Inner Joy: Inner Joy: Cobbling My Cristmas Cookies

Inner Joy: Inner Joy: Cobbling My Cristmas Cookies: Inner Joy: Cobbling My Cristmas Cookies :     The pictures of those HOLIDAY cookies are so beautiful-Look at any magazine or the yearly Ch...

IA Wondrous New Year

A Wondrous New Year: Though It's five in the morning and I just finished writing-doing final edition, I couldn't help but think of what it means to have...

Inner Joy: Cobbling My Cristmas Cookies

Inner Joy: Cobbling My Cristmas Cookies:     The pictures of those HOLIDAY cookies are so beautiful-Look at any magazine or the yearly Christmas books with the stories, poems, and...

Cobbling My Cristmas Cookies

   The pictures of those HOLIDAY cookies are so beautiful-Look at any magazine or the yearly Christmas books with the stories, poems, and delightful recipes;  you'll see perfectly picturesque cookies and candy all laid out on fine china platters- Furthermore, turn on the television to the cooking shows or watch Martha Stwart if she's still doing her show. Those women never have flour all over themselves or the floor. Their clothes are spic and span and their hands free of butter.

That's how I expect it to be every year. My husband will walk in the door, kiss me, and grab a cookie. Are you kidding? He came in the door all right, but you should have seen his face. It turned white! I had to ask him if he was going to compliment me on the bumpy sugar cookies, nicely sprinkled with green sugar. I said, "Don't you  want to taste one?"

  I couldn't help it if I got mixed up and added water instead of oil or that the floor had flour all over...or that he had to sweep it up. I said, "You wonder why I don't bake more. You haven't even said how good they look or how scrumptious they taste." And that's the honest truth.

 Next I tried making  wedding balls with pecans. Even I had to admit that they tasted funny-A little rancid or whatever.  This time around he put one in his mouth and said "Mum - Yummy!"  Guess what?  All of them are still on the utility tray. 

On the next batch, I put all the ingredients in the bowl; before reading the recipe! The dough for those went down the drain! So today I made these oatmeal jobs with chips and raisins and nuts and m n' n's. They would have been fine except that they fell apart. 

    ...My problem is that my mind is on writing a Christmas story where it snows and a little girl comes to visit her grandma at Christmas and they bake cookies. 

 Merry Christmas.

Inner Joy: Inner Joy: The Rag Princess-the Plot Author Barb ...

Inner Joy: Inner Joy: The Rag Princess-the Plot Author Barb ...: Inner Joy: The Rag Princess-the Plot Author Barb Franzen :   The Rag Princess b y Barb Franzen -Hopefully out in January Plot Aunt  Sy...

Inner Joy: The Rag Princess-the Plot Author Barb Franzen

Inner Joy: The Rag Princess-the Plot Author Barb Franzen:   The Rag Princess b y Barb Franzen -Hopefully out in January Plot Aunt  Sylvie, whom Celeste knows nothing about, along with an unscr...

The Rag Princess-the Plot Author Barb Franzen

 The Rag Princess by Barb Franzen

-Hopefully out in January

Plot Aunt  Sylvie, whom Celeste knows nothing about, along with an unscrupulous child worker, Elvira, arrive at the Temple’s ranch and home, unannounced. They have come with “official” adoption papers, announcing that 12 year old Celeste and her younger brother, Howie, will be living in Lincoln with the aunt. The Temples are the family that Celeste’s father worked for as a hired hand. Ginny Temple is her best childhood friend.  Aunt Sylvia, the wife of a pharmacist who owns  two drugstores, gravely abuses Celeste, leading her to believe that those she knew and loved gave her away. A Reverend Evan good assists the wealthy aunt in abusing Celeste. He is more interested in young girl than in God. He injures Celeste along with Sylvie's extreme degradation of the young girl. 
.   Later, following nurses training, Celeste reunites with Will Temple, one of the grown Temple children. As a child Celeste was nothing more than a household figure to him. They develop a close relationship, but unfortunately Celeste carries a secret that prevents her from considering marriage. Eventually, during the evening of a Christmas dinner, a meal that Celeste fixes for Will, something happens.Her confession leads to a turbulent evening. Celeste is forced to reveal her secret to Will. Attend the dinner in  Celeste's Christmas Eatery ,  her dining room el, to learn the conclusion. Tears and a lot of laughter, even though this is a serious topic. .
Book stems from my work as a child therapist and further research on Nebraska history during the 1920's through the 30's. Editors- Ladette Randolph winner of the Virginia Faulkner award . Dawn Garcia- Lincoln 

