandered closer.  She didn’t look excited or surprised like everyone else.  Rather, the maid looked worried.  “There’s no more time,” Itsy murmured.

She darted to the gondola and grabbed the multi-armed thingamajig.  Then I got a look at the secret-something that the chimp handed her earlier.  She had hidden it in the folds of her skirt, but it turned out to be the harmonic tuner.  Cal Hicks showed it to me previously.  Instead of the mystic monkeys tuner that belonged to Copper, this one had people in the poses of see no evil, speak no evil, and hear no evil.  (Episode 24)  the Strand Magazine

Itsy’s actions were so sudden and so unexpected that everyone was too surprised to try and stop her.  She ran from the laboratory and out to the area that was scorched and depressed by the confrontation-reunion between Absinthe and Aubrieta.  (Episode 28)  Itsy held out the thingamajig and clanged the harmonic tuner against the contrivance.

The air in a large area before Itsy shimmered to a glowing hot pink aura.  The center of the aura took on a wavy mirror like appearance.  Then a wall of water rushed from the aura and poured into the burned out depression.  Itsy was swept away by the water but managed to grab hold of a fence post.

With a whoosh sound a hydrofoil sped through the opening created by the magical devices.  The moment I saw the craft I knew what had bothered me when I told Cal that Itsy and Bitsy had similar voices.

We had never gotten a good look at the woman leading the group on the hydrofoil.  I said her voice was familiar, but I just couldn’t place it, no matter how hard I tried.  The tone of the woman leader was commanding and harsh.  So it had been just different enough that I couldn’t connect it to the gentle tones I previously heard from that same voice.  At that moment I knew the voice belonged to Bitsy, the maid at the Belle Inn!

Harper's Bazaar 1899The hydrofoil rushed, out of control, down the length of the water that spilled from our world.  It crashed into a stand of tall bushes.  When the woman stood up, I was certain she was Bisy.  She bent over and vomited.  The nearness of her doppelgänger already affected her.

“Get her away from me!” Bitsy shouted to the men who accompanied her.

The men waded out to Itsy.  She seemed to think they were helping her and let them take her arms from the post to which she held.  However, when they helped her to dry ground one held a knife to her throat.  They spoke threateningly to her and she ran away as fast as she could, disappearing into the woods.

The hydrofoil held more passengers than I had realized.  There must have been ten heavily armed men, along with Bitsy.  They all moved toward us.

Cal Hicks had my arm.  “Quickly,” he hissed into my ear.  “Get into the gondola.”

When I turned I saw that Copper was already climbing into the aerial screw.  Absinthe and Aubrieta fluttered around her, touching various apparatus with their tiny paws.  I looked back at the interlopers from my own world.  They were looking right at me.

***

What will happen to Felicity, the “Woman in Trousers” of the serial title?  Her hair is already streaked with purple, suggesting she has stayed too long in the amethyst world.  One group of foes has caught up with our trio.  Will they grab Felicity before she can reach the gondola?  And will the aerial screw fly off without her?

Don’t leave yet!  Here’s a recipe.  Many times I’ve seen bloggers mention “curry chips.”  Now, I’m just not familiar with that dish. So I scoured the WordPress countryside and found a lovely recipe at “Lea & Jay.”  

Recipe:  Curry Chips

Photo and recipe credit:  Lea & Jay 

Curry Chips

https://leaandjay.wordpress.com/2011/03/07/curry-chips/

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Copper, the Alchemist, & the Woman in Trousers: Episode 31

Three Things & Three Blogs

I hesitated to ask for more “things” to fuel the steam locomotive to the Victorian Era, because the serial is nearing the end of the line.  What if I got more things than I could use?  I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  However, I still had to have the three things.  So as a way of showing my appreciation for your comments, I took one word from the blog names of the first three commenters on Episode 30!  (I was rather pleased with that idea, if I say so myself.)

So we have (drumroll please)…

3 locomotives

 

(Content removed.)

Kitchen from Suzanne at A Pug in the Kitchen, Good Food with Simple Ingredients http://apuginthekitchen.com/

It’s a rather noisy episode. I didn’t even hear the locomotive pull up to the platform.  However, I see the conductor waving, and now I can hear his voice.  All aboard!

31.  Purple, Diary, Kitchen

My finger traced the edge of a purple leather portfolio I found.  Now the case held the priceless drawings of Leonardo da Vinci, which were previously hidden in the owl-shaped lamp.  I nearly dropped the folio at the sight before me.

In open-mouthed wonder I stared at the riot of possessions and the general confusion of what might have been the alchemist’s bedroom.  It was such a mess that I wasn’t completely sure it was a sleeping chamber.  I thought that was a bed under a stack of shoeboxes and a pile of clothing, though I couldn’t imagine anyone managing to sleep on it.

Terrence Mann as Cornelis

Terrence Mann as Cornelis

I came to the conclusion that the meticulously way in which the laboratory was organized was not the doing of the alchemist — or I should say the version of Cornelis Drebbel that inhabited the amethyst world.  I shrugged.  After all, our Cornelis kept the most haphazard scheme of things, whether on his submarine or anywhere else.  So I expected it was only natural that his doppelgänger would be a slob.  Alright… that wasn’t very generous of me to use such a word to describe my traveling companion.  Shall I say untidy?

