Friday, July 26, 2013

Books Do Write Themselves


Mr. Possum from the Hubbleville series by Micki Bare
Meet Prewitt W. Possum,
one of my favorite
characters and the star
of my new manuscript.
As a writer, I truly believe through experience that books, and columns for that matter, write themselves. The writer is merely the conduit. Lots of ideas spark my writing, but the final products are never what I envision or intend them to be. They are what they become on their own.

Now that the stress of planning our 2013 family reunion has dissipated and the event is behind us, my mind is clear and open for the task of writing my next children's book. I began it last fall, nearly a year ago. But the holidays, home projects, and our family reunion occupied my mind and soul. Now, however, the creative juices are flowing. In addition to allowing the next book in the Hubbleville series take shape, I must heed other callings. There are several other writing projects chomping at the bit for me to be released through my mind and fingers. Several ideas, currently existing as notes scratched on notepads and dry erase ink on my whiteboard, long to make their debut onto the white screen of my laptop.

I should probably sweep the floors and wash the not-dishwasher-safe dishes piling up in my sink. But Prewitt W. Possum keeps pulling me back to my computer, nagging me to write his story. He is frustrated by his waning enthusiasm for writing. But as the writer, editor, and publisher of the only newspaper in Hubbleville, he really has no choice but to rediscover his passion. Meanwhile, he has just discovered something in the park on his way home from dinner at the Country Café with Mr. Frogson. Meanwhile, Mr. Turtle just happened by, so the floors and dishes will have to wait until Mr. Possum and Mr. Turtle figure out the identity of the curious object nestled in the tree.

Micki Bare, mother of three, wife, daughter & writer is the author of Thurston T. Turtle children's books. 

Email: mickibare (at) gmail.com
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Thursday, July 18, 2013

Wine on a Cracker




L-R: Me, Ron Chambliss, my sister Monica
My sister and I share a love for the fermented nectar of the grape. We enjoy relaxing with a glass of wine at the end of a hectic day or sipping a perfectly paired vintage with dinner. We also enjoy cooking with wine. Wine and food were made for each other. That’s why it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to run across a vendor selling wine jelly. As we casually strolled through Centennial Olympic Park in downtown Atlanta, making our way to the World of Coca Cola, we came upon a row of vendors. We had our teenagers with us, so we did our best to ignore the crafty goods lining the walkway. But one booth caught my eye. I stopped and did a double take. But then I said, “No, no, we’ve got over 60 soft drinks to sample. I will resist.” Upon hearing my declaration, my son, niece and sister kept walking. But my feet didn’t move. A few seconds later, I called out to them, “Wait, let me just see what this wine jelly is all about.” They stopped in their tracks. My sister grinned and doubled back. My son and niece rolled their eyes and hesitantly followed my sister. “Do you use real wine in your jelly?” I asked the vendor. He assured me he most certainly did. “What do you use for the red jelly?” I was still skeptical as I stepped closer to the display. “The red is a bordeaux. It’s a blend of cabernet sauvignon and merlot. Let me get you a sample; it’s delicious with cream cheese,” Ron Chambliss offered as he pulled out some crackers. He then let me sample the red and rosé jellies. I was impressed. It was delicious and it was made with actual wine. My sister joined the conversation and started sampling as well. We soon discovered that Ron is a self-proclaimed foodie married to a wine master. His wine jelly—gourmet wine gelée to be precise—is sold in a few grocery stores in North Carolina. More conveniently, it can be purchased through their online venue, The European Wine Table.

My sister & Ron discussing
gourmet wine jellies.
In the midst of our conversation, Ron handed me a cracker with cream cheese and a sample of the white wine gelée. I had already tasted what I assumed, as a red wine drinker, would be my favorite, but I graciously accepted the treat anyway.

I don’t remember what my sister and Ron were discussing at the time, but I do remember interrupting the conversation as I gasped out an audible food-gasm. The white wine gelée was amazing! It was the best of the three.

Twenty minutes later, we were on our way. The gourmet wine gelée was so amazing, I toured the World of Coca Cola and enjoyed an amazing sushi dinner with two jars of it weighing down my handbag. It wasn’t until we had to pass our hotel on our way to Underground Atlanta that I finally dropped off my gelée.
Wine is wonderful. Wine with food is terrific. Wine food, such as Ron's gelée, is pure genius. Now why didn’t I think of that?

Micki Bare, mother of three, wife, daughter & writer is the author of Thurston T. Turtle children's books. 

Email: mickibare (at) gmail.com
Connect with Micki on Google+
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Saturday, July 13, 2013

Note to Self [room service]


The pile of empties on the floor outside
our hotel room upon our return. 
Never, ever head to lobby bar with sister whilst simultaneously giving permission for 15-year-old cousins to order a "snack" via room service. Lesson learned.

Friday, July 12, 2013

The Slowest Lane


My view from the slow lane. In this case,
it was the non-moving lane.
As an innocent newborn, I was cursed. An enchanted, yet evil, witch disguised as a nurse found me in the nursery while my mother recovered. The witch then waved her wand over my head and chanted her incantation. From that day forward, I was destined to control the speed of the lane in which I would drive.
As soon as I maneuver into a lane where the traffic is moving swiftly, brake lights flash brightly in front of me. The cars in the lane out of which I moved then pick up speed and zip by.

I'm convinced my father, rest his soul, cut someone off on the way to the hospital when Mom was ready to bring me into the world. My dad took defensive driving up twelve notches. He contributed greatly to the development of the phrase, "road rage."
I've come to accept my curse. If I see a driver acting ridiculously while trying to outsmart bumper to bumper traffic, I slide into his lane and stop him altogether. There could be three cars between us, but that's okay. As long as he's in the same lane as I, he won't be getting anywhere anytime soon.

Micki Bare, mother of three, wife, daughter & writer is the author of Thurston T. Turtle children's books. 

Email: mickibare (at) gmail.com
Connect with Micki on Google+
Like Thurston T. Turtle on Facebook
Follow Micki on Twitter: @TurtleAuthor