Allison Bruning's Blog, page 52

CWA: A Mysterious Boy

You have no idea what has been going on with the tour stops lately. You went for a walk in the lowest decks, hoping it would do you some good in deciding what you were going to do with your choices. You had to make a decision. You meandered here and there, not paying too close attention to where the snake like passages were leading you. Then you heard a boy's voice calling your name. You looked up wondering who could be down here. Wasn't this section of the ship off limits? And where exactly were you to begin with? You didnt' recognize any of these rooms from the map of the ship. You wonder what else you don't know. 
THUMP! 
The metal door behind you closes on its own. The lights go out. You're left alone, in the dark, where no one would ever find you. You don't know how long it has been since you had begun your walk but if you were gone too long Tasha might suspect something. If she doesn't already. 
You instantly go into survival mode. Lucky for you, you have excellent night vision. You searched the small room, trying to push back your claustrophobia, looking for a way out. Just when you had given up all hope, the boy calls out your name again. How does he know your rank, service number and name? 
"Who are you," you demanded. 
"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is who you are. Follow me," the boy answers back. 
You roll your eyes. This ship had more secrets than the skeletons in your family's closet. 
Against your better judgement, you comply with the boys wishes. His voice leads you to a secret passageway small enough for a child to pass through. You managed to crouch through the enclosure. It seems like an eternity before you emerged into a smaller, dimly lit room. It almost reminded you of something you would see in an Indiana Jones movie. A desk filled with old maps, a compass, a feather pen and other things sat along the back end of the wall. There in the middle of the room stands your mysterious boy. 
"Hi," the boy greeted you. 
"Hi," you answer not sure if he's a friend or foe. It was best to stay on your guard. 
The boy goes to the desk, picks up a journal then hands it to you. You stare at the worn journal then back to the boy. 
"Take it," the ten year old boy urges you. 
"Thank you," you reply taking the journal. You thumb through the old pages carefully then lift your gaze to meet his. 
"You can use this room for your stuff. Tasha doesn't know the room is here. There are alot of secrets down here that you might like to investigate too. There's a map on the desk that's older than the one Tasha gave you."
"Thank you. Who are you?"
Just as you end your question the boy disappears. You close the journal, marking your place with your finger and look around. Where did that boy go?

Journal: Jan 1, 1960-1963 | "Amusing Recollections"
by: woodlywonderworks @http://www.flickr.com/photos/wwworks/...
Beginnings August 11, 1985 I love to read science fiction, and my favorite book right now is My Book of Bible Stories. The reason why it’s my favorite book is because it contains the story of Noah and the Ark. I love the idea of it raining for 40 days and 40 nights, and God had Noah, his family and the animals in the ark during that time. I wonder what life was like inside the ark. My counselor wanted me to write what I did starting today in a notebook to better my writing skills, because I was behind verbolly in school, and that this would improve my physical and mental health. I’m glad she didn’t tell my parents that I am to do this. There is no privacy in this house. Nothing is to embarrass my mother. Later on today, my father, uncle and I were playing football with some other kids in the neighborhood until the street lights came on. It was so much fun!
August 12, 1985 This is the day that Uncle Woody put his hands and parts of his body in and on the lower parts of my body. I was reading my Bible book, minding my own business, when this happened. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. In fact, I thought it was natural; so I let him proceed for about fifteen minutes. He was enjoying it more than I was. Uncle Woody turned twenty-seven yesterday. Why is he doing this to me? I wonder, but I don’t say anything, because he’s good at punching me like I’m his punching bag. I don’t know if it is a means to toughen me up. If anything, it made me more afraid. I still hate him. My mother tells me to go over to his house when I get out of school, but my sister stays home with my Mom. It’s not fair that I have to go over to my Uncle’s, since my sister and I are only a year apart when I really hate him, but I know not to get smart with my mother.
Whippings & Wounds August 15, 1985 My mother came to me later that morning and said to go over to Uncle Woody’s house. I can imagine she saw a look of disgust on my face, and she said to not come back ‘till dinner time. Dinnertime?!! She must be crazy! This time my Uncle did something to me. Normally, when I go to his house, he lets me drink what I want. As soon as I went into his house, I went immediately towards the refrigerator. But when I grabbed a soda, he wants me to drink out of this cup, and then proceeds to pull my pants down and rape me. I was out of the house for about four hours, because I left an hour later to go home for dinner. I didn’t say a word, and my mother asked me if I took a nap. I said yes and didn’t say anything else. It was a struggle trying to take a bath without falling asleep, but I didn’t want to give my mother a chance to question my mood. I don’t understand her. My Uncle lies to my mother, and she accepts it. When I lie, she spanks me with that wide belt. When it comes to believing a story, she always believes Uncle Woody – and I know in my heart, he’s lying. I still hate him!
August 18, 1985 As usual, I’m back at Uncle Woody’s house. He threatened me with a knife to take off my clothes. I screamed for him not to hurt me, but he cuts me around my ankle. He laughed while he said, “You can’t run. I’ve got your mom wrapped around my finger. She will never believe you. Now get over here, and take your clothes off; so I can get my piece.” It’s hard for me to escape with knife wounds on my lower legs and ankles. Uncle Woody took me to the hospital and said to my mother that I was playing with knives. When my mother and I got in the car, she yelled at me, cursing all the while. “Why were you playing with knives? Didn’t I tell you not to play with knives?” I said, “Uncle Woody stabbed me in my legs.” My mother said, “I spoke with him just a moment ago; you were playing with knives.” Why did I even say anything? She was going to believe whatever she wanted to hear. I gained enough courage to tell her so, and fired back, “You’re going to believe him, right?” She quickly responded, “Of course I am, and get prepared for another whipping. I told you about your lying; yep, I am going to beat the hell out of you.” Here I’m getting whipped for not submitting to Uncle Woody’s demands; why am I even here?
I try so hard not to cry in the car, because I know that Viola is looking for another reason to whip me. My sister, Stephanie just sits quietly, trying so hard not to laugh at me. She smirks, but I ignore her. I got my beating once I got home. So, not only do I have bandages on my ankles, I have marks from the belt after the beating by my mother. I’m starting to hate her! It’s not fair being whipped by my uncle and my parents in the same day!


Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Deaf-Dumb-Blind-Stupid-Andersons/dp/098544634X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1355477223&sr=1-1&keywords=Tremayne+MooreBarnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/deaf-dumb-blind-stupid-tremayne-moore/1112198259?ean=2940014985130Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/209954


Who is Tremayne Moore?
Tremayne Moore, founder of Mayntre Manuscripts, LLC, a publishing company with a vision of writing to write the broken soul. Tremayne is committed to educate youth, parents, pastors, and community members concerning child sexual abuse/teenage suicide through social media and community involvement. He is a presenter of NAMI Support Hope in Tallahassee, FL and a member of the RAINN Speakers Bureau.
Tremayne is an accountant, psalmist, and spoken-word motivational speaker. Academically, he holds a Bachelor of Science Degree in Accounting from FAMU and a Bachelor of Science Degree in Management Information Systems from FSU.
Tremayne Moore, author of the inspirational poetry series “You Can Take It: Volumes 1-3” and the novella “Deaf, Dumb, Blind & Stupid: Michael Anderson’s Fight For Life.” Deaf, Dumb, Blind & Stupid is a novella that addresses child physical/sexual abuse, teenage suicide and how it affects the faith community and secular community.
He is working on his next project addressing domestic violence due out in August 2013.

Connect with Tremayne Online: Website: www.maynetre.com Blog: http://mayneman.blogspot.comFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorTremayneMoore Twitter: http://twitter.com/Mayntre Email: tremayne_moore@yahoo.com

LID: A Fishy Frenchy Dishy Holiday

Bouillabaisse by snowpea & bokchoi
@http://www.flickr.com/photos/bokchoi-...

December 14
National Bouillabaisse Day
What in the world is bouillabaisse? I had never heard of it before until I was researching for today's national holiday. According to Webster's Dictionary it is "a highly seasoned fish stew made with at least two kinds of fish." Wikipedia defines bouillabaisse as "traditional Provençal fish stew originating from the port city of Marseille."
Marseille: panoramique by ines saraiva
@http://www.flickr.com/photos/inessara...
Marseilles, France
The Old Port of Marseilles was used by the Greeks as a landing area from 620-600BC. Considered the oldest French settlement, Marseilles was founded in 600 BC as a trading port by Greeks from Phocaea. The Greek name for the settlement was Μασσαλία which is translated into the word Massalia. In 545 BC, a second wave of Greek settlers arrived to the newly founded city from Phocaea after the Persians had attacked Phocaea. Massalia's population grew to 1000. Over the years, it prospered as a central port and trading center. Massalia set up eight smaller coastal towns and did well operating new trade centers within those ports. These were: Agde, le Brusc, Antibes, Nice, and Hyères Islands, as well as on the Rhône at Arles and Avignon, and inland at Cavaillon and Glanon (near St.Rémy-de-Provence). Massalia became its own republic and became renowned for the wisdom of their laws and their cultural centers. They may have first encountered the Romans while Massalia was establishing their coastal towns. 
The Romans and Massalia Greeks had a renowned friendship. The Romans even stored their offerings to the Delphi in the Massalia treasury. Massalia had a keen trade interest in Italy and Rome admired Massalia for their constitution. By 500 BC, Massalia had a steady export business. The port thrived as a link between Gaul (hungry for Roman goods and wine) and Romans insatiable hunger for new goods and slaves. The Romans protected Massalia from their enemies as long as Massalia allowed the Romans to use their port. Massalia became an equal ally with Rome. In 154 BC, Roman troops entered the region to defend Massalia against the invading Celtic forces. You can learn more about Massalia history here: http://www.ancientworlds.net/aw/Places/Place/411375 and http://www.ancientworlds.net/aw/Places/Place/411375
A Greek Fish Stew....
The origins of the Marsaille bouillabaisse dish derived from fish stew that had once been made in Massalia. Known as Kakavia, it was believed the Roman goddess Venus had feed it to her husband Vulcan. It made Vulcan fall into a deep sleep then Venus went off to have an affair with Mars. 
Here are some traditional Kakavia recipes from Greece
http://www.greecelogue.com/kakavia-greek-fishermans-soup.html
http://greekfood.about.com/od/greeksoups/r/kakavia.htm
.... Becomes Bouillabaisse
During the 16th, the Marseilles fisherman wives changed the Kakavia recipe by taking the parts of their husbands' catches that weren't worth selling (the bony fish, tinier crustaceans and mollusks) and boiled them over a wood fire in sea water. They added fennel, garlic, and tomatoes (from South America). In the 19th century, Marseilles prospered. Restaurants, eager to serve tourists a local dish, and middle class housewives replaced the sea water for fish stock. They also added a new expensive and exotic spice to the mix known as saffron. The dish was a sensation. It soon became a treat of the upper class in Paris and became known as bouillabaisse. 
Here are some recipes
http://www.smithsonianmag.com/people-places/bouillabaisse.html
http://www.cuisine-france.com/recipes/bouillabaisse.htm
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/emeril-lagasse/bouillabaisse-recipe/index.html

