The Rook, by Steven James

Posted on December 30, 2016 by Jan C. Johnson

Dear Reader,
In a number of earlier posts, called “Book Reviews,” I told you about books I’d read. But, as has recently come to my attention, I’m not a book critic. I never reviewed a book I didn’t like. Why slam another author? Besides, calling my posts “reviews” sounds a little pretentious, like I’m some kind of expert.

Hah. I just want to share, friend to friend, books that I think you’d enjoy.

So, I’m taking my proverbial nose out of the air and will think of these posts as book recommendations. You can find them under the Category “Great Weekend Reads!” in the sidebar.

With that in mind, here’s my latest…

james-the-rookI picked up this book because I’d registered for a novel writers’ workshop led by Steven James, and wanted to make sure he knew what he was talking about. I mean, he’s a national bestselling author and all, but what kind of writer was he?

Wowzer.

James’s suspense thriller opens with a creepy scene, told from a seriously creepy character’s point of view. Soft-hearted sap that I am, I almost didn’t read any further, but I figured I’d better know what I was getting into. At least I’d give James a chance to introduce me to the protagonist.

That protagonist, Special Agent Patrick Bowers, totally drew me in. His off-the-wall ways of investigating bizarre, seemingly unrelated incidents led to a growing suspicion that Seriously Creepy Character was connected to something waaaay bigger than his own creepiness.

A recent widower, Bowers’ relationship with his stepdaughter, Tessa, is hampered by grief and insecurity on both their parts. His drive to parent and protect Tessa gives the story heart, even as the intense action and jaw-dropping twists kept my own heart pounding.

One thing I especially like is that this book, the second in a series, works perfectly well as a standalone story. James doesn’t load it down with backstory, just a few hints here and there that Bowers has some history with the antagonist.

If you like intense tales of truly decent good guys fighting truly evil bad guys, complete with stunning endings, then read The Rook. I think you’ll agree that this story qualifies for my “Great Weekend Reads” list.

Better yet, read the whole series. I plan to.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find a copy of Book 1, The Pawn.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

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Holiday Fiasco – I mean, FEAST.

Posted on December 28, 2016 by Jan C. Johnson

What I’d like to know is, why don’t we eat normal food for Thanksgiving? Like lasagna or steak. Or at least, if we’re going to eat poultry, start with a bird that isn’t five times the size we usually cook, not to mention being frozen solid.

I mean, how do you know the time frame for thawing something that barely fits in the fridge?

This year, I was to fix Thanksgiving dinner for just three of us at our house. Then on Friday we’d head to Baytown for the monster family dinner. Two celebrations, two potluck dinners. Easy, right?

Before the holiday, I did a little weightlifting shopping in the grocery store’s bin of frozen turkeys.

Lo and behold, there was one eleven-pounder in the bin. Thanksgiving was a whole week away, but I figured I’d better buy this specimen while I had the chance. Modest-sized turkeys disappear pretty fast. Apparently everyone else has also realized that an average family can’t eat their way through a bird the size of a footlocker before bad things start happening to the leftovers.

So I brought the turkey home and hoisted it into the fridge. I hoped it wouldn’t thaw too soon and spoil. Naaah, it was rock hard.

The day before Thanksgiving, it was time to make the do-ahead dishes. Since pies travel well, I’d volunteered to bake a couple of pumpkin pies for the Baytown feast. And one for us at home, while I was at it. I thawed out some homemade pie pastry, rolled out the three shells, and got to work on the filling.

Open three cans of pumpkin and plop contents into large bowl. Add spices…

Since pumpkin filling historically doesn’t set very solidly, instead of tripling the recipe exactly, I reduced the amount of milk and added an extra egg.

Congratulating myself on once again using all that math, I poured filling into shells. Some got on my finger after the first two, so I licked it off.

It didn’t taste right.

Uh-oh. I’d forgotten the sugar!

There was nothing for it but to pour the filling back into the bowl and add three pies’ worth of sugar. During my measuring and calculating, however, the pastry dough had softened quite a bit. Tilting one pie plate over the bowl, I watched as the filling poured out. The shell tried to follow, making it about three inches past the rim before I caught it and smooshed it back into place.

