Karen Ranney's Blog

I’m an ex-cigarette smoker. I haven’t had a cigarette since 1993, but I must have tried to quit about seven times before that. The only way I was able to finally give up cigarettes was to give up EVERYTHING about them.

I stopped talking on the phone for more than a minute.
I stopped drinking coffee for a year.
I would not go on breaks with people.
I discontinued friendships with people who smoked.
I never went anywhere there was smoking.
I was very careful not to watch a movie where there was smoking.

I went, as they say, cold turkey.

Over the last year and a half, I’ve lost a bunch of weight. The way I did it was the same way I quit smoking. I immersed myself in the process.

I got rid of everything in my house that was remotely associated with my old way of eating.
I never went anywhere there was food I couldn’t eat.
I stopped going to restaurants.
I avoided convenience stores.
My groceries are ordered online and are delivered to my house, so I don’t have to be hit with the temptations at the grocery store.
I’m careful about the programs I watch and the books I read. The more food oriented, the more I’m going to get “false” hunger.

You’ll notice a commonality to my quitting smoking and changing my eating:

I identified the habit I wanted to change.
I identified the fact that I respond to my environment a lot. Consequently, I had to identify those triggers that prompted the habit: talking on the phone (smoking), going to a Mexican restaurant, etc. (eating food I shouldn’t eat).
I first changed everything in my immediate vicinity. I limited what foods were available in the house, or being around people who smoked.
Then I limited where I went, saw, or read. (I never read books that feature food I can’t eat. A cozy mystery series might feature cupcakes, but I won’t read it for that reason.)

How about you? How do you change a habit?

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: Personal

Did you know that An Unlikely Governess is priced at $1.99 for the ebook?

Here are some links, if you’re interested.

Amazon

Nook

Here’s a taste of the book:

The weather was growing worse. The snow formed a curtain between them and the rest of the world. She couldn’t see the trees or the bushes lining the road anymore, and it was evident the driver was having difficulty with the horses as well because their speed had slowed considerably. Twice, the driver had rapped on the small window separating him from the passengers, and twice Devlen had reassured him there was no need for haste.

“Take your time, Peter,” he’d said on the last occasion. “We’ll make an inn soon enough.”

“So, we are going to stay the night?” Beatrice asked.

He sat back against the seat and surveyed her indolently. “The weather has made further travel an impossibility.”

“Is it entirely proper?”

“You and I staying at an inn together, chaperoned only by my seven-year-old cousin? You alone can decide the answer, Miss Sinclair.”

“I’m not entirely certain I like the way you say my name. It always has a touch of sarcasm about it.”

“My apologies, Miss Sinclair. I meant no affront.”

She frowned at him.

“Unless we sleep in the same chamber, I’m certain your reputation will remain as pure tomorrow as it is today. Or perhaps I am assuming too much. Is your reputation unsullied?”

She looked over at him, more than a little offended. “Of course.”

“Then I should worry about other things, Miss Sinclair. Reputation does not seem to be an important one.”

“Possibly because you have none to lose,” she said. But he only looked amused at her comment.

“If that is your opinion of me, then you have joined a great many other people. I wonder what it is about me that makes people immediately label me a sinner?” He glanced at her. “Do you have a great deal of experience in recognizing sinners, Miss Sinclair?”

“My father was schoolteacher, not a minister. But it seems to me with your penchant for dark coaches and traveling at night, you encourage people to think the worst of you.”

“Simply because I hate to waste time, I’m now to be punished as an evildoer. How very quaint.”

“Perhaps people are afraid of you. They often label as evil what they don’t understand.”

“Therefore, in order to counter their bad opinion, I should endeavor to make myself understandable?”

“Perhaps.”

“The fact is, Miss Sinclair, that I don’t care what a great many people think of me. Does my attitude surprise you?”

“Not in the least.”

“There are, however, several people whose opinion I do value. Would it further surprise you to know you are among that small and select cadre?”

“Very much,” she said, finding it difficult to hold his gaze.

“I find I do care what you think about me. I am not the lecher my father would make me out to be.”

“I have not often discussed you with your father.”