Thank goodness his skull, which was safely in my hatbox, wasn’t capable of disarranging things too.  Then I had an uneasy thought.  What if the skull had capabilities of its own?  I firmly pushed that idea into a dark corner of my mind.  There was more than enough trouble at hand, without borrowing even more.  But I digress.

No, I thought, the orderly one must be Cal Hicks, the amethyst ape of the strange purple world of doppelgängers where we’d run aground.  Cal was also the double of Copper’s father, Calvin Hixon.

I tapped my foot in a restless rhythm, annoyed with myself for wasting time, yet drawn to the room nonetheless.  My intuition had become a feather, tickling a sleeping notion in my mind.  That feather suddenly woke the notion and in the full light of thought, it quickly morphed into a certainty.Victorian w purple feather hat

“Ooooh…” I murmured aloud, stretching out the word.

Abruptly I was sure that the alchemist of the amethyst world was with Copper’s missing father!  However, the question remained — where?  How they got together in the first place was a secondary matter.  I hoped to find some sort of clue in the personal quarters of amethyst world’s version of Cornelis Drebbel.  Unfortunately I had no idea what I sought, and the disarray of the room didn’t help.

A soft snuffling sound alerted me to the presence of Absinthe, the Green Fairy.  He fluttered around the eyesore of a room before perching on a shoebox.  Absinthe looked at me and gave a derisive snort, clearly an opinion about the state of the bedroom.  I laughed.  For once I understood the little fairy.

Then Aubrieta, his mate, flew into the room.  Her purple wings missed a beat when she beheld the mess.  Aubrieta gave a little scream before recovering herself.  I had to agree.

I felt a moment of comradery with the two fairies.  They seemed to understand everything I said, but I could not interpret their snorts, grunts, and snuffles at all.  However, emboldened by that friendly feeling, I told them my thoughts about the alchemist of the amethyst world and Calvin Hixon being together somewhere.  I opened the portfolio of Leonardo da Vinci’s mechanical design drawings, and said that I felt one of the designs might also be involved.Aerial Screw drawing
When I added that I thought there might be a clue somewhere in the disarray of the bedroom, the fairies went quickly to work.  They busily looked through every pile and opened every box, cupboard, and drawer.

While they looked through the room, I turned to the closet.  When I opened the door I almost shrieked like Aubrieta.  Boxes and all manner of other things toppled out of the closet as soon as I opened the door.  Cases and trinkets continued to tumble for what seemed like an unnaturally long time.  A purple feather boa draped across my shoulders as it fell.  Aubrieta snuffled appreciatively.  Apparently the little skunk-looking fairy thought it looked good on me.

“So you like this?” I asked Aubrieta of the boa and she chirped enthusiastically.  “Well, it is your color,” I conceded with a smile.Woman in purple boa

As I held out the purple feather boa, Aubrieta wriggled the single eyebrow that was between her one eye and her golden unicorn-like horn.  Static ran through the feathers and with a spark the boa was transformed to a much smaller size — just the right length for the Purple Fairy.

By the way, I never mentioned that the Purple Fairy is a title for Aubrieta, just as Absinthe is the Green Fairy.  Though I had yet to meet them, there were other purple and green fairies, but our tiny companions held some particular distinction among their kind.

I bent down to pick up a full sized feather that was dislodged from the boa.  That’s when I saw the corner of a book.  Its cover was made of tooled lavender leather.  In the center elaborate script spelled the word diary.  It should be the journal of the Cornelis Drebbel doppelgänger.  Shouldn’t it?  Although, the Dutchman was a wily fellow.  It might belong to someone else.

Though it didn’t really help, I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.  Cautiously I opened the lavender tome.  The handwriting inside was a match for that of the alchemist of my world.  I surreptitiously looked over my shoulder.  I bit my lower lip, as with a bit of apprehension I began to read the diary.

However, the journal didn’t seem to be terribly personal.  (I admit I was a little disappointed.)  There were a lot of what I supposed were alchemy related notes, and symbols I didn’t understand.  Then I found a section of spells.  At least I could understand the language with those.

Lady writing lettersTurning the pages faster, I focused my search.  I hoped to find some mention of Cal Hicks, or even better, Calvin Hixon.  Unfortunately I hadn’t found either name.  However, I was skimming the pages awfully quickly.  I could easily have missed something.  I began to notice repeated references to “Cu” but that made no more sense than the rest of the text.  It seemed to be more of a name than initials.  I shrugged.  The inhabitants of the amethyst world did seem to be fond of very short names, like Cal and Von.

As I turned pages I also saw drawings and diagrams.  Some of the sketches reminded me of the da Vinci drawings.  I slowed down, paying closer attention.

My focus was broken by a commotion elsewhere in the laboratory.  It sounded like an argument.  Yes, there was some sort of disagreement.  Aubrieta made an impatient snuffling sound and winged away in a blur.  I figured the situation was safe in the Purple Fairy’s capable hands — or should I say wings?  Paws?  Whatever, I had no doubt that the one-eyed, erstwhile dragon could use that pointy horn to good effect.