CWA: Hope From The Past

I’m standing on the deck of the St. Catrina, anchored off the southern tip of Manhattan Island, the heart of New Netherland. The Dutch call this place New Amsterdam. The similarity of the name to the famous Dutch city is perhaps meant to reassure hesitant colonists, worried this North American colony won’t be anything like home. For a family in Old Amsterdam, the idea of settling in New Amsterdam must seem like an improvement. Trading the old for the new. Perhaps they imagine leaving behind Old Amsterdam’s crowded streets and stinking canals cluttered with refuse. They might also imagine that New Amsterdam will be less damp with fog and rain. A land where good farmland is cheap and plentiful. Where forests to the north burst with game and timber, and where the ocean to the south freely offers up her bounty.
New colonists would not be wrong to imagine New Amsterdam thus. But whether or not it is an improvement to Old Amsterdam will not be so easy to determine. As the crew readies the longboat that will bring us to New Amsterdam, I listen to the ship’s master argue with the man chosen to represent the twenty-three Jewish passengers, Senhor Lucena.
 “I would require the balance of your payment before we unload your belongings,” the St. Catrina’s master, Jacques de la Motthe says to Senhor Lucena.
“You know our circumstances. You will have your florins, but you must allow me first to speak with Dutch West India Company representatives.  I can assure you they will extend us credit for the balance.”
The master of the St. Catrina shifts uncomfortably. “This might not be possible.  The governor of New Amsterdam is not happy about our arrangement.  He threatens to bar me from trade with the colony. I must have payment now.  I have fulfilled my end of our bargain.  Your people are delivered safely to New Amsterdam.”
“How can you possibly expect me to give you funds I don’t possess?”
De la Motthe shrugs now, confident. “Governor Stuyvesant does not want debtors in his colony, especially Jewish ones.”
Senhor Lucena glances at the passengers, assembled on the upper deck for departure. He lets out a defeated sigh. “What would you have us do?”
“My men will deliver you to shore. Your possessions will remain on board until the governor decides what to do with you.”
As I step into the longboat and seat myself next to my older sister, Isobel, the craft gives a sudden lurch and falls freely until the slack of its ropes runs out. The longboat jerks and sways several feet above the water. Isobel screams, and this sets the St. Catrina’s crew to laughing.
“Be careful!”  Senhor Lucena yells to them.
The rigging master smirks, but the remainder of our descent is smooth until the craft hits the choppy tide that draws us to Manhattan Island.
The beach is narrow and rocky, covered in a dark quilt of broken shells and sea weed. The southern tip of the island boasts a flat, almost treeless settlement dominated by a squared structure with walls twelve-feet high and two tree-trunks thick. It is a roughly built fort, but imposing all the same.  Senhor Lucena gives an arm to his wife and then to Isobel to help them out of the longboat. I climb out by myself, but immediately fall onto my backside.
 “You are like a true sailor,” one of the French oarsmen says, pulling me to my feet. “It is the land that makes you stumble.”
 “We were over four months at sea. It is a wonder any of us is standing,” Senhor Lucena says.
 “It’s a wonder any of you are still alive,” the Frenchman quips back.
 Dutch West India Company soldiers herd us together to wait for the longboat to retrieve the others from the ship. The governor of New Amsterdam has ordered the Jews to be brought to Fort Amsterdam as a group, each man, woman, and child accounted for.  As we wait on the beach, I press my feet into the sand and watch the impressions fill with sea water until Isobel pulls me back by the collar, reproaching me for ruining my shoes even though they’re some other boy’s worn-out cast-offs.
 When we finally make ou way inside the fort, I see how it houses several large buildings hugging the east and west walls.
 “These are the quarters,” Senhor Delgado says to anyone listening, “for Dutch West India Company soldiers and administrative offices.”
Each corner of the fort extends to make a kind of spear-head shaped palisade that stands about five feet above the courtyard. Each palisade contains two cannons positioned side by side, like iron eyes to watch over the settlement and the harbor.  The soldiers escort our party to an unsheltered courtyard covered in crushed shells.
 “You’ll remain here,” the commander says, “until the governor considers what to do with you.”
 “I would speak with his Excellency, the governor,” Senhor Lucena says.
 “Only when he’s ready to receive you. You might as well sit down. It could be hours.” The commander seems almost sympathetic to our plight, but offers us no comforts.
 We sit on the ground and wait.
We are silent, just a few words here and there, a child whining, a mother shushing him, Sehnor Israel occasionally wondering aloud when we’ll be received by the governor.
At the hottest time of the day, a stranger comes upon our group. He is younger than Senhor Lucena, perhaps only in his late twenties. The man has an easy manner with the Dutch guards, even if he doesn’t have the look of the Dutch with his dark eyes, high cheekbones, and thick dark hair.
“Good day,” the stranger says, tipping his wide-brimmed hat to the group. “I am Asser Levy. Your brethren in Amsterdam have long wondered what became of you. They feared you were drowned.  It will please them greatly to know you live.”

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Who is Patricia O'Sullivan?


[image error] Please feel free to comment on posts or email me at pluceyo@gmail.com.

I am passionate about bringing to light odd bits of history. My first three novels deal with Sephardic Jews and Native Americans for this reason. I also write about Irish slaves in the Caribbean and the limits on women throughout history.

However, the overriding theme of all my novels is religion - religious faith, religious tensions, religious theology, religious history, and religious hypocrisy.

I have advanced degrees in theology and history. I recently played a nun in The Sound of Music. I was in a madrigal group when I was younger. I used to be a high school teacher. Now I teach at a university. I love learning. I'm learning French because my family is moving to France for a year in 2013. I'll never be fluent enough to write in French. I'm hoping to be able to communicate well enough to buy groceries and find the toilet.

I care about improving as a writer. I don't approve of sock puppet reviews. If you want to review my novels, please be honest. I'm a teacher - I get constructive criticism.