“But you have discussed me. How novel, an honest woman.”

“That’s not the first time you’ve alluded to dishonesty being a female trait. I would venture as many men are dishonest as women.”

“On the contrary, it’s been my experience that women as a whole do not tell the truth unless it suits their purpose.”

“I think perhaps, as a representative of my species, I should be insulted.”

“But you aren’t, and I wonder why that is? In fact, you’re rarely upset, Miss Sinclair. Do you ever cry?”

“A rather personal question, isn’t it? I demand a forfeit.”

“Very well. But answer first.”

“No, I don’t cry often.”

“Why not? And before you protest, Miss Sinclair, it’s only part of the original question. A clarification, if you will.”

“Because I’ve never found tears were worth shedding. Why cry? It will not make the situation easier to bear.”

“Do you ever feel any strong emotion? Anger, joy?”

“It’s my turn to ask a question.” He sat back and folded his arms, waiting.

“Why do you have such a bad opinion of women? Who hurt you?”

He smiled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Sinclair, but no one. If I have a somewhat jaundiced view of women, it’s because I only view them as companions for the evening. I have no women friends, and I’ve rarely spent time with them unless it was in amatory pursuits.”

“You should. You’d discover that women do not, as you think, use honesty or the lack of it to manipulate others.”

“Then you are very sheltered, Miss Sinclair, because I could show you five or six women in Edinburgh alone who have a singular ability to do exactly that.”

Despite his words, she still had the feeling he’d been hurt in the past. But Devlen Gordon was not a person for whom she should have any compassion or pity. First of all, he would be amused at it. Secondly, she doubted those poor women were ever able to harm him. More like he’d broken their hearts.

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: Karen Ranney Books

I wrote this post on 10/27/09.

People told me – on the blog and in email – that guys don’t care if breasts are real or not. My research seems to bear this out. (Yes, I did a mini-survey of this. Can you imagine a female friend coming up to you and asking if you care if a woman got silicone implants? The three men I waylaid looked around for a camera.)

What brought this back was this: I began a book where two guys were talking and they both agreed that the augmentation job a woman got was too much. One of the guys said, “She just bounces too much. You can tell they’re not real.”

Whap! That’s the sound of me being slapped upside the head by the realization that a woman wrote that. The sensation was so strong that I couldn’t read anymore of the book – it totally messed up my suspension of disbelief.

All guys are different, just as all women are different, and it’s possible that two men would actually object to a woman’s augmentation. Unfortunately, that’s not been my experience with the men in my life. My male friends, and those poor unfortunates I’ve queried, didn’t seem to care, as long as they were big.

What do you think?

1. Do you think guys care whether or not they’re real?

2. Do you ever get hit with an author of the opposite sex getting some things wrong? I do notice that more women get men wrong than men getting women wrong. That’s an unfair generalization, I think, simply because I read more books written by women than I do books written by men.

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: Writing

Fuzzballs et al:

Please welcome Libby Mercer as our guest blogger today. Libby’s first book, called Fashioning a Romance, has just been published by Musa Publishing. (More information about Fashioning a Romance here).

Please welcome her to Warm Fuzzies!

Libby’s Bio:

Born and raised in the Midwest, Libby Mercer’s adventurous spirit kicked in after graduating from high school and she’s since lived in Boston, NYC and London. San Francisco is the city that she currently calls home. For several years, Libby worked in fashion — first as a journalist and then as a shopkeeper, and for a while she dabbled in design. Fashioning a Romance is Libby’s first published novel. Her next novel, The Karmic Connection, is scheduled for release on August 31, 2012, also from Musa Publishing.

Check out Libby’s blog here.

The Origin of Today’s Wedding Traditions

by Libby Mercer

Last Saturday, my brother tied the knot with the love of his life, and I was there to witness the ceremony and participate in the following festivities. A good time was had by all. Although it was a very unconventional wedding, it got me wondering about the various origins of the traditional rituals involved in the modern Western ceremony. Naturally I was inspired to do some research and…voila!  I had loads of material for my latest blog.