Inner Joy: Father Professes Love for His Wife

Inner Joy: Father Professes Love for His Wife: Scene From The Rag Princess         Celeste Dusty's parents's are discussing Celeste and why she's like her mother Scene ...

Father Professes Love for His Wife

Scene From The Rag Princess

        Celeste Dusty's parents's are discussing Celeste and why she's like her mother

Scene where the father professes his love for his wife.

.      

       "I worry about our Celeste. She’s lovely. I hope she’s able to see herself realistically. Your eyes need to smile when you look at her. Really, she’s going to look just like you someday. Speaking of appearances, you look gorgeous in rose. You wore rose to the courthouse in Broken Bow that day. When I asked you what you wanted for a wedding present, you said a cherry tree, garden seeds, and a garden. When you asked me, I said that I wanted you. As I remember it, we both got what we wanted. Next summer, let’s return there for a day. We can pick cherries and well…I think you know the rest.”

       “I would have married Sylvie and been miserable. It was when I saw you in the moonlight that I changed my mind. You had on that soft pink cotton dress and those Cinderella type shoes. Your hair was back on one side and the moonlight enhanced your features. You looked at me for the briefest moment and stole my heart... You were tall and slender with that full mouth and those shy but inquisitive eyes. Something gave when ours met. It might have been that humble sweet way of yours. I thought I would die before I have to touch you. There you were at the dance the next night. Even then, before I took you and your charms into my hungry arms. I knew I’d found my life mate. I've never had any regrets. Sylvie got the inheritance and Ida’s house and her world of greed and emptiness. I got you.”

Inner Joy: Not Apart

Inner Joy: Not Apart: Not Apart She might have died but wait… We’re not apart− not yet I see her in the curl of the windy waves, hear her  knock ...

Not Apart

Not Apart

She might have died

but wait…

We’re not apart−

not yet

I see her in the curl of the windy waves,

hear her  knock on the door,

I remember our  passion on sizzling  summer nights

 I hear her laughter, recall the  fun, feel the joy

In autumn

she's  the snap and crackle

 as I

stroll among the   leaves.

 she's the diamonds that sparkle

 on winter’s frost covered trees.

the snowflakes that dance down through the sky

the whimsy in spring’s warm rain

and yes, she's  the tear in my eye...

but wait…

We’re not apart−

not yet

She's  the  beat

that warms my heart....

Inner Joy: Nurturing the Rose

Inner Joy: Nurturing the Rose: Rose petals  arch skyward as rains bend   watering them  in late afternoon heat          By Barb F, ...

Nurturing the Rose

Rose petals 

arch skyward

as rains

bend  

watering

them 

in late

afternoon

heat         

By Barb F,

Stealing The Children- From the Rag Princess

From The Rag Princess  by Barb Franzen   Out December Hopefully...
        the children are being taken illegally from Temple Ranch by a vindictive, hateful aunt.

  Bev was on her twentieth heart shaped sugar cookie when she heard a couple of doors slamming shut.  Who would be coming just now? She slid the dough onto the cookie sheet telling Howie she’d be “right back.” Entering the foyer, she took hold of the glass doorknob. Opening the heavy Oak door a crack, she looked, opening it further. A frosty puff appeared, and then disappeared each time one of the women took a breath. Upon seeing Bev, they managed to curve their lips into a shivering smile. Neither woman even faintly resembled the other. .. Bev went to the door and saw a blue Packard out in the snow. My goodness. Who could it be? It surely wasn’t one of those sales people or peddlers who sold vacuums or encyclopedia or cleaning supplies or Bible conversion stuff. It wasn’t gypsies. You wouldn’t drive a car like that and be needing to sale those things, but just in case, she’d be prepared to say, “Go away! No thank you. I have my own things and need none of yours. I have my stores, my church, and my catalogues. Peddlers not needed.”