I love Celtic folk music. One of my favorite bands is Great Big Sea. I grew up in New England and miss it every day. The people, the food, the landscape, the history, the literary traditions, and the intellectual heritage of New Englanders make me proud to count myself among them. My other favorite places are France, Ireland, and Canada.

For the last decade I've lived in Mississippi. I am thankful that the wonderful people here have put up with this damn Yankee for so long. Mississippians are truly friendly, well-mannered, and beautiful. Like Massachusetts, Mississippi has a rich literary history. And like Ireland, Mississippi has a difficult history it is trying to overcome with a combination of faith, measured political progress, and pride in their heritage.

- Patricia O'Sullivan

Patricia's novels can be found on Amazon at:
http://www.amazon.com/Patricia-OSulli...

Her blog can be found at:
http://www.patricia-osullivan.com/p/welcome.html

#Kentucky Author Pens #Bestselling Poetry Book

Reflections by Allison Bruning becames Amazon bestseller!

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The holiday shopping season is a buzz this week as   Christmas draws closer. Readers everywhere are looking for new books to download for thier ereaders. Last month, my book of poems and essays was released to the world through Masterkoda Select Publishing. It had been a book that had taken a lifetime to make. It historical essays that had once been on my blog, a research essay that I had written in High School, and several poems I had written from childhood to my college years. 

I awoke yesterday morning to find Reflections was listed on two of the top 100 bestsellers list. My rankings were:


#27 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Fiction > Poetry
#59 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Poetry > Inspirational & Religious

Amazon listed my book as a Hot New Release. 
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I feel truly blessed this holiday season. 

Thank you to all my fans! You are the best! 

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Reflections is on sale for 99cents and can be bought at:
http://www.amazon.com/Reflections-Poems-Essays-ebook/dp/B00AC1DB7G

And don't forget you can get it autograph at http://www.authorgraph.com/authors/emeraldkell

LID: Celebrate #IceCream Day with #Historic Recipes

[image error] Ice Cream by Ceressa Bateman
@http://www.flickr.com/photos/37054091...

December 13 National Ice Cream Day! 

Ice Cream Day! Now here's a day I could celebrate! It's easy. Just grab some ice cream and enjoy the delicious treat. Ok, so it's December and it could be cold where you are at. But you can still try it. My Amish friends eat Ice Cream in the winter because they say its best when its cold outside. My husband would agree with them. In fact the best temperature to serve ice cream is at 8 degrees F.
The  global value of ice cream is 7.5 billion dollars. In the US dollar that's 11 billion! The five countries that eat the most ice cream are USA, New Zealand, Denmark, Australia, Belgium/Luxembourg. We Americans sure do love our ice cream. Americans spend on almost $20 billion a year just on this treat. 
On average, Americans yearly consume 23.2 quarts of ice cream, ice milk, sherbet, ices and other commercially produced frozen dairy products. The treat is consumed by 90% of American households and the most popular day to eat ice cream is on Sunday. The highest months for ice cream consumption? July through August. Here are some links to other interesting ice cream facts: http://www.ice-cream-recipes.com/ice_cream_facts.htm and http://inventors.about.com/b/2012/05/23/i-scream-for-ice-cream-2.htm
An Ancient Oddity So who actually invented ice cream? It all started with the Persians. The ancient Persians were serving an early form of ice cream by gathering snow and pouring grape juice over it. They kept the snow year round by keeping it in a cold underground chamber known as a Yakhchāl. In 400BC the Persians created an ice desert made of rose water and vermicelli that was mixed with saffron and various fruits. The chilled desert was served in the summer. As the Arabs spread their influence throughout the world their chilled ice recipe travelled with them. Thus by the middle ages, the Arabic iced treat was all over Europe. 
Here's a Persian Ice Cream Recipe http://persiankitchen.wordpress.com/2009/05/29/persian-ice-cream/
and here is a  modern Arabic Ice Cream Recipe: http://www.cafecreosote.com/recipe1.php3?rid=20
During the 4th century AD, the Roman Emperor Nero commanded his slaves to bring snow and ice down from the mountains. He made his own ice cream and served it with fruit toppings. You can make his recipe today. 
Clink here to try it: http://www.stevespanglerscience.com/experiment/homemade-ice-cream-sick-science
These early treats were more of flavored ice treats than ice cream. Chinese  Emperor Tang of the Shang Dynasty (618-697 AD) is credited with adding milk to the early ice creams. He had a high flavor for food and beverages. When his chefs had brought him an iced treat he thought it was too bland for his taste. He ordered that his ice treat be made by combining cow's milk, flour and a little camphor. The result was an iced cream. By the time Marco Polo visited China in 1254 AD, the Chinese had perfected the iced cream by freezing the cream using salt and salpeter to lower the freezing point of ice. Marco Polo brought the iced creamed recipe back to Italy.  
In 1533, when Duchess Catherine de Medici married the future king of France Henri II of France she not only brought her chefs with her but the recipe for ice creamed. Her chef served the wonderful treat to the wedding guest for an entire month. The French fell in love with the desert. By the 17th century the making of iced treats was very popular throughout Europe, though the recipes were a well guarded secret.  The making of ice creamed was so exclusive that in 1671 British King Charles II during the Feast of St. George at Windsor Castle had ordered only one plate of white strawberries and one plate of iced cream served to the guests at his table. The others had to watch as the nobles enjoyed the treat. 
[image error] Trio of Sorbets by Bob Walker
@http://www.flickr.com/photos/rjw1/287... Latini (1642–1692), a Spanish Viceroy living in Naples is credited being the first person to write down the recipe for Sorbetto. Today we know the dessert as sorbet. Sorbetto. Sorbetto was created by adding sugar to the iced desserts. Latini changed the recipe by adding milk to the mixture. His milk based sorbet is considered to be the first "official" ice cream. 
Here's a sorbetto recipe from Italy: http://www.artofcookery.com/sorbet.htm



