My Weblog

Scent To Kill

by guest blogger Chrystle Fiedler

I’ve been learning, researching and writing about natural remedies for the past decade or so. The more I learn, the more I want to know. Recently when I was researching my newest mystery, I delved into the practice of aromatherapy, which is the practice of using essential oils to improve health and well-being. Aromatherapy can ease stress, insomnia, anxiety, depression, aches and pains, and more.

It’s fascinating to discover how aromatherapy works. You see, plants produce essential oils for a variety of reasons to attract pollinators, to protect against bacterial and/or fungal invasion, to deter pests, and to inhibit other plants from growing near them. Through a process of distillation these essential oils are removed from plants.

Essential oils can be extracted from the leaves (eucalyptus), grass (lemongrass), seeds (fennel), fruit/zest (mandarin), flowers (rose), wood/trunk of tree (cedarwood), roots (ginger), resins (frankincense), and herbs (rosemary). Three of my favorite scents are lavender, jasmine and roses, so I thought I’d share a few simple tips on how to use them today.

Lavender

Not only does Lavender (the Latin verb lavare means “to wash”) smell terrific, it’s calming and soothing and good for cuts and burns, insomnia, diaper rash, tension headache, PMS and cramps (use with clary sage and Roman chamomile). The phytochemicals (plant-based chemicals linalool and linalyl acetate) in lavender are absorbed in the skin and in the membranes inside your nose, slowing nerve impulses, and reducing stress. An easy way to start using lavender is to put five to ten drops of essential oil in your bath. Add the oil after you have filled the tub so you can enjoy the full benefits of this wonderful aroma.

Jasmine

The aroma of jasmine (Jasminum officinale v. grandiflorum) is intoxicatingly sweet, exotic, and floral. It’s also incredibly therapeutic for a variety of conditions. Jasmine essential oil eases mild depression, anxiety, and tension. It also balances energy and helps you feel more optimistic. It calms coughs and laryngitis, soothes sore muscles, stiffness, and sprains. You can apply it topically, use it on a warm or cool compress, put it in the bath, inhale it from your palm, or put it in your diffuser. It will make any room an oasis.

Roses

I love the rich, sweet floral bouquet of roses and the approximately 275 compounds have a myriad of therapeutic uses. For example, if you apply it topically, rose oil can help banish eczema, wrinkles, and acne. If you feel blue, rose essential oil will naturally lift your mood. If you have painful periods, it helps to balance hormones (just put the oil on a warm compress and apply to your lower abdomen). Rose oil also eases nervousness, anxiety, anger, sadness, and grief and can be helpful if you have respiratory problems such as allergies and hay fever. You also use rose oil to help you sleep better and feel happier. For all these conditions, simply put some on your palm and inhale it or put rose essential oil into a diffuser. Your bedroom will smell like an English garden.

To make an aromatic spritzer with any of these scents, just add 10 to 25 drops of essential oil per 4 ounces of water in a squirt bottle. Be sure to shake it each time before you use it.

 The effectiveness of aromatherapy depends on the quality and wholeness of the essential oils you use, so it's important to use the very best essential oils possible. You'll want to avoid any synthetics, reconstructions, perfumes, and other adulterated versions. One of my favorite places for essential oils  is Floracopia www.floracopia.com.

Start with one essential oil that appeals to you and see how you feel after using it. The wonderful thing about natural remedies like the practice of aromatherapy is that they are usually very safe and easy to use (don’t take internally though, and keep away from children) and the varieties are endless. Enjoy!

For a chance to win a copy of Scent to Kill: A Natural Remedies Mystery just leave a comment here about your favorite natural cure.

Here’s the scoop on Scent to Kill: A Natural Remedies Mystery

“Scent to Kill is a well-crafted mystery…Devotees of natural medicine and aromatherapy will enjoy the tips that appear at the beginning of each chapter and scattered throughout the text.” Publisher’s Weekly

Willow McQuade, naturopathic doctor, along with her hunky ex-cop boyfriend Jackson Spade, attend a party for a psychic TV show that is filming on Long Island’s idyllic East End. However, Willow is much more interested in visiting the estate’s lavender farm, seeking inspiration for the new aromatherapy workshops she'll be holding at her store, Nature’s Way Market & Café.