I could hear the raised voice of Cornelis Drebbel, though I couldn’t make out his words.  I stood, placing my finger in the diary to hold my place.  I knew I’d best go see what the trouble might be before things got out of hand.  Then I heard Absinthe shriek an irritated noise.

As I walked quickly down the hallway I tried to determine where the commotion had come from.  Beyond the long workroom, the laboratory was a warren of hallways and alcoves.  I hesitated when I came to an intersection of corridors.

Jamie Murray as Felicity

Jamie Murray as Felicity

A teeth jarring screech of unused metal was followed by a crash.  The noise came from the kitchen.  The shouting was louder, but not coherent until I heard clearly the voice of Cal Hicks.  “Lord of Alchemy!” the amethyst ape cried.  “No!  Please wait!”

I broke into a run.

The “kitchen” of the laboratory was a combination food preparation area, dining room, and relaxation area, with several chaise lounges.  Above the wide open room was a clear crystal dome which let in the sunlight.  The dome was divided into sections, much like one would cut an orange.  The sections were held in place by brass strips.

Earlier, after a meal, I had stretched out on a chaise and gazed up at the pastel clouds drifting in the sky beyond the dome.  It was tranquil.  However, the sounds coming from the kitchen were anything but calming.

When I reached the kitchen I found Copper and Aubrieta perched on an open wooden packing crate.  Another metallic screech caused me to look upward.  The sections of the crystal dome slowly spread, opening to the sky.  It was a fanciful idea, but it made me imagine a clear flower bud with petals opening to the sun.

Directly beneath the dome I saw Cornelis and Absinthe.  They argued.  Cal Hicks stood between the two, urging them to be reasonable.  I got the feeling that the tableau might go on for a while.  There was nothing I could do to improve the situation, and no need for me to be agitated.  I leaned against the crate and turned to Copper who dangled her feet from the top of the wooden box.

Copper

Copper

“What was inside?” I asked her as I stuck my head into the empty container.

“That top thing Cornelis has.  I think Absinthe wants to play with it,” Copper said knowingly.  “Cornelis is too big for it.  He really ought to give it to Absinthe.”

Aubrieta snorted in a derisive tone and shook her purple head.  She didn’t seem to think Absinthe should have anything to do with it either.  I noticed the purple feather boa had returned to full size and was draped across Copper’s shoulders.  The little fairy must have wanted the boa so she could give it to the girl.  I was fascinated by the way both of the fae took to Copper.

“What top thing?” I wondered aloud and stretched in attempt to see around Cornelis and Cal Hicks.

The ape and the alchemist finally moved and I saw a working model of Leonardo da Vinci’s aerial screw.  It stood about waist high.  The “threads” of the screw were made of linen, and it rotated slowly.

“It’s only a model,” Cornelis told Absinthe.  “I need firsthand experience of it before we make a full-sized machine,” he said as the Green Fairy snorted and chirped.

Abruptly, Cornelis snapped his fingers.  A yellowish green glow surrounded the aerial screw and it gently rose from the floor.  With a last whine of metal, the dome finished opening.  The aerial screw continued to rise.  The alchemist schooled his face to a bland expression and he looked from Cal to Absinthe as the rotating machine rose above their heads.

“If the tiny fae thinks the device is unsafe,” Cal Hicks began, apparently understanding the sounds Absinthe made — was I the only one who didn’t understand fairy-speak?  “Don’t you think it would be wise to listen?  It needn’t be a long delay,” the ape offered in a reasonable tone.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Corenlis grinned.  He leaped up and grabbed onto the bottom of the aerial screw.  A green glow surrounded the contraption and the alchemist.  The device quickly moved up into the opening of the crystal dome.  Absinthe gave an angry scream.  He fluttered up to Cornelis and pointed his bantam backside at the alchemist’s face in a very threatening posture.  A poot of super-concentrated absinthe vapors would surely cause Cornelis to fall, and he was many feet above the floor.

“Well, climb on, old boy!” Cornelis told the Green Fairy.  “There’s room for one more,” Cornelis invited as he dangled high in the air.Green fairy skunk

However, Absinthe flew in circles around the aerial screw.  The Green Fairy jerked his head around, as if he heard something.  He screamed again and pointed.  The sound came again, loud enough for me to hear.  The linen “threads” of the screw ripped loudly.  The aerial screw lurched.  Cornelis struggled to keep his grip as the machine darted wildly.

***

Now what has Cornelis Drebbel gotten himself into?  Be at the train station next week to catch the steam locomotive to the Victorian Era.

Since one of the three blogs I used as this episode’s three things is a chef’s blog, I’m taking the recipe from it.  How could I resist this beautiful lavender colored cake to go with the amethyst world?  Thank you Suzanne, for letting me use one of your recipes.  Suzanne is a marvelously talented chef.  So be sure to take a look at her blog.

Recipe:  White Cake With Whipped Cream Icing and Blackberry Lemon Cream Filling

Suzanne lavender cake

Recipe and photo credit: Suzanne Debrango at “A Pug in the Kitchen”

http://apuginthekitchen.com/2012/03/28/white-cake-with-whipped-cream-icing-and-blackberry-lemon-curd-filling/

 

Copyright © 2015 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.