Repeat with second pie. Add sugar to bowl. Re-fill shells, add foil strips to keep edges from burning, and bake.

While the [lumpy] pies were baking, I started lunch. Reaching into the produce drawer for a half lemon I’d bagged, I was annoyed to feel the bag was all wet. Had water spilled into the drawer?

I wish.

The bag was drenched with blood.

Ponders the unlikelihood of getting blood from a turnip, never mind a lemon.

Light dawns. “The turkey!”

Sure enough, ol’ Tom had defrosted and was leaking all over everything.

I always start out so optimistic…


Put platter under turkey. Remove all produce from fridge and wash it thoroughly. Finally eat lunch.

Back to the pies. You know those foil strips? The filling baked itself onto them so when I removed the foil, a good-sized chunk of pumpkin-y crust came off with it.

But that filling was set, people!

The day wasn’t a total loss, since I discovered the fridge’s glass shelves can be removed for cleaning. The interior now sparkles.

And for the Christmas feast in Baytown?

I took a veggie tray.

How about you? Any kitchen mishaps you’d care to confess? Tell me about it in the “Leave a Reply” box below!

Thanks for reading,
Jan

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Building Excitement

Posted on October 15, 2016 by Jan C. Johnson

Yours truly, the Queen of Sidetracked-ness, has reached unprecedented heights of distraction.

We’re having a new house built, and I’m pretty dang excited about it.

Not that we’re moving very far—only about four miles, in fact—but we needed a different configuration of rooms, and a quicker commute for Brent. The new place has easy access to the highway, in contrast with our current plight of having to trundle down narrow two-lane roads, often stuck behind poky vehicles like gravel haulers or Cadillacs.

Anyway, I’ve had the fun-but-dizzying job of selecting everything from paint colors and flooring to faucets and light fixtures, plus hardware right down to the drawer pulls. Seeing the interior come together has me in extreme states of everything from bliss (“I knew that chandelier would be perfect!”) to despair (“How did I fail to see that on the plan? We’ll have to move it!”)

Our wonderful builder, however, is going all out to make our dream home perfect.

I’m not at liberty to give you a full tour, since I’m holding out for my sweet mother-in-love to see everything in person. But I can’t resist showing a few “teaser” pictures.

As you can see, everything is coming together. Over the next few weeks we will move furniture and get set up in the new place. Friends are always welcome.

Thanks for reading!
Jan

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Meanwhile, in my “Other” World…

Posted on June 18, 2016 by Jan C. Johnson

The day before Father’s Day, Mrs. Tweedy and I drove to Italy, Texas to participate in the “Tour d’Italia” bike ride as usual. The organizers offer five different routes: You can choose 12, 30, 42, 50, or 63 miles.
I’d been training my head off for two months, burning thousands of extra calories and even letting bicycling cut into my writing time, shooting for the 63-mile (100 KM) distance.

As you might expect if you’re familiar with me and my “Thoughts on Two Wheels” stories, things didn’t go exactly as planned…

June 18, 2016

Tour d’Italia on my list,
A favorite ride I seldom miss.
Carbo-loading, stretching joints,
Work for B&B Team points.

Pinstripes worn to represent.
Fifty miles, and now I’m spent.
Planned to do the hundred K,
Many setbacks in the way.

Couldn’t find my lineup spot,
Sun’s ferocious. Getting hot.
Water bottles left behind!
Back to fetch them—what a grind.

Heart rate climbs, it seems too high,
Rest stops beckon, “Don’t pass by.”
Fifty miles in broiling sun.
Stick a fork in me—
I’m done.

TDI She's done

Thanks for reading!
Tailwinds,
Jan

Posted in The Poetic Side, Thoughts on Two Wheels | 6 Comments

A Long Moment of Silence

Posted on June 13, 2016 by Jan C. Johnson

My mother died in January and I haven’t said a word about it online until now, more than five months later.

