SCARLET O'HARA, MARIE VON TRAPP, AND CAROL BURNETT

 What do these three women have in common? Give up? I’ll bet if you thought from now on, you wouldn’t get it. Maybe I should ask, and then see if anyone can guess the connection. No? Okay, then I’ll tell you.

All three made a dress from curtains. Why did each do the same thing?

Scarlet was first to do it in GONE WITH THE WIND (1940). What possessed her to use the green velvet curtains trimmed with gold tassels to make a stunning dress with a bustle and a hat to match? Because she had to appear well off in a time of war—The Civil War—in order to woo Rhett Butler. Rhett was the scoundrel carpetbagger from the North who cared not a whit for the Rebels, or the Yankees either, but he had all the money. And little ’ol Scarlet needed that money to save her precious Tara.

Maria was the nun-turned-nanny-turned-wife in THE SOUND OF MUSIC. In playing with the vonTrapp children, she discovered they had no proper play clothes. So, she tore down the curtains in her room and made each child a set. (I will tell you, the clothes were very tacky—the drapery material just wasn’t a good choice. But Maria made do.)

Carol Burnet, as we all remember, is one of the best comediennes of all time. Younger ones learning the craft could learn much from her. In one of her skits, she portrays Scarlett and her co-host portrayed Rhett. He stands at the bottom of the spiral staircase, and Scarlet AKA Carol, appears at the top of the steps. She wears an outfit much like the one in GONE WITH THE WIND. It’s green velvet with gold tassels—hat and all. But she did not remove the curtain rods, so that they go across her shoulders, and draped with the velvet, they look like HUGE shoulder pads. I think she trips down the stairs. Hysterical. It makes me laugh to remember the scene.

So, what do these women have in common besides clothing made of curtains?

Scarlet was manipulative, hateful, selfish, and well, let’s face it—she was a real heroine.
Maria was sweet, even-tempered, generous, creative, and okay—a real heroine.
Carol was happy, funny, cheerful, noncritical, and yes—a real heroine.
Each woman had strength and courage in her imaginary role and her real life. We should admire and respect these women. Even though most of us will never reach the high pinnacle of success we dream about, we can be a Scarlet, a Maria, or a Carol.

So, which are you?
Are you too-good-to-be-true Maria?
Are you break-the-rules-and-the-devil-take-his-due Scarlet?
Or are you go-all-out-have-fun-no-matter-what-befalls-you Carol Burnet?

Or a COMBINATION?

Now, lift your spirits, make your plans, and put your nose to the grindstone. None of these women came by their success and fortune by sitting down. And this should be a lesson for us all.

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com/
http://www.celiayeary.com/

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Rocks on the Porch

 In the late eighties, my husband and I decided to build a house on acreage we owned. First, we sold the house we’d live in for about fifteen years. Then we moved into a small house in a crowded neighborhood so we could build our house with no pressure concerning our previous residence.
The acreage we owned contained pockets of big rocks—some huge flat slabs of limestone, and many odd rocks we called cannon balls. These round rocks ranged in size from a tennis ball to a big bowling ball. All were made of red sandstone, and we thought perhaps they were geodes, but after cracking several open with a sledgehammer and finding no pretty quartz crystals, we concluded they were red sandstone through and through.

I saved three that were the most round and had little angular protrusions making them vaguely look like Sputnik. Our rental had a tiny covered front porch. Since we had the house crammed and the patio, too, I lined the three rocks along the wall of the house on the front porch. Big one, medium-sized one, and smaller one.

One day when I arrived home after a long day of teaching, the doorbell rang. There stood two young men, all cool and cocky, selling some kinds of books. I said no, I don’t believe I need any books. Oh, please, they said, you’ve got to let us give our pitch—we get points for that. How long is the pitch? I asked. About ten minutes. No, I said, I just don’t have the time, and besides I’d be wasting your time, because I’m not going to buy any books.

They became a little angry, and one said I should at least support them by listening, because here they were working like crazy, and I sat in my air-conditioned house. By then I had become slightly mad, so I excused myself. Have a good day, I said, and closed the door. One of them kicked the door. I let it go and went back to my work.

In an hour, my husband came home through the front door because the garage was stacked wall-to-wall and to the ceiling with appliances and boxes.

Honey, he said, your big rock is missing. What?? Oh, I was so mad, and explained it had to be those boys who took it. Probably they smashed it somewhere. I was really angry at those rude young men.

About that time, the phone rang. A young mother I knew lived three doors down, and she said, Celia, I need your help. Will you walk down here? Since you’re a science teacher, you will know what to do. Hurry, she said, I’m a little scared.