Three Ingredients II – 18: Conclusion – Sweet Potato, Wimberries, Worcestershire Sauce

young Lucy blue

Young Lucille Ball

Welcome back everyone! Our previous chapter of this interactive culinary mystery was essentially part-1 of a 2-part finale. And yes — I heard the commotion when I left our three suspects of ill-doing hanging in midair (literally) and basically you along with them. I’m just wicked that way… I really can’t help myself.

I sincerely do try to make this serial unplanned pantser fun and as interactive as feasible. So in writing this ending I let your thoughts and comments take the ending to places where I probably would never considered going myself. Without further ado, I present the conclusion to Three Ingredients Cookbook-2, a Ghost in the Kitchen.  Bon appétit!

18.  Conclusion – Sweet Potato, Wimberries, Worcester Sauce

With Looming Specter

The sight of Caleb Colman the cowboy looming to twice his normal height, with ruby-red fire in his eyes was enough to strike fear into anybody’s heart — including mine.  The three men, 1939 Saturday Evening Post Parrotssuspended high in the air above the hard marble floor were screaming and writhing as if they weren’t just afraid but were also in pain.

Something brightly colored streaked through the open French doors.  Cracker!  She had let herself out of her cage.  I should have known it was too much to expect to drive her home from the doctors Vale without her getting into or up to something.  Fear for the bird’s sake stabbed my heart.

“Cracker, go back to your cage!” I said in a voice that I forced to be calm, but loud enough to be heard over the noise.  So okay… that’s how I tried to sound.  I think I mostly shrieked at her.  For once the parrot showed good sense and didn’t try to get in the middle of everything.

“Twenty-three skidoo!” Cracker squawked with a whistle as she zoomed back outside.

Daisy turned to watch the parrot soar away.  Her expression was distracted, and the look in her eyes was so faraway that I wondered if the spirit was in her right mind.

“I know you,” Daisy murmured to Cracker’s departing form.  “My husband and I watched you hatch, but we made sure the first human you saw was Alastair Wong.  I guess you’re all grown up now, huh?  Is that why you keep coming to see me when I visit this plane?” she asked in a thoughtful tone, but the parrot had already flown out of sight.

Thunder cracked inside the mansion.  The scene playing out before my eyes terrified me for many reasons.  Regardless of what Henry Kingston III and the Binghamton brothers may or may not have done, I was afraid of what might happen if they were hurt or killed.  I was worried about Granny and Kate Kingston — they might come back inside and be caught in the chaos at any minute.  Not to mention Andy, who was right in the thick of things beside me.  I was also afraid for Caleb and Daisy if either of them took things too far.  I wasn’t sure what could happen to ghosts, but I was certain there would be consequences.

1923 Life woman devilish man masksDaisy stood mesmerized by the display.  There was an unpleasant, almost greedy look in her eyes and they glowed softly.  She looked like someone with a thirst for vengeance.  Based on what was happening, that thirst was about to be quenched.

Something had to be done.  I didn’t know if it might cause Caleb to turn his anger on me, but I screamed at him to stop.  If he heard me, he didn’t pay any attention.

“Daisy!” I yelled to be hard above the din.  “You have to stop him!”

“Pip, you don’t understand,” she said in a level voice that somehow reached my ears.  “Sweet Potato, I should have showed you too,” the ghost said and before I could move, her hand shot out and grabbed mine.

I staggered from an unseen impact.  It was as if a huge ball of electricity had blasted through my skull and into my brain. I fell toward the polished white marble floor, but Daisy still had hold of my hand and kept me from going all the way down.  She pulled me to my feet with unexpected strength.  My lungs strained for air — the wind had been knocked right out of me.  Spasms raked my body and I couldn’t stay on my feet. It felt as if I dangled from Daisy’s grasp.

“What are you doing?” Andy demanded of Daisy who looked at him with a mildly puzzled expression on her face.

“I had to show her,” Daisy told Andy, but then she seemed to finally notice my state.  “Oh my goodness!” she cried and seemed more herself.  “Oh Pip, I’m so sorry Sweet Potato!  I just 1936 Girl Horse Cole Bros Circus postermeant to show you the same things that I showed Caleb.  I guess that’s the difference between doing that with a ghost and with one of the living.  I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said with tears of contrition streaming down her face.

With that extraordinary physical strength, petite Daisy lifted me in her arms as if I were a small child.  She carried me past a table where someone had been making Bloody Marys.  When she turned, my foot knocked over a bottle of Worcestershire sauce.  I remembered Andy calling it Worcester sauce, and how we playfully argued about which was correct back in Florida.

Daisy carried me to a sofa and gently deposited me on it.  With a worried expression on his face, Andy handed me one of the Bloody Marys.  He said that it wasn’t brandy, but maybe it would help.  I managed to take a couple of sips.

All the drama continued around us, buffeting winds, screaming, crying.  I lay back on the sofa, because I wasn’t able to even sit up.  I tried to speak but my brain was too scrambled for me to chain two words together.  So whatever I meant to say came out as gibberish.  You’d have thought I was speaking in tongues or something.  I couldn’t think straight either.  It was as if every thought I’d ever had competed for dominance in my mind.  And my head hurt.  Bad.

