A Duck in Her Pond

The Pond Has a New Home

2009-02-08T14:21:00.001-08:00

I've moved! The new site is finally up! For new details, go to www.aduckinherpond.com.

See you there!

Tangled Webs

2009-02-07T03:00:00.001-08:00

To read the previous Twirl, go here.

For my new Invisible Friends, Twirl is the story of a feisty, sassy ballerina named Vivi and her handsome cowboy named Wade. After falling in love swaying on the dance floor to the sound of a fiddle and steel guitar, the couple have stumbled onto a old Texas legend that might possibly lead to riches! On top of everything, Vivi is fighting her controlling father and over involved dance teacher, who are trying to trap her into a life she may not want. Add in a mysterious secret with her mother, a scheming evil boy in her dance class and regular teen angst and you've got DRAMA!

To catch up in the archives, go here and here. Or e-mail me and I'll send you the word document of what I've posted.

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Vivi stared out the windshield, unable to believe her eyes. Damien smirked and she snarled. Wade glanced out the windshield and swore. His blue eyes narrowed.

"What the hell is that creep doing here?"

"I don't know," Vivi muttered. Gritting her teeth together, she jerked open the car door. With the letter still clutched in her hand, she stormed over to Damien.

"Vivi," he drawled in a voice meant to be sexy. "Imagine finding you here in the boondocks."

Vivi shoved her palm into his chest. "What the hell are you doing here?" she barked.

Damien fluttered his long eyelashes. "Is your redneck boyfriend not happy to see me?"

"Answer the question, Damien," Vivi snarled. "I've had a long day and I'm really not in the mood for this."

Damien's eyes dropped and he shifted his gaze. "It's a family reunion," he said in a bored tone. "It's my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary and for some reason, they dragged us all out to this God forsaken hell hole." His gaze shifted to a leer. His eyes traveled up and down her body, lingering on the bodice of her sundress. "What are you doing here? Are you the entertainment?"

Vivi lunged at him, but a warm hand pulled her back. Wrapping around her front, Wade lifted her off her feet and placed her behind him.

"In return for me saving your life," he spat at Damien, "I'll ask you nicely to be polite to Vivi. Next time, guest or no guest, I'll make you pay. Understood?"

Damien threw back his head and laughed, showing the whites of his teeth. "Is this the part where I suggest we have a drawl?" he said in a mocking tone. "Shall I take ten paces and turn?"

Wade's jaw tightened. Through the back of his cotton Western shirt, Vivi saw the muscles in his back ripple with restraint. Without another word, he grabbed her hand and walked away.

"Oh Vivi?" Damien called. She and Wade turned. With a smirk, Damien spoke low enough for them to hear. "I heard you skipped practice today. I wonder what Mrs. Angelson would think of all this."

"Damien, I swear if you say a single word"-- Vivi hissed. Damien held up a hand, his eyes glittering.

"I'll stay quiet," he drawled with a pleased smirk. "For now. But you owe me, Vivi." His eyes flicked to Wade and his smile grew larger. "I look forward to collecting my debt."

It took the promise of peanut butter ice cream and research about the letter to keep Vivi from wrapping her hands around his throat. Fuming, she let Wade pull her through the throngs of people. After passing a large pavilion and barnyard full of prancing horses, she finally trusted herself to speak without screaming.

"Was he telling the truth?" she asked as they walked past the crowd. Wade tipped his hat to a group of ladies and nodded. "I talked to J.W., the manager. My grandpa rents this part of the ranch out for events. Apparently, they're getting a lot of money for this one. That's the only reason I didn't stir up a fuss. He needs it."

Vivi's interest was peaked, but she stayed quiet. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Wade's forehead wrinkled.

"Everything," Vivi muttered. "My dad, my dance teacher, now Damien...it seems like every time I finally feel happy, they spoil everything. It's just annoying."

"Ghosts only chase you if you let them, darling," Wade told her. "You just got to learn to run faster." Seeing her nose wrinkle, he pulled her closer to him. "You know what?"

"What?" Vivi asked, biting her lip. She could feel the heat from his chest against her fingertips. The stubble on his chin brushed her forehead as he looked down.

"This is the first day we've been together we haven't danced," Wade murmured. "And I was thinking..."

Vivi swallowed, unable to speak. Wade's blue eyes locked on to hers, the edges crinkling as he smiled.

"Ol' Bullet Bill would have done anything for one last dance," Wade said in a low voice. "And I'd hate to miss my chance with you."

"This isn't our last dance," Vivi blurted out. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. She had never been very good at intimate moments. "And there's no music or dance floor," she muttered.

Wade laughed and took his hand in hers, than put his arm around her waist. "Did you ever just think I wanted to dance with you?" he asked. Spinning her around, they settled into a gentle sway in the middle of the dusty yard.

"What about dinner?" Vivi asked. "What about the letter?"

Wade grinned. "We got all the time we need," he said.

And for that moment, all Vivi cared about was twirling.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow you'll hear of a fabulous new celebration here at the Pond! Then we have a whole week of whimsical fun coming up! Stay tuned!

The Rubber Chicken talks to the Love Pig

2009-02-06T03:00:00.000-08:00

Before we check in with the Rubber Chicken, I have to thank my buddy Jen.

She sent me these great sussies from her vacation: a fabulous shell necklace, tasty chocolates and delicious-smelling lip gloss.

Thanks so much Jen! It was so sweet of you to think of me.

Though it may be awhile until I can wear the necklace.

And now, we find out what the Love Pig can offer the Rubber Chicken...

For the previous edition, go here.

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"I am the Love Pig!" the pink pig exclaimed with a snort. His white wings fluttered and he spread his red hooves wide. "And I hear you're looking for your love."

"Yes!" the Rubber Chicken shouted. "I've been searching everywhere for her! I checked with the ducks, the silver banker pig and the Taco Dog. No one knows where she's gone! Can you help me?"

His voice was filled with desperation. As his eyes pleaded with the Love Pig, he felt his heart twist. If he could only talk to the Fuzzy Duck. What if she was trapped in the attic? What if she had been captured by a French chef? What if....He gulped, wincing at his raw throat from the emotion bubbling in his chest. His feathers heaving, he gaped at the Love Pig.

"Don't worry my feathered chicken friend!" the Love Pig shouted. "We'll find her quite easily. What's the last thing you heard?"

"Her friend the mermaid found a note that said she'd gone to save her mother from the Skull Face," the Rubber Chicken informed him. "But why would she just leave without saying anything? We had a date last night."

The Love Pig gulped. "Skull Face? In the attic?"

"Yes," the Rubber Chicken replied.

"Oh dear, oh dear," the Love Pig stuttered. He paced back and forth, his white wings fluttering wildly against his hot pink back. "This is bad. This is very bad."

"What do you mean, bad?" the Rubber Chicken shrieked. "I can't let anything bad happen to her!"

"I'm sorry to tell you this," the Love Pig said gravely. "But no one finds Skull Face. He finds them."

The Rubber Chicken's beak dangled open. "So you think--"

The Love Pig nodded. "Yes. She was kidnapped to be part of his captured Holiday Creatures."

The Rubber Chicken howled and fell to his orange feet. Burying his head in his feathers, he sobbed into his wings.

"Don't be worried, my feathered fowl pal!" the Noble Pig bellowed, pulling the Rubber Chicken to his feet. "I am the Love Pig! The cupid of pork! The Love Doctor of the Pond! The protector of critter hearts! The guardian of animal emotions"--

"That's all lovely," the Rubber Chicken interrupted. "But how does that help me?"

The pig snorted and fluttered his wings. "Because I know the Lady in Pink. And she is the only one in the whole Pond who has ever defeated the Skull Face."

"Really?" The Rubber Chicken jumped up and down. "How did she do that?"

"I don't know," the Love Pig replied. "We'll have to ask her."

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a special edition of Twirl, just as you requested. Then Sunday, a special announcement about a celebration in the Pond! And we have a whole new week of whimsical goodness coming up! Stay tuned!

Muffin Top

2009-02-05T03:00:00.000-08:00

Muffins are the perfect treat.

Whether sunrise or sunset, there's always room for a muffin.

You can snarf one from your hand and lick the crumbs off your fingers (all the better to hide the evidence of hurried consumption and shattered resolutions!)

You can adorn a plate with plump muffin goodness. A muffin makes everything look prettier.

You can eat it from a cup or a tiny bowl. And if some ice cream/ butter/ honey/ whipped cream/ another muffin should happen to join the muffin in its tiny bowl, that's ok. Muffins in cups should never be lonely.

You can even pluck a muffin straight from the pan and pop it into your mouth. Don't worry, you don't need to taste anything ever again after this muffin.

As a expert on muffins, I can assure you they are 100 percent tasty and good for the happiness of the tummy and soul.

Scientists have proven that one muffin a day can prevent crankiness, stress and depression. I should know. I live at the North Pole all year.

If you don't have a muffin, dozens of muffins will go without cheerful kitchens to populate this year. And you wouldn't want that, would you?

So there's only one real question, Invisible Friends:

Have you had a muffin today?

He won't bother you. I promise.

This is actually my mom's recipe for Banana Nut Bread. I just made them into muffins because, well, who can resist a hot, tasty muffin?

Banana Nut Muffins

1 1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 egg
1 cup mashed bananas ( 3 med. bananas)
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup cooking oil
1/2- 2/3 cup chopped pecans

Grease bottom of muffin cups or one loaf pan, 8 x4x2 inch if you prefer a loaf bread over muffins. Stir flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and nuts together. In a separate bowl, mix egg, bananas, sugar and cooking oil. Mix wet batter into dry batter until thoroughly mixed and pour in muffin cups or loaf pan. Bake for 30-40 minutes at 350 degrees for muffins, 60-70 minutes for loaf pan at same temperature. Check with toothpick to make sure center is done.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow, the Rubber Chicken continues to search for his Fuzzy Duck. This weekend, as requested, a new Twirl and a special announcement about a celebration here at the Pond, as well as a new series of stories you're sure to love! Stay tuned!

Without a Single Word

2009-02-04T03:00:00.000-08:00

To read the previous Twirl, go here.

For my new Invisible Friends, Twirl is the story of a fiesty, sassy ballerina named Vivi and her handsome cowboy named Wade. After falling in love swaying on the dance floor to the sound of a fiddle and steel guitar, the couple have stumbled onto a old Texas legend that might possibly lead to riches! On top of everything, Vivi is fighting her controlling father and over involved dance teacher, who are trying to trap her into a life she may not want. Add in a mysterious secret with her mother, a scheming evil boy in her dance class and regular teen angst and you've got DRAMA!

To catch up in the archives, go here and here. Or e-mail me and I'll send you the word document of what I've posted.

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"Yup, there's only one thing we can do now," the sheriff sighed. He rubbed his forehead and planted his cowboy hat over the greasy strands that covered his budding bald spot. "We'll have to turn it over to the historical society."

"The historical society?" Margaret squawked. "It'll take them ages to find out anything! By the time they vote on where to start, how to start, when to start and what to look for, we'll all be dead! It could take 100 years!"

"I know," the sheriff replied, his voice bitter. "And I'd sure love to keep looking. But as a member of the Texas law force," he boasted, snorting proudly and pulling his pants over his bulging belly, "I'm afraid I can't waste my time chasing legends."

"But"-- Vivi started to protest, but Wade's hand squeezed hers. Hard. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, a sharp retort on her lips. His blue eyes were twinkling as he gave her a small wink.

"I know, Vivi," the sheriff said, not noticing the exchange. "It is a bummer. But as Miss Margaret here can tell you, it could be a wild goose chase that lasted years."

Margaret hissed through her rotten teeth. "How can you do this to me?" she snarled. "You pull me away from a Ancient Texts Convention to translate this old letter, then you don't even bother to let me in on the puzzle! I am offended, sir."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the sheriff said, honestly bewildered. "We'll be getting out of your way then." Tipping his hat, he shuffled out the front door. "Come on Wade, Vivi," he called over his shoulder.

Wade also tipped his hat, his eyes glittering with excitement as he walked out the door. Margaret handed Vivi the letter. Vivi gently touched the delicate yellowed paper between her fingers. Margaret's rough, gnarled hands clamped on. Her black eyes bore into Vivi's.

"I'm available," she whispered through her rotten black teeth, the words whistling through the air. "Day or night. Just call." She slipped a card from her black sleeve and slid it under Vivi's thumb. Releasing her grip on the letter, she abruptly turned and shuffled away. For a moment, Vivi stood in the strange living room holding the letter in a daze. It all felt so strange, so unreal. A tribal mask stared down at her, unblinking in agreement. Jumping at Wade's voice calling her name, she hurried out the screen door without looking back.

She waited until after he had helped her in the truck and climbed in on the other side before speaking.

"What's your idea?" she blurted out.

Wade didn't even bother pretending. With a wide grin, he fired up the engine. "I say we find what Bullet Bill hid," he exclaimed. "We can go to every dance hall in town and follow the clues. I know we can do it!"

"How do we know all the letters are in dance halls?" Vivi asked. "The first letter was in their house."

"They've got to be in dance halls," Wade replied. "Where else could a unmarried young woman go alone in those days at night?"

"Good point," Vivi admitted, running her finger along the edge of the letter. "Why didn't you tell the sheriff?"

"The sheriff wants the treasure for money," Wade replied bluntly. "I don't care if it's money or a bag of old socks. I just want to find it." His blue eyes locked onto hers. "What do you think?"

Vivi felt her cheeks turn pink. Every time he gave her that look, she felt like she was swirling on the dance hall. "I think it'll be a lot of fun," she said honestly.

"Great!" Wade crowed. "We can hit a dance hall a weekend and spend all week breaking down the clues."

"Every weekend?" Vivi gulped. The performance she'd been training all year for was just a few months away. Every single weekend had been scheduled with hours of practice, not counting the classes and dance team practices she had during the week.

"Is that not going to work?" Wade asked.

Vivi looked at his wounded face and felt her heart twist. "No, it's fine," she lied. Her stomach tightened in knots and she bit onto her tongue, digging her tooth into the soft flesh.

"I can't wait to find out what the first clue means!" Wade cried, slapping the steering wheel in excitement. "But first, we've got to get to dinner!"

"Dinner?" Vivi looked at the clock. It was barely three. "What do you mean dinner?"

"At my grandfather's," Wade said, giving her an odd look. "I have to help him barbecue and get set up. It takes awhile."

Vivi felt a quiver snake down her spine. "Barbecue? How many people are coming?"

Wade looked straight at the road. "Just a few," he murmured. A smile danced at the edge of his lips.

Vivi gulped and stroked the letter with her thumb, running it back and forth down the brittle paper. Wade laughed and put one hand on her knee.

"Vivi, I was just kidding," he reassured her. "It's just the three of us. I don't have enough family I like to introduce you to, anyways." He flipped on the radio. "I'm actually hoping my grandfather knows about the legend, or at least has some books on it. He's a huge history nut. He knows everything about this area."