   But wait…This  woman was no ordinary person. She looked like one of those fancy ladies from the city. Who was that drab thing with her? Then Bev took note of her own appearance− overweight in her blue plaid housedress and torn white apron. She hadn’t put on makeup and didn’t intend to. She didn’t like the stuff, and if Clark decided he wanted red lips, he could go hunting, But fiddlesticks, no problem. She had nothing to worry about with a man who prayed for five minutes at every meal, including cookies and coffee at bedtime. He would rather obsess about the soil and rain than her lips or hips—besides, she wore rouge and a bit of coloring to church. Her worry about Clark wandering ? Never.

     The women intrigued Bev. The fancy one had a green seudeskin, coat, trimmed in  mink,  stacked black suede  heels, a green wool dress that came as an ensemble with the coat, and a big green  hat with mink trim and yellow flowers, my stars! What sort of milliner had done that one up? Might as well put a magpie in the flowers to finish it off.

The other one, the dowdy lady, who was wrinkled  and ordinary, had a brief case, a wool scarf, and an old plaid coat. Her eyes appeared to rest on the lenses of thick magnifiers. Interestingly, the exquisite one had taken three tubes of lipstick and worked them onto thin lips. Bev thought, she ought a bite the stuff off. Another thing, she had those bulging kind of eyes, a perfect Bette Davis understudy. Davis’s eyes had a bit of convexity−Was that the word for curve?  Bev wanted to take her eyes and pull the lids shut to keep them from freezing...

 “Come in,” she said, none too friendly, at least not yet. A woman should always know her company before buttering up. She was putting the mink in on the bed when Fancy Woman hollered from the living room. “Mrs., do you sleep with the animals”

 “Why, no. No, we don’t.” Bev answered. “We sleep with each other. If we want animals for sleeping, they are all over this farm. Do you need one?” Bev was shocked.

“No.” The woman was saying, “I don’t.”  She did not want to sleep with them. That wasn’t it at all. “This is a farm, and I don’t want their hairs in the mink on my coat.”

       “Offended,” Bev, tittered, feeling a little cocky.  “Your mink was raised on a farm.” Did that woman know that? Before she could ask, the dowdy one noted, “Mrs., you have egg, food coloring, flour, sugar, and frosting all over your apron.”

       “Yes. I know that,” Bev chuckled, ready with another smart answer. Who were these invaders she wondered preparing her answer. “If I wear my ingredients, I can offer a cookie where ever I go. Want this one.”  The woman laughed and laughed  at Bev’s corny joke. The other one wore a pierced expression, appeared mesmerized by Bev’s huge collection of United States plates and souvenir spoons. Bev jumped in asking, “Would you like the stories on those, my neighbors bring them from everywhere.”

       The other woman chortled, “And you just wish they would stop bringing these things don’t you. You do, don’t you? Oh, I about forgot. There’s a picture of you and a young man over here by the plates. Is he your son or a brother?”

“Him? He’s our pastor.” Bev was glad for her quick working brain. The young man was Clark! However, by now the woman was onto telling her to lower the wall hanging picture to eye level. Handing out decorator instructions, the kind not asked for, was Bev’s job. “Thank you.” Bev said frostily. “Let’s have a cookie and get acquainted. By the way, you would like that skirt better if you took it up an inch.”

            “I bet you got that idea from those short, square dancing skirts you country gals wear,” fancy simpered. “Waltzing in the city requires longer hemlines and ballrooms. Anyway, I see that you have coffee over there. I really do not drink coffee, but I would put you up to fixing a cup of hot tea. All I need is some hot water, a tea bag, sugar, cream, a tea hook, and two napkins. I forgot. Add a spoon. Much easier than coffee…” This was exactly what Bev wanted to do in the middle of cookie baking. While she did that Fancy went to remove her hat and returned with a headful of black waves. Bev secretly wished she was as slender and pretty.