Finally one thought lodged into a clear spot in my mind.  Then another fell into line.  My brain was sorting the memory Daisy shared with me all in one electric blast, and putting things into their proper sequence.  In my mind I watched events unfold as if I stood looking over Daisy’s shoulder.  However, I felt most of it as if I had actually been her.  It happened like this…

***

1920s two women garden

Daisy was having the strangest cravings — particularly for wimberry pie.  She had even put on a frock the same shade of blue as wimberries.  Yes, Daisy thought she was pregnant.  She was bursting at the seams to tell someone the news, but she wanted to be certain.  However, she really did have to tell someone.  Surely, she thought, it was permissible if her best friend was the first to know.  She just couldn’t tell Henry until she had no doubts about it.  It would break his heart if it turned out she wasn’t really expecting a little one after all.

Mattie Maddox was in the expansive, well lit kitchen when Daisy divulged the news to her best friend.  Daisy was ecstatic, and Mattie was so happy for her that she cried and hugged her.

Then young Henry burst into the kitchen.  He sent Mattie hopping to some urgent errand that he said his father needed right away.  But Daisy could always tell when the young man was lying.

After the kitchen door closed behind Mattie, Daisy turned to him.  “Henry… You heard,” Daisy had said and it wasn’t a question.

Vintage Tuxedo adAs gently as she could, Daisy finished breaking the news to Henry III that he would have a younger sibling.  She knew that despite how well “King Henry” tried to raise the boy, he had a bad attitude.  Young Henry’s face turned red and a vein at his temple throbbed.  He stormed out of the kitchen without a word.

Then she heard the French doors open.  She heard Henry’s friends come inside from the terrace — the Binghamton brothers.  Daisy heard him shouting to them about her being pregnant.  In his anger he threw a crystal vase to the marble floor and shattered it.  The vase was an anniversary gift from her husband.

Daisy went out into the foyer to settle the young men down.  Bradley Binghamton stood near the door.  By the look on his face he had heard Henry III yelling and stopped there, deciding whether he should go back outside.  Byron was near the stairs with Henry.  Egging Henry on came easily to Byron, and the more the two boys talked the madder Henry got.

She approached the young men and tried to smooth over the situation.  But they turned on her.  They said the most horrible, unspeakable things to her.  She couldn’t keep her tears back and Henry and Byron laughed as she wept.  Henry pushed her shoulder causing her to stagger backward.  He called her a whore and things that were even worse.

Daisy fled up the staircase in tears.  Young Henry bounded up behind her, taking the stairs two at a time.  He continued to yell at her, to berate her for the life he felt she was taking from him by giving his father another child.

Cornelia Vanderbilt, 1924

Cornelia Vanderbilt, 1924

At the top of the stairs he grabbed her arm as she was about to run down the hall to her sitting room.  Henry was in his late teens.  He was as tall as his father, thickly built, and strong.  Daisy couldn’t pull or twist free of his grasp.  The pain and humiliation caused by his words turned to anger when he seized her arm.

Being manhandled was something Daisy could never tolerate.  She was livid when he grabbed her.  She drew back her hand, and with every bit of her strength behind it, she swung to slap his face.  But he saw the blow coming and reflexively pushed her away.

Henry III never had learned to think things through.  They were standing at the top of the stairs when he pushed Daisy.  She toppled all the way down the long curving staircase to the marble floor below.  Slowly blood started to spread on her skirt.  It was a lot of blood.

“We have to get her to a doctor,” Bradley Binghamton told the other two boys as he hurried over and knelt beside Daisy.

“No!” Henry said.  “My dad will find out.”

“He’ll find out anyway!” Bradley told him.

“No… No, he might not,” said Byron.  “I know somebody.  He took care of a girl once for me.”

They carried Daisy to a car, but by then she had lost consciousness.  She woke to the harsh smell of ether and a foggy head, and a lot of pain.  Looking around she saw that she was in a place that was sort of like a surgery, but not like one should be.  It wasn’t very clean, and the space around her was too large.  It echoed like a warehouse.  Then she remembered hearing of a doctor who did free work for the poor at the old warehouse.  It had been used as a hospital in wartimes long ago, so it was usable for that purpose.

She heard an unfamiliar man talking to someone.  “I couldn’t save it,” he said.  “But you didn’t want me to in the first place, did you?” he said with a trace of a sneer in his tone.  “Anyhow, she’s lost a lot of blood.  You need to take her on to the hospital.  You should have taken her there straight away.  I don’t have the equipment or the skills for this.  I’m afraid she still has internal bleeding.  She might not last the night,” he said as Daisy drifted back to incoherence.

vintage queen of the mayDaisy had proved them wrong.  She lived through the night and for a few weeks after that.  Her husband had his own physician examine her.  The man shook his head gravely and would not discuss his prognosis in front of her.  However, Daisy already knew.  She could tell her days on earth were limited.  She could tell something inside was damaged, something the doctors of that day didn’t know how to fix.

She never told King Henry what his son had done, but sometimes she thought he knew anyway.  She tried to get strong again as she lay in a bed next to a beautiful golden and aqua stained glass window in a quiet place where Henry took her to convalesce — he was determined that she would recover, especially with the right environment.  He couldn’t accept what the doctor said.

