Mama Bear Gets Tough with her Baby

A big Thank You to my Aunt Irene for sending this video--and you have to love this Mama Bear, who is determined to get her mischievous baby out of that tree!  I could identify with her.

Enjoy!

And P.S.  Happy Birthday to my sister Dana!

So I'm still on a baking kick . . .

Cade's Challah

. . . and bread is my latest fixation.  Ciabatta . . . focaccia . . . challah . . . brioche . . . yum!  I've been making bread like a fiend, and then sending loaves off to neighbors and friends.

Yesterday I was making Challah and nearly burned out my Kitchenaid mixer, so I had to spend half the day researching the latest models so I can find something that's up to the task of bread-making.  Anyway, after I braided two loaves, I thought about the boys across the street (ages 10 and 8, I think) who, bless their hearts, like my bread.  So I called their mother and asked if they wanted to come over after school and braid their own loaves.

Long story short, they did.  They braided their own loaves, took them home to let them rise and bake, and then sent me pictures.  :-)

Chance's Challah

Ciabatta

Click/zoom to see the neighborhood sentry

Ciabatta dough getting ready to run away

The Bread Factory 

The other day I made a ciabatta dough, plopped it in the biggest bowl I had, and went off to take a shower. By the time I came back, it was climbing out of the bowl.  So from now on, I think I'm just going to leave the dough on the counter and cover it with damp (clean) dish towels.  :-)  That works better.   (The ciabatta photo is the one that looks like plaster footprints.) :-)

Enjoy!  And I hope you can take some time out to bake something today. It's therapeutic!

P.S.  And yes, I'm sure my next book will feature a bakery!

~~Angie

Feeling stressed? I've got just the thing.

I hope none of you were hurt or damaged by Hurricane Irene.  Any damage reports?  It completely passed over our western coast of Florida, so though we did have a small storm Sunday morning, it was nothing compared to the hurricane.

Many thanks to my pal Suzie T who sent this video to me . . . ah. Close your eyes, still your mind, and listen. You'll want to listen over and over again.

Peace to you. Christ's peace to you today.

~~Angie

Yes, I've become one of those proud grandmothers . . .

Contest details

What happens when animals eat fermented fruit? You guessed it!

They get drunk. Dignified, aren't they?

~~Angie

Sing . . . Even when No One is Looking :-)

My mom sent me this video clip and I love it.  Not sure where it's from, but I sure wish my dogs could/would do this.

Wonder what they do when I'm not home?

~~Angie

Think your town's crosswalks are bad?

It's like Frogger in real life. Our county is notorious for being unfriendly to pedestrians, but this city (I believe it's somewhere in Iran) is far worse. Can you imagine crossing the street here?

Oy.

~Angie

I'm baaaaack!

I've been taking a sort of sabbatical from blogging--I read an author who suggested blogging less often with better stuff, and I thought he made sense.  But I found myself feeling disconnected from everything and every one, and I didn't like feeling that way.  So--for better or worse, for better stuff and worse, I'm back.  :-)   I may not post every day, but I'm going to be a lot more regular.

And what has filled my days this summer?  The Book in progress, of course.  And three other B's:  baking, baseball, and the baby!

I've already mentioned that my hubby and I discovered that we are grandparents.  My daughter is good about sending us photos, brief video clips, and updates on the beautiful baby's progress, so we've been enjoying those.  (That's our darling in the photo).  We are living several hours away, but we do plan to take many trips so the Adored One can know us and love us as much as we love her.

Baseball:  a friend of ours plays for the Rays, so we've gone a little over the top with baseball this year.  We go to as many games as we can, and when we can't go, we watch on TV.  In supporting our friend, we've grown to feel like we know many of the players, so we root for all of them.  Yeah, we wear jerseys and I carry a baseball app on my iPad so I can follow the games even when I'm traveling.  It's crazy, I tell you.  But fun.

Baking:  It began with cupcakes, but of course you know about that.  I then moved into cakes, then into bundts in particular (what a collection of fun pans I've gathered!), then into bars.  Now I'm into bread.  I took a bread baking class last weekend, so now I know all about bigas, and poolishes, and rustic breads and the beauty of a nice brioche . . . ah!   Fun, fun, and my neighbors seem to love it when I trot over with something baked in my hands.