Vivi let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the seat. "I'm looking forward to meeting him," she assured Wade. Letting the hills roll past them out the window, Vivi let her thoughts drift away as the truck flew down the road. They turned onto a old ranch road that trickled into a gravel path. The truck bounced and jarred as Wade yelled over the noise.

"See, this is where we keep the cows in the summer--and that's where the old barn used to be," he shouted, pointing to different land marks. "Over there is the tank--you'd call it a pond--it's usually stocked with catfish."

Vivi peered through the windshield. Her eyes widened. "What's all that about? Who are all those people?"

Wade leaned forward and his jaw tightened. "I don't know. But if it's what I think it might be, then it ain't good."

Pulling up to a large metal building surrounded by a sea of cars, Vivi felt her body go numb. It couldn't be him. Not here, not now. Her fingers clamped the letter to her chest, damp with sweat.

"Vivi?" Wade asked. "What's wrong?"

Vivi couldn't answer. She could only stare at his sneering face.

Damien, the nemesis from her dance class, was smiling right at her.

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a tasty family recipe and the new chapter of the Rubber Duck searching for his Fuzzy Love on Friday! Plus, we've got a weekend full of whimsical fun! Stay tuned!

The Intruder of the Pond

2009-02-03T03:00:00.000-08:00

Dearest Invisible Subjects,

It is your regal ruler, Queen Bitty. And I have a terrible tragedy to tell you about.

A horrible event.

A disastrous deed.

This creature has invaded the Pond.

Did I just hear you coo?

I thought not.

It seems my unloyal servant, the Blond Duck's sister Danielle, has gotten a new puppy. A baby beagle named Star.

I am not amused.

How dare Ben rub her belly?!?

Look at the fuzzy body, those floppy ears, those small paws! Blasphemy, I say!

This just makes me sick.

And she even has a moose. Snarlllll.

Wuffle. I like mooses. Wuffle. And dolphins.

Honestly, how can you respect any furry creature that flails about like this? How unlady-like.

I am not amused.

Wait a minute.

What is this??!?!?

I have not the words.

Blond Duck, you've crossed the wrong 3 lb. Chihuahua Queen. Vengeance shall be mine. You shall learn the hard way that I, Queen Bitty, ruler of the Pond, am the only puppy in your life.

And Bear. I guess.

Cookie-stealing bunny, attack!

Blond Duck, you shall rue the day you crossed Queen Bitty, ruler of the Pond, for the fuzzy creature you call Star.

Beware the vengeance of the Cookie-Stealing Bunny!

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new Twirl and Thursday, a tasty family recipe that you can take anywhere, anytime. And Friday, the next part of the Rubber Chicken's story as he searches for his long lost Fuzzy love!

The Gift 9

2009-02-02T03:00:00.000-08:00

Have you ever lost a love? A feathered love with webbed feet and frizzy yellow feathers?

Then you'd probably want to check in with the Rubber Chicken, who continued to search for the fowl of his dreams yesterday.

And if you want to see what happens when the Blond Duck goes out in the sun, go here.

The Babies say thank you for all the fond birthday wishes.

And now, for the Gift.

You read the previous one, right?

Of course you did.

You may proceed.

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Rouge smiled over a tray of the most luscious desserts Ashley had ever seen.

"Oh my God!" she cried, grabbing for a plate of mini-cheesecakes all the time. "If you serve these every night, I'm going to be as big as a house!"

"It's just for Ladies' Night," Rouge replied with a grin. "I know how girls like their sweets." He picked up a chocolate brownie drizzled with chocolate and caramel sauce. "Where's Samantha?" he asked, looking up and down the bar. "I got this just for her."

"I don't know," Ashley said, her forehead wrinkling. "She was right here."

"I didn't see her leave," Cleo said, her eyes wide. "She always tells us if she goes somewhere."

A bitter cackle burst from the other end of the bar. Jeremy swung around on his stood, swaying as he sipped from a thick glass mug. "She disappeared," he cried, leering at the girls. "Into thin air! Poof!" Ashley and Cleo stared at him as he roared with laughter.

"She must have gone to the bathroom," Rouge said, setting the brownie down at her place at the bar.

"Oh no," Jeremy called, shaking his head. "She vanished. Poof! All gone!" He giggled, then slurped down more beer.

"Cut him off," Rouge muttered to the bartender. The bartender nodded and tried to jerk the mug from Jeremy's hand. Jeremy howled and clutched it to his chest.

"What do you mean, she disappeared?" Ashley asked.

Snarling at the bartender trying to swipe his beer, Jeremy pushed off the bar. Teetering on one left of the stool, he smiled triumphantly and took a drink.

"One of the waiters gave her a bright blue drink," he informed Ashley with all the condensation a drunk can. "She took one sip and poof! Gone in a flash!"

"What waiter?" Rouge demanded.

"The one with black hair in all black," Jeremy replied. "He's gone too."

Rouge shook his head. "My waiters don't wear all black. And none of them have black hair like that. Plus, we don't have electric blue drinks. It's an Irish pub, not a dance club."

"Poof!" Jeremy laughed, unaware that the leg of of the bar stool was creaking alarmingly.

"Oh my God!" Ashley cried, grabbing Cleo's arm. "The necklace! How could we have been so stupid?"

"What necklace?" Rouge asked.

"Do you have it?" Cleo asked Ashley.

"No," Ashley growled. "Samantha has it in her purse."

"What necklace?" Rouge repeated.

"The necklace of love," Jeremy howled, flinging his arm out dramatically. The stool slammed into the ground and Jeremy fell on his back, the beer splashing out onto his chest and pooling around his neck. He leaned his head to the side and tried to lap it up as the beer dripped onto the bar floor.

Ashley grabbed a bar napkin and sketched out the design. "It looked like this," she said, shoving it towards Rouge. "But it was made out of diamonds and blue topaz stones." She told Rouge the story of the mysterious box with the note that said "Love, Me."

"And every note said, "Until Sunset," she said. "That's why we thought it was you. When we saw that the charm was Celtic and you had opened up the pub, we were sure it was you."

Rouge shook his head, his face grim. "This isn't good," he said. "Was she wearing the necklace?"

"I don't think so," Ashley replied. "Why?"

"If she wears it, she'll be bound to whoever gave her the gift," Rouge replied darkly. He leaned forward over the bar. On Samantha's seat was a tiny blue topaz pendant of a flower, much like the flower she had been given before.

And from across the bar, Jeremy began to laugh. His bitter laughter washed over them, sending shivers down their spine.

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Samantha stirred. Her skin was damp and cold and her hair felt heavy against her face. Pulling herself up, she grimaced and brushed mossy twigs and leaves from her arms and hands. After she had picked dirt and leaves from her hair, she climbed to her feet.

Wrapping her arms around her body, she cursed. Of course. The one time she got drugged and dumped in the woods, it'd have to be in a short sweater dress that barely covered her butt and stiletto boots. She was going to kill Ashley.

"Hello?" she called. Glancing around, she shivered. She had never seen woods like this before. The trees stretched toward the sky with thick trunks covered in a bark that was so lush it looked like fur. Snarled greenery covered every inch of the ground that wasn't covered in dense green moss. A fine white mist rolled across her feet, the bitter cold making her skin prick.

She spotted a grey walk and stepped carefully over to it, avoiding small stones and small creatures under those stones. She knew enough about nature that she didn't want to run into anything with teeth or scales.

Placed on the rock was a small box wrapped in brown paper. Picking it up, Samantha read the note attached.

"I am pleased you have taken the trouble to join me, love. Are you wearing the necklace to think of me? But no path is easy, and yours is certainly difficult. I hope this makes things easier. Until sunset. Love, Me."

"As soon as I meet "Me," I'm going to throttle him," Samantha snarled. She sighed. Looking around at her empty surroundings, she sighed.

Then she opened the package.

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have the introduction of a new addition to the Pond and Wednesday, a new Twirl! Then we have a treasured family recipe and more adventures with the Rubber Duck and Fuzzy Chicken! Stay tuned!

The Rubber Chicken begins the Search for the Fuzzy Duck

2009-02-01T03:00:00.000-08:00

To read the previous edition of our feathered friend's love drama, go here.

After discovering the Fuzzy Duck had gone to rescue her mother from the evil Skull Face in the attic, the Rubber Chicken set out in the dark of night to rescue his feathered love.

At first, he simply ran around the streets in a fit of panic.

"What should I do?" he fretted, flapping his wings frantically. "Where should I go? There's a million places she could be!"

Terrible images raced through his mind. What if the Fuzzy Duck was hurt? What if she had been captured by the Skull Face's evil hooligans? What if....the last thought was so horrifying he couldn't bear to finish it. Gnashing his beak together, he threw himself down in front of the restaurant they went to on their first date.

"It's useless," he whispered to himself, his wings dangling by his sides. "I'm just a rubber chicken. How can I rescue her?"

"First, you have to stop sniveling!" a voice snapped.

"It's not romantic," a second voice scolded him.

"Buck up, chin up!" a third voice cheered.

"Do you have any pie?" a fourth voice answered.

The Rubber Chicken looked up in astonishment. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Hello," he said uncertainly.

"Hello," the first duck said.

"How do you do?" the second duck asked.

"Why are you still wuffling on the ground?" the third duck asked.

"Do you like chicken nuggets or are you morally opposed to them?" the fourth duck asked.

The Rubber Chicken blinked. He had never been asked so many questions at once. "Actually, I'm looking for a girl," he said. "The Fuzzy Duck. Have you seen her?"

"The one with frizzy feathers?" the first duck asked.

"She was here yesterday," the second duck said.

"With the Yellow Chicken," the third duck confirmed.

"You might want to check with her," the fourth duck advised. "She's at the late night cafe down the street."

"Thanks!" the Rubber Chicken cried. Cheered, he hurried down the road towards the late night cafe. When he got there, only a few patrons were sprinkled about the booths. The Yellow Chicken was munching on apple pie and a entire carton of ice cream when he burst through the door.

"Excuse me, ma'am!" he cried. "I'm in desperate need of your aid!"

"Not my pie, I hope," the hen clucked, pulling her plate closer to her feathered breast.

"Oh no," the Rubber Chicken assured her. "I'm looking for the Fuzzy Duck. Do you know where she is?"

"We had a lovely lunch yesterday,"the Yellow Chicken chortled, waving her spoon in the air. "Corn salad with tomato and grasshopper soup and honey macaroons! Delicious!"

"Yes," the Rubber Chicken agreed. "It sounds lovely. Did the Fuzzy Duck mention any plans?"

The Yellow Chicken chewed on her pie for a moment. "She was going to the Mr. B, the banker," she said finally. "You might check with him. He comes to the bank at 7 a.m., so you might meet him then."

"Thanks!" the Rubber Chicken shouted. Enthused, he hurried home. The next morning, he bolted out of bed and raced to the bank. He was there by 6:30 a.m. Burying into his rubber feathers, he had almost fallen asleep when he saw the silver banker ascending the bank steps.

"Excuse me!" he shouted. "May I ask you a question?"

"What?" the silver pig snapped. "Time is money, money is time! Unless your question revolves around quarters or dimes, that's no concern of mine!"

The Rubber Chicken blinked, then shook his head. "I'm looking for the Fuzzy Duck," he said. "Do you know where she went?"

"Foolish duck!" the silver pig cried. "She took all her money and drained her account! There's not a quarter, a dime or even a penny left to count!"

"But where did she go?" the Rubber Chicken pressed. "Did she say?"

"The Taco Dog," the silver pig snapped, pulling keys out of the slot on his back to open the door. "Time is money, money is time! Unless you have bank business, this is goodbye!" The silver pig hurried into the bank and slammed the door. Shacking his feathered head, the pig hurried to the Taco Dog. By this late in the morning, it was crowded with customers wanting tasty breakfast tacos. The Rubber Chicken shoved his way to the front.

"Taco, burrito or tamale?" the Taco Dog inquired.

"None of the above," the Rubber Chicken replied. "I'm looking for the Fuzzy Duck."

"She likes burritos," the Taco Dog assured him. "Eggs, bacon and cheese. With a splash of beans."

"Where is she?" the Rubber Chicken asked, his patience fading.

"I don't know," the Taco Dog shrugged. "She hasn't been in for breakfast in two days. Next customer!" he called, looking over the Rubber Chicken's shoulder.

Pushing through the crowd, the Rubber Chicken plopped down on a bench and buried his head in his feathers. "It's hopeless," he muttered to himself. "She's so far gone I'll never catch her."

"Not necessarily."

The Rubber Chicken jerked his head up and gasped. "Who are you?"

"I can help," a pink cupid snorted, his snout twitching as his wings fluttered. "Let me introduce myself..."

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have all sorts of whimsical fun this week. Tomorrow, we have a new Gift! Then we've got a new Twirl, a new addition to the Pond and a family recipe that will have you drooling into your keyboards. Get ready for a whimsical week at the Pond!

Tag

2009-01-31T03:00:00.000-08:00

Jen at the lovely Tater Tots and Jello tagged me a few days ago. When I realized what picture I would have to reveal, I giggled. So instead of the story I was going to give you today, you get another story instead.

Admit it. You're curious what story you missed. Don't worry--it will be revealed soon!

The rules are:

1) I choose the 4th folder where I store my pictures on the computer.
2. Select the 4th picture in the folder.
3. Explain the picture.
4. Tag 4 people to do the same.
5. No cheating (cropping, editing, etc.)

Here's the fourth picture in my fourth folder:

When Ben and I went to Baylor, we didn't usually go to football games. The whole point of football games is to enjoy a rousing competition, and there was nothing to compete with Baylor. We lost almost every game. By halftime, you were either freezing with purple toes during a cold spell, or more likely sweating with your underwear stuck to your butt. And the Blond Duck doesn't do purple toes or sweaty underwear stuck to her butt. There were very few games in my college experience.

My senior year, my friend Val and her fiance David came up for the Baylor-UT game. I thought they were insane. Not only did they drive an hour and a half to go watch a game where we all knew what was going to happen, but they paid $80 per ticket.

But I'm not a Longhorn, so I suppose I don't understand.

Val and David had just gotten engaged. The plan was to stay until halftime, then Val and I would go shop for wedding dresses and bridesmaid dresses. The boys would watch television and scratch themselves until we returned to pour over more wedding magazines and discuss more wedding details.

As I've said before, I'm not really into weddings.

But, I was Val's maid of honor, so I bucked up and prepared for a day of football and weddings, my two most favorite things ever. It's what a good buddy does.

The game was in November, so I only put a light coating of sunscreen on my face.

When the ladies began to giggle at David's Bridal a few hours later, I couldn't understand why. I thought perhaps my bra was showing or a boob had escaped my corset or maybe my underwear was showing.

It was only when a saleswoman touched my arm to turn me to pin the dress that I realized everything, and I do mean everything, was burned to a crisp.

Blow up the picture if you don't believe me.

Several dresses and wedding magazines later, the bride's fears of a lobster maid of honor had been calmed.

After all, her wedding wasn't until next September.

So Invisible Friends, it's like that old Baz Luhrman song says: "If I could offer you any tip for the future, wear sunscreen."

Tag.

You're it!:

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow, the Rubber Chicken finally searches for his long lost love....And we have a week full of whimsical goodness coming up!