Daisy tried to be happy for Mattie’s sake.  Mattie never left her side.  She tried to be strong for Henry, to smile and be vivacious so he would feel better.  She was secretly afraid that if he saw how weak she really was that he’d stop loving her.

Finally a day came when she gazed at the luminous colors of the window and surrendered.  At that point the memories that belonged to Daisy drifted away from me, and I had my own thoughts once again.

***

Vintage ghosts several

Chaos still ensued all around me.  It took much longer to tell about Daisy’s memory than it did for me to actually get my wits about me.  Double-sized Caleb still held the three men hanging high above the floor and they still cried out in pain.

After a moment I started to feel a little more in control of my body.  I took another sip of the Bloody Mary and its spiciness was heartening.  I looked toward the staircase where Henry Kingston III was suspended in midair.  I found my voice.

“Somebody has to do something before Caleb completely loses control of his temper,” I said.  “Daisy, you have to stop him,” I repeated.

“The spirit woman looked abashed.  After what she’d been through, and decades of searching the great beyond for the awful memory of it… I figured it would feel pretty good to see someone taking revenge on your behalf.  I couldn’t resent her for momentarily considering vengeance.

Daisy vanished and then reappeared across the room to stand in front of Caleb.  She reached1920s Bride Kneeling up and placed her hand on his arm.  Caleb looked down at her seeming irritated for a moment, but his face softened as he regarded Daisy.  He returned to his normal size, but the demon-red glow didn’t leave his eyes, and the men still hung in the air, although their screams had toned down to whimpers.

“No ma’am.  It’s not right that you finally got a good life, after how hard thing started out for you when you were just a child — it’s not right that these men should be the cause of your dying and go unpunished for it,” Caleb said.

Her hand rested on Caleb’s chest.  I was sure Daisy would never intentionally hurt anyone.  She hadn’t meant to knock me down with an electric shock; she just didn’t know how to handle her new strength.  But I wondered if there was still a part of her that wanted payback.  Maybe Caleb felt that from her.

The spirit woman hesitated, but she squared her shoulders, affirming her resolve.  “Caleb, it isn’t for us to judge.  These men are each guilty in different ways and to different degrees.  However, it isn’t for us to decide their punishment.  It simply is not right,” she told him in a sincere voice.

1877 American Horse Oglala Sioux

1877 American Horse Oglala Sioux

Amid the sobbing from Henry and the Binghamtons I abruptly heard that old pop-fizz sound.  Maestro Martino knelt in front of my sofa.  He inspected me more closely than I thought was proper, but I knew the ghost chef was concerned if he had picked up even a fraction of my fears.  Maestro could do that, at least where I was concerned.  He could detect strong supernatural activity, and it somehow helped him home in on me.

Once he was satisfied that I was unharmed Maestro became agitated all over again.  “Signorina o Signore, this is far too dangerous.  You must leave at once!” he insisted.  “Signore, get her away from this place!”

However, Maestro’s caution was immediately followed by a double-pop-fizz and the ghost chef was no longer alone.  A man — no, I corrected myself, a ghost in heavy white satin robes stood behind him.  A looming specter towered over them both.  That was the tallest man I’d ever seen.  He wore pale buckskin clothes with turquoise stones decorating them.  He had flowing black hair with two white feathers tucked into one side.

Che peccato!  Maestro Martino, you should be ashamed.  Is this how you repay my gift?” demanded the short ghost.

“No, no.  Your Imminence, please do believe me.  I would not piss you off again!” Maestro said.

I was shocked by the Maestro’s choice of words, because I remembered how he told us he came to be cursed.

“But — you see, the short of it is that I pissed off the Pope!  And this predicament is my fate,” the ghost had said with a mournful look.

Wide-eyed I looked at the three newly arrived ghosts.  I wasn’t Catholic, but I wondered if I should try to get up and curtsey or something.  I didn’t know how to act in front of a live pope, let alone a dead one.  And who was the guy in buckskins?  I knew less than nothing about how to behave in front of a Native American authority-figure-seeming ghost.

Movement beyond the French doors caught my eye.  A tremendous cow with long curving black horns paced impatiently, pawing the ground with her steel hooves.  Her red-eyed stare turned to me and she snorted fire.  I jumped and looked from the demon cow to the tall black-haired ghost.  I understood then that he was the one who controlled the ghost-rider curse.Glowing-Longhorns copy

Surely, I thought, that powerful spirit’s presence would register with Caleb.  However, the cowboy remained transfixed in his determination to take revenge on Daisy’s behalf.  Maestro followed my gaze.  In an instant Maestro Martino stood between Caleb and the objects of his retribution.  The cowboy glared uncomprehendingly at the chef.

“Hey, cow-poke!” Maestro yelled at Caleb in a passable western drawl that finally got his attention.  “Incredibile! Non fare lo stupido!  What stupidity!  Do you mean to waste the gift I sacrificed and bestowed upon you?” he demanded in his usual Italian accent.  “Basta!  Stop this at once if you have any respect for this woman,” Maestro said indicating Daisy who stood looking up at Caleb with pleading eyes.  “Would you give up eternity with this woman to satisfy your thirst for the blood of her enemies?  You see the foolishness of that, no?”