Now, I’ll start with the phrase “tying the knot”. Unfortunately its origins aren’t clear, but there are several possibilities, one of which comes from the Roman Empire. Ancient Roman brides wore elaborate undergarments tied in a series of knots for the ceremony. The knots remained until the groom untied his bride prior to consummation of the marriage.

Another explanation for “tying the knot” comes to us from Sweden. It’s said that illiterate soldiers and sailors would propose to their sweethearts by sending them pieces of rope. Ropes sent back with knots tied in them signified the answer “yes”.

And finally there’s the Ancient Celtic custom of handfasting. This actually had more to do with what we now term as engagement, rather than marriage, as it solidified a couple’s intention to live together as husband and wife for a year and a day – a sort of trial marriage – which could later be formalized or forgotten. The ceremony involved the couple joining hands and having their wrists and hands tied together with a long ribbon or strip of cloth. In some instances, their wrists were cut in order to mingle the blood, and in other instances, the cloth used to bind them together were strips cut from their respective tartans to symbolize the union of their clans.

The phrase “tying the knot” aside, the custom of Celtic handfasting is still being practiced today by modern day Pagans, Neo-Pagans and Wiccans.

Of course any blog about weddings wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the iconic wedding dress.

Prior to 1842, brides wore any color they wanted. Typically their dresses befitted their social or economic status – wealthy women wore bold colors and layers of velvets, silks and even fur while less privileged brides simply wore their Sunday best.  Yellow was the standard color for American brides. Then when Queen Victoria married her beloved Albert in 1842, she sparked the white wedding dress trend – a trend that’s endured for nearly two centuries and still going strong.

That fashion trailblazer, Queen Victoria, is also responsible for the popularity of lace fabric in wedding dresses today, but her choice of textiles wasn’t simply a matter of taste; it was motivated by politics. In order to stimulate and support the lace industry, which was being threatened by the Industrial Revolution, the Queen ensured that a large swatch of handmade lace was the focal point of her dress.

The history of the wedding veil dates back to the Ancient Greeks and Romans, who used it to ward off evil spirits and demons. Later it was used for a very different reason. Prior to the 10th Century, most marriages in Europe were mercenary transactions. Rather than the joining of two people in love, they were arranged marriages that mutually benefitted two families. Back then, use of the veil was crucial to ensure that the groom – after having clapped eyes on his intended – wouldn’t find her unattractive and unceremoniously back out of the arrangement.

I could go on for ages (or pages) but I won’t. I’ll just mention the bizarre origin of one more modern day wedding tradition: the honeymoon. Back in the days of marriage-by-capture, Germanic tribesmen would search for maidens captured and stolen by neighboring warriors. In order to escape the search party, the newlyweds went into hiding, and this unromantic practice has evolved into the honeymoon of today. And as far as the name goes, according to an old French custom, couples drank a honey-fermented wine as the moon went through each of its phases in order to ease sexual inhibitions during that first month of marriage.

And there you go. Hope you enjoyed my wedding-themed blog!

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: GUEST BLOGGER

Remember the sunflowers behind my house? The ones growing in the greenbelt behind my fence? Well, they’ve gone berserk and the word has gone out to all the birds in all the world.

If you click on the picture, you can see sunflowers growing throughout the greenbelt, which is why we’re being divebombed every hour of the day.

The birds are, however, giving Flash the Poochy Pooch a workout chasing them, and that’s a good thing.

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: Funny Stuff

According to the NY Times: “The Times-Picayune, which has published since 1837, was bought by the Newhouse family in 1962 and later merged with the afternoon daily. Up to now, the paper has avoided some of the deeper cuts in the industry, in part because the newspaper played such a critical role in the coverage of Katrina and its aftermath.”

Can I tell you the last time I bought a newspaper? Probably ten years ago.

Information is supposed to be free, according to the mavens of the Internet, right? Well, newspapers sell information. But, in this fast paced world we live in, is print really a medium of information anymore? Isn’t the news stale by the time it’s printed?

I get most of my news online and then confirmed by a few cable news outlets. I occasionally wish I had the paywall for the Wall Street Journal, but that’s the only newspaper that tempts me enough to pay for it.