An American Treat
By the 18th century, the secret recipes for iced deserts was released to the public. The first recipe for ice cream was published by Mrs. Mary Eales Receipts in 1718. Which is seen here:
To ice cream.
Take Tin Ice-Pots, fill them with any Sort of Cream you like, either plain or sweeten’d, or Fruit in it; shut your Pots very close; to six Pots you must allow eighteen or twenty Pound of Ice, breaking the Ice very small; there will be some great Pieces, which lay at the Bottom and Top: You must have a Pail, and lay some Straw at the Bottom; then lay in your Ice, and put in amongst it a Pound of Bay-Salt; set in your Pots of Cream, and 93 lay Ice and Salt between every Pot, that they may not touch; but the Ice must lie round them on every Side; lay a good deal of Ice on the Top, cover the Pail with Straw, set it in a Cellar where no Sun or Light comes, it will be froze in four Hours, but it may stand longer; then take it out just as you use it; hold it in your Hand and it will slip out. When you wou’d freeze any Sort of Fruit, either Cherries, Rasberries, Currants, or Strawberries, fill your Tin-Pots with the Fruit, but as hollow as you can; put to them Lemmonade, made with Spring-Water and Lemmon-Juice sweeten’d; put enough in the Pots to make the Fruit hang together, and put them in Ice as you do Cream.


Americans took the idea of ice cream with enthusiasm. That same year, the Governor Bladen of Maryland served the new dessert to his guests. 
In 1776, America's first ice cream parlor was opened in New York. Americans called the dessert Ice Cream. It has been known by this eversince. 
George Washingon spent $200 to taste this wonderful new treat. He along with Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson at ice cream on a regular basis. In 1813, Dolly Madison served ice cream to her husband, James Madison, and his guests at his Inaugural Ball.
Hmm, is there anything better to eat than Ice Cream? My favorite is Moose Tracks, Chocolate, Mint and Rock Road. What's yours?

CWA: Truth is Stranger than Fiction

Hey, I’m Zeph Wheeler of Digitus 233 fame. The rest of the group got together and decided I was the one who should take you on a tour of some of the great places you will visit. It’s probably because they are all still arguing about what just happened. It seems they don’t remember a thing about being thrown from a Learjet or being attacked by a polar bear, so it came down to me.
Honestly, after what I’ve been through I can’t imagine anyone willingly signing up for a tour of the ‘Tunnel of Horror’ I went through or visiting the arctic island where my brother and his team was abandoned with nothing but sweatshirts to protect them from the elements, but what the heck - we are here, so let’s get rollin’.
As you can tell by gazing at this scenic view, this is not the perfect choice for a vacation. To the port side of the ship you will see an arctic island covered in ice. While it looks breathtakingly beautiful from here that island nearly claimed my brother’s life, so I advise you all to stay on the ship. Oh look! Get those cameras ready, there’s a rock sticking out of the snow! Folks, you might not see another rock quite like that in your lifetime, so we will slow the ship down for this photo opportunity.
After the people on the jet dropped my brother and his team off on this piece of paradise they continued on to a location you might think was a piece of heaven on earth.  I was stowed away on that jet in the cargo area and can tell you from personal experience that what you see with the naked eye is not always what it appears to be. Let’s steer the ship down south and I will show you what I mean.
As we make our way down the coast of South America you can see the gleaming white sand of the beach and the palm trees swaying in the breeze. This is more like it! Right? That’s where you are wrong.  Look up the shore a ways and you will see the Digitus headquarters. To the casual observer, that huge gold and glass structure is a regular office building. In reality it is their control center for the dark deeds they perform in the quest to control the world. Yeah, I know it sounds too farfetched to be true and a month ago I would have said you were nuts if you had told me that, but folks, I was the lucky one that got to see it all with my own eyes. So again, you may want to keep your distance.
Down the beach you see an amusement park. Now that’s where the real fun begins. Not. Although those rides operate as regular carnival rides for the general population there is a more sinister reason they exist.
Well folks, that’s about all I can show you today, cuz if you see more they would have to kill you and that’s not a joke. These people keep their secrets close to their chest.
Thanks for traveling the Digitus Cruise Line where what you see is often not reality.

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Who is K.D. Emerson?

[image error] K.D. Emerson was born (or is that hatched) several years ago. We won’t go into how long it has been because she has this fantasy that she is still a teenager off to conquer the world. Her first novel was written in pencil, stapled together and placed in the school library. At age 6, she didn’t have a clue an author needed a publisher. She has a passion for the written word and assisting other writers in becoming the best they can be. She also loves to promote others and cheer them on to victory. Follow her on twitter @MstrKoda or you can find her at www.masterkoda.com and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/kimmutch.emerson 








Excerpt:

Deep within the dark abyss of his mind, Zander tried to shout, but no sound escaped. It felt as though a heavy mallet beat against his skull. Pushing the pain to the back of his mind, he forced himself to focus and slithered through the murk toward a pinpoint of light. Gulping for air, he burst through the blackness and forced his eyes open.
A scream escaped before he could stop himself. Inches away, a face; a set of open blue eyes stared at him. Was it a dead body? He struggled with his arms and legs, unexpectedly unable to force them to move. He was tied up in some kind of silky material! The eyes in front of him blinked. This time he caught the scream half way up and swallowed it. He had to get control of himself.

Synopsis:
Digitus 233

Digitus, the world’s dominant corporation, has studied human nature for centuries. They are experts who expand on a human’s natural gifts and talents to create supreme world leaders in all major areas of science, art, religion, and leadership. A select few are handpicked each year to join the elite.