Before the party is over, Roger Bixby one of the producers is dead and the police suspect murder. Roger was working on the show, MJ’s Mind, with Carly Bixby, his ex-wife and the new girlfriend of Willow's ex from L.A., TV writer/producer Simon Lewis.

After Willow leaves the party, she gets a frantic text from Simon asking for her help. Since Simon had a fight with Roger earlier in the evening, and because of his death is now the primary shareholder in Galaxy films, Willow's ex becomes the prime suspect. Simon begs her to crack the case and clear him of the murder. MJ McClellan, the psychic and star of the show also asks Willow for help. She hires Willow to provide natural remedies, including aromatherapy, massage, acupuncture and yoga to soothe the agitated crew of her show.

To find the killer, Willow has to deal with ghosts in a haunted mansion, a truly dysfunctional family, death threats and “accidents,” while trying to untangle a homicide identical to one committed during prohibition. Thankfully, Jackson has been hired to provide security and is there to watch her back and help Willow solve this spooky mystery.

As a bonus, you’ll find dozens of natural aromatherapy cures throughout the book that can improve your health. I think you’ll be surprised as how much they can help you feel better in mind, body and spirit!

Chrystle Fiedler is the author of Scent to Kill, (Gallery Books/Simon & Schuster) the second in the NATURAL REMEDIES MYSTERY series, Death Drops: A Natural Remedies Mystery, the non-fiction title The Complete Idiot's Guide to Natural Remedies (Alpha, 2009), co-author of Beat Sugar Addiction Now!(Fairwinds Press, 2010), currently in its fourth printing, the Beat Sugar Addition Now! Cookbook (Fairwinds Press, 2012) and The Country Almanac of Home Remedies (Fairwinds, 2011). Chrystle’s magazine articles featuring natural remedies have appeared in many national publications including Natural Health, Vegetarian Times, Better Homes & Gardens and Remedy. Visit www.chrystlefiedler.com.

The Overlooked Oscars

By Elaine Viets

The results are in for the Oscars: Daniel Day-Lewis became a legend when he won his third Oscar.

But I feel other legendary actors go unacknowledged. Actors much closer to home put on stellar performances every day. I would like to start the Overlooked Oscars. Here are my nominations for outstanding performances:

(1) Best Performance by a Starving Cat

Our gray cat Mystery is a hefty 14 pounds, two ounces. Right now, the vet wants her to stay rotund, so we fill up her food bowl in the morning and again at night. She gets enough food for two cats.

But after she gobbles up everything, you’d think she hadn’t eaten for a week. The heartbreaking howls and yowls are followed by soft  plaintive mews as if she’s too weak to go on.  Don will feed her and she’ll vacuum up every crumb.

Then if I’m out, she’ll repeat that performance when I return, and I’ll feed her again. Mystery has managed to eat as many as six meals a day. Now Don and I check with one another before we feed her.
(2) Best Disappearing Act

When Mystery has to go to the vet, Don and I carefully choreograph our routine: The pet caddy is hidden in the closet until just before we leave. Then

we open the caddy door, pounce on the sleeping cat, and carry her off to the vet.

Except the time Mystery disappeared. She’s an indoor cat, so we knew she had to be in our four-room condo. We searched her favorite hiding places – in the bathtub, under the bed and the dining room table. Don even lifted the couch, but she wasn’t there.

The vet appointment came and went. We called the office. "We can’t find her," we said.

"Bring her in when you do," the receptionist said.

We dismantled Don’s closet, piece by piece before we found her. She got her shot half an hour later.
(3) Best Disappearance Act: Lifetime Achievement Award

Our cat Harry dislikes humans, for reasons best known to himself. The brown-striped tabby is a feral beach cat. After many months, he learned to trust Don and me, but he has no use for the rest of the human race. When we have visitors, he hides. Most of our friends have never seen Harry.