We live in a world of constant change. Some things we’re all probably going to mourn. Some things I won’t miss.

How about you? Will you miss a newspaper?

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: Reading

I had an entirely different blog post scheduled for this morning. However, after I re-read a friend’s email, something occurred to me.

I have never made friends easily. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve been withdrawn and aloof.

Maybe it was because we moved so much and I figured out really fast that I needn’t bother making friends because I’d lose them in six months.
Maybe it was because I could barely SEE or HEAR anyone. I wore glasses when I was five, and had ear problems ever since birth.
Maybe it was just because I was the youngest and shyest in a family of garrulous people. Even my mother, who was an artist, surrounded herself by forever chatting, intrusive women.

Really, my shy little self hardly stood a chance.

Fast forward into teenage-hood and my problems only magnified. Add to this the fact that we were forever moving, and you have me – solitary and constantly ridiculed (even by my family) for having my nose always in a book.

I’ve had spurts of being outwardly focused, but for the majority of my life, I’ve been an inward creature, which brings me to the point of this post.

I admire people who easily make friends.

They have an acceptance of themselves that, until the last few years, I’ve lacked.
They effortlessly extend themselves in faith that they won’t be rejected or, if they are, they possess the knowledge that they can withstand it.
They are generous and giving in both themselves, their histories, and their emotions.
They probably never consciously think about the effort it takes to make a friend from a stranger.

Being around people who make friends easily has taught me so much:

Being afraid of rejection is a self-fulfilling prophecy. You’re afraid of it, you create it.
You will never feel a handshake if you don’t extend your hand.
The world is a better place with friends.

How about you? Do you make friends easily? Or, are you like me, still learning how?

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: Personal, Profundities

The other night, I was watching A Grateful Nation, a program featuring patriotic songs performed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the US Air Force Reserve Band. The narrator mentioned the Gettysburg Address, where Lincoln said:

“It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

The narrator commented that hundreds of thousands of men and women have given their full measure of devotion and that we should as well, in our daily lives.

I thought the point was important. What, then, is my full measure of devotion, without, of course, going to war and dying for my country?

To be a good citizen, for one. To obey the law, to petition my government for grievances if I don’t agree with that law. To know the documents that founded my country. To be aware of my country’s history. To vote in each election. To be an informed voter.

It’s no secret that I’m an Americanophile. I think I’m privileged to have been born in the greatest country in the world’s history. As a young woman, growing up all over the world, I was often approached by people who desperately wanted to come to America. I grew familiar with the request – “Tell me about your country.”

Joining the Navy when I was 17 (and requiring special permission to do so) was a natural progression of that deep love of country. Hearing the song Anchors Aweigh brought back memories of my graduation from boot camp, when we marched and sang. The surge of patriotism I felt then came back to me the other night.

I’ve had the opportunity to walk through Arlington National Cemetery and other military cemeteries. I’ve always been silenced by the sight of so many graves. They truly did give their full measure of devotion.

I’m going to be thinking of what that means for me as a citizen.

What are your ideas?

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: Personal, Profundities

Remember this saying? -  success has many fathers while failure is an orphan.

Failure, in my life, has many siblings.

For some odd reason, I tend to remember the lessons I’ve learned from my mistakes better than the ones I’ve learned from my successes. The lessons are etched in my mind, and they whisper to me – “Don’t do that.”

I have, over the years, been able to separate my mistakes from my ego – as the result of having made so many mistakes, I suspect. I no longer take them so personally.

I’ve developed a way to handle my mistakes. Here’s my three-step program:

1. Admit I made a mistake. (Not that hard when I’m faced with a Woody Woodpecker haircut or bright green nails.)

2. Admit that nobody made me do this. (It was all my fault, and my responsibility.)

3. Ask myself this important question: What have I learned? (Not to get this haircut and don’t be so daring in nail color, please.)

How do you handle mistakes and turn them into constructive lessons?

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: Profundities

One of our Fuzzballs is having a momentous day today.

Her daughter is getting married.

Congratulations to Courtney, and warm and fuzzy wishes to Leah.

 

Filed under: This Blog Tagged: Fuzzballs