Caleb looked at Maestro Martino so angrily that I feared for the ghost chef’s life.  I had to remind myself he was already dead.  After what seemed like a long internal struggle, Caleb’s shoulders relaxed.  Then Henry Kingston and the Binghamtons, suddenly freed from the magic that held them aloft, rushed toward the marble floor.

Choctaw Bill, Mora, NM 1920's

Choctaw Bill, Mora, NM 1920’s

Maestro’s eyes bulged and he whirled to face the falling men.  He held out his arm and snapped his fingers.  Their descent slowed.  Or rather it slowed until they were about five feet above the floor and Maestro let them drop unassisted the rest of the way.  All three landed quite uncomfortably.

Daisy approached the new, very official (not to mention powerful) seeming specters.

“Please,” she began, looking angelic in the flowing white wedding gown she still wore from reminiscing about her marriage.  “Please don’t punish Caleb.  He only wanted to protect me.  It’s my fault.  I didn’t act quickly enough to stop him before he went so far.  I know that I could have if I had tried sooner.  So this is my fault, not his,” she pleaded.

By then Caleb was behind her.  He took off his Stetson and bowed to the two dominant spirits.  Then he insisted that he was the one responsible, not Daisy.

“Stop it Caleb!” Daisy cried.  “I couldn’t bear it if they made you a ghost-rider again!  I’ve been so alone.  I was unprotected and fending for myself throughout my childhood.  I only had King Henry for what seems like a short time, and we were happy, but then I was adrift and alone all over again.  If anyone is punished for this, it has to be me.  I can’t bear to see anything happen to you,” she said and then looked down at the floor, apparently unable to meet the gaze of the spirits surrounding her.

The ghost in the white satin robes narrowed his eyes and his lips curled inward making a thin line of his mouth.  I thought he looked downright petulant, but I certainly wouldn’t have said so.  Maestro exchanged a look with me and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.  Was I really that transparent?Michalemas daisy card

When the black-haired ghost spoke, his voice came as a bass rumble so deep I felt it vibrate from my ears to my toes.  I had thought he’d be fierce and furious, but he spoke in a very matter of fact tone.  With a shrug he said, “I see no wrong done here tonight.”  He tilted his head, raised one eyebrow and looked down at the white robed spirit.  “Do you?”

The other specter’s mouth twisted in an unpleasant expression.  Then he rolled his eyes at the much taller spirit, spread his hands and shook his head that he did not.

“However,” continued the buckskin clad spirit with a slow smile.  “I think you could be of service this night, old friend,” he added a suggestion.

At that moment Granny Fanny stormed through the open French doors.  She was fit to be tied, and Kate Kingston was right behind her.

“What do ya’ll think you’re doing in here?  I never heard such a racket in all my life!  We could hear ya’ll all the way down at the gazebo!  Why, your ruckus scared Kate’s cat so badly, I thought we’d never catch poor Marie Antoinette to put her skin medicine on her,” Granny said without taking so much as a single breath.

Vintage Catz Bitters adKate Kingston was carrying Antoinette the Maine Coon cat.  Her arms relaxed at the shock of seeing her devastated living room and foyer, and she let the cat jump down.  Antoinette walked over to the group of ghosts and delicately sniffed their feet.  The cat looked up at the collection of spirits, gave a satisfied purr-meow, and sauntered up the stairs and out of sight.

Mrs. Kingston’s gaze fell on the ghosts; they were all powerful enough that anyone could see them unless they just chose not to be seen.  For a moment she looked at them in doe-eyed amazement.  Then she fainted dead away.

My grandmother took in the chaos around us, the furniture overturned by the blasting wind and the struggles of the three men, the shattered lamp, and my own tousled appearance.  She glared at Maestro Martino as if it was all surely his fault.

Then my grandmother saw all the other ghosts.

Granny’s mouth snapped shut with a pop.

***

Flower petals in white, pink, and yellow floated gently on a breeze that kept them aloft and scattered in the air.  The petal cloud gracefully drifted down the stone path of the terrace that began outside the library of the Kingston mansion.  The petals glowed ever so softly in the moonlight as they slowly moved among us, magically suspended in the air.Vintage girl and parrot

Notes from a flute filled the night air.  The beguiling strains of music were calming yet uplifting.  The music and the flower petals seemed to encircle our small group as we stood on the terrace.  The petals exuded a sense of positive warmth, pleasure, and togetherness to all who were present.

Cracker the parrot swooped away from her perch on a magnolia tree and zipped uphill and out of sight.  I heard her squawk, “Dainty Dish!  Attagirl!”

A moment later the beautiful parrot glided down the path at an unnaturally slow speed.  Strands of pink, yellow, and white blossoms trailed behind her as if they were extensions of her long tail.  The flowers streamed gracefully behind Cracker during her magical approach.  The parrot alighted on a blossom decorated perch beside the white robed specter.

Cowboy Caleb Colman strode slowly to stand beside them.  I thought he looked strange without his Stetson hat.  But he was a fine figure of a man — or rather ghost.  He stood tall and straight, handsome beyond anything mortal.  He still wore western clothes, but they were different from his work clothes, nicer — and they were shimmering white.