I think I know why I like baking as opposed to cooking:  cooking is done to taste, but baking is an exact science, and I've always had an affinity for science.  :-)   Wish you could taste my crusty raisin-pecan bread . . .

The book in progress:  I thought I was done with FIVE MILES SOUTH OF PECULIAR, so I let my agent read it . . . and her team made several good suggestions.  So I'm not done, and am doing two more drafts.  Don't ask my total--I've lost count.  ;-)

Have a great day!  I'll be back soon!

~~Angie

The Writer's Pride

Did I mention that I have a granddaughter?

The world turned upside-down a few weeks ago when hubby and I learned that we have a beautiful granddaughter.  We promptly went  to see her, and we're thrilled to be able to hold and love this little girl.

Yes, I now carry a "Grandma's brag book" in my purse, though I prefer the name Nana, thank you very much.

But as one who works with words, I don't think the word "proud" applies here--after all, I did nothing to produce this little miracle. What would be more accurate is to say I'm simply delighted with her and by her.

(And, BTW, for privacy reasons, I never refer to my family by name on this  blog. You understand.)

Speaking of pride:

I was reading good ol’ C.S. Lewis a few years ago, namely MERE CHRISTIANITY's chapter on “the great sin.” You guessed it—pride. Lewis points out that most human vices come from “our animal nature,” but pride doesn’t come through an animal nature, but from Hell itself. (Ever seen an animal compare itself to another?)

Lewis says that pride is essentially competitive. The fault doesn’t lie in recognizing our abilities, it lies in comparing our abilities to others’. Pride doesn’t want us to say we’re good writers or have beautiful grandchildren, it wants to make us think we’re better and our grandchildren are prettier than everyone else's.

Lewis says, “If everyone became equally rich, or clever, or good-looking there would be nothing to be proud about. It is the comparison that makes you proud: the pleasure of being above the rest. Once the element of competition has gone, pride has gone.”

That’s why I remind myself that in God’s ultimate reality, the earthly externals don't matter—what matters is if we were obedient to God’s call, if we were good stewards with the talents and abilities we were given, and if we obeyed the prompting of the Spirit.  And if, of course, we delight in others' grandchildren as we delight in our own. :-)

If we do that, and if we honor our brothers and sisters as we would honor ourselves, we ARE equally obedient in God’s sight. Competition disappears, pride dies.

Pride, Lewis says, is spiritual cancer—it eats up the very possibility of love, or contentment, or even common sense. He points out that pleasure in being praised is not Pride. If someone says, “Well done,” and you’re pleased, that’s okay. The trouble begins when you move from thinking, ‘I have pleased him, all is well’ to “What a fine person I must be to have done it.’

Lewis: “The more you delight in yourself and the less you delight in the praise, the worse you are becoming.

Another thing I found interesting: Pride’s opposite is humility, but don’t think the most humble person is the one who hangs his head and goes around moaning about how untalented he is. He has taken the pendulum of pride in the opposite direction and is still self-centered. Lewis says that if you meet a truly humble person, “probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him.”

Not like the grandparent who said, “Forgive me, I’ve talked about my grandchildren enough. Tell me—what do YOU think of my little darlings?”

LOL. May God help me to remember I am only ONE in a sea of redeemed believers in Christ. One happy grandmother.  One hard-working writer. May he help me to be faithful to my calling, and supportive of everyone else’s.

Until next time,

Angie

Guess I'm Just Not a Classy Author

Do you know the difference between “classy” authors and working writers?

Classy authors never show their toes in public. Writers go barefoot as often as they can.

Classy authors are always dressed up. Writers don’t comb their hair before lunch and wear sweat suits while they’re working if no one is coming over. Because I live in Florida, I’m usually in shorts with bare feet.

Classy authors never yell. Writers get excited and scream when their kids are pounding on the door, the printer won’t print, or the power goes off unexpectedly. We used to live in a rural area where our power transformers were mounted atop high telephone poles. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been hard at work, heard a large kaboom, and stepped outside to discover that a squirrel had committed suicide on my telephone pole. Being a dedicated female writer, naturally I went back into the house, called Florida Power, and went shopping.

Classy Christian authors only read newspapers, the Bible, and My Utmost for His Highest. Writers read those things, too. But we also read the comics first thing in the morning and wistfully peek at Best Seller lists. We read other authors and gleefully note grammatical errors in the margins.