One day, Gloria, our house cleaner, was working in the bathroom when I heard her shriek, and saw Harry streak through the house. Gloria was pale as bread dough and clutching her chest. (She could have won a few acting awards, too.)

"A cat!" she gasped. "A cat was hiding in the bathtub. He jumped out at me."

(4) Best Performance as an Alarm Clock (Posthumous Award)

Montana, our big gray cat with the golden eyes, wanted breakfast at seven a.m. He did not tolerate late-sleeping slackers. At 7 a.m., we got our warning meow. At 7:02, Monty started knocking things off the night stands, starting with our books. If we slept through the thudding hardcovers, he’d try the clock. Don’s glasses were next, but we rarely heard the delicate tinkle of the lenses popping out of the frame.

By now, Monty had enough. He went after breakable ornaments. Nothing was sacred, not even the shaving mug owned by Don’s grandfather. Crashing china always woke us up.
(5) Best Performance by a Bodyguard

Harry is a fearless bodyguard. Whenever he hears a strange noise, he growls, then goes under the bed. But he follows procedure. Harry always goes to the middle, so there’s room for both Don and me to hide under the bed.

Who would you nominate for an Overlooked Oscar?

 

Secrets and lies

by Kris Neri

My next Tracy Eaton mystery, Revenge on Route 66, will be out in mid-March. Its central theme is secrets, and the lies characters tell to keep those secrets.

That got me thinking about the lies real people tell. Are they all the same? How about the ones we call “white lies”? Some people maintain those are merely the grease that make sticky social cogs run more smoothly. But are they really harmless? 

I mean, if a woman asks her mate whether her jeans make her look fat, does she  really want a true answer, especially if they actually do make her look fat? Isn’t she really asking her significant other to help her engage in denial to boost her self-confidence? Wouldn’t telling her the truth just be cruel and unnecessary? Shouldn’t her SO want her to feel better about herself even if it means telling a little fib?

Still, it is a lie.

How about lies of omission? What if a friend wore something in a color that made her look sickly or blotchy? Would you tell her she should avoid that color at all costs? Me, I probably wouldn’t. It seems unnecessarily mean, even though some people might prefer to know it. I also probably couldn’t stretch the white lie limit by going so far as to tell her she looked good in that wretched color. However, I would make a note of it, and the next time I saw her wear a color that was especially flattering to her, I’d go out of my way to make sure she knew that was her color. What would you do?

Maybe the key is that lies told to avoid hurting someone, or truths held back for the same reason, are easier to justify.

But what if the lies were more serious? What if the person they could potentially hurt — is the actual liar? If there was something in your past that you felt sure would make people look at your differently, what would you do to keep that hidden? How far would you go? Those are the kinds of lies that are central to Revenge on Route 66. I won’t tell you everything my characters did, but like most real people my characters go to great lengths to keep their pasts from rising up to haunt them now.

I so enjoyed dealing with the secrets and lies in my characters lives, characters I’ve known for a long time, who kept those secrets even from me! Mysteries are often rooted in secrets and lies, of course, but rarely to this degree.

Personally, though, I’m more convinced than ever that I enjoy a cleaner past than my characters. I’m not sure I could handle the pressure of keeping such whoppers under wraps. Besides, doesn’t the truth have a nasty way of coming out eventually? And it’s worse for having been kept hidden for so long.

How about you? What’s your take on the harmless white lies? And how about the others, the ones told to hide the secrets that could make or break a life if they came out? What do you think about them?

Do people have a right to keep their secrets hidden?

Can't Remember my Name? Blame it on your Dentate Gyrus

by Hank Phillippi Ryan

How do you handle it? It might be a diva problem--that's what I call any kind of whine that has to do with the results of luck or happiness or success. Like "oh, my chauffeur is late again, I HATE that." (That’s a made-up one, you understand.)

 But a not-made up one--is my continuing and increasing inability to remember people’s names. Oh, wait, it’s not that I don’t remember their names. Well, I do KNOW their names, I just can’t always retrieve them frm my poor brain.