Happy Birthday Sister Kathleen

Dear Sister and Friend, when I think of you, so many words and memories come to mind. From very early on, I think of cereal box ads and Nancy Drew, Of my Tony doll, the felt needle case with the green tree, and your tumbleweed fall-Sorry. There were your A's while I sat in the hall on that little red chair. Summer hikes, our bikes, the swimming pool with dairy cones to follow. Our twin beds, the bat flying across the room, and the cat swinging in through the window. Me endlessly awake, you asleep, pogo sticks, hoopla hoops, learning the twist-You sensibility, my sense of things, out pride and our prejudices, milk duds, Thursday night movies, bumble bee. Tears, fears, wiggles and giggles  fights.and hugs

Endless the memories that have lasted through out the years and endless the respect, the thanks, the compassion, and the love I feel for you-

Happy Birthday Kathleen

Gabby Barb

Our Blue River Morning Walk

 

The Rag Princess

This is for real! I just pushed the send that sends in my final draft of The Rag Princess. I sent it at 5: 45. I began the book three years ago. By now the Temples and the Dusty's and Will and Celeste are so real to me that when I read the story, I am anxious to see what happens in various versions. I hold my breath, I laugh, I almost cry. I find some of their remarks quite brilliant, and at other times, I think-honestly! Will is too big a tease and when Celeste who is sooo shy, when she confronts him, I about croak! I'm afraid he'll get mad and walk out on her. But she is so sweet and so much has happened to her and Will adores her. As little kids it wasn't always that way.
I'm veering off the eaten track. I  have sent my characters who are very real in my heart- through cyber space for the second time They will go to New York on this trip to come home to me one more time. After that, who knows what will happen. It's time for me to begin another book with the same people-The Temples and  the Dusty's. This time, we enter WWII in Nebraska. with the Prairie War Bride

What Makes You Cry

What makes you cry?

Could it be geese crossing the sky in a V on a cold winter night-

Mulberries, raspberries, or memories of your Grandmother’s cherry pie-

Seeing the fingers of a baby at rest-

The breeze coming through the trees on a warm summer night-

A rose mixed with magnolia in pink glass vase-

Or might it be memories of our wedding and my face-

 as we came together at last-the eternal embrace-

What makes you cry?

 By Barbara J Franzen

To Be Loved

Valentines Day has come and gone. Perhaps it's my age. I am not sure. I haven't always been able to absorb his caring ways. Meaning my husband. If I were to say that one of us owned those bad days or even weeks that happen in  marriages, I own the majority of them. Because I have an illness, it is hard to imagine him being straddled with the things we deal with--I face guilt each time he has to walk out of the house alone...each time I can't be the things I promised to be when we said "I do." Watching him go without his wife-the only word I know is guilt. He will say, "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Sure I want to but too often I can't.because of pain., I reached a point where I wanted him to find another wife. This was a mistake. I was fortunate to marry a man that really does want me. He really does. I finally saw how much it hurt him that I didn't feel he could. One day. I told myself that the man I married deserves all that I can give-All the laughter, the love, the listening. going when I can, and letting him hug and love me. I want him to be happy that we chose each other. This last month and a half paid off. The tide turned--and what I see in him is a warm, dedicated, fun loving, fantastic man. Scoot over world-Here I come romance.

Love is a Happy Face

Blessed by

the


Grace of a kiss

on the cheeks

'makes for the


happiest face. Hello Granddaugher

Inner Joy: Platte River- River Soother of My Soul

Inner Joy: Platte River- River Soother of My Soul: Last night, main street had that small town, summertime feeling…A group was eating in the park, while down a block, an older g...

Inner Joy: Crossing the Platte River at Brady Ne.

Inner Joy: Crossing the Platte River at Brady Ne.:  From Candle Glow Dreams Nebraska -The family http://templeranch.wordpress.com is moving to the Platte Valley- Author Barb Franzen M...

Crossing the Platte River at Brady Ne.

 From Candle Glow Dreams Nebraska -The familyhttp://templeranch.wordpress.com is moving to the Platte Valley- Author Barb Franzen

Mom promised everyone a soda with her egg money. After getting their bottles of grape

and using the filling station bathrooms, they were on the road again, Al and Celeste in the lead... This would also be Al’s first time seeing the Temple place.