This year, as a final test of induction into the world’s most powerful super structure, five teens are dropped from a specially designed LearJet and land on a barren arctic island. They are forced to come together in an effort to survive and escape. Unfortunately, escape is short lived when a Russian ballistic submarine rescues them and a computer malfunction threatens an all-out nuclear attack on North America. Time is running out and the sub’s programmer cannot stop the computer failure. It is up to the teens to convince the Russians they should be allowed to give it a try.

Tick tock.

LID: A Poinsettia Tradition Started by the Mexicans

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December 12
National Poinsettia Day




What would December be without the Poinsettia? I can't remember a year where I didn't see the Poinsettia proudly displayed during the month of December. When I was a little girl, my mom and I would often buy a poinsettias in memory of my father, who had died when I was nine years old. It would sit with the other poinsettias that had been bought in honor or in memory of someone at our Christmas Eve and Christmas church services.

 Poinsettia have been the number one selling potted plant in December for a long time. They can easily gross more than $250 million sales during the six-week period before Christmas. The beautiful plant has become an important Christmas symbol cherished for generations. Although they are widely displayed during the holiday season in the United States the poinsettia is not one of our native plants. Who do we have to thank for the cultivation of this timeless classics?

The Aztecs and the Poinsettia

Prized by Kings Netzahualcyotl (April 28, 1402 – June 4, 1472) and Montezuma (1466 – 29 June 1520), the poinsettia was considered to be a gift from the gods. It grew naturally in the tropical lowlands of Mexico in the region of Oaxatcpec. Oaxatcpec was conquered by the Aztec king Moctezuma Ilhuicamina (1440–1469). He created the area as a leisure center for the Aztec nobles. He also created an irrigation system there using the local water springs to create an elaborate royal gardens that cultivated flowers and plants.

The Aztecs called the Poinsettia Cuetlaxochitl, which means "Flower that withers, mortal flower that perishes like all that is pure". The red leaves of the poinsettia served to remind the Aztecs that the gods had created the universe, the debt of which was to be repaid by a human sacrifice. During the mid-winter celebrations the poinsettia was used to represent blood sacrifices and purity.

Between 1440-1446 AD, the last Aztec ruler, King Montezuma and his half brother Tlacalel visited the royal gardens of Oaxatcpec. King Montezuma and his brother had wanted to transplant poinsettia plants to Tenochtitlan but found the plant would not survive the climate change. Instead, he ordered that the poinsettia plants be cultiviated in Oaxatcpec. The red leaves were used as dye for clothes and the sap of  plant was used to treat fevers. Caravans of poinsettia plants were transported from Oaxatcpec to Tenochtitlan. King Montezuma even decorated his palace with poinsettia plants. The plant was highly regarded as a cash crop to the Aztecs. It was even planted in small gardens. From October to May, the flowers were greatly admired by the Aztecs. It was considered to be "birds aflame".

The Christmas Flower

The poinsettia plant spread throughout the lowlands of Mexico. During the 17th century,  a group of Spanish Franciscan priests settled near Taxco. Taxco was sparsely populated and had been used since before the arrival of the Spanish for mining. They noticed the poinsettia blooming and just as the Aztec's had, they associated the red leaves with blood. The priests believed the leaves were to remind everyone of the blood sacrifice Jesus had given on the cross. The first bloom in October was to signal to all Catholics and Christians that Christmas was coming. The priests used the poinsettia in the nativity procession, the Fiesta of Santa Pesebre. They called the poinsettia "la flor de Nochebuena," or Holy Night (Christmas Eve) flower. Many legends arose to explain how this flower came into existence. You can read one of those legends here: http://www.pauleckepoinsettias.com/history/legend.aspx

Joel Roberts Poinsett

[image error]  In 1828, American botanist, physician, Joel Roberts Poinsett, served in Mexico as the United States Ambassador. While visiting the Taxco area he came a came upon the Poinsettia plant growing around the surrounding hillsides. He saw some of the plants decorating some of the churches in Taxco. Poinsett fell in love the the plant. Intrigued with its flaming flowers and red leaves he took a few clippings and had the plant sent to his home in Charleston, South Carolina to adorn his house for Christmas his was the first time the poinsettia had been seen in the United States.  Years later, when he returned to his home he found the plant had thrived. He took the plant into his greenhouse and tried to grow more. They did quite well and he forwarded samples onto his horticultural friends. One of his friends was John Bartram of Philadelphia. Bartram was so intrigued with the plant that he passed it onto his friend Robert Buist. Buise was a nurseryman who first sold the plant as Euphorbia pulcherrima. In 1833, German botanist, Wilenow assigned the plant its latin name Euphorbia pulcherrima and was known by that name until 1837 when it was changed to Poinsettia Pulcherrima in honor of Joel Robert Poinsett. The plant was first mentioned in this 1837 article:


Poinsettia Pulcherrima. Showy Poinsettia. This truly splendid plant was discovered by Mr. Poinsette, in Mexico, and sent by him to Charleston in 1828, and afterwards to Mr. Buist of Philadelphia; from Mr. Buist, it was brought by Mr. James McNab to the Botanical Garden Edinburgh, where it flowered twice last year, and again in February of the present year... 
(From "Paxton's Magazine of Botany" Published 1837)


Today there are over 100 varieties of the poinsettia. You can learn more about Joel Roberts Poinsett's amazing life at this link: http://acgl.us/Education/Famous_Masons/JOEL%20ROBERTS%20POINSETT.pdf