 The other weekend at a conference, I saw a person who I’ve known for--years. Literally. Years. I hadn’t seen her for a while, I'd say, but I certainly know all about her. Her books, all her successes. I remembered the contents of speeches she'd given, and who her best friend was, the title and opening sentence of her latest book. But her name? Nope.

Is there an explanation for this? I gave her a hug, because I truly was happy to see her--whatever her name was--and figured if I just relaxed, my brain would finally retrieve her name. Making matters worse, a pal of mine --whose name I did remember, since we were about to be on a panel together--came up to us. I tried the old—“you know Sally, right?” Figuring the nameless friend would introduce herself and I'd be saved. That didn’t happen.

A few moments later--her name came to mind. And I said it, out loud, a couple of times. And counted my blessings. And I will always remember it, that’s for sure. But lordy lord, I really wish that didn’t happen.

Now my husband Jonathan—whose name I generally do remember—has a solution. He says: just ask the person their name. Just ask the person their name?

 I say. Oh, no, I can’t do that.

 Sure you can, he says. Just say—yikes, (or whatever) your name is on the tip of my tongue, help me out. Everyone has the same problem, so just own it. 

I know it makes sense. And if someone said it to me, I’d completely be fine with it. And admire them for their self-actualization. But I just can't bring myself to do it.

There are a couple of things that make it even worse. I’m a TV reporter and come into people’s living rooms every day. So people think they know me. And that’s very lovely. I’m delighted with that. But, sometimes people come up to me and say, Hank! So great to see you! And know some of them DON’T really know me, but they don’t say that.

Then I have to decide—my mental rolodex flipping like mad—whether I actually know them, or whether they’re just being adorably enthusiastic about someone they’ve only seen in pixels.

 “Where did we meet, again?” I sometimes can get myself to say. Sigh.

Or how about when the person says “Remember me?” Argh. No. Maybe I don’t. But actually, that opening does give me the courage to say—ah, oh no, remind me. Because it’s no fun when a conversation begins with a pop quiz.

Does this blog sound crabby? I don’t mean it to. It’s just frustrating to realize my brain has ceased to function in this arena.

The Neuromarketing newsletter offers a solution, which I offer to you.

“Researchers from four universities report in the Annals of Neurology that people who absorb glucose more slowly than those who metabolize it quickly are more forgetful and are more likely to have a faulty dentate gyrus, a pocket in the hippocampus section of the brain…

The dentate gyrus’s exact function is unknown. But it’s one of several circuits in the hippocampus that, if disrupted, impairs memory, such as a person’s ability to learn the names of new people or to remember where they parked their car.”

 It’s my dentate gyrus. Yeah. That’s gotta be it.

 I’ve tried the tricks. Like we went to a local restaurant many years ago, and the maitre d’s name, I was told, was Fred. So I said to myself, “Fred, you’re fed.” I said it a couple of times, and you know, it really worked, I’ll never forget that Fred is the maitre d at the restaurant. Problem is, he hasn’t worked there for the past several years. The name of the current maitre d? No idea.

Another article I found says it occurs

“…because a person’s name is the single context of human memory most apt to be forgotten. So, widen other areas of your memory circuit and repeat the name out loud in the beginning, during and at the end of the conversation. When you speak the name, hear the name, and listen to yourself say the name, you will remember it.

Okay, good one. And perhaps. But my solution, a modest proposal, is that we all do what we do at conventions. Wear nametags.

Really, seriously, I will if you will. Okay, maybe not. But isn’t it lovely when people do? If not, do me a favor. And I’ll do it back. I always introduce myself, figuring I’m not the only one whose brain has decided to delete all name references. So just tell me your name.

Do you have any name-remembering tips? Does this drive you crazy?

One article I read says we can’t remember names because we think we can’t. And as a result, we can’t. Okay, then, I think I can, I think I can. And meanwhile, I’m gonna feed my dentate gyrus.

Femmes of the Past -- Margaret Erskine

Margaret Wetherby Williams (1901-1984) wrote twenty-one mystery novels, published from 1938-1978, under the pseudonym Margaret Erskine.Whether she deliberately chose the Erskine pseudonym as a nod to one of the mistresses of James V of Scotland, I haven't a clue, but I do think both names have a nice authorial ring to them.