In a jiffy, they crossed the Platte River, full of spring rains and a winter of heavy snowfall. Awed by the sight, the water flowed at a rapid pace, over and around sand bars, and hither and thither, cold and clear.  Two elderly men fished from a bank; others fished from the bridge. Looking left, the view was visible for a good distance. Sand, cottonwood, and what not…Such scenery!

 A mile further, they came to cornfields, some interspersed with cattle, while tractors rattled row to row. Each section—a square mile, had a house or two and sometimes more. Above, the sun was busy laughing downward,   bypassing hundreds of tiny white puffs that looked like marshmallows floating about in springtime skies. Such joy! It seemed impossible to feel anything but a lively anticipation. Al, certain to like this land and the people, felt relief upon meeting other farmers on the road. This relief dealt with how they greeted him.  He called it the two finger V wave. ( Palm of hand on steering wheel with two fingers up and apart, making a V, and then, waving slowly back and forth, not too fast and not too long. A real casual wave.)

Country Girl to City School In Lincoln Ne.

This is a chapter from Candle Light Dreams..Celeste's abusive aunt has just sent her to first day of school in Lincoln. She sent her off alone with a map. This is one part-She is looking back on her day following school.

 Book out this year. When? Undetermined. Ladette Randolph Sandhills Ballad editing. templeranch@wordpress.org

http://templeranch@wordpress.org

Chapter 35:  Despairing

Her feet slid along the icy slick street. The new school was enormous and overwhelming, like a huge penitentiary with wire fences. Why hadn’t she thought about Lincoln and all the people compared to the country? She was made for a one-room school. All day long she’d watched hundreds of kids running up and down the halls like armies of ants, she a stranger among them. No one said hello which left her stranded and wondering what to do with her hands. She’d hung them to her sides, held them behind her back, used them to pull on her dress, ran them though her hair, still she was unable to get them to feel at home or comfortable. Out of options, she’d scratched herself then pulled on her nails, also biting them. The feet were good for drawing designs in the snow.

When the lunch hour came, Celeste took her tray wondering where she should sit. She felt self-conscious and alone in the big cafeteria. At UNION SHE would be sitting with Ginny and the other girls, each trying to get Miss England’s attention, asking her if she wanted something from their lunch pail. All Miss England ate was an apple and some cheese.

Candle Light Dreams Nebraska-Hate Will Club

    A scene from Cadle Light Nebraska -The Hate Will Club with two third graders doing the planning-

  Nothing stopped Will’s desire to torment Ginny. Celeste as well as Ginny dreaded Will’s bravado and cocky attitude. Early in the fourth grade, Ginny took action. She and Celeste were walking to school one morning when Ginny stopped and turning towards Celeste, said, “Celeste, I want a yes or no. Are you going to join my ‘I Hate Will’ Club?  It’s just you and me. We’ll use the old shed out behind the barn for a club house.” Her eyes shiny, her face eager, she continued. “It has an old ice pick and that hog hanging device. It’s the thing they used to bleed pigs out before boiling them. The shed’s about empty except for those and some axes and barrels.” 

    Horrified at the thought of hanging Will, Celeste remained silent. What would Mom and Dad say when they found Will dead and dripping blood?

    Impatient for an answer, Ginny tapped the toe of Celeste's shoe.  Panicked, Celeste’s mind was empty.

    “Celeste, we’re about to go to school, and I want to know whether to make plans or not. I want a yes or no. Right now.”

    Celeste, her voice an octave higher asked, “What are the plans?” Which would be worse? Having Ginny mad or killing Will?

    “It’s going to be fun,” Ginny laughed. “We’ll move the stuff aside and bring in pans and gravel for mud pies. Once the pies dry, we’ll bomb him. Can’t you just see him? I’m going to make that crazy, mean gizzard cry.”

    “Ginny,” Celeste giggled, relieved. “I’ll join. I thought you were going to murder him on that pig hanging thing. I mean hang him, drain him, axe him, and pick him. I just didn’t think ...”

    “Hey. You really are creative, Celeste. Let me give that some thought.”

Candle Light Dreams Nebraska