Classy authors do not eat except at banquets where they’re always the speaker and guest of honor. Writers snack all the time and consequently gain two pounds per book—unless they learn to chew sugarless gum instead.

Classy authors have housekeepers who cook for their families. Writers make tons of spaghetti and memorize the phone number for any pizza man who’ll deliver. I’m happy to report that the Schwan man and I are now on a first name basis.

In 1983, when I started writing, I wanted to be a classy author. I’d dream about people standing in three-mile lines for my book signings and people stopping me on the street and saying, “Aren’t you--”

But five years later, I actually wrote a book that a publisher wanted to buy. And the night after I got “the Call,” I lay awake thinking that the time had come to get serious, people were actually going to read what I wrote. And it might change their lives the way some books have changed mine. (After all, I learned how to flirt by reading Gone with The Wind.) And that God had just given me an awesome responsibility. . .

A few summers ago I went with my husband’s youth group to a camp where they have horseback riding. I mounted my hot, sweaty mare and leaned forward to brush the horseflies from her face. “What’s this horse’s name?” I asked the trail guide.

“Classy,” he said.

I grinned. I knew that was as close to classy as I would ever be.

Tee hee.  Of course the above mini-speech is all in fun; I actually know many classy authors who happen to also be Real People. So that's what I try to be. Real. Honest. Transparent. In my writing work and in my life.

Because it's really the best way to be.

~~Angie
http://www.angelahuntbooks.com

Wildlife photography

Those of you who enjoy wildlife photography should enjoy this short talk by a National Geographic photographer. Great pictures, too!

Sorry for the long time between posts--I've been visiting my new granddaughter!  She's adorable!

~~Angie

Dear Photograph

My friend Deb Raney sent me a link to this site--dear photograph.com.    As you'll see from visiting the site, it's a collection of old photos and present places, along with a note from the sender to the photograph. Some of these will make you smile, others will make you teary-eyed.  But definitely worth a visit, and who knows?  You might have a photo and place you need to revisit, too.

P.S.  Taking a picture of a picture is much harder than it looks!

Enjoy!

~~Angie

A Freaky Fourth--Special Alert

Charley, our 200-pound oldest mastiff, doesn't like thunderstorms or fireworks.  In fact, the older he gets, the less he likes those things.

So on July fourth, my husband and I took the dogs into the bedroom, closed the blinds, and turned up the TV loud.  We tried to act as though nothing were out of the ordinary (and missed a lot of fireworks) so our dogs would stay calm.  This approach worked pretty well until it was time to turn off the TV and go to sleep.

I had hoped most of the noise would be finished by eleven, but a few stubborn merry-makers kept the firecrackers going--some right behind our house.  Charley did what he always does when he's frightened--he threw himself on the bed, but he's only able to throw the top HALF of himself onto the bed.  When this happens, I always wrap him in a blanket to make him feel secure (see photo).

At about 11:30, though, my hubby pulled Charley off the bed and we went to sleep.  Charley stuck his head under the bed and everything seemed okay.

Now you have to understand something for the rest of this story to make sense. Our bed is one of those very heavy (I'm talking more than 500 pounds, certainly) foam mattress sets, the kind that last forever and weigh a ton.   Plus, it's very tall, even though there are only about ten inches of empty space between the floor and the edge of the bed frame.

So all is well, but I wake up around 2:30 a.m.  I hear odd scratching sounds, and it sounds like one of the dogs are under the bed.  I can't see a thing, but I don't want the poor dog to panic, so I turn on a light and wake up my hubby.

Uh oh.  We see that Charley is under the bed, but only his front half is really beneath the bed frame.  His back legs and rear end are sticking out.  So I try to grab him around his middle and slide him out--no way.  He's too heavy, too wedged, and I can't budge him.

So hubby gets up and tries to help me.  We can't move the dog.  We try to lift the bed, but it's amazingly heavy.  With one of us lifting and one of us pulling the dog, we seem to only wedge him in further, and now I can see that the bed frame is actually pushing into the dog.  I begin to worry about internal injuries and wonder if dogs can get bruises.

Finally the adrenaline kicks in.  Hubster lifts the bed in a superhuman effort, I pull on the dog, and Charley is free!  He's stunned and still frightened, so I grab his security blanket (yes, he has one), and call him over to it.   Within minutes, he's shaking the blankey and getting into his regular bed.