Happy Birthday, Bitty and Bear

2009-01-30T03:00:00.000-08:00

One year ago, two little creatures entered our lives. They terrorized our nights with banshee screams, peed on every inch of carpet and turned our organized home into slightly manageable chaos.

And I couldn't have been happier.

There was the first bath...

The night time snuggles...

The patter of little puppy paws behind me wherever I went...

And the sight of a little head trying to hide in our covers at night.

One year later, Bitty and Bear are even more fun than they were as little puppies that could fit in my palm.

To celebrate this grand occasion, we had all sorts of wondrous festivities planned in the Pond.

All sorts of friends attended,

including Bear's new friend the Moose.

Since Bitty had already ordered all her royal subjects to attend,

Her birthday activities included showing off her new gems.

The puppies and their guests (and ordered servants) then dined on chopped hot dog and nachos made from a corn tortilla and the finest shredded cheese.

For several moments, the only sounds in the Pond include polite snorting, wuffling with joy and slurping as hot dogs and nachos were dragged all over the kitchen floor. They were quite enthusiastic about their meal.

In fact, Bitty enjoyed her meal so much she stole the last nacho and retired to the kitchen rug, growling at all who stepped too close to her birthday treat.

Of course, there is more.

As no birthday in the Pond ever last one day (mine last a month), the Babies will also celebrate tomorrow evening with peanut butter puppy pies and chicken chew sticks provided by the Blond Duck's mom.

After such a wonderful birthday, Bear could only wuffle one last request.

Yo quiero peanut butter puppy pie, pronto.

Wuffle.

Happy Birthday to the Pond's Babies!

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! This weekend, we have the Rubber Chicken's gallant search for his fuzzy love and more whimsical fun! Next week, stay tuned for a new Twirl, Gift and tasty recipe (that for now, shall remain secret!)

A Beautiful Mess

2009-01-29T03:00:00.000-08:00

Several years ago, a country band called Diamond Rio released a song called "Beautiful Mess."

"What a beautiful mess, what a beautiful mess I'm in
Spending all my time with you
There's nothing else I'd rather do
What a sweet addiction that I'm caught up in
'Cause I can't get enough
Can't stop the hunger for your love
What a beautiful, what a beautiful mess I'm in"

Invisible Friends, this is a beautiful mess. A beautiful mess of meatball goodness handmade by none other than the Pond's resident chef, Ben.

There's only one problem with this gorgeous mess of meaty goodness.

There's no real recipe.

It's different every time and is constantly evolving.

There are however, a few constants. They involve 2 lb. ground beef, Parmesan cheese, onion powder, garlic powder, crushed cracker crumbs, an egg, oregano and various Italian spices, kosher salt and pepper.

First, you mix the big old mess together. Then separate into little balls with a spoon or Ben's favorite, a cookie scoop.

Rolling, rolling, roll the meatballs....

Drop into a dutch oven with your favorite sauce and let simmer for two to three hours.

That's it.

It's simple.

And beautiful.

And messy.

Just the way I like it.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a re-cap of the Babies' Birthday party! Then this weekend, we have the chronicles of the Rubber Chicken as he rescues his lady love of frizz, the Fuzzy Duck! And more whimsical fun coming your way! Stay tuned!

Bluebonnets under the old oak tree

2009-01-28T03:00:00.000-08:00

To read the previous Twirl, go here.

For my new Invisible Friends, Twirl is the story of a star-crossed ballerina named Vivi and her handsome cowboy named Wade, who have stumbled into a international ballet scandal and a old Texas legend that might possibly lead to riches! To catch up in the archives, go here and here. Or e-mail me and I'll send you the word document of what I've posted.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Vivi thought the woman's appearance was bad, her house was worse.

Chipped and broken furniture was covered in boxes of books, papers and thick folders with documents written in strange languages pouring out of them. The walls were empty of pictures or color. Instead, crooked bookshelves that looked as though a blind man had installed them dangled from the walls, stuffed with faded books that suffered from cracked bindings and loose, yellowed pages.

Wade lead Vivi to the only clear space in the room, a sticky leather arm chair. Vivi looked at the seat and bit her lip.

"I'll stand, thanks," she said, smiling brightly at the woman. "I've been sitting for awhile and my muscles are stiff."

The woman's hard black eyes narrowed, her nose crinkled as if she could smell the lie on Vivi's breath.

"Vivi, Wade, this here is Margaret," the sheriff stuttered, standing as far away from the woman as was polite. "She was a professor of languages"--

"I'm a linguistic expert and highly regarded in my field," the woman interrupted, her black eyes glittering. "I've taught at Oxford, Harvard and done work for the Smithsonian. However, considering these two barely speak proper English, I doubt my background is of any interest of them. Shall we get to the point?" She held out a withered hand.

"There better be something damn good in that letter," Vivi muttered, glaring at the older woman. Wade's lips twitched and he squeezed her hand.

Wiping his brow, the sheriff mutely handed the envelope to the woman. Without another word, she scurried over to her desk. Wiggling her fingers so her rings clinked together in a trilling melody, she jammed some reading glasses on her nose and stared down at the fragile paper. Her lips moved as she whispered to herself. Vivi leaned forward, straining to hear. The woman raised her eyes and snarled.

"Do you mind?" she bellowed, her wrinkled face draped in sinister shadows. The silver chain swung around her neck, trembling as she flung her arms in the air. "I'm working here!"

"Sorry," Vivi muttered, her cheeks turning red. "I just wanted to know what you are muttering."

"If you wish to know what is on this page, you will cease disturbing me immediately!" the woman shouted, her black eyes bugging out and spittle flying from her pale wrinkled lips.

When Vivi stared at her sullenly, she huffed and dropped her greasy silver head back to the page. Her lips moved faster as her eyes skimmed across the page, her fingers wiggling in excitement. The cadence of the rings ringing together as her fingers fluttered in the air grew faster and louder as her whispers slid into a single hiss.

"AMAZING!" she bellowed, slamming her fist on the desk. A rotten apple core bounced into the air, knocking over a lamp. The sheriff's face blanched and he jumped toward the letter.

"Oh relax!" Margaret shrieked, waving the yellowed paper in the air. It crinkled like tissue paper, the spidery lines of age dancing across it's surface. "The letter is fine!"

"What did it say?" Wade asked. Even though his voice sounded causal, Vivi could see his eyes glittering with excitement.

Margaret flung the long silver braid over her shoulder. "First of all, it's not German."

"It's not?" The sheriff sounded disappointed. "What is it?"

"It's a code." Margaret smirked. "A complicated mix of German, Spanish and English. Lucky for you, I figured it out in only a few moments. You see, my studies of Latin, Russian, Arabic, tribal languages in the Southwest and Australia"--

"What does it say?" Vivi interrupted. "Could you read it to us?"

The woman pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "I suppose so," she growled. With a glum expression, she peered at the paper.

"My love," she read in her bitter, ancient voice. "Forgive me for my sins. If I had known my past would effect our future, I would have lived a clean life." Margaret snorted. "Not likely, considering the historical records of Bullet Bill, historians agree that"--

"Please keep reading, ma'am," the sheriff begged in a hoarse tone. "We're all anxious to hear what's in this letter."

Margaret clenched her rotten teeth together and continued to read. "If you'll still have me, Addy, I'll marry you. A proper marriage in a proper church. I don't know if you'll want to have this old outlaw for a husband, but I'd be honored to have you for my wife."

Margaret paused, her eyes glittering. Before she could comment, Vivi asked, "Was that it?"

"No." Margaret sighed, her face tight with irritation. She took a breath and continued reading. "For many years, I stole and robbed from good, honest people. I've killed, destroyed families and taken food from babe's mouths. But that's all over with.

"I made a fortune doing bad, and now I am to do good. I'm a rich man, Addy. And I'm man enough to admit I'm going to keep being a rich man. But I know a way to do it that'll make you proud. In the next letter, I'll tell you all about it."

Margaret peered at the paper. "This doesn't make any sense. The words are so strange."

"What's it say?" The sheriff's eyes were wide. He was hanging on to every word.

"Starlight under the Oak Moon. Blue ribbons. Bluebonnet."

Vivi blinked. "That doesn't sound like a song or a poem."

Wade frowned. "It's not the name of a dancehall or town either."

The sheriff wrinkled his forehead. "Well, I reckon there's only one thing we can do now..."

To be continued...

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow, we have a tasty new recipe! Friday, we have the Babies' birthday and this weekend, the Rubber Chicken sets off to help the Fuzzy Duck in her quest to rescue her mother. Stay tuned for more whimsical fun!

The story of the Blond Duck's wedding

2009-01-27T03:00:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I was never the kind of girl who dreamed of getting married.

In fact, I didn't really get weddings. I'd only been to one or two, and I didn't like them much. People cried, no one would let me dance spastically around the floor and the food was terrible. Plus, I didn't know anyone and I wasn't the center of attention.

Really, I only dreamed of one thing.

Of course, I'd always thought of my husband would be like. But I never pondered about his hair color or name. I never dreamed of what tux he would look good in and what his face would look like when the church doors opened. My curiosity centered around when and where I would meet him. That was about it. I saw marriage as being legally bound to my best friend. Being a practical romantic, I never dreamed of being swept off my feet or knowing at first sight. I had a list of requirements and knew exactly what I wanted. I just hadn't found it yet.

This picture was used on our invitations. They were far from traditional.

Then one grey day at a Jason's Deli by Baylor University, I found it. I was instantly curious, extremely fascinated.

The feeling was mutual.

I'm pretty sure, anyway. I mean, not much the poor sap can do now, right?

Moving on.

Being a non-wedding kind of girl, wedding planning was more of a chore than a joy. If my mother and sister hadn't done most of the work, I'd still be sitting on the carpet dumbfounded with an engagement ring on one hand and the other stuck in my nose.

I gave my poor Mom and sister hell.

First, I demanded apple pie instead of cake. I didn't want cake. I didn't like cake. No cake. Forget traditions--I was not having a cake.

I had a cake. And tiered apple pies.

Next, I refused to deal with bridesmaids dresses. I told them to pick out a sundress. My mom told me to pick three colors.

My sister's the one in green.

For six long months, I snarled and snapped every time someone mentioned the word wedding. I ranted about trends that had nothing to do with love, howled when I received a million silver platters instead of practical sheets and towels as gifts and staunchly refused anything but a traditional bridal shower. I wasn't having a lingerie party, a bachelorette party, an engagement party or a look at me party. For something that was all about me, I tried to make it as un-about me as possible.

But despite all that, my wedding was magical. And perfect.

We got married in Austin at the County Line on the Lake. That's right--it's a barbecue restaurant.

It was also a traditional spot for Pike family special family traditions. The Line, as we called it, was reserved for straight A report cards, special birthdays and major accomplishments. And the lake, or Colorado River, was also ingrained in our family. I'd been riding in my dad's boat on that lake since I was old enough to walk, and water skiing since 8. The lake was in my blood and part of my soul.

Before the ceremony, Ben thought heavily about the commitment he was going to make...

While I thought heavily about the apple pies.

We were married by a justice of the peace at high noon on May 27, 2006. As we walked down the aisle, my father teased me about water moccasins...

Little did he know one would show up later, much to the delight of Ben's city-slicker friends. Trust me, it's there. Look for it.

By 12:30 p.m., the wedding was over and the reception had begun.

It was time for ribs!

And dancing on the patio...

Starting new fashion trends....

And annoying neighbors by throwing bouquets to their 15-year-old daughters even though they specifically asked you not to. Of course, I was just as horrified as he was.

I have no idea.

A little after three, we decided the reception had come to an end. Our guests reinforced this by throwing white bio-degradable rice at us.

Giddy and breathless, we drove away to my parent's a few miles down the road for a post-reception celebration. We spent the afternoon swimming, dining with friends and visiting with family.

The next day, after spending the night in a hotel, we headed to my parent's for a special neighborhood reception that included a tricked out golf cart, lots of rice and a whole lot of fun...

But that, dear Invisible Friends, is another story.

Oh, and why did I get married at 21, two weeks after my college graduation and a week after buying my first house and moving to a city three hours away?

Because I wanted to.

For more wedding tales, visit Eli's Lids. She's linked up dozens of fun wedding post from romantic bloggers.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tommorow we have a new Twirl and Thursday.... Ben's famous hand-made-sauce-dripping-Mini Meat balls! And Friday, we have the Babies' birthday and the Rubber Chicken's search for his long lost date. Stay tuned!

The Gift 8

2009-01-26T03:00:00.000-08:00

Stop!

Did you read the date of the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken?

Did you read the last edition of the Gift? (If you didn't, read it before today's post or you'll be sorry!)

And what about my sweet tribute to the lunch date?

Ok. You may proceed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Samantha peeled her face off Rouge's t-shirt and smiled as he pounded her on the back in the most enthusiastic bear hug she'd ever received.

"It's so good to see you!" he cried, stepping back to beam down at her. "Aye, it's been too long Samantha!"

"Hey, that's my girlfriend you're hugging!" Jeremy bellowed, thrashing around in the doorway. "Back off, Irish boy!"

"Oh, shut up," Ashley groaned, stepping on his foot with her high-heeled boot as she hurried toward Rouge. Jeremy howled as she smiled at Rouge. "Remember me, handsome?"

"Ashley!" Rouge cried, releasing Samantha to embrace Ashley. "My other partner in crime! It's like Christmas, it is!" He turned toward Cleo and bowed his head. "And who is this other fine lady with you?" He winked at Cleo and she blushed, holding out her hand.

"I'm Cleo," she simpered, biting her lip as Rouge raised her hand to his lips. "I'm a friend of Samantha's from grad school."

"You're in grad school?" Rouge whirled around and stared at Samantha. "I always knew you were brilliant, darling. What are you studying?"

"Psychology," Samantha said with a grin. "You know I always like studying people. I want to be a family therapist. I'm fascinated by the dynamics of relationships."

"If she was only better at studying her own relationships," Ashley muttered, jerking her head towards Jeremy. "Or lack thereof."

Rouge burst into laughter as Samantha shrieked and started toward Ashley. "Girls, come in and have a drink on me," he said, his voice rising and falling in a thick Irish cadence. He steered the three girls through the pub doors. "If you're up to it, there's a drink for you at the bar," he addressed Jeremy, his lips twitching in a grin. "If you're done howling like a banshee and all that."

Jeremy snarled, but pulled himself upright and limped inside. He plopped down at the end of the bar away from Samantha and her friends, shooting wounded glances their way as he nursed a beer. The girls ignored them. Their attention was solely on Rouge, who was handing them platters of Shepard's pie and fish and chips with thick mugs of Irish beer.

"So I suppose you're wondering where I went," he said to Samantha, his eyes twinkling.

"Duh!" she exclaimed. "I tried to find you for years. It was like you just disappeared off the face of the Earth. What happened?"

"Well, my great aunt left me a fortune in her will when she died," he explained. Leaning over the bar, golden candlelight flickered across his impish features as a grin spread over his face. "When I traveled over there to receive the fortune, I found the will had certain obligations that came with it. For two or three years, I had loose ends to tie up with family business before the fortune could become mine. As soon as I finished the last task, I was back on a plane to America."