Though born in Ontario, she was reared in Devon,a county in southwestern England known for its spectacular scenery and its rich atmosphere.Devonshire is home to Dartmoor,primary setting for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Hound of the Baskervilles. I think growing up in such an atmospherically rich area definitely influenced Erskine's detective fiction because there is often an air of spookiness to both her settings and her plots. When her books were reprinted in paperback in the US in the 1960s and 1970s, they were published by Ace, known for its "Gothic" suspense novels, and indeed they were marketed as such, rather than as detective stories. Bantam later reprinted a number of them as detectives stories.

Her series character was Inspector Septimus Finch, seventh son of a seventh son. A tall man with a surprisingly high voice, Finch always seems to relish the odd circumstances in which he finds himself. If you enjoy old-fashioned mysteries set in eerie houses (I love them myself), then you'll find a lot to enjoy in Erskine's novels.

 

Here's to Friendship!

by Toni L.P. Kelner

It's not that I dislike Valentine's Day. I enjoy a chocolate Reece's peanut butter heart as much as anybody, and flowers are always welcome, a why wouldn't I like a romantic dinner alone with my honey? It's just that Valentine's Day comes with so much baggage.

For weeks we've been bombarded with ads for buying ludicrously expensive gives, commercials that assure us that only the gift of diamonds will show how much we really care, and displays of heart-bedecked jockey shorts. Rather than a celebration of love and romance, the holiday has become a daunting test of devotion.

This year is a double challenge at the Kelner household. First off is the fact that my own Valentine--my husband Steve--is out of town for the holiday. So I might not be feeling as hearts-n-roses about the festivities as I might. 

Second, it's my daughter's first Valentine's Day with a boyfriend. So she's not sure what the rules are, and I'm not sure what to tell her. My own pre-Steve Valentine's Days weren't always major successes.

One year I searched and searched for just the right gift for my then-boyfriend, and I settled on an adorable wooden dragon with a red-painted heart. But the night I was to present it to him, he arranged a game of Dungeons and Dragons with the gang, and his only observance of the day was to hand me a card with an off-color pun before the game. I kept the dragon for myself and broke up with the boyfriend a week later.

So I wasn't sure exactly what to advise my daughter to do for her boyfriend. I did advise not going overboard on cost--that just puts a burden on everybody--so she made a card, and is giving a small gift and home-made cookies. Together they planned dinner at a favorite restaurant and the movie Warm Bodies, which may be the world's first zombie romance. (Okay, maybe Sean of the Dead has that title.) I think they've got a handle on it.

Still, there are times I look back on those days when Valentine's Day meant decorating a tissue box with doilies and construction paper hearts and giving everybody in class a card from a box of 24 assorted Valentines. The only tough parts were deciding which person to give the best friend card and whether or not to tape heart-shaped lollipops to the envelopes.

I'm particularly fond of the years when my daughters were in pre-school. Since it was a Jewish pre-school, Saint Valentine's Day wasn't celebrated, for obvious reasons. Instead they celebrated Friendship Day. Forget the boyfriend/girlfriend burdens--all the kids were celebrating friendship.

I like that a lot. Even on those years where romance wasn't in the picture, I've always had wonderful friends. So this year, I'd like to offer a toast to my friends the Femmes and all our wonderful readers.

 

 

Happy Friendship Day!

 

 

 

 

PS - In case you're worried about romance for me and my Valentine, never fear--when Steve returns, we will designate a night as Valentine's Day Observed, and take advantage of half-price bags of conversation hearts.

 

 

 

 

"I'm bored! I want to read my book!"

A couple of Fridays ago a minor snowstorm inspired our county school system to announce an early closing, not because of the sheer amount of snow but because the temperature was hovering just above freezing and conditions could have turned icy at any time.  (As a certified snow driving wimp, I approved!)  I picked my nephews up at school and kept them at my house until their dad could collect them.