CWA: A Child of the Loch

The cruise ship hovers over the large castle as you peer over the side railing thinking about the offer Tasha had made to you a few days ago. Join her crew? How could you abandon you life and join her. You had been throughly enjoying you life of retirement. No more looking over you shoulder or wandering if you were going to survive yet another battle. The only battles you faced was trying to meet your deadlines. Life had been busy for you after retirement. You were a military correspondance for several networks and contributed articles about the military to several large newspapers. You enjoyed contributing as much as you could. You were even in the process of writing a book about you life in the military. But nothing compared to the story you were working on right now. 
Before the tour, you had heard a rumor from several reliable sources at the Pentagon that there was a secret project that had been going on for years where 3,000 Americans had disappered on a yearly basis. Yet no one knew about the disappearnces because there were others posing as them. The imposters knew so much about the missing that they easily fooled the people who were closest to the missing person. When the missing perosn returned it they were often inspired to create something. You had thought the story was one of those governement myths that were commonly told but the more you had thought about the more the story had intriqued you. You had asked you contact how the people were selected. He had told you that the Pentagon chose the passengers. The reason the public didn't know about it was because it was kept Top Secret. You had asked your friend to make sure you had received an invitation. A few days later you had received a Fedex package with a ticket inside. 
You think about Tasha offer to serve on her cruise ship. What was it she had told you? She could make this worth your while? Worth your while. All you wanted to do was find a spouse, start a family and live a normal life. A normal, uneventful life. You made plenty of money to offer whomever you married a life of ease. The Army had been generous in your retirement package. Could you give that all up to live a lie? If so, you were going to have to do something with all the evidence you had stolen. What to do? As Shakespeare had said, "That is the question."  
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Welcome to the Loch. I am Josephina Elena McDonnell, Queen of the Loch. I used to be plain and simple JJ. Ok I was never simple or plain but I never knew why. Today, I am here to share my first experience of my land.
From Child of the Loch: The cave hummed with magic and I felt it travelling through my rigid body. The magic created a stinging sensation similar to prickles of a sleeping foot. It was irksome but not truly painful.
There were no bats or insects in the earthy cave which though tall was not nearly as deep as I thought. The stalactite hung from the cream ceiling like dripping candle wax. Murky water in deep puddles was staggered across the floor.
We explored deeper and deeper until we were walled in. It was the dead end of smooth wall marbled in fire branded oranges and dank coal. We could go no further.
[image error] Confused I questioned myself, shooting my thought out into the universe. Why were we in this cavern? It led to nowhere. The heavens answered my pleas. I felt, rather than saw the flash of red before us. It hemorrhaged through from somewhere outside the scope of my vision. My father's face distorted in concentration. He raised his hands wide, lava hot flames shot from his palms. Runes in an ancient tongue glowed on the wall before me. He spoke strange words and the partition opened into another cavern.
I breathed, "Wow," and my father gave me the look that screamed, "I don’t want to talk about it."
The two men strode through confidently. I, however, warily stepped through the gate to the Loch. I was afraid it might close on me and a simple, “Open says me,” would not work to open it once more.
Just as the light had appeared, it disappeared. The door was closed and I touched the air to be sure. There was nothing there and no magic was left. I was in the Loch. I was in my new land. ****
****I took a closer look at my surroundings and was overwhelmed by the beauty of the land that the door obscured. The mouth of the cave opened into a forest, not unlike the one outside my window. The wood somehow seemed taller and more dangerous as though even the most benign looking bunny would eat us with sharp teeth.
The green trunked trees were white –leaved and in full bloom with pastel flowers of all colors. It was a perpetual summer in the Loch. I sneezed when the wind tousled my hair and blew flowers into its chalky depths. I felt the distant song of the neutral wood nymphs, the un-winged, humanoid fae that guarded the woods and helped it to grow strong; they both welcomed and warned us about this beautiful region. I was home. This was my land and I fell in love with the Loch then and there.
Unable to stop myself, I sent out a happy vibe of gratitude to the wood nymphs. I didn’t know I could do that. My father felt it too and his happy laughter was joined by the far away giggles of the nymphs as my glee washed through them.
[image error] What a day that was…I tingle with excitement when I think back to it. It was also the day that I learned a bit of a tale from my family line. I will tell you the tale of our beginnings and what happened as I entered Loch.
The door to the “Outlander” world was enchanted by a powerful magus when Anoka McDonnell, the first of our line, took the throne. The two worlds were one then. Magic and dragons were commonplace and everyone lived in peace.
Peace cannot last forever and war brewed between clans from both worlds. Anoka feared that the clans of the Loch would be slaughtered and their magic lost forever. She ordered the door closed, locking in the dragons and magic of the old world.
The “Outlanders” had long forgotten the tales of how two worlds would never be one again and the Loch would be safe from the outside world. Her magic would be guarded by Lochoan people alone.
Thank you all for listening to old Queen reminisce about her youth and the wonder of her home.
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Who is Elizabeth Delana Rosa? [image error] I have always been a writer. When I first learned to write in Kindergarten, I wrote about pigs who "groo" wings and became "butterfys." I knew way back then that I would have a love affair with writing. It over took my life and has been a constant companion. Now over 20 years later, that love flows over into writing blogs, reviews, poetry and fantasy novels.  You can find me on the web at www.crimsonflowerreview.com and www.elizabethdrosa.com

The Next Best Thing: #Steampunk!

I want to thank my friend, Brad Fleming for inviting me to participate on his Next Best Thing Blog Hop. Brad is an author from the United Kingdom. His first novel Role of Dishonour was recently released by the same publishing house I use,  MasterKoda Select. You can learn more about him on his blog at http://bradfleming.co.uk/blog/

[image error] Steam Tractor by roger4336
@http://www.flickr.com/photos/24736216...
What is the title of your book? 
Field of Grace

Where did the idea for the book come from?   
I had been asked to write a short story for the Tasha Turner Blog Tour last summer. I was trying to come up with something to write about so I went searching through many of the family stories on my mother's side. I came across an article in the July 17, 1916 Marion Star about my Great Grandfather Herbert Danner. It was a story I had never heard about in my family. Here is a copy of that article. 