"Why didn't you call me?" Samantha asked. "Why wouldn't you tell me any of this?"

"It was a complicated situation," Rouge admitted. "Plus, I was in the middle of the Irish countryside. Post was the only way of communication. It was as though I'd gone back 100 years in time. I never expected it to take so long. By the time I came back, I had no idea how to contact you. Your parents had moved and no one from our old school knew where you had gone."

"Why a bar?" Cleo asked. "Why didn't you finish college?"

Rouge's eyes twinkled. "It was my dream," he murmured, his rich accent sending shivers down Samantha's spine. "It was the last part of the puzzle that had to be completed. I wanted to make my grand dad proud, you know? So I came back here, found this property and spent two years getting this set up. I wanted it to be a proper Irish pub."

Rouge leaned forward, running his thumb under Samantha's chin. "I never forgot about you," he said earnestly. "I never stopped thinking of you. And there is so much to tell you"--

"Sir?" A waitress approached Rouge with a hesitant smile. "We're having a bit of a problem in the kitchen."

Rouge groaned and flashed a smile at the girls. "I'll be back," he promised. "Excuse me." He winked at Samantha and disappeared into the kitchen. Samantha heard clangs and clashes of metal and winced.

"He's so crazy about you," Ashley announced.

"Totally," Cleo agreed.

"You guys are crazy," Samantha argued. She pulled a fork out of her napkin to dig into the fish and chips. "We're just friends."

A hand tapped her shoulder, and she turned around. A man with dark hair and light, grey eyes stood behind her. He was dressed in all black and holding a electric blue drink.

"A gift," he said, bowing as he handed her the glass. "He wanted you to have this."

"Who?" Ashley demanded.

"Rouge, of course," Samantha said as she accepted the glass. She smiled and thanked the man. Raising the glass to her lips, she took a tentative sip of the electric blue liquid. The sweet cold liquid jolted across her teeth and down her throat, her entire system tingling.

And then the world went white.

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have the wedding story you've all been waiting for! Then we have a new Twirl, a tasty classic Pond recipe and the Babies' birthday! Plus, can the Rubber Chicken find the Fuzzy Duck? Stay tuned to find out!

Lunch Date

2009-01-25T06:56:00.001-08:00

It's my favorite time of the week.

For days before, giddy possibilities fill my mind. It could be fish, a sandwich, a hamburger or even barbecue. It could be ice cream or pizza, or even soup and salad.

It could be on a Friday or a Saturday, a Monday or a Sunday. It could be at eleven or one, twelve or two.

It could be downtown or a few blocks from the house. It could be out of town or at the drive through around the corner.

Sometimes I'm in dance pants, sometimes I'm in a fancy dress. Sometimes I've taken a shower, sometimes I smell like a sewer.

But it's ok.

Because even if I talk too much about myself, smear icing or barbecue sauce all over my face or wear a cracker on my head, you just smile.

And even when I demand dessert at every occasion and steal bites of your leftover hamburger, you think it's cute.

And even when I pick yuppie sandwich places because I was fooled by the cute pink tables and fall into a wallowing funk, you buy me a cupcake to cheer me up.

Because at lunch, it's just us. It's not about the puppies, it's not about work, it's not about family or friends or the people sitting at the table next to us.

And even now, my favorite time of the week is a lunch date.

With you.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a week full of whimsical fun! We've got a new gift tomorrow and the promised wedding post Tuesday. In addition, we've got a new Twirl, classic Pond recipe of one of the Blond Duck's favorite foods and the Babies' Birthday (will they get their peanut butter puppy pie?) Stay tuned to find out!

The Gift 7

2009-01-24T06:06:00.000-08:00

For the previous edition of the Gift, go here.

A few hours later, they were all in a car barreling towards Samantha's hometown. With flat-ironed hair, artfully-lined eyes and a sweater dress hugging every inch of her body, Samantha felt like she was being shown at the big city livestock fair. She had expressed the sentiment to Ashley earlier. Ashley merely snorted and flung a pair of silver hoops at her.

"Ok, Samantha, you're not thinking clearly," Ashley had informed her, pulling on dark jeans that looked more like tights. "Let's go over the facts again, shall we?" She paused with her jeans half-way up her thighs, ticking the points off on her fingers.

"You get a mysterious package hidden in the hutch, addressed to you from a mysterious Me who ends everything with "Until Sunset." The package contains a flower that spit out a diamond and blue topaz Celtic love symbol. Now, your best male friend from Ireland who was madly in love with you for years opened up a club in your hometown called Until Sunset. Do the math."

"I haven't spoken to Rouge in years," Samantha protested, pulling at the hem of her sweater dress. She frowned at the tall boots Ashley pointed at. "I'm going to look like a hooker. And I feel like a stuffed sausage in this dress. I have eaten far too much to wear something this tight."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "The point is to look sexy. Some guy sent you a diamond necklace and you want to show up in sweatpants?"

Samantha wasn't so opposed to the idea. Shifting in the stiff car seats, she shuffled her feet. Sweatpants would have been really nice right now. She had gone from feeling like a stuffed sausage to a sardine.

"I don't get it," Jeremy whined from the backseat. "Why are we driving 200 miles to go to a club? I thought the whole point of this trip was to relax in Sam's parents cabin?"

Samantha grit her teeth at the name. "You didn't have to come," she reminded him sweetly.

"You could have watched the work out DVDs you gave Samantha for Christmas," Cleo pointed out, an edge to her sweet smile.

"I couldn't let you girls go down here alone," Jeremy protested. "Someone has to protect you. Besides, I still am Samantha's boyfriend."

The car grew silent for a moment. The unspoken words for now hung in the air. Samantha shivered and pressed her face to the window.

"You didn't even get breakfast," Ashley griped, breaking the silence. "How are you going to protect us if you couldn't even get us a egg McMuffin?"

The girls burst into laughter, and Jeremy sulked and crossed his arms. He didn't speak another word until the girls pulled into Samantha's hometown.

"This is where you grew up?" he asked, his eyes bugging out. He stared at the wooden cottages and snug brick houses that trickled into a Main Street speckled with ancient brick buildings and long wooden stores. "This looks like Mayberry or something. It's straight out of the 1950s. Why would anyone open up a club here?"

"It's only a few miles from a major metropolitan city," Ashley pointed out, her eyes snapping. "Most people commute. Besides, it's not small. 30,000 people live here. This is the historic part of downtown."

"People who like family values and fresh air move here," Cleo added, her lips pursed. "People that don't want their kids growing up in traffic and drug-infested barrios." Cleo had grown up in a town of 1000 people.

"I thought your parents were loaded," Jeremy said, a horrified look crossing his face as an old man drove past him on a tractor. "Why did you live in this po-dunk place if you could have lived in a high rise condo downtown? How did they ever make their money?"

Samantha's jaw dropped and her eyes flared. Without a word, she and her friends turned on their heel and walked to the nearest diner. Jeremy stood in the street, scratching his head and shrieking as a trailer full of cows rattled by.

By the time evening fell, everyone was desperate for a drink. They walked up to the entrance of the club. Bright gold letters announcing "Until Sunset" scrolled across a brand new wooden building. Through thick glass windows, she could see golden swirling embellishments painted near the ceiling on dark wooden walls. The bar was sleek dark mahogany and dotted with bottles of alcohol on thin dark shelves. The tables were thick with leather bar stools and luscious couches curled in the corners for intimate conversations. It screamed edge and tradition in the same breath.

She didn't know how he had done it, but she knew he had done it. Every touch was his. The band in the back began to play, and she took a deep breath. Her stomach was curled into a hard knot that ached every every step she took. She could feel her jaw beginning to tighten and she forced herself to relax.

It was just rouge, after all.

"Hot damn, I need a shot!" Jeremy howled, shoving around her and interrupting her thoughts. He pushed past Ashley and she stomped on his foot with her stiletto boot. Jeremy swore and hopped up and down, his face red and his eyes shining with moisture.

"What did you do that for, you stupid"--

"If you say one more word, I'm going to shove a margarita glass"-- Ashley broke off when Samantha grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry, but you don't shove past ladies."

"Who said you were a lady?" Jeremy taunted. Cleo stepped on his other foot with her own high heel and he howled so loudly everyone turned to look.

"Oh, shut up," Ashley said in an exasperated tone as the thick wooden door swung open, smacking Jeremy in the leg. He screamed, pressing his pained face against the window to the delight of the curious pub patrons.

"Why can't you be a man for once in your pathetic life?" Ashley demanded. She raised her purse again but a strange arm grabbed hers.

"What seems to be the problem here?" A thick Irish brogue cut through Jeremy's heated reply. Samantha turned her head and forgot to breathe. It was him.

He hadn't changed at all. His thick auburn hair draped across his forehead, stubble traveled down his sculpted cheeks and his lips were curled in his signature grin. He was more buff than he had been in high school, his thin arms now toned and muscular. Biting her lip, she turned to face him. His bright blue eyes flickered over to her, then widened.

"Samantha?" he said. The name in her stomach grew tighter, then relaxed as a beaming grin bloomed across his face. "Is it you?"

She nodded. "Hello Rouge," she said, raising her hand in a wave. The next thing she knew, her face was buried into his shoulder.

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a fun post and we have a week full of whimsical fun, including a classic Pond recipe, the Babies' birthday party and the story of why I got married at 21 (for real, Francesca!) Stay tuned!

A Mysterious Date between the Rubber Chicken and Fuzzy Duck

2009-01-23T03:00:00.000-08:00

To see the previous dates and learn about the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken's story, go here and here.

It was nothing like he had planned.

After their last romantic date, the Rubber Chicken knew what he wanted to ask. The long separation at Christmas had made him even more anxious. The days had felt like weeks and the weeks had felt like years. The phone calls and letters weren't enough. He had to see the Fuzzy Duck, stroke her yellow feathers and kiss that orange beak. And most importantly, he had to ask the question that was burning a hole in his soul.

The duck of his dreams

He had made the reservations at the Nugget, the new hot restaurant, a week in advance. He had called the florist and told her to put together the prettiest bouquet. He'd gotten a feather cut, shined his shoes and ironed his shirt.

For thirty minutes he waited at the restaurant. The Fuzzy Duck never showed.

In his state of devastation, it was as though he could see her fuzzy feathers at the table.

With his head lowered, the Rubber Chicken tipped the waiter and left the restaurant. Something was wrong. He knew it. The Fuzzy Duck would have never stood him up.

He made a beeline for her friend the mermaid, who often hung out at the Fuzzy Duck's cottage.

As soon as she opened the door, he knew it was bad news.

"I thought you might come here," she said. Hiding her face behind her green tail, she handed him a letter. "Read this."

Gulping, the Rubber Chicken took the letter. His eyes skimmed over the hastily written words and he felt his chest tighten.

"Darling," the Fuzzy Duck's desperate hand had scrawled. "Something terrible has happened. My mother has been captured by the dreadful Skull Face of the Halloween decorations. He's threatening to hold her until next October. I tried to call, but I couldn't reach you. I had to go save her. Please understand. I'm yours. Hold my seat for me. Love, the Fuzzy Duck."

Lowering the page, the Rubber Chicken stared at the floor. The Mermaid sniffled and stroked her pet seahorse.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"There's only one thing I can do," the Rubber Chicken said calmly. "I'm going after her."

"What?!?" The mermaid gaped at him. "That's crazy. If she's in the attic, there could be all sorts of spiders and roaches and Easter decorations..."

"I don't care," the Rubber Chicken said, puffing out his chest. "I'd die for the duck I love."

And with that dramatic statement, he ran out into the night. He didn't know where he was going or what he was doing. He was only a simple chicken after all. A simple chicken in love.

But he knew he had to find her....no matter where that might be.

To be continued...

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a new Gift this weekend and all sorts of whimsical fun to keep you smiling until Monday rolls around! And soon, maybe even as soon as Sunday, the new web design will be revealed!

New Recipe Series: Classy Chicken Speghetti

2009-01-22T03:00:00.000-08:00

Here at the Pond, we're not the most of sophisticated of folks. Several of my Invisible Friends create glorious meals with things like butternut squash and kale and all sorts of fancy things. They know what crudites are and shallots and how to make shrimp cocktails.

Meanwhile, the Ducks of the Pond eat sophisticated dishes for dinner such as nachos...

French Toast....

Waffles...

Loads of beef-heavy meals like chili and meat pies...

And of course, the family favorite peanut butter....

We're a nutritionist's dream.

And any day now, the Queen will invite us to dinner.

So it's no surprise that in my quest to try new recipes, I found a classic recipe that I managed to make Pond-friendly.

Translation: I dumped a bunch of cheese and "gravy" on it.

You all know where I get my love of gravy from.

I've never had chicken spaghetti before, but this was delicious. It was cheesy, had tons of flavor and made me seriously consider eating it for breakfast. This is pure comfort, ya'll.

And the best part is it's only 513 calories a serving. (Depending how much cheese you add. )

I got this from my new favorite cookbook that my mother-in-law gave me for Christmas, Serving Louisiana.

If you enjoy candlelight meals with several courses, you might want to skip this.

But if you enjoy spaghetti with a bit of a kick and some cheese and don't mind slurping your noodles, this is for you.

Chicken Spaghetti from Serving Louisiana

1 (3 lb.) chicken
10 ounces of spaghetti
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup chopped bell pepper
1 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup 1 stick margarine
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 can tomato soup
1 tblspn chili powder

My addition: Black olives

Boil chicken in stock pot until tender. Drain and reserve two cups of broth. Cut chicken into bite sized pieces, getting rid of skin and bone. Cook spaghetti according to package directions and drain.

Saute the onion, bell pepper and celery in margarine in skillet until tender. Stir in reserved broth, chicken, soups and chili powder. Simmer for thirty minutes, stirring occasionally. Add pasta and mix well.

Spoon chicken mixture into 9 x 13 baking dish. Bake at 350 for 25 minutes. Sprinkle (or dump, if you're me) cheese on top if desired.

Serves 8 (I cut it in half.)

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new date with the Rubber Chicken and Fuzzy Duck! And this weekend, we've got all sorts of whimsical fun and tales to keep you mesmerized until Monday morning!

Letter full of secrets

2009-01-21T03:00:00.000-08:00

You're fabulous.

Yes, you. I can see your eyeball twitching, your head turning as you check behind you. It's ok. It's you. You're fabulous.

And I have full authority to say that, you see, because the fabulous Jen thinks I'm fabulous. Have you met Jen? She's more than fabulous. She's creative, sweet, supportive and can make skyscrapers from rocks. She's just that good.

I can barely get my socks to match.

I know I'm supposed to pick five lucky bloggers, but in my current state of sleep-reduced delirium, I'm feeling the love for everyone.

Speaking of blogging delirium, I have a confession, my darling Invisible Friends.

I know I haven't been able to visit you all that much in the past few days, and I do apologize. I've actually been having to work at work (God forbid) and I'm in the middle of a stunning blog redesign for the Pond.

It's good. It's really good.