Why the long silence?

First, I didn’t want to post anything until the relatives were notified. After that was done, I still hesitated. I didn’t know what to say. (Public announcements like that aren’t really necessary, anyway… right?)

But I think the main reason for my silence is that I didn’t want sympathy. Didn’t think I deserved any, or needed it.

Doll, 1940s

I’d been handling my mother’s business affairs and seeing to her care, but from a distance. First, visiting her at a senior-living apartment two hours away, and later moving her to an assisted-living facility near my home. In November, she spent a few days in the hospital and then had to rehab in a nursing home before she could return to assisted living.

Mom was 92, wasn’t getting any stronger, and didn’t care to. She felt like she had lived quite long enough. Figuratively speaking, she had spent the past four years drumming her fingers and waiting to die.

Mom’s last day was a good one. I had a pleasant visit with her that morning and left when lunch was served, promising to come back in two days. But late that night I got The Call.

So sudden, and yet, in a way, so timely.

I won’t lie — the role reversal, having to “parent” my own parent? It made for a delicate dance, balancing care and advocacy with deference and respect. Second-guessing myself on a regular basis… it stressed me out at times.

Now that Mom was gone, my sorrow was mixed with shock. But also with relief, for both her and myself. The net effect on me was a sort of blank. As if my mom’s death barely made a blip in my life.

I thought of a long-distance friend who had lost her mother to Alzheimer’s more than a year before mine died. In her own home, my friend had cared for her mom through the confusion, fear, and mood swings. Talk about stress and responsibility! After her mom died, my friend was inconsolable. She mourned openly on Facebook. Loved ones near and far were able to rally around her with sympathy and prayers and concern. The support must have been so healing for her, yet I didn’t reach out as she did.

Frankly, the contrast between me and my bereaved friend threatened to send me on a “Worst-Daughter-Ever” Guilt Trip.

Then, two weekends ago, Brent and I went with his mother to the National Cemetery where my father-in-law is buried. Not until I stood by his grave did I start feeling the weight of loss. Dad Johnson. My own Dad. My sister.

And my mom.

Well, I’m finally sitting down to write this post because now I know what I want to tell you.

I’m learning first-hand what I’ve heard for years: Grief is not the same for any two bereaved persons. Or even for the same person through any two seasons of loss. How you feel is how you feel. There is no right or wrong.

I’ve learned that I was grieving all along… I just didn’t feel as if I was.

If you’ve lost a loved one, be kind to yourself. Ditch any expectations, and, if you want help from someone, please ask. People do care.

Thanks for reading,
Jan

PS: This past year epitomizes the kind of experiences that can make me more compassionate. The kind I meant when I wrote in 2012 about comforting others. For more, click over to “With Those Who Weep.“

Posted in Grief Anticipated, I Remember When... (my OWN stories) | 9 Comments

Did Somebody Say “Update?”

Posted on January 22, 2016 by Jan C. Johnson

True confession: Around September 20, I finished the first draft of Book 1 in my humor series. Actually typed “THE END” and everything. In so doing, I beat my stated goal by more than two months.

Did I report to you as promised?

No, I did not.

Sorry about that. Lots of life got in the way, as it does for everyone, though few allow themselves to get as badly sidetracked as Yours Truly.

The new year arrived, and I took steps to make a fresh start. Set some office hours. Streamlined my outside schedule. Even cleared off my desk! No, really, I did. See?

Take my word for it... this is a serious improvement.

Take my word for it… this is a serious improvement.

I also started writing this post… back on January 2. The more astute among you will note that the 2nd was, like, three weeks ago. What have I been doing in the meantime? Well, in a nutshell I’d say I’ve been digging out from under a rapid-fire series of major upheavals. I’ll explain more next time.

Meanwhile… I have writing goals, among others, for this year. I won’t bore you with them, but one goal is to stay in touch with you here. I appreciate the time you give my posts, and hope I brighten your day or give you a little encouragement in return.

Happy Nearly-New Year!

Thanks for reading,
Jan

Posted in Uncategorized | 7 Comments