Both immediately availed themselves of the food possibilities at Aunt Donna's house--fruit, fruit leather, Oreos, Pepperidge Farm goldfish, pistachio nuts, popcorn, and, in nephew A's case, Tandoor Kitchen's frozen chicken tikka masala dinners.  Nephew A settled in to play basketball on the Wii. 

Nephew B wanted to go to the library.

"I'm bored," he kept saying.  Okay, whining. I hate to admit that he was doing something that annoying, but it was a definite whine. "I want to read my book.  Can't we go to the library?"

I offered him books.  I do have a modest selection of books that would be appropriate for his age group.  But he didn't just want a book.  He wanted the next book in the series he was reading: The Secrets of Droon, by Tony Abbott. He'd read books 1-4, and had checked out books 6 and 7 at the library that week, but alas!  Book 5 (The Great Ice Battle) had been checked out.

The Fairfax County Public Library system has an excellent online presence--I could log in and see which of the two dozen branches currently had a copy of The Great Ice Battle on their shelves.  None of the nearby ones, alas--certainly none I'd want to drive to with the nephews in the back seat given the definite possibility of black ice after sunset, not to mention the fact that my brother would be arriving at any time to collect the boys.

So I put a copy on hold and told the nephew that if Daddy couldn't take him to get it that night I'd pick it up the next day.  Nephew B continued to whine about wanting the book, beg to go to the library, and refuse all other offers of entertainment.  No, he didn't want to read another book.  Or play Wii.  Or watch television.  Or play games on my iPhone. He finally settled for the iPhone, but at least every fifteen minutes he'd ask why we couldn't go to the library.

Normally I'd have found the whining annoying . . . except he was whining for a book!  How cool is that?

The following week their school was closed two days for parent teacher meetings, and I had the boys for a good chunk of Tuesday afternoon.  Once again, Nephew B's reading was being held up by the fact that his most recent library visit had failed to turn up a copy of book 8, The Golden Wasp. Once again I looked up where the book could be found, and then I brokered a deal.  Nephew A was resistant to a library trip--"We just went yesterday!"--but was willing to cooperate with it if Nephew B would play half an hour of basketball with him. Done!

We went to the library.  Nephew B scored The Golden Wasp.  I took out book 1 (The Hidden Stairs and the Magic Carpet) so I could see what the fuss was all about and Nephew A, who had read the first book already, felt inspired to check out book 2 (Journey to the Volcano Palace.)

I don't know how Nephew A is doing, and I'm only just starting book 3, The Mysterious Island, but this weekend I took Nephew B to the library again, where we checked out books 17 through 21. 

As a kid who spent much of my childhood walking around with my nose in a book, I am delighted with Nephew B's current passion for reading.  (And lest I seem to be playing favorites, I should add that as a certified klutz, I am equally delighted to see Nephew A's great skill in baseball, basketball--pretty much any sport he plays.)

But I'm worried.  There are only 44 books in the Droon series.  (As I type that, I am imagining Mr. Abbott saying "Only 44 books? Good grief, what more do you want!")  I have bookmarked his website.  He has at least three other (shorter) series and a few non-series books.  But I'm already worried about what we can give Nephew B when he reaches the end of The Final Quest (last book in the Droon series).  Any suggestions?

Kitchen Help

By Elaine Viets

That’s the cover to "Fixing to Die," my November 2013 Josie Marcus Mystery Shopper mystery. In "Fixing to Die" Josie and her new husband, Ted Scottsmeyer, are fixing up their home. I need your help with the remodeling.

Each Josie book has a mystery shopping theme. I wanted to write about remodeling bathrooms. Don and I had remodeled a 1905 brick two-family flat in St. Louis. A lot of our money went down that bathroom drain.

The toilet stopped up if you looked at it cross-eyed. The neighborhood plumber not only knew our address, he knew the previous owners by their first names. They did not have indoor plumbing in their homeland, and regarded the commode as a garbage disposal.

The bathroom’s crumbling plaster walls were papered with exuberant blue flowers. The clawfoot bathtub was painted, then decorated with those same giant blue flowers. The toenails on the tub’s claw feet were manicured blue. I stripped the paint and wallpaper off the tub.