So I'll catch up today and tomorrow. Also, please don't be offended if I don't follow you. I put people I like on my blog list, and I have a whole word document of people to add. I plan to add you in the next day or two, so please know I like you! Just give me a few days to get caught up.

Oh, and I read a blog post about people commenting back to comments on a post. I don't comment back here because I go to your blogs to comment. I feel blogs are like a college dorm room white board. I leave comments on your board, you leave replies on mine. If I put all my comments on my board, then you don't have any on yours. And really, don't we all want a full white board on our door in life?

Right.

Anyway, here's a new Twirl! New Invisible Friends, Twirl is the story of a star-crossed ballerina named Vivi and her handsome cowboy named Wade, who have stumbled into a international ballet scandal and a old Texas legend that might possibly lead to riches!

For the previous edition, go here. To catch up in the archives, go here and here.

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Vivi and Wade couldn't drop their forks fast enough. Wade threw a few bills on the table and lead Vivi out the front door of the dancehall.

"Sheriff, we'll follow you out there!" he hollered, tipping his hat at two blue-haired old ladies toddling into the dancehall. One had a half-empty bottle of whiskey tipping out of her bright red plastic purse.

"SHH!" the sheriff hissed, glancing around. He shot a terrified look at the old ladies' backs. "Are you stupid, kid? You don't want to go bellowing around about this. Folks around here are old enough to remember."

Wade grinned as he helped Vivi into the pick up. "No offense sheriff, but I doubt they're about to grab a shovel and go digging all over the Hill Country."

The sheriff shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Boy, you don't know nothing. People have ways of getting things without doing it themselves."

Climbing into the battered county car, he fired up the rusty old engine and peeled out of the parking lot. Wade was chuckling when he swung into the front seat of the truck. His blue eyes met Vivi's and he beamed. Without a single word, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. His rough warm hand cupped her shoulder, his thumb stroking the smooth skin slowly as they kissed. Vivi felt like she was falling as she leaned forward towards him. Her mind was spinning and her heart was pounding in her ears. Energy was racing through her veins and thoughts jumbled around in her head in broken fragments.

Wade leaned back and grinned. "Have I ever told you how crazy I am about you?"

Vivi shook her head. For someone who had just been kissed, her mouth was surprisingly dry. She couldn't even find the strength to babble.

Wade just smiled and flipped on the engine. He pulled off on the old dirt road, hanging just far back enough from the sheriff.

"What'd your parents say about you meeting my Grandpa?" he asked, flipping on a country music channel. "They all right?"

Vivi shrugged. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her parents. Her chest tightened as she remembered her mother's face and her father's demands. The happiness she felt over Wade's kissed faded away. The only thing she could could think about now was the same questions and worry she had always felt.

"They didn't mind you coming out all day, after being gone so long yesterday?" Wade probed. Vivi could feel his blue eyes boring into the side of her head, watching every expression flicker across her face. She looked out the window and bit the inside of her cheek.

"It's not a big deal," she answered finally. "Don't worry about anything." It was all she could do not to scream. Didn't he understand how messy her family was? If she didn't understand them, how could he?

Although she was afraid to admit it, she was terrified once he knew them, he would leave.

Wade's eyebrows crinkled together. "Vivi, did you tell them where you were coming?"

Vivi bit her cheek so hard it bled. "No," she muttered, curling towards the window.

"Why?" Wade asked. He tapped his hands against the steering wheel. "Is it me? I don't mind meeting them. I'm sure your dad would like me if he got to know me."

Vivi shook her head so hard she knocked her chin into the window. "Wade, it's not you," she promised. "My dad has been really obsessive lately. He wanted me to train all day for some dance with my teacher...he even wants me to blow off school! He's just pushing me really hard. And it's the same old arguments, the same old drama." Her voice was clipped.

Wade was silent for a few minutes, his jaw moving up and down as his eyes stared out on the road. "You just left, didn't you?"

"I stayed with Susanna last night." Vivi tried to sound positive. "It was like a girl's night or whatever."

"Listen Vivi," Wade said, taking a deep breath. "I know you've got a weird relationship with your folks, but I don't want to add to the trouble of it. Promise me you'll quit hiding from them or lying about going out. I don't want to lose seeing you."

"I'll be more open with them," Vivi said carefully. She knew she couldn't promise she'd quit lying or hiding. It was the only way to survive in her family.

"Good." Wade beamed as they pulled onto a old farm road. The truck rattled down a old gravel driveway, stopping in front of a worn house that appeared to have once been painted green. A old woman with long silver hair and deep ridges in her face scowled at them for the porch.

"Well, darling," Wade said, taking a deep breath. "Get ready for one of the weirdest afternoons of your life. I don't know much about this old historian, but I know she's different."

Vivi looked at the woman's hard black eyes and gulped. She sat frozen in the woman's gaze as Wade walked around the car, pulling the door open for her.

"Wade, is she a witch or something?" Vivi murmured under her breath. "I feel like she might cast a spell on me."

"Only if you're lucky." Vivi jumped, her head snapping up. The woman was standing a few feet from them. Her long silver hair was pulled back into a long messy braid and she wore a long black dress over scuffed black boots. A chunk of turquoise hung from a braided silver chain around her neck, and every finger was adorned with a ring.

She was the most terrifying person Vivi had ever met. Still scowling, the woman turned toward the sheriff and reached for the letter. He handed it to her, looking as uncomfortable as Vivi and Wade.

"Shall we go inside?" she growled, turning toward the old house. "The dead don't wait for just anyone, you know. We only have a short amount of time to reveal their secrets." Cackling, she threw her head back and revealed a row of rotten teeth. Vivi tried not to wince. Grabbing Wade's hand, she followed the woman toward the house.

The only thing she could think was there better be something really good in that letter.

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new recipe and Friday a date with the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken! We've also got a whole weekend of whimsical fun! Stay tuned!

Bear's Peanut Butter Barooo

2009-01-20T03:00:00.000-08:00

Hello, my name is Bear.

And I have some terrible news.

My birthday is next week.....

Well, our birthday.

We might not get a peanut butter puppy cake. Wuffle. And it's all their fault.

Wuffle. Wuffle.

All I wanted in life was a peanut butter puppy cake for my first birthday.

Bitty wanted world domination. All I wanted was a simple cake full of peanut butter puppy safe goodness. Is that too much to ask for?

Wuffle.

I'll give up kibble for a peanut butter puppy cake.

Barrooooo.

Wuffle.

You see, I have a thing for peanut butter.

All it takes it the crack of a lid. My heart races, my paws tingle and my taste buds dance with joy. When I see that knife slathered in rich, tasty peanut butter, I literally jump for joy.

I'll give up Ben's famous bellyrubs for a peanut butter puppy cake.

I love peanut butter. I adore peanut butter. I can't live without it.

I'll try the ostrich technique of solving problems...

And how can I have a good birthday party without a peanut butter puppy cake?

Wuffle.

So you see, Invisible Friends, I need some help here. If you need me, I'll be hoping for a peanut butter puppy cake by Jan. 29 in time for my birthday. Big enough for Bitty and I to share with my friend the dolphin and the moose.

I'll be hoping for world domination.

Wuffle.

Love,

Bear

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a new Twirl tomorrow and a offering from the New Recipe Series on Thursday. And on Friday, we'll find out how the Fuzzy Duck's date went with the Rubber Chicken. Stay tuned!

The Gift 6

2009-01-19T03:00:00.000-08:00

Stop!

Did you read my confessions Friday?

Did you read the special edition of Twirl?

What about the second candy animals and another set of confessions?

Ok.

Proceed.

To read the previous edition of the Gift, go here.

"Rouge?" Jeremy poked his head in from the other room. "Who's Rouge?"

"Rouge?" Cleo stumbled in from her room, holding a hand over her mouth as she yawned. "Who's Rouge?"

"Rouge?" Samantha stared at Ashley in horror. "No. It can't be."

"Yes, Rouge," Ashley repeated, jabbing her finger at the computer screen. She pointed to the Celtic love pendant image on the screen, then at the diamond and blue topaz version in her hand.

"It's got to be Rouge," Ashley repeated, dangling the pendant in front of Samantha's nose. Samantha snatched it away from her with a glare.

"Rouge? Who's Rouge?" Jeremy demanded, stepping into the kitchen with a scowl. "How come I haven't met Rouge?"

"Do I know Rouge?" Cleo asked, blinking sleepily up at Samantha.

Ashley shook her head as Samantha stared at the pendant. "Rouge was Samantha's best friend in high school and the first year or two of college," she explained to Cleo, ignoring Jeremy. "He came from Ireland with his parents in the ninth grade. All the girls in school were crazy about him. But he only had eyes for Samantha."

"No, he didn't," Samantha scoffed. "We were just friends."

Jeremy's forehead furrowed closer as Ashley laughed. "They were inseparable. The three of us went everywhere together. Even when Samantha dated guys, Rouge had to approve. Of course he never did, so the relationships never lasted long. They were voted Most Likely to Get Married at prom."

"It wasn't like that," Samantha protested. "We were just best friends. You're blowing this out of proportion."

Jeremy huffed and leaned against the wall. "I had a ton of girlfriends in high school," he muttered. "I dated the head cheerleader for a year." No one paid attention to him.

"Why don't I know him?" Cleo asked, running her fingers through her dark hair. "Did you two have a falling out?'

Samantha shook her head. "Sophomore year of college, he called me really excited and said a relative had left him a ton of money. He said he was going to drop out of school and do what he had always wanted to do. I tried to talk him out of it, but he said it would be perfect and I would love it. It was a surprise. Then I never heard from him again. I called him several times, but his cell phone had been changed and his parents had moved. No one knew where he went."

"It was really weird," Ashley agreed. "Samantha even got her daddy's big time government buddies to pull some strings, see if he had been deported or hurt or anything. But no one knew what happened."

"This can't be Rouge," Samantha protested. "I haven't seen him in almost four years! Besides, how would he know we're here in my parents cabin? They didn't have it until two years ago. Plus, we're two hundred miles from my hometown."

"You know, this plot you girls have cooked up is really ridiculous," Jeremy burst out. "I'm sorry about the DVDs, ok?"

Once again, the girls ignored him.

"Why don't we look him up?" Cleo suggested, moving toward the computer. "He's probably on Facebook or MySpace."

"I wish I'd thought of that," Ashley murmured, rubbing her stomach. "I need food to think." She looked pointedly at Jeremy. "Weren't you supposed to get breakfast?"

Jeremy shrugged. "Where am I supposed to get breakfast?" he whined. "I don't know this town."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "Son, the workout DVDs are the least of your problems." Samantha snorted with laughter.

Cleo whooped and smacked the counter with her fist. "Bam!" she screeched, pointing at the screen. "I didn't even need his last name!"

The girls immediately flocked around the screen, ignoring Jeremy as he tried to peer over them.

"That's him!" Samantha cried, her voice giddy with excitement. "Oh my God! I'm so happy he's ok! He looks so good!"

"What do you mean, he looks good?" Jeremy asked suspiciously.

"Click on his profile," Ashley commanded. She elbowed Jeremy as he tried to lean over and he grunted.

Cleo clicked the mouse and squinted her eyes at the screen. "Oh my God!" she cried. "It says he owns a bar in your hometown. It's got it's own Web site." She clicked the mouse again and squealed. "Oh cute! It's a Irish-themed bar!"

Samantha smacked her head. "A bar!" she and Ashley said in unison.

"He was always wanting to re-create his grandfather's pub," Samantha explained, catching the confused look on Cleo's face. "He said in Ireland his family had always owned a pub until they ran into tough times. His grandfather sold the pub to give his parents the money to go to Ireland and give Rouge and his brothers and sisters a better education and opportunities. Rouge felt like it was his duty to carry on the tradition."

"We should go," Ashley said, her eyes gleaming. "We could leave after lunch, shop for a bit and be there right after dinner."

"They're having a band play tonight," Cleo added, a wicked grin on her face. "For ladies' night."

"I'm not going to a bar 200 miles away," Jeremy protested.

"Who invited you?" Ashley snapped. She leaned toward the screen and gasped. "Oh my God!" she whispered. "Samantha, look!" She pointed at the screen. "The club is called Until Sunset."

To be continued...

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a heart-warming plea from our favorite Wuffler and Wednesday we've got a new Twirl. We've also got a new recipe and a date with the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken!

Candy Animals 2 and Awards for All

2009-01-18T08:00:00.000-08:00

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

And then turn it into an award to share with fabulous Invisible Friends!

My dear friend Marie gave me this fabulous award last week, and I can't help passing it on. Marie is a fabulous artist and cook. If I ever get enough saved up to go to England, I'm going to go visit her. She'll have to extract me from her cottage with the jaws of death, because I'll probably eat myself stupid on her good food and forget all about running and kickboxing.

The rules state:

1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate at least 10 blogs which show GREAT ATTITUDE &/or GRATITUDE!
3. Be sure to link your nominees within your post.
4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
5. Share the love & link to this post & to the person from who you received your award.

And the winners are:

1) Blue Violet

2) Jiggety Jigg

3) Kristina

4) Francesca

5) Molly

6) Kristen

7) Pam

8) Cakelaw

9) Lorraine

10) Katherine

In addition, Bee and Rose, Shalee and Debra all saw fit to give me the Honest Scrap award. It was so kind of you girls to think of me! If ya'll haven't had the pleasure of meeting these fine ladies, click on their blogs right away and check them out. They're fabulous.

The rules state:

1) List ten honest things about yourself, and make it interesting!

2) Pass the award on to seven bloggers you feel embody the spirit of the honest scrap.

Honestly, I can't imagine what else you would want to know about me after my confessions Friday.

But for my Invisible Friends, I'll do anything. I'll give you seven new tidbits about me, one for each award winner.

1) I really don't like weddings. I saw so many girls get married for the wrong reasons in college that the idea of going to a big white wedding makes me want to pluck my eyes out. But I always wind up there anyway.

2) I dance in public places. Wal-Mart, a parking lot, fancy restaurant...you can't take me anywhere.

3) I talk to everyone. And everything.

4) Amusement parks and loud, crowded places make me really nervous. Usually I have to leave because I have trouble breathing.

5) One day, Ben and I want to start a rescue center for stray dogs.

6) I'm very curious.

7) And just for you, another wedding picture.

And the winners are:

1) Theresa

2) Maki

3) The Rambler

4) Lucy

5) Natalia

6) Dee

7) Esi

In addition, the darling Bee and Rose also tagged me with a photo tag.

The rules are:

1. Go to the 4th folder in your photo files on your computer.

2. Find the 4th photo in that folder.

3. Explain the photo.

4. Tag 4 people to do the same.

This was taken when I was in college. My friend Val (center) from high school was getting married and I was her maid of honor. This was a test shot so she could choose the dress I was to wear. Ben and I had been living in the Pond for about a month, so I missed the official fitting.

I ended up wearing the one I'm wearing.

I tag:

1) Marie

2) Linda

3) Abby

4) Illegally Blond

And now, for Candy Animals...For the previous edition, go here.