What is it? I asked. She said, I think it’s a bomb that dropped from the sky, maybe from space. It has things protruding from it and it’s making a hissing sound, like gas or something escaping. And it must have fallen from a long distance because it made a depression in my yard. Come quick and tell me what to do.

My husband walked with me, and both of us were a little unnerved. Since I am skeptical about almost everything, I wondered, what is it really? At the edge of her yard, she called from the porch to walk around that area by the sidewalk. I looked down, saw the depression, and in it was my biggest round rock. And yes, let me tell you, I heard a hissing sound.

I wanted to laugh, but the hissing sound bothered me. My husband squatted and rolled the rock to the side a little. Under there was the round metal cover over the water main. And yes, it was making a little noise like s-s-s-s-s-s-s.

I called to her. It’s safe to come over here. There’s no danger at all. When she stood beside us, I said, that’s just a rock. In fact, it’s my rock.

She frowned and said, I don’t believe you. You’re just saying it’s your rock. It is, I declared, and I proceeded to tell her my story about the young men. Soon the three of us were laughing our heads off, and she said oh, please don’t tell anyone about this. I told her, Honey, I have to. It’s too good to keep secret.

She said you’re going to tell my mother, aren’t you? (Her mother and I are good friends.) You know I will! I can’t keep it to myself! She laughed some more, and we went home with my rock.

When I see this young woman at her work place, she starts laughing. We both remember the funny story, and she always says, you were so sweet not to call me stupid.

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com/
http://www.celiayeary.com/

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Texas Promise-eBook-Desert Breeze Publishing
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Meet Author Caroline Clemmons

I met Caroline on-line when I won a copy of TWRP’s civil war anthology, Northern Roses and Southern Belles. She wrote a short story titled “Long Way Home,” and I loved it so much I e-mailed her and told her. That message turned into an enjoyable friendship, as well as, a professional one. Since I know and admire her writing, I invited her to be my guest. My first question concerned her history in writing, her first published novel, and if she still loved the book.

She answered, “I began writing about 1990 to 1992. My first published novel was a contemporary, BE MY GUEST, published in 1998 by Kensington for their ill-fated Precious Gems line. I hate that book for several reasons, but am thankful it made me a published author and a member of RWA PAN. It’s sold in numerous foreign countries and been good to me financially.”

I guess I understand, but if a book was good for me financially, I might conjure up a little love! But let’s continue. There’s a commercial on TV that sings, “And that’s what I like about Tex…as!” If someone wrote a song about you with that same title, what three things would we like about Caroline Clemmons? Come on now; don’t be shy.

 “Only three when there is so much of me to love? What can I say? I’m on a diet. [1] My writing, I hope! [2] My sense of humor. [3] That I’m friendly.”

I love your answers! Now, just for fun, I like to check my (theoretical) biorhythms occasionally on a little internet chart. In percentages, it measures my physical, emotional, and intellectual levels for that day. In your life, on an average day, which of the three would be the highest overall and which would be your lowest?

“Lawsy, I hope you’re measuring after ten in the morning! Oh, I don't mean I sleep until ten. I get up early and can even check email, drive to a meeting, do laundry, etc., but I'm pretty much on autopilot. At ten o'clock the other part of my brain wakes up--sproing!--and I'm a person. Whoever recognized biorhythms was a genius. I often listen to chakra tapes while I write, so I hope my chakras are aligned, at least. I am so not a morning person. My physical peak is from about ten in the morning until noon, and sometimes into early afternoon until about three. My intellectual peak is from eight in the evening until midnight. My emotional peak—do I have one of those? Hmm, it’s possible it’s aligned to my physical peak. Certainly, I’m more optimistic at that time.”

It seems you understand yourself pretty well, and I should think that would be useful for all authors. Speaking of authors, they fall into one of two categories: risk-takers or easy-does it. Which are you? Can you explain?

“I suspect I’m an easy-does-it. Could be it depends on what mood I’m in at the instant an idea occurs to me. Not that I’m moody. No, who said I was?”

Don’t worry. I know you’re an even-tempered, lovely lady. So tell me, what are three best things that have happened to you recently?

“My family is safe and supportive. My thyroid cancer is—hopefully—gone. Two of my books were published this year.”

And those would make anyone happy. I had no idea you had a health problem, but then you don’t talk about yourself like I do! Let’s move on to your newest release, The Texan’s Irish Bride, newly released by The Wild Rose Press. Why did you choose an Irish bride? What do you know of the Irish in Texas in the nineteenth century?