Hubby is moaning and groaning about his back, and my own back feels a little worse for wear.  But we've saved the dog.

And next year, I'm stuffing all my quilts and blankets under the bed to fill that empty space. I don't want to go through this again.

~~Angie

Purple Rain . . .

It's July (can you believe it?) And it's time to focus on crepe myrtles. If you're not from the south, they are decidious trees that have delicate lacy blossoms that furl on the end of each branch like an artist's fluffy paint brush. They come in many colors, but the two at the front of my house are purple--lavender, to be exact.

After the tree puts forth its blossoms, the purple flower falls off, leaving a seed pod that goes from green to dark brown before dropping its seeds . What some people don't know is that if you snip the seed pod off right after flowering, the branch will hurry to send forth another shoot with another plume of flowers. As soon as my trees begin to flower in May, I'm out there snipping seed pods, and I get flowers and more flowers and more flowers . . .

And do you know why I love them? Not only because a flowering tree is prettier than a green one, but because you can stand beneath a crepe myrtle, grab a hold of a branch, shake gently, and find yourself in a glorious downfall of purple rain.

A few years ago, the little boy who lives across the street came over and I let our trees "rain" on him.
My kids are too old for purple rain, but I'm not. Here's hoping that you'll find some time to enjoy something as lovely as a crepe myrtle this week.

~~Angie

Patriotic Quiz in honor of July 4th

And a glorious July 4th to you!  I'll be working, but maybe we can take some time to throw something on the grill.

Take this quiz to see how much you really know about the government of our country!  I got 25 right, but I think I got cocky and overconfident at the end . . .

How did you do?

~~Angie

Dog: Please throw my stick? Pretty please?

You dog lovers will adore this--an otherwise brilliant border collie type tries to get a stranger to throw his stick so the dog can fetch it.  So sweet!

A young man and his Shadow . . .

Last weekend--or was it weekend before last?--I took my son to the SPCA to look for a dog.  I had long been of the opinion that a dog would help our son feel less lonely, as he lives alone.  We looked at rambunctious puppies, assorted mixed breeds, and some middle-aged dogs, and then the nice volunteer told us about a ten-year-old dog named Shadow.  "He's very sweet," she said, "and he just prances around and is adorable. But he's been at an adoption fair all day and is probably very tired."

She took us to Shadow's cage, and the poor dog was lying down--he looked like a furry black bathroom rug.  Plus, I wasn't sure ten years old was a good age for an adoptive dog, so I walked off to look for something younger.   But when I checked on my son again, he was still at the door to Shadow's kennel.  "I think I like this dog," he said, pointing to the immobile mass inside.

Who was I to argue?  So the lady brought Shadow out, and we took him outside.  The dog is a hoot, very sweet, and he was very shaggy.  A little thin, but he seemed in good health otherwise.  So we brought him home.  While I was out of town, my son took the dog to the vet for a checkup and got the fuzzy dog a nice summer haircut.

So--meet my new granddog!  He's hilarious, and we're happy to welcome him to the family.  He lives with our son, not with us, but I'm happy to have him visit every once in a while.

P.S.  If you're looking for a pet, please consider your local animal shelter or Humane Society first.  Those ten-year-old dogs need homes, too, and often their laid back dispositions are just what a family needs.


~~Angie

Dog Sings on Key . . . Better than some People Do!

I love this!  If the video and audio are to be trusted, this Husky sings--and perfectly on key!  Then again, why wouldn't she?

Enjoy!

Inception as a Wedding?

Okay, lately I've seen some videos of over the top weddings. Or maybe I should say I've seen over-the-top videos of weddings.  Certainly, the latter description fits this one.  Settle back with a cup of coffee because it'll take five minutes to watch this vid:

Cat and Dolphin and home again

I'm home, after nearly two full weeks of traveling!  Had a wonderful week in Colorado Springs with the crew at Glen Eyrie (you ought to come next year!), plus had a great time with my Texas friends down in Canyon/Amarillo at the West Texas A&M University's "Writer's Academy" AND the great folks at the Panhandle Professional Writers organization. Whew!

PLUS, while I was away I received life-changing news AND kept working on the WIP (I don't usually work when I travel. I may never do it again. Keeps me too busy to enjoy the sights and the people! )  :-)

So for today, as I clear off my desk and jump back into the Real World, enjoy this video that proves that animals are fascinated with one another!

~~Angie