As the moon steadily crept lower in the sky, the unseen flute played a loud trill that came from the top of the hill.  All eyes turned in that direction.  Daisy appeared; a vision in glowing diaphanous white.  I thought she could have been a moon goddess as she effortlessly drifted toward us.

A light stream of smoke carried a pleasing aroma to us. I thought it was sage with other floral 1920s Bride n Groom 2scents I couldn’t identify.  Then I heard the rhythmic sound of drums, softly beating.  The tall black-haired specter suddenly appeared, standing before Caleb and Daisy.  His counterpart bowed to the couple, made a motion with his hands.  He spoke something I didn’t understand.  I supposed it was Latin.  Then he made another motion with his hands and backed away.

The tall ghost spoke words that were reverent and beautiful as he united Caleb and Daisy.  It’s just impossible for such glorious phrases to come out of my flapper mouth, so I won’t try to repeat what he said.  Just know that he spoke words that you felt with your soul as much as you understood with your mind.  His speech touched every heart.  I cried.  Granny Fanny cried.  Andy Avis cried.  Maestro Martino sniffled and then burst out blubbering and sobbing so hard that the white robed ghost had to pull him aside and console him.

Cracker flew over and perched in a spot that allowed her to face me.  I could have sworn there was a tear in the parrot’s eye too, but that wasn’t possible.  Was it?  When another tear rolled down my cheek, Cracker hopped over to my shoulder and preened a strand of my hair, trying to comfort me.  I stroked the feathers of her back and she nuzzled her head behind my ear.

The flower petals had floated among us throughout the ceremony presided over by the two high ranking spirits.  At another trill of flute music the petals began to swirl.  They gently whirled all around us, and tickled when they touched my skin.  They grew in number as they lifted above our heads, making a cloud that rose higher and higher into the sky.  Then it exploded into a twinkling starburst.1903 Girl 2 Horses postcard

A faint clip-clop caused me to turn.  Caleb’s horse, always impressive, was transformed into a shining white magnificent steed.  Tiny blue sparks lit the paving stones as he pranced toward the couple.  The horse whinnied softly and shook his silken mane.

Then the horse lowered his head and shoulders.  Caleb lifted Daisy easily onto the steed’s back and held her steady as the horse stood.  Caleb leapt onto his horse’s back in an effortless bound.  They trotted the length of the uphill path, blue sparks flying as the horse built up speed.  Then the horse made a mighty leap and they soared into the sunrise.

I gasped in amazement.  Just when I thought they were gone I heard a whinny above my head.  I looked heavenward and saw Caleb wave his white Stetson in salute.  Daisy gave a genteel wave of her hand and threw something down to me.  I reached out reflexively to catch it.  It was a bouquet of white daisies and red roses.

“Those are for Mattie if you please, Pip,” Daisy called to me.  “Tell her I’ll always remember her,” she said.  Then another bunch of flowers dropped and I had to move fast to catch them. “And these are for you.  Remember me Pip,” Daisy called.

Caleb added his voice.  “Remember us!” they said together.

1920s Bride n GroomThe supernatural glow from the two spirits increased three fold.  The white horse made an intensely bright streak as they traversed the sky, blue sparks from its silver hooves glittering the breaking dawn.

Remember them?  Of course I would remember Daisy the Dainty Dish and Caleb Colman the Cowboy.  I was awed by the perseverance, communication, and trust they had shown throughout the time I’d known them. Then I realized those were three ingredients for success or happiness, or maybe both.

The End.

***

To celebrate the conclusion of A Ghost in the Kitchen, I’m including two different Bloody Mary recipes.

Video:  Bloody Mary Cocktail Recipe from the 1920’s

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=unwhUbwJiLM

 

Recipe:  Homemade Bloody Mary

Homemade Bloody Mary

Recipe and photo credit:  Vintage Cooking.com

Ingredients

1 Tablespoon Kosher Salt

2 teaspoons celery salt

Wedge of lemon

2 Jiggers (3 ounces) best quality vodka

Generous squeeze of fresh lemon juice

Several shakes of Worcestershire sauce

3-4 drops of Tabasco sauce

1 teaspoon prepared horseradish

8 ounces tomato juice, chilled (I recommend Sacramento Gold)

¼ teaspoon fine grain sea salt

¼ tsp. celery salt

⅛ teaspoon black pepper

 

Instructions

Mix both the kosher and celery salt in a shallow flat dish.

Rub the rim of a 16-ounce glass with a wedge of lemon and dip the glass into the dish so that it clings to the rim.

Fill glass with ice.

Add vodka, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, and Tabasco sauce.

Stir in the tomato juice with a long spoon.

Add horseradish, sea salt, remaining celery salt, and pepper.

Stir again and serve this drink recipe with a wedge of lemon.

You may also add a dill pickle, olives, or a celery stalk. Serve with a beer chaser on the side, if desired.

 

Notes

Makes 1-16 ounce serving.

 ***

Skeiks and Shebas, stick around.  These interactive serials are not over and done.  During National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) I will rerun the original story, The Three Things.  Then in December we will begin another all new serial. So stay tuned!

Hugs,

teagan

Roy Rogers Trigger

Roy Rogers and Trigger

Copyright © 2014 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or from Pinterest unless stated otherwise.