 

 One weekend, the tub leaked into the globe light of the bathroom below us. The couple downstairs demanded to know what we were going to do.

"Would you like a couple of goldfish for the bowl?" Don asked.

There was more. Enough to write an entire book about bathrooms, but my editor nixed the idea. "Toilets don’t look good on book covers," she said.

Oh. Right.

"How about a cute kitchen?" she said.

"There is nothing cute about kitchens," I said. "They are sweatshops."

"You’re so funny," she said.

"I’m not kidding. I don’t cook. I once burned boil-in-the-bag lima beans. I don’t know anything about kitchens. What am I going to do?"

"Research," she said.

Before I set foot in an actual kitchen, I trolled the Internet and found the impossible: A cute kitchen.

I discovered Pam Kueber’s Retro Renovation blog, www.RetroRenovation.com.

Mid-century kitchens are all the rage. Being a mid-century person, real mid-century kitchens held little appeal for me. Mainly because they had tired mid-century mothers and squalling mid-century babies. Also, washing the mid-century Melmac was no treat. I didn’t realize it would be an antique.

But distance lends charm. I liked the mid-century kitchens on this site. Especially this renovation by Carrie. She restored this kitchen for $6,000 and told her story here. http://tinyurl.com/at64cfv  These are Carrie’s photos. I wrote to Pam and Carrie and asked if Josie could have this kitchen. They agreed.

I also discovered Web sites and whole stores devoted to mid-century antiques, furniture, appliances and more.
Now I need your help with the remodeling. Tell me your kitchen remodeling story. If I use it in the book, I’ll send you an autographed copy of "Fixing to Die." Gentlemen, if you don’t read cozies, your mothers, wives or sweethearts would love this book. 

Please send me your struggles with stoves, wiring, plumbing,  cabinets, painting, even the kitchen sink. Especially the kitchen sink.

                                                                        ***

Send your kitchen renovation stories to [email protected] 

My BBC Radio 4 Adventure

by Dana

A few months ago, I got an unexpected and interesting email from a BBC Radio 4 producer, Karen.  She works on a show called “Soul Music,” about people's emotional responses to particular pieces of music.  She'd seen a bit I did for CrimeSpree Magazine's blog about the “Five Albums That Changed My Life,” and noticed that I'd mentioned Beethoven's Nine Symphonies.  Did I, she asked, have a particular connection to or story about Beethoven's Fifth Symphony?

I wrote back with the anecdotes I had about listening to the Fifth, apologizing because I was certain it wasn't what she was looking for.  One of the episodes of 'Soul Music' features a story about a man coming out of a coma on hearing Bach's St. Matthew Passion. One of them featured a story about a man who wrote a play inspired by “Brothers in Arms,” in an attempt to reconcile his family, torn apart by politics. My story is about washing thousands of tiny artifacts in a dark museum basement, with Ludwig as my companion and my window to the possibilities of life after completing my dissertation. 

I didn't think my story of academic serfdom really compared with coming back to life or the Troubles in Northern Ireland.  On the other hand, that dissertation and the archaeology I've done directly feeds into my fiction.  These are my day-to-day jobs, so every once and a while, I need to remind myself that other people find archaeology and writing intriguing.  Heck, I find them intriguing!

To my surprise, Karen wrote back and asked if she could call me.  I agreed, and after a long interview, she asked if I'd be willing to be taped for possible inclusion in the show.  I said of course—it was far too cool an opportunity to miss out on.  We sorted out a date, and arranged with WGBH in Boston to record the discussion, with Karen calling in from the U.K. 

The day arrived, and I found my way to the studio.  I checked in at security; the gentleman there looked up and said, “Oh, yes, for the interview.”  I tried to look as interesting and knowledgeable as possible, until the WGBH producer, Jane, fetched me and got me situated. 

I entered the tiny room where I'd be taping, and she shut the door behind me.  The room might have been designed specifically to freak me out.  I hate sitting with my back to any door (and this one had a window, too), and the room was sound-proof.  There was a camera aiming straight at me (and this is what the camera could see, above), so I couldn't see anyone, but everyone could see and hear me.  And then there was hearing my own voice, in super-clarity...yikes.  I wasn't sure if my nerves were going to get the better of me. 