“I love Ireland! Not that I’ve lived there, but my husband and I have traveled there twice. We would both be ready in under an hour if someone offered us a return trip. While we were driving from one point to another, our wonderful tour guide commented on the landscape and its history. So many things fascinated me, like the penny walls, the stone fences, the intense green of the landscape, and…well, everything Irish.


Many Irish fought in the battle with Mexico for Texas Independence. My family is mostly of Scot-Irish ancestry, so I identified with this country. They are so friendly to Americans because so many of us are of Irish ancestry. The immigration to Texas began in the late 18th century, but accelerated in the 19th century with the Potato Famine. We have no idea how hard life was there even before the famine. But during the famine, hundreds of thousands of poor literally starved to death while the English were eating well. I can say this since I also have English ancestors—the English wouldn’t allow Irish children to attend schools, hence the “hedge row” schools for Irish children to learn to read and write. If caught, though, the teacher and the parents would be jailed for breaking the law. So, many illiterate Irish made their way to America and drifted to Texas. Many settled here.

In the book, most of the Irish are Irish Travelers, also known as tinkers. They aren’t gypsies because they are of pure Irish lineage, but they are often confused with gypsies due to the wagons in which they traveled. The heroine and her family are not Irish Travelers, but they are traveling with a band of them. When turned off their land in Ireland, the heroine and her O’Neill family were forced to leave with only what they could carry. The Travelers took them in and they made their way to America with the lure of free land. How they arrived and how they traveled to Texas is something you’ll have to learn by reading the book. Aren’t I devious, though?”

Well, yes, but I love your honestly! I learned facts I never knew, and I see why you’re so fascinated with the Irish. Visiting Ireland is on my Bucket List, by the way. And guess what, Caroline? I just read a review for The Texan’s Irish Bride from The Romance Studio, and she gave this novel Five Hearts! And…a Top Pick from Night Owl Reviews. Isn’t that exciting? I know it a great story, and you know how I feel about the cover—it’s gorgeous.

One more question: In a one-sentence blurb, tell us about The Texan’s Irish Bride.

“Texas rancher is forced to wed an Irish woman and inherits her entire family.”

Excellent. Now, do you have a blurb for us?
“Cenora Rose O’Neill knows her father somehow arranged the trap for Dallas McClintock, but she agrees to wed handsome stranger. She’d do anything to protect her family, and she wants to save herself from the bully Tom Williams. A fine settled man like Dallas will rid himself of her soon enough, but at least she and her family will be safely away from Tom Williams.
Texas rancher Dallas McClintock has no plans to wed for several years. Right now, he’s trying to establish himself as a successful horse breeder. Severely wounded rescuing Cenora from kidnappers, Dallas is taken to her family’s wagon to be tended. He is trapped into marrying Cenora, but he is not a man who goes back on his word. His wife has a silly superstition for everything, but passion-filled nights with her make up for everything. Ah, but what is he to do with a wife and her wild Irish family?”

How about an excerpt, too?
“Dallas raised his gaze where Aoife directed. Four girls danced, but only one drew his attention. Shoulders straight and feet flying, Cenora met his glance, then broke away from the other dancers to perform only a few yards from him.
Catcalls sounded nearby. She ignored them but gave a toss of her head. Her hair had come unbound, and her act sent her fiery hair awhirl. Light from the blazing campfire cast an aura-like radiance around her. Lantern glow overhead reflected her eyes sparked with merriment, challenge, and something mysterious he couldn’t name.
No longer the delicate china doll, her wild beauty called to him, mesmerized him. He visualized her brilliant tresses spread across a pillow, her milky skin bared only for him. His body responded, and savage desire shot through him. Surprised at the depth of his reaction, he wondered if her performance in bed would parallel the unbridled nature of her dance.
Good Lord, could this glorious woman truly be his wife? And if so, heaven help him, what on earth was he to do with her?”

Buy link is www.thewildrosepress/caroline-clemmons-m-638.html
Website: http://www.carolineclemmons.com/  

Caroline, thanks for remembering the Buy Link and your website. I appreciate your visit this morning, and I wish you much success with this wonderful story. I know it will do well.

“Celia, thank you so much for having me as your guest today. I’ve really enjoyed the visit.”

Thank you again, and readers, thank you for visiting, and please leave a message for Caroline. She loves to visit!

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
http://www.celiayeary.blogspot.com/
http://www.celiayeary.com/
New Releases
Texas Promise-eBook-Desert Breeze Publishing
Making the Turn-print & eBook-Wings ePress