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"What is it?" Bubbles cried. He and Sasperilla leaped on to the end of Callie's spoon and hurried over to join George Hambleton Leafton the Third at the bottom of the hutch. Squatting down, Callie held the spoon over the drawer so they could peer into it.

"I don't see a thing," Sasperilla complained, peering into the drawer. "All I see is dust."

"And dead bugs," Bubbles pointed out, bubbles streaming out of his nose in disapproval.

George Hambleton Leafton the Third stretched his long caramel neck out and shook his head in disapproval. He tugged the drawer open wider, revealing delicate porcelain cups. Peeking around the corner of the cups was a bird. The other animals stepped back in shock.

"What is it?" Bubbles cried, bubbles filling the air.

"It's a bird!" Callie cried.

"It's moving!" Sasperilla shouted. "It's alive."

"It's an enchanted napkin ring," George Hambleton Leafton the Third snapped. He leaned his head down towards the bird. Peering closer, Callie saw the cranky caramel giraffe was correct. A long silver bird with blackened feathers etched into his back blinked up at her. It's wings tapered down into a steep curl that nearly connected with it's long feet. With it's wings plastered to its sides, it could merely blink and cock its head up at them.

"Why, it can't fly!" Sasperilla cried. "How terrible! We must help him!"

"How?" Bubbles asked, hiccuping as a bubble caught in his throat.

"Are you the only one?" George Hambleton Leafton the Third asked the bird gently. The bird nodded, tucking it's beak under it's wing in shame. It motioned to the other dishes, all which were chipped slightly, the edges yellowed with years of washing and poor care.

"Poor little thing was separated from it's set," George Hambleton Leafton the Third muttered, his face creased in concern.

"How can we make him fly?" Bubbles asked.

George Hambleton Leafton the Third shrugged. "The only way to make him fly is to make him happy enough to fly. And after living in a drawer in the dark for so long, I'm not quite sure what would make him happy." The animals all hung their heads. The bird shuffled in the drawer, ashamed at being an object of pity.

"A tea party," Callie exclaimed suddenly, her head snapping up. "We shall have a tea party! He can be the guest of honor! Would you like that?" she asked the bird. The bird's silver head bobbed up and down, and his beak popped open in delight.

"Then a tea party it is!" George Hambleton Leafton the Third declared.

The animals sprung into action. Sasperilla made her famous seaweed tea while Callie whipped up some tasty cakes and mini pies. Bubbles entertained the bird by making bubblegum animals while George Hambleton Leafton the Third set the table and wiped off the dishes. They spent the morning dining on chocolate and caramel cakes with rich butter cream frosting, and apple pies with crumbly toppings. The table was full of laughter and vivacious chatter, with plenty of teasing and kind jokes.

The smile on the bird's face grew greater and greater. A shot rang out through the air. Without warning, he shot into the sky, his wings creaking as they flapped back and forth in the air.

"He's flying!" Bubbles cried as pink bubbles surrounded the bird.

"Hooray!" Sasperilla cried.

Even George Hambleton Leafton the Third seemed pleased. He leaned over to Callie and nodded his caramel head. "Thank you for making our new flying friend better, Callie," he replied. "It was a fabulous tea party. It's a shame you start school soon."

The bird in the air trembled, and all the animals lost their smiles. Callie beamed. "Don't worry," she replied. "There's plenty of time on the weekends for tea parties."

And that was a perfect reason for more cake.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new edition of the Gift, followed by a week of whimsical fun! We have a new recipe, a statement from Bear, a date with the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken and of course, a new Twirl! Stay tuned!

Special Edition: Twirl

2009-01-17T05:27:00.000-08:00

Thank you for coming back after my long list of confessions yesterday. I'm surprised you're not saturated with pink glittery duckiness after all that.

Like this.

And before I forget, did everyone see the new date of the Fuzzy Duck and her lovely Rubber Chicken?

A little birdie told me they're going on another date this week...

Get it? A little birdie? Moving on...

Tomorrow it's award season here at the Pond! You might win something!

But since you're here now, why not check out the special edition of Twirl? Since my mother threatened my life if I didn't tell everyone what was in the envelope (I got a BIG lecture Wednesday night), I'm going to tell you.

Right now.

For the previous edition of Twirl, go here. For archives, go here and here.

And if you're desperate to know what Twirl's about or want your own rough (very rough) copy of the developing story so far, e-mail me.
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"The Dance Hall Dreamers?" Wade asked, scratching his chin. He smiled up at Hilda as she plopped down a heavy plate full of brisket, coleslaw, potato salad and beans in front of him.

"Is that a band?" Vivi asked. She thanked Hilda as the pigtailed 50-year old woman sat down the biggest sandwich she'd ever seen. She gulped as Hilda handed her a piece of pie the size of her head.

The sheriff refused to say a word until after Hilda had left. Leaning closer to the table, his eyes glittered with excitement.

"The Dance Hall Dreamers is an old legend," he whispered, his eyes daring back and forth as waitresses and diners swirled around them. "It's been almost forgotten over the years, except by old folks and historians."

He took a bite of brisket and chewed slowly. Vivi stared as he gummed the glob of meat.

"And?" she cried, shaking her hands with frustration. "What's the legend?"

The sheriff swallowed and gulped down some tea. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he leaned back over their plates. It took all Vivi's willpower not to grab him by the collar and shake him.

"Back in the early 1900s, a few of the outlaws from the Old West were still hanging around," the sheriff drawled. "Of course, things were changing. Thieves couldn't just take over a town on horseback, and that's where Bullet Bill came into play."

"Bullet Bill!" Wade exclaimed, slapping the table. "I remember this story now! My grandpa told it to me."

"Keep your voice down," the sheriff hissed. "You don't want folks knowing we're talking about this!"

"Why?" Vivi asked.

The sheriff rolled his eyes and stabbed his brisket with a fork. "I'm trying to tell you!" he snarled.

"You're telling me about as fast as a turtle swimming in a river of molasses!" Vivi snapped. "Just tell us what it is!"

Smearing barbecue sauce across his reddened cheek, the sheriff shifted in his chair and resumed his tale. "Well, back then a huge wave of Czech and German immigrants flocked to Texas, particularly here in the Hill Country. Towns were booming, stores were opening and the pioneer days weren't over yet. Bullet Bill realized the smartest thing to do would be to pose as a German settler traveling with his brothers, rather than another gang of outlaws. He went from town to town. Families would welcome him in and he would earn their trust over a few weeks, gaining access to their businesses and homes. In the middle of the night, he'd strip them of all their cash and valuables and be gone by morning, leaving as many as fifty families devastated and destitute."

"Why did they call him Bullet Bill?" Vivi asked. "And what does this have to do with the Dance Hall dreamers?"

"I'm getting there," the sheriff snapped. "Damn Wade, is she always like this?"

"We're both eager to hear the rest of the tale, sheriff," Wade murmured, sopping up some barbecue sauce with a slice of white bread. "If you'd continue."

The sheriff took a bite of coleslaw and continued. "Well, one day Bullet Bill and his gang came up on a real itty bitty town. Even for Texas at the time, it was small, but full of German families. Only this time, the mayor had a gorgeous 17-year-old daughter named Adelaide. Everyone called her Addy. She had long blond wavy hair, big blue eyes and"-- The sheriff cleared his throat and his cheeks colored. He looked at Vivi and mummured, "--a good figure."

Vivi rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," the sheriff drawled, "Bullet Bill never knew what hit him. For the first time in his life, he wanted to go clean. He took one look at Addy and knew that he wanted to marry her. He waited until the night of the spring dance at the local dance hall to approach her. The legend says they danced all night until the early hours of the morning, just smiling and laughing. That same morning, he asked her father if he could marry her."

"What did he say?" Vivi asked, her eyes wide.

"He said no," the sheriff replied. His spoon scraped against his bowl of beans. "Still, Bullet Bill didn't give up. He took Addy dancing every weekend. During the week, he worked at a general store and made plans to build a house. His gang was convinced it was a massive scheme, and were furious when Bullet Bill told them it was over. He split the stolen goods evenly and basically told them to get out of dodge. He wanted a clean life with Addy. You can imagine how his gang felt."

"Well, after a few months, the mayor warmed up to Bullet Bill and gave his consent. A summer wedding was planned, and the whole town helped build their house. The barn was set to hold the greatest dance anyone had ever seen. It was all anyone could talk about."

"The night before the wedding, Bullet Bill's old gang went to the mayor and told them about Bullet Bill's past. They convinced him that Bullet Bill was going to marry Addy, strip her family and the town of its wealth and abandon her. The mayor was furious and ordered Bullet Bill arrested that night. When Addy heard of the plans, she hopped on horseback and rode to tell Bill about what was happening."

"Bullet Bill wanted to do the right thing and talk to the sheriff, but Addy refused. She knew of her father's powerful connections. So Bill ran into the night, taking all his wealth with him."

The sheriff paused to drink his tea.

"That's it?" Vivi exclaimed. "That's horrible! What a terrible story!"

"I'm not done yet," the sheriff snapped, setting his tea glass down with a clang. "Dang girl, hold your horses. I had to water my voice." Clearing his throat, he resumed the story. "Well, a few months passed and most people forgot about Bullet Bill. His gang moved on to other towns and everything returned to normal, except for Addy. Her heart was broken. Several men wanted to court her, but she wanted nothing to do with them. They say she spent all her nights in the dance hall, staring at the door waiting for Bullet Bill to return.

"One night, she went to the building that would have been their house. Tacked inside to a wall was a letter. You can imagine how surprised she was to see it was from Bullet Bill. In the letter, he told her he had made friends with a postman who would drop off letters for them at secret hiding spots. If she still loved him and wanted to marry him, they would find a way to be together. He told her the next letter was hidden in the old dance hall, and it would tell her how to find the money he'd left her so she could travel to him."

"Is that what's in the envelope?" Vivi exclaimed.

The sheriff slid the envelope out of his pocket. "It's a letter," he said, tapping the yellowed envelope. "But I don't know what it says."

"Why not?" Vivi burst out.

"It's in German," Wade guessed. "They probably wrote in German to keep other people from reading, right?"

The sheriff nodded. "And it's old style German, which makes it harder to translate. I'm going to see an old historian that thinks she can translate it for me. You're more than welcome to come."

Vivi nodded and Wade grinned. "So what's the big deal about a letter? Why are you so skittish?"

The sheriff gave him a stern look. "This just isn't any letter, son. This is the key to a string of letters. And those letters lead to a massive fortune."

"What fortune?" Vivi asked.

"Well you see, by the time Bullet Bill had stopped stealing, he was the equivalent of a millionaire several times over today," the sheriff said. "Somewhere, he had to store all that wealth."

He tapped the envelope. "And this will tell us where it is..."

To be continued....

Stay tuned tomorrow for a new Candy Animals and awards!

Confessions of the Blond Duck

2009-01-16T03:00:00.000-08:00

It's time.

It's time for me to reveal all my secrets, answer all your questions and reveal more about the Pond than I ever have.

Are you ready?

I've listed the questions with the answer, as well as sprinkled in a few little fun tidbits to make you giggle (or scream.)

I confess....

And if you want more after all this, go here.

Diana asked: What’s your favorite movie?

Legally Blond is my ultimate favorite movie. Elle Woods is my idol. And it all started at college.

My first week away from home at college, I was in tears at a university bookstore. I’d never been away from home, I didn’t know a soul other than my cranky roommate and I felt like a complete outcast. I had leopard print from my bed spread to my slippers; all the other girls had whatever sorority colors they were rushing.

At the counter, I looked down with watery eyes as the clerk bagged my text books. Suddenly, I heard a familar voice. My head snapped up to the TV over the clerk's head. Legally Blond was on. It was the scene where Elle is crying to Paulette about her misfortunes at Harvard.

At that moment, I knew it was a sign. And it was. For years, whenever I got down about myself or was moping about being rejected by another publisher, Elle Woods would appear. When my job made me cry all the time, Elle Woods was always on when I switched on the TV. No matter what was bad in my life, Elle was there. And whenever I saw her, I knew it was a signal I was going the right direction. I just needed to buck up, put on my cutest pink dress and keep going.

My other favorite movies are Enchanted, Stranger than Fiction and Muppet Christmas Carol.

Noble Pig asked: What color duck would you be?
I would be a pink duck with glittery eyelashes and a fluffy tail that looked like a tutu.

Sugar Fairy asked: What is your ultimate holiday destination?

Anywhere I can swim with dolphins. Ben promised me when we got married he’d take me to the beach to swim with dolphins. I haven’t forgotten. HINT. HINT.

I’d love to travel to Europe (and see Marie!) and explore all the places fairy tales and literature sprang from. But if I could have a vacation home anywhere, it’d be Colorado. We went in the summer for years when I was growing up, and I loved it.

And I really like the moose in Alaska.

Impromptu Confession: I've always wanted to be a bellydancer. Or a least take classes.

Francesca asked about this fabulous little picture. She asked: What is the crazy contraption that you are standing in? Also, the photo of you in the big, white mattress pad...is that from Halloween? What are you? A marshmallow?

That was a makeshift Christmas tree skirt I made for our first tree in college, the notorious spider tree. An old mattress cover had been sitting in Ben’s closet forever and wouldn’t fit on his bed. So I cut a hole in it and began dancing about the living room in it.

I get distracted easily.

Lisa Magic Sprinkles asked a ton of random questions:

Heels or flats? Cowboy boots

Chocolate or vanilla? Vanilla. I’m allergic to chocolate.

Email or stationery? Both. I e-mail causal notes but mail thank you notes on stationary.

First day of spring or first day of fall? I love the first day of spring for the baby animals.

The Blond Duck is never too old for petting zoos.

But since it’s warm here most of the year, I also love when fall starts. Even though it’s hot until December, fall always feels like the the beginning of the year because of school starting.

Pens or pencils? Pens. I am the queen of blacked out writing and swirlies over words. But pencils for my menu scheldule for the week since I change it constantly.
Tastes great or less filling? Tastes great.

Colgate or Crest? Whatever. I love all toothpastes just as they were created.

Whipped cream or cool whip? Neither. Ice cream!

Biking or hiking? Hiking. Biking kills my knees.

Favorite song? “You know me better than that” by George Strait.

Favorite color? PINK!

Favorite magazines? Pscyhology Today and Taste of Home.

Shoe size? 9, narrow. I have the biggest arch. It’s really hard to find shoes.

Barbeque: beef or pork? Beeeefffffff

What publication are you the editor for? A local children’s magazine for a local newspaper group. I was also the editor of a tourist publication until December. Right now, I mostly write for our other publications because the children's magazine is on hold. My company started out as a small community newspaper group, but was bought out by an international media company two years ago. I don’t want to give the name because I don’t want them to find me. They’re very skittish about blogs.

Impromptu Confession: I once got so annoyed with my sister I shoved her out of a treehouse. But it's ok. She threw a rock at my head that made a major hole in the drywall. She also left scars on my arm from raking her nails into my skin during tantrums. And she bit the dog.

What time do you get up in the morning? 4:30 a.m. weekdays, 6 a.m. on weekends.