What got my mind off self-consciousness and onto the job was the magic of it.  Hearing Karen and Jane discussing radio things—bandwidths and hertz and I don't know what-all—reminded me of what had to be going on for all this to be possible.  

I don't know what the final product will sound like; it airs Tuesday February 12, at 11:30am UK time (there will be a podcast available after the broadcast).  I don't know if I'll make the cut or what I'll sound like, but I'm looking forward to it.  If nothing else, I got the chance to do a radio show, which was terrificly fun and informative.  I got to do something with the BBC; as a lifelong fan, I could barely restrain myself from announcing “This is the BBC World Service, with Dana Cameron” in stentorian tones.   And I had the chance to see the inner workings of a radio studio—Jane was kind enough to give me a tour after we were done.  I saw my voice on a screen (above) and she showed me where various local Boston shows are produced.  It's always a treat to see behind the scenes. 

Even without having heard the finished show, I'm so grateful for the chance to have participated.  I'm thankful to the good folks at CrimeSpree, who share their love of crime writing and make connections for their readers through it.  Most of all, it was a wonderful reminder that it's a good thing to be frank about your loves, your fannishness, and your geekitudes, because when you put your enthusiasm into the world, you never know who might want to share them.

Reads Listens, Loves

 

from Mary

This month, my reading continues to be mostly the listening kind. I've found that audiobooks make my day so much happier. 

I mixed it up a little bit this time with a couple of adventure/fantasy novels, a steampunk, a health and diet book, a Sherlock Holmes and one about my favorite spy.

 

 

Gabriel Allon, semi-retired Israeli agent and talented art restorer, takes a restoration job at the Vatican. While there, an employee who works in the Vatican's massive archives dies. Though it appears to be a suicide, the Pope's most trusted aide doesn't believe it and enlists Allon to look into the matter. Stolen artifacts, dirty archaeologists, mafia, with some thrilling scenes in Jerusalem all come together for another great story from Daniel Silva.

 

 

THEFT OF SWORDS is the first book of the Riyira Revelations, a fantasy series by Michael Sullivan. It's more of a buddy movie than a high-talking weird-language fantasy. Two former soldiers-for-hire team up to make ends meet during hard times. They'll do anything, no job too dangerous or illegal that they can't handle. Overall, this is light reading with a little blood and guts during wartime.

 

 

Their adventures continue with RISE OF EMPIRE in which the series quest solidifies. It contains kings, a princess, one dwarf, elves but only in the background (so far) since they're outcasts of this society, a wizard, and a dragon ... sort of. Entertaining.

 

I'd already read DUST AND SHADOW by Lyndsay Faye when it came out in hardback. Still, I couldn't resist getting the audio. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson are given the task of catching Jack The Ripper. An excellent book. Has some gruesome content.

 

 

Getting older isn't so bad, but getting rid of those extra pounds as we age is no fun. WHEAT BELLY author Dr. William Davis believes the modifications to wheat over the last fifty years have caused the rise of obesity and diabetes in recent years. He makes good sense. 

 

 

So I downloaded his WHEAT BELLY COOKBOOK. Don't know how I'll live without my current diet, the Pizza and Brownies Plan For Women With No Willpower, but I gotta try!

 

 

I like a little steampunk every now and then, don't you? THE STRANGE AFFAIR OF SPRING-HEELED JACK by Mark Hodder hit the spot. The Burton and Swinburn on the cover refers to real-life celebrities Sir Richard Burton, the explorer, and the poet Algernon Swinburn. Spring-heeled Jack is a strangely-dressed villain, one who appears out of nowhere and assaults young women, then disappears. Since he has done this only sporadically and over several decades, he's thought to be just a legend. But when he appears in Victorian London .. no, wait, it's not Victorian then. Yet. It's a little complicated. Anyway, I liked it and will read the next in the series.

 

What have you been reading lately? Anything strange, new and/or exciting?