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I was intriqued with the story and wondered if the people in Marion ever learned where the tainted meat came from. Marion is a small Ohio town and most of everyone in the county knows each other or are related somehow. I was familiar with close tight network in that small town because my family is like reading the Who's Who of Marion County, Ohio. So I reworked the story for the tour. I changed names and curicumstances. After the tour was over I entered my short story into a contest and won third place. You can read the story here. http://xarrok.com/2012/07/vbt-field-of-grace-fiction-by-allison-bruning/

 At the same time as I was entering the contest I had started graduate school at Full Sail University and had to pick a thesis project. At first I had wanted to convert my book, Calico, (which is out of print ) into a television series. I started working on that and decided I wasn't a huge fan of the idea. I found that I liked writing screenplays more. I was asked in my research class to research something I could write about. I would have to give interviews with professionals as well. I decided I would research the food poisioning incident that had occured. I also wanted to write about Marion County, Ohio. At first I was going to interview my Amish friends about farming. Nathan had helped me before with farming techniques for my other projects. He gave me some insights for Field of Grace and off I went researching. If you know me well, you know I LOVE to research, especailly about history. The more I learned the more I was intriqued and realize with some tweeking this would make an awesome film. In my next class, Character Development with Roland Mann, I added to the characters of the story. Stella became Ida. I gave her a family that was based on her own, did more research and ran with it. I added a love interest. Herbert Danner became Albert Tanner, a recent German immigrant and is the grocer's son. In real life he was not that and they never knew each other at this time. I also added an antagonist by the name of Jeremiah Miller who is the brother of the local sheriff. He is responsible for the food poisioning. In my next class with Jennie Jarvas, I played around with the idea a little more. I added a supporting character named Patrick McIntrye. He's Ida's uncle and is suffering from PTSD after being a German hostage in WWII. I also added a potential love interest for him. Betsy Miller, Jeremiah's daugther. The story is still in the works and won't be finished until summer of 2013. 

What genre does your book fall under?  
Historical fiction with a strong female lead. It could also be steampunk.

Will your book be self-published  or represented by an agency?  
It will be published by Master Koda Select Publishing. You can learn more about the house at http://masterkodaselectpublishing.com

How long did it take you  to write the first draft of your book? 
I haven't started it yet. I plan to write it after I finish the screenplay. 



Give a one sentence synopsis of your work. 
 When a young Appalachian American woman learns her family is ill she must overcome a ruthless, father and his children bent on stopping her, even if that means he has to kill her to do so. 

What other works would you compare your story to?  
I would compare this to the Hunger Games because Ida reminds me alot of Katniss Everdeen. She even has the nightmares and a love interest that she wants to be with but has difficulty taking the next step with.  

Who or What inspired you to write this book? 
My family. Alot of the characters in this book are based on my mother's side of my family. Albert Ernst Tanner was named after my German grandfather and his brother. I added the experiences Albert had from the knowledge I have of German American during that time period. My grandparents naturalized in 1920 but were here before that. 

LID: Noodle Ring? What is that?

[image error] A Noodle Ring with Creamed Chicken by No Pattern Require @
http://www.nopatternrequired.com/2009...

December 11
National Noodle RingDay
Happy National Noodle Ring Day. Noodle Ring? What in the world is a noodle ring? To be honest I had no idea as well. I had to look this one up. Noodle Rings were popular in the United States around the middle of the 20th century. A noodle ring is comprised of baked noodles that are baked into a ring pattern via using a ring mold. Once it comes out of the oven you can add a dip in the middle of the mold. Like some old recipes, it has almost grown in obscurity. 
I love to cook, especially with old recipes. After searching the web, I found some delicious Noodle Ring recipes that I think I would like to try. Why don't you join me?

Cheese Noddle Ring
http://www.catholicculture.org/culture/liturgicalyear/recipes/view.cfm?id=475
Noodle Ring with Creamed Chickenhttp://www.nopatternrequired.com/2009/10/mid-century-menu-noodle-ring-filled-with-creamed-chicken/

Noodle Ring Recipe
* 2 tbsps dry breadcrumbs .
* 3 tbsps melted butter .
* 2 eggs .
* 1 tsp salt .
* 1/2 lb cream cheese .
* 3 c cooked medium noodles, drained .
* 1/4 c sugar

Directions

1. Cream the cheese with the eggs, sugar & salt.
2. Stir in the noodles.
3. Turn into a buttered 8 inch ring mold.
4. Sprinkle top with the bread crumbs & butter.
5. Bake at 375 degrees for 40 mins or until browned.
* Step #6 Unmold carefully.
* Enjoy the Noodle Ring recipe
---end of quote
source(s):
http://www.grouprecipes.com/sr/16064/noodle-ring/recipe/

DUTCH NOODLE CHEESE RING

1 cup egg noodles
3 tblsp. butter
3 tblsp. flour
½ tsp. salt
½ tsp. paprika
1½ cups milk
2 eggs, well beaten
Swiss cheese (¼ to ½ lb.)
Boil noodles in salted water until tender. Drain and place in well-greased ring mold. Melt the butter, add flour and blend smooth. Stir in milk and cook, stirring constantly until it thickens. Add seasoning and cheese cut in small pieces. Cook until cheese melts. To ½ of the sauce add the well-beaten eggs and mix well. Pour this over the noodles. Set mold in pan of hot water and bake in moderate (350-f) oven 45 minutes. Unmold on large platter, pour over the remaining hot cheese sauce. Fill center with peas, and carrots or spinach.From the Pennsylvania Dutch Cookbook @http://www.gutenberg.org/files/26558/26558-h/26558-h.htm


Toll House Noodle Ring http://www.food.com/recipe/toll-house-restaurant-noodle-ring-339279