What time do you go to sleep? 10 or 10:30 p.m. weekdays, 10:30 to 11 p.m. weekends. If I’m lucky, I can get to bed at 9. But there’s always so much to do…

What's your favorite exercise / aerobic class? Kickboxing! I do it two to three times a week and run three to four times a week.

Why are you called Duckie? Marie started it. I think it comes from the Blond Duck and people just liked it. You can ask her! Personally, I love it.

Speaking of Marie, she asked: Who kissed who first? You or Ben? What was your first kiss like? Did fireworks go off? When did you know HE was the one?

First picture ever of the Blond Duck and Ben, dating one month

Ben kissed me first. We were standing outside his truck on a country road. Since we went to Baylor and had dorm visiting hours, most of our dates were driving around or going to I-Hop or Whataburger. He was showing me a spot where he and his racing buddies went all the time to “test their engines.” And it was toe-tingling and heart-thumping, yes.

I knew I was going to marry Ben during an argument after we’d been dating about a year. I was sure he was going to dump me because we were having an argument and was bawling. He took me by the shoulders and told me there was no reason to be so upset, that we would have plenty of arguments and we were going to work through all of them. This was just a bump in the road and he never stopped loving me. At that moment, I knew we were both committed to this for the long haul.

It’s romantic, I know.

Kitt asked: At what time of day do you do most of your writing? Do you have a general writing routine/schedule?

I write early in the morning and late at night. I used to take my laptop to work and write during lunch, but they made a no-laptop policy and I don’t trust company computers. Now I write during breakfast on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On weekends, I write from half an hour to two or three hours in the morning, depending on what’s going on that day. And I write my blog entries at night while Chihuahuas tapdance on my head and Ben wuffles for a foot rub.

It’s a exciting life. And If I could, I’d write more. I never get tired of it.

Impromptu Confession: I fall asleep after being in any car for more than thirty minutes, no matter what time day or night. I never have to drive on road trips.

Ingrid asked: Were you a dancer gowing up and how long did you train?

I was a dancer! I did ballet, jazz and tap from 3 until I was 18. I also took country western dancing classes at 16 and went dancing at a local dancehall with all my friends on weekends. That’s where Vivi came from. For awhile, I even wanted to go to Texas A&M University just to join the competitive country dancing team. I always wanted to join a dance team in college as well, and seriously considered it at Baylor.

The problem is I soon realized in college that my dancing was best suited to flailing about my living room or a dancehall. And no one wants to pay to see that.

What made you decide on "creative" writing?

I actually majored in journalism-public relations with a minor in corporate communications. I never wanted to work for the university newspaper because of the scheldule and I thought all the news writers were rude snots. Junior year, I discovered a creative writing minor and would have done it if I could have gotten all the classes I needed in time.

A lot of people think I should have majored in English, but I never was interested. I don't care about grammer. And while I loved discussing books and their themes and plots, I could never apply it to my own work. Whenever I try to analyze and break down my stories, they get bad. That's what I did when I was hitting the traditional publishing route. Everything you see is technically a rough draft. I don't try to think of plots or suspense or dialouge. I usually sit down over eggs and toast and basically bleed it out.

I'm still amazed ya'll like it.

To be truthful, I am toying with the idea of a masters in creative writing. But I'm not sure how useful it would be and am concerned it would water down my natural creativty.

Impromptu Confession: Ben and I picked out my engagement ring together a few days before Halloween and got engaged on my Dad's birthday in the fall of 2005. He was very gracious about it. I would have been mad. But I drag my birthdays out for a month.

Princess of Pink asked: From whom did you inherit your writing talent?
No one. I’m the only one!

Francesca asked: What is the process for you publishing a book like Twirl? Are you close to doing so?

The problem with Twirl is I've been writing it post by post. I know in my head what the end is, what will happen and the big secret of Vivi's dad, mom and Mrs. Angelson. I just don't know how they'll get there.

So I've got two choices: pull it off the blog, write it and have you all get bored or kill me; or write it, give it a quick edit and polish and publish it through lulu like I did with The Twelve Tales of Christmas.

I'm thinking I'll probably go with the second option because currently, I'm finishing the last details for the first Land of the Flowered Bed Book and putting together Kitchen Magic in book form. Then next up, I've got Miss Pickles to print!

She also asked: Are you only able to write in your free time or is working on your novel(s) a part of your daily job responsibilities as a magazine editor?
My free time. There's only a few people at work who know about my blog and the stories I write. I keep it very quiet.

Impromptu Confession: I wear a tiara on every birthday for a week straight. And I'm not at all ashamed or embarrassed.

Jen asked: I want to know how you find time to write all of those fun stories? How do you keep all the stories and plots straight?

My brain is like standing in the center of a movie theater. There's one main screen and ten other screens behind it. Imagine running into the theater and watching 15 to 20 minutes of a movie at a time, day after day. All these movies are swirling in your head and the story is revealed to you one bit at a time. But if you sit and watch the whole movie at once, you get tired and overwhelmed and hungry.

As far as time, Ben and I don't go out a lot and I make my writing a priority. I'll give up a lot to make sure it's done. It's my passion in life.

Erica asked: What's your favorite color and top three meals?
PINK!!!

Meal 1: Fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, green beans and wheat rolls glistening with butter and apple or peanut butter pie.

Meal 2: Bacon Cheeseburger, Fries and Apple Pie.

Meal 3: Barbecue. Ribs, brisket, sausage, chicken, baked beans, wheat bread with honey butter, potato salad, coleslaw, creamed corn, banana pudding and pecan pie.

Juliet asked: What is your most favorite story and why?

Story I've written: Twirl, because it's got all my favorite things: dancing, horseback riding, cowboys, pie, mystery and suspense.

Story I've read: The BFG or Wrinkle In Time. Or The Frog Prince Continued.
Also, what is your most favorite picture that you've posted and why?

This one.

Or this one. I think it says it all.

Chad asked: Do you write the entire story out ahead of time and then post it in pieces, or do you write each post individually as you go along?

Post it as I go. I write down notes about ideas I have, but I tend to change things. Every time I try to write outlines I just end up throwing them out, so I quit worrying about it.

Pumpkin asked : What's the best vacation you've ever been on, and why?

I think it was last summer when we went to Alaska. It was just really fun going somewhere so different with my family and Ben and being able to appreciate it. When I was younger, I never fully recongized the great things my parents did for us.

What's your dream car?

A silver Jetta. I had one when I was 16 and now I have a grey Jetta. I like what I like.

And, it's not really a question, but I wanna see a wedding picture!

Your wish is my command!

And yes. I really did get married at a barbecue restaurant and eat ribs in my dress.

Noble Pig asked: When do you sleep?

I don't sleep. I plug into a wall and recharge until the green light comes on.

Karen asked: What was your earliest writing assignment that you remember?

I had to write a fairy tale in the third grade. It had a lot of princesses, a mean king and a horse. I really wanted a horse.

Then I had to write my autobiography. I rewrote it three times so my teacher could read my terrible cursive.

I hate hand writing things now.

Sugar Fairy asked: Who is your favourite author?

I have three: Elizabeth Peters for her Egyptology mysteries (I'm fascinated with Egypt), Raold Dahl and Madeline L'Engle.

What is your all time favourite book?

That's too hard to answer. I'd have to say A Wrinkle in Time, A Ring of Light or The BFG.

What is the weirdest food combo that you like to eat?

Cheese Its and Gatorade, though I haven't had it since high school due to the fact I can't control myself around Cheese Its or Goldfish.

llegally blonde asked: What age did you begin writing and when did you realize that writing is truly your passion?

I wrote and produced little books when I was 7, all about Mr. Bunny. But in 4th grade, I decided I wanted to be a writer and illustrator of children's books and needed a job to support that.

I just have to master the illustration part.

Whitney asked: How many stories do you work on at a time? How many do you post on your blog?

I usually work on two to three for the blog and two to three not on the blog. Since I do this all week long at work, it doesn't confuse me. I get bored just with one story and tend to obsess, overthink and overwork a story.

Marie asked: Do you dream in colour?

Yes. But I daydream in a mixture of words and images. It's odd.

If you could have a dinner party and invite anyone you wanted, living now or an historic character, who would you invite?

Well, Ben, the Babies, my family and you for one. And most of my Invisible Friends. I'd also invite Madeline L'Engle, my father's mother that I never knew, Shannon Hale, Roald Dahl, Teddy Roosevelt...

I don't want to invite any celebrities. They're boring.

When can you come over to visit me?

As soon as someone starts paying me to write books all day.

Thrilled by the thought asked: Where do you get your imagination from?

Everywhere.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a special edition of Twirl this weekend where you will find out what's in the envelope. I swear. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. We also have a new candy animals, a new Gift and a week of whimsical fun! Stay tuned!

Comfort in the Pond: Chicken Pot Pie and Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

2009-01-15T03:00:00.000-08:00

You're all familiar with my attempts to re-create the world's best chicken pot pie from Alaska.

And before we get started, I have a confession. Mom and Mama K, I know you both bought me gorgeous ramekins for Christmas. But I just couldn't help myself. Ice cream dessert bowls and mini-chicken pot pies just seem to go together. Don't kill me.

Moving on.

Although most of my fabulous Invisible Friends think I spend my life inhaling pie and ripping meat off of ribs, I do attempt to eat healthy. Poor Ben is trying to eat healthy, and I keep making cinnamon rolls.

So I decided to throw him a pie, instead of a meat bone. A delicious, low-fat chicken pot pie.

That's right. Low Fat Chicken Pot Pie.

I got this recipe from Taste of Home: Healthy cooking Dec/ Jan issue.

And it's nice and simple. And low-fat. Did I mention that?

You simply make a roux, cook tasty chicken and vegetables...

And roll out a low-fat crust to top them.

Pop them in the oven for 20 minutes and you have four yummy pot pies at 443 calories each.

Just in case you were wondering--it's good. It's really good. Creamy, rich but not too rich and pure comfort.

And since we have all those calories left over...

We can have a cookie. Or two. Or ten.

I'm just trying to keep it balanced, ya'll.

Taste of Home: Healthy Cooking Chicken Pot Pie

1 cup plus 2 tblspns all purpose flour, divided
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
3 tblspn. cold butter divided
2 tblspn buttermilk
1 tblspn canola oil
1 to 2 tblspn cold water
4 medium carrots sliced
3 celery ribs sliced
1 onion, chopped
2 1/2 cups reduced sodium chicken broth
2/3 cup fat free milk
2 cups cubed cooked chicken breast
1 cup frozen peas
1/8 tsp. pepper
1 egg white

1) Combine 3/4 cup flour, baking powder, salt. Cut in 2 tblspn butter until crumbly. Add buttermilk and oil, toss with fork. Gradually add water, tossing with fork until dough forms ball. Cover and refrigerate for 1 hour.

2) For filling, melt butter in large skillet. Stir in carrots, celery and onion and cook until crisp-tender. In small bowl, combine flower with broth and milk until smooth. Stir into veggie mixture. Bring to boil. Cook and stir for 2 min. or until thickened. Stir in chicken, peas and pepper. Transfer to four 16 oz. ramekins and set aside.

3) Divide dough into four portions. On lightly floured surface, roll out dough to fit ramekins. Place dough over mixture, trim and seal edges. Cut decorative center or cut slits in pastry. Brush with egg white.

4) Place ramekins on baking sheet. Bake at 425 degrees for 20-25 minutes or until crusts are golden brown.

Ben's Oatmeal Cookie Recipe

(He consented to give it to you, dear Invisible Friends. But in return, Ben demands all positive feelings, good things, promotions, Porches and lottery winnings that come as result of his culinary creation of these cookies are subject to his "cut." Yes, he really said that.)

1 stick butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp. vanilla
3/4 cup flour
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 cups oatmeal
2 small boxes raisins. (About a cup to 3/4 cup)

1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2) Melt butter and stir with sugar in bowl.

3) Add egg and vanilla.

4) Add cinnamon, salt, baking soda and flour.

5) Stir in oatmeal and raisins.

6) When mixed thoroughly, scoop out golf-ball sized balls on greased baking sheet.

7) Bake 10-12 minutes at 350 degrees. Don't worry if they look gooey; they'll set.

But if you bake these, beware....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have the Blond Duck Confessions!! Get ready to learn things you would have never guessed about me! Saturday, we have the second part of candy animals and Sunday, a special edition of TWIRL! And yes, you'll really learn what's in the envelope and who the Dance Hall Dreamers are.

Twirling

2009-01-14T03:00:00.000-08:00

Have any of you seen "The Holiday" with Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz?

(heads bob)

Have you seen the part where Jude Law tells Cameron Diaz in his cute bumbling way why he can't date her and then says, "You're lovely."

Well, dear Rachel Ann thinks I'm lovely. And I think you're all lovely. But I can only give this to seven of you.

Actually, I can't do it. I give it to all of you. Seriously. Because you're all lovely and you all make my life so much better. I love reading through your comments. My favorite ones are when you tell me I've made you smile or made your day. My toes tingle, my heart flutters and my cheeks turn pink. The fact that my idiotic ramblings can make you giggle only encourages me. Because honestly, all I want to do is make you all happy.

So please, if you visit today, give yourself this award. I'm not being lazy. I simply can't choose.

In other news.... (I know you want to know what's in the envelope Wade's got! I'm getting there.)

Don't forget about the Blond Duck Confessions! Whether you want to know what my favorite breakfast is or what my workout routine is, ask away! You can ask me what the ending of Twirl is, questions about the Gift or why the cookie stealing bunny has a secret guilty pleasure for tacos. I'll tell you anything you want to know.

Just leave your question in the comments--only two more days for questions!

Have you read the previous Twirl?

No? Well go here.

And to catch up even further, check here and here.

Or e-mail me for all the text so far and you can get your own work-in-progress copy of Twirl!

And now, for the rest of the story. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Swept in a tornado of rage, Vivi tore around her room. She shook her dance bag empty and ripped several shirts off hangers trembling in her closet. Grabbing a handful of folded jeans and pants, she yanked them off a shelf lined with carefully folded garments.

As she filled another bag with dance clothes and shoes, a shy hand knocked against the door.

"Go away," Vivi snarled.

"Vivi, darling..." the weak voice trailed off. "Please." '

Gritting her teeth, Vivi jerked the door open. Her mother simpered, her head bowed under a curtain of greasy hair. The color, once as brilliant as Vivi's own strawberry blond hair, had darkened to a dull auburn streaked with grey.

Vivi knew from photos her mother had once been extraordinary--a gorgeous actress who had captured the breath of thousands by simply walking on stage. But something had happened when she was very small. It was like one day her mother had simply been switched off, and she had withdrawn deeper and deeper into herself ever since. And no one would tell Vivi what happened. It was the greatest dance of her life. A new sense of rage filled her as her mother cowed in the doorway.

"What?" Vivi snapped.

Her mother ducked her head and Vivi was flooded with remorse. She shouldn't yell at her mother like this. She really didn't want to. She was just so angry and frustrated.

"Please don't be angry with your father and I, Vivi darling," her mother said, a whisper of her normal voice remaining in the quiet words. "We're simply worried about your future. The entertainment world is a hard one..."

"Why don't you want me to go to college like a normal parent?" Vivi asked, leaning against the door. It was all she could do to keep her voice level. She had to remind herself to treat her mother like a tiny puppy--keep her voice calm and soft, and don't make any sudden movements.

"You have a talent that should not be wasted," her mother repeated what Vivi's father had told her since she was two. "You're one of the best dancers today, darling."

"Then why don't we live in New York or Europe?" Vivi asked. "Why am I not training with the best?" It was an old argument, one her mother was happy to follow. There was comfort in redundancy, Vivi thought bitterly.

"Your father is not welcomed in those arenas," her mother replied diplomatically. "That's why you must work harder. To prove yourself over his mistakes."

Vivi's eyes flashed. "What mistakes?" Her mother bowed her head, her voice so low Vivi could barely hear it. "You know I can't tell you, Vivi. It's your father's wishes"--

"What mistake, mother?" Vivi repeated, her voice biting. "Is Mrs. Angelson involved?"

Vivi's mother's head jerked and Vivi pounced. "Tell me, Mom," she said, grabbing her mother's hand. "I have a right to know. This is my life you're all directing. Tell me why it's so important that I dance. Tell me why it's so important I do this competition. Tell me why."

Vivi's mother raised her head and Vivi started at the anguish in her eyes. With tears streaming down her cheeks, her mother shook her head. "I can't," she whispered. And then she crept down the stairs like they had never spoken at all.

Vivi bit her lip. With renewed purpose, she resumed packing. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse.

"Susanna?" she whispered into the phone. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

The next day, Vivi drove out to the old dance hall. She'd barely had any sleep, but at least she'd had a shower at Susanna's house. Her mother had fussed over her, thrilled to have more children in the house. As the baby of a seven child family, her mother obviously loved to fuss over children, no matter who they belonged to.

Wearing a bright blue sundress that made her green eyes look teal and her hair shine, Vivi paced nervously around the front of the dancehall. She was meeting Wade's grandfather tonight, and she had no idea what to expect. She heard the roar of Wade's truck's diesel engine before she saw his blinding smile. He pulled the car into park and climbed out of the truck.

"What are you doing?" Vivi asked. "Aren't we supposed to meet the sheriff at his office?" Wade shook his head.

"He called this morning. He asked to meet us here instead for lunch. I'm not sure why," he said in response to Vivi's expression. "Something has him nervous. He's jumpier than a jackrabbit."

"Maybe we just got a ton of money," Vivi teased. A familiar pleasant shiver ran down her spine as he enfolded her tiny hand in his large rough one.

"If that's the case, I'd take you to the most beautiful place in the world every night," Wade answered. He helped Vivi up the rickety steps and brushed her hand against his lips.

"And where would that be?" Vivi asked, tossing her curls behind her shoulders. She smiled as his blue eyes twinkled down at her.

"Right here," Wade grinned, pulling the door open. "The best dancehall in Texas with the best chicken fry and pie you could ever find!"

Vivi giggled as they made their way to the back of the restaurant. The sheriff was squatting in a dark corner, jumping as every waitress walked by. He was huddled over clutching something to his chest and peering at everyone around him with narrowed eyes. Vivi raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The poor man probably doesn't get much excitement, she thought with an amused smile. This is the most adventure he's had in years, most likely.

"Vivi!" a voice bellowed. The sheriff threw himself against the table. Vivi turned to see Hilda waving at her from the bar.

"What do you and Wade want?" Wade looked at Vivi.

"Just a turkey sandwich and a salad," Vivi told him.

"She'll have a turkey sandwich, some chips and some pecan pie," Wade yelled. He looked at Vivi. "You don't want the salad here. Trust me." He turned and yelled towards the back. "I'll have a cheeseburger with fries and a vanilla milkshake."

"Brisket is better," Hilda yelled back.

"Then fix me up some of that instead," Wade called. "You know what sides I like." He looked at the sheriff, who was patting his forehead with a bandanna. "Sheriff, what do you want?"

"I'm not here," the sheriff hissed, looking around furtively. "Don't say my name."

"What's the sheriff want?" Hilda bellowed. Wade tried not to laugh as the sheriff huddled deeper into the corner, hiding his face behind his hand.

"Brisket plate," he muttered. "Brisket plate," Wade yelled.

"Coming up!" Hilda crashed into the back of the kitchen, obviously delighted with their orders. "Now sheriff," Wade asked as he pulled out Vivi's chair, "What is wrong with you? You're acting like someone in a spy movie."

The sheriff glared at him. "And I've got good reason to. You have no idea what was in that envelope you found."

"Then tell us!" Vivi burst out. She glared at the sheriff as he glared at her. "I'm tired of waiting. I want to know what it is!" The sheriff leaned down so his chin was an inch above the table. He looked to his left. He looked to his right. He glanced at the doorway and bar.

"Have you ever heard of the Dancehall Dreamers?" he whispered.

To be continued.....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have low-fat chicken pot pie tomorrow and Confessions of the Blond Duck Friday!

We All Need a Cookie

2009-01-13T03:00:00.000-08:00

**Remember- Blond Duck Confessions Friday! Want to know who Ben is and why I got married at 21? Want to know why I'm obsessed with pie? Are you curious about the cookie stealing bunny? Leave a question in the comments and I'll answer them!

And now, for our post:

There are times in life when we all need a little something.

For the days when mooses won't even murmur a comforting word,

When everyone's trying to get in your space and shatter your dreams,

And the cinnamon rolls are all gone from the freezer and the oven is cold and dark,

You need one of these.

When you chew off your favorite toy's arm,

Fall a bit in the race against time that replays day after day after day,

And spend your days fighting corporate foes,

You need one of these.

And when the skies shine down on you,

When every step is a twirl,

And when you're finally being treated like the prince or princess you deserve,

Then you need one of these. Maybe two or three.

For no matter what size, shape, age or gender,

Critter, person, or baked-goods stealer,

There is one thing on which we can all agree:

Even the mashed cookies in the corner are a tasty treat.

So critters, friends and loved ones all,

Join me for a cookie won't you?

After all, it is the perfect day for one.

Or two.

Or three.

Back off, cookie-stealing bunny.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new Twirl with awards for some dear Invisible Friends! Will we find out what's in the envelope? What is Vivi's evil Dad and Mrs. Angelson up to? Who knows?!?

Well, I do.

Anyway, Thursday we have low-fat (and TASTY) chicken pot pies and Friday, the Blond Duck confessions! Stay tuned!

The Gift 5 and sussies for all!

2009-01-12T03:00:00.000-08:00

Before we find out who has been leaving Samantha mysterious gifts, we have some fun awards to hand out.

First, my buddy Illegally Blond at Could've Been Blonde gave me the New Year Eve's Award.

The rules of the award are:

- You must be a true lover of the New Year to receive this award. The person to whom you give the award must also be in love with the New Year.
- List 5 things that you love about the New Year. If you can't limit it to 5 things, then keep going till you run out of space.
- Pass the award along to as many people as you like. That can be 1 or 50. It's up to you! But keep the New Year cheer going.
- Let your recipients know that you have tagged them by leaving a comment on their site. Also, link back to the person who gave you the award.

5 things I love so far about 2009:

1) Having the best ham and swiss sandwich and pecan pie at lunch with Libby Lou.

2) These two.

3) The man who offered to go see Inkheart with me. Without being in trouble. Without me having to whine, withhold cinnamon rolls or nag.

4) Having Ironworks with Dad. (Do you see a theme of lunch here?)

5) All of you leaving me such sweet messages every day and actually reading my stories! And like them! And wanting more!!!

And now, for the five friends who get this fabulous award...

1) Blue Violet at An nut in a nutshell

2) Elizabeth at Behind the Wheel Chef

3) Reeni at Cinnamon Spice and Everything Nice

4) Diana at Diana Takes a Bite

5) Kristen at Pulsipher Predilections

And speaking of Blue Violet, she was kind enough to award me the honest scrap award again.

The rules for this award are:

1. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.

2. Show the 7 winners' names and links on your blog, and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with “Honest Scrap.” Well, there’s no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.

3. List at least ten honest things about yourself.

Well, I'll skip number three because you're going to learn more than you ever wanted to know about me on Friday during the Blond Duck Confessions. That's right. Friday, I'll tell you everything you ever wanted and didn't want to know about me. Want to know if I ever wet my bed? What my worst fear is? My most embarrassing moment? My favorite high school memory? Are you dying to know who my favorite author is? Well, I'll tell you! Just leave your questions in the comments and all will be answered Friday. And the winners are....

1) Pumpkin

2) Lilly

3) Melissa

4) Illegally Blond at Could've Been Blonde

5) Elle

6) Heather

7) Sharon

Finally, did you read the interview with the Cookie-stealing bunny?

What about candy animals?

What about the special edition of the gift?

Ok. You may proceed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"No one wants me back," Samantha said flatly as Ashley dragged her into the cabin's tiny kitchen. She plopped down at the table and slid her socks around the wooden floor. Watching as Ashley fired up her laptop, she traced her finger across the smooth table's surface.

"This pendant is amazing," Ashley murmured, twisting it gently under the florescent lights. "If this is fake, I'll do a tap dance in a pink mumu."

"I'd pay to see that." The two women turned to see Jeremy standing in the doorway. His grin faded at their frosty expressions. "Can I talk to you?" he asked. His wounded eyes held Samantha's. Against her better judgement, she found herself standing.

"Just for a few minutes," Ashley warned, her lip curling. "We're in the middle of something."

"Hopefully breakfast," Jeremy said.

"Not really," Ashley hissed. "Perhaps you could pick us up some. That is, if you're not afraid we'll blow the roof off the house with our ginourmous hips."

Samantha couldn't help snorting. Jeremy sighed. "Are you ever going to get over that? I thought she'd like the work out DVDs. Women like to improve themselves, right?" He was met with two fiery glares. " Can you forgive me?"

"Doubtful," Samantha growled.

"Of course not," Ashley replied, her tone shocked. "What good would I be as a friend if I did?"

Jeremy muttered under his breath as Samantha followed him into the tiny dining room. He shut the kitchen door behind her and blew out through his lips.

"Listen, Sam," he said, running his hand through his mussed mane. "I'm really sorry."

The only thing Samantha could think was if he really knew her, he would know never to call her Sam.

"I was a fool," he continued, pacing around the dark oak dining room chairs. "I should have realized you were waiting for me to...give you something more substantial. The thing is, the time just isn't right for me."

"To what, Jeremy?" Samantha was surprised at the calmness of her voice. "To propose?"

Jeremy coughed, turning red. "Er, yes."

"Then when will it be the right time?" Samantha asked, fluttering her eyelashes. "A year? Two? Three?"

"I just don't feel it's the right time to take that step," Jeremy stuttered. "I mean, neither of us are really adults yet. You and your friends cooked up this elaborate scheme to make me jealous and wanted to party for a week alone in your parent's cabin. Then the first time you get mad you kick me out"--

"Excuse me," Samantha interrupted. "Scheme?"

"Yea, scheme," Jeremy replied. "This whole mysterious gift thing? The flower? Are you trying to tell me some guy is so in love with you he's leaving these little elaborate gifts everywhere? Please. No guy does that."

Her cheeks flooded with color and her fingers itched to slap him. As she stared into his smug, sneering face, she could feel the anger boiling within her chest. "Not a guy," she spat. "A man. A true man. And he's real. A lot more real than you." Whirling around, she slammed the kitchen door behind her. Ashley squealed and waved a banana at her.

"Samantha! Oh my God. Look at this," she shrieked, ignoring Samantha's red face and shaking hands. "You won't believe this." She pointed to the computer screen.

Biting her tongue so hard it bled, Samantha leaned over and stared at the screen. It was filled with a single image. She looked at the pendant, then back at the image. They were identical.

"It's a Celtic love pendant," Samantha breathed.

She looked at Ashley. In unison they breathed the same word. "Rouge."

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a ode to something we all can agree on. Wednesday we have a new Twirl, low-fat chicken pot pie Thursday and the Blond Duck confessions Friday!

Special edition: The Gift 4

2009-01-11T06:27:00.000-08:00

First, for a few announcements.

Friday, I will be posting the Blond Duck Confesses, a giant entry about everything you ever wanted to know. Want to know my favorite meal? I'll tell you. Want to know what I do for a living? I'll let you know. Want to know why I wear colorful socks instead of white ones? I have no problem informing you. So post your questions in the comments, and I'll answer them Friday.

And tomorrow, we have a new edition of the Gift to accompany today's special edition accompanied by a new award for ten lucky Invisible Friends! So you won't have to wait too long.

And now, without further ado...

To read the previous edition of the Gift, go here.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ten more minutes," Ashley pleaded, shoving her head under a pillow.

"You've got to see this!" Samantha cried, staring down at the flower floating in the vase. "I mean, this is amazing."

"Nine more minutes," Ashley moaned, burrowing under the comforter.

"Ashley Candace Beauford!" Samantha shouted. She leaped onto the bed and jumped up and down, prodding Ashley's form under the thick bedspread with her foot. "This is the most fascinating thing I've seen in my life and I want to share it with you. You can sleep later. Get up, get up, get up!" she cried, prodding her foot harder into the form.

"Get your foot off of my butt!" Ashley snapped. Flinging the covers back, she scowled and rolled out of bed. Yawning so hard her jaw cracked, she stumbled towards the vase. Samantha slid off the bed and rushed over, hopping up and down in glee.

"What's so important you had to drag me over here"-- Ashley looked down at the flower. She blinked several times and rubbed her eyes. Running her fingers through her crazed hair, she looked at Samantha with wide eyes.

"Is this real? Did you do this?"

"I didn't do anything," Samantha protested, holding up her hands. "Seriously. I woke up and came over here to look at the flower. And here it was."

Both girls stared down at the vase with identical expressions of wonder and shock. Floating in a small bit of water, the brilliant pink flower now held a jeweled pendant. Diamonds and bright blue topaz stones dotted a symbol that Samantha had never seen in her life.

"Do you know what it is?" she asked, looking at her friend.

Ashley shrugged. "I'm sure it's an original design. Maybe some hot New York designer or something. Nature stuff is really big right now. This thing looks kind of Celtic or hippie-ish."

"Do you think it's real?" Samantha asked, gazing at the glittering pendant.

"Only one way to find out," Ashley grinned. She lifted the pendant off the flower and giggled. "Hey, look. There's another little note." She handed Samantha a tiny yellowed scroll. The paper was so stiff to Samantha's fingers that one part of her couldn't help but to wonder the age of the note. After all, it was hard to find paper that looked this realistically age. And the brown, crackling edges that crumbled as she unrolled it was only something a professional print artist could have dreamed up.

For the first time, she realized someone was truly watching her. For a brief moment, terror flashed through her as she stared at the little scroll. But then curiosity overcame her and she let her eyes dance over the handwritten words.

"Don your hair with flowers and sprinkle your neck with jewels," Samantha read aloud. "But no matter what you wear, you're always beautiful to me. Until sunset. Love, Me." She crumpled her fingers around the note. "Who do you think Me is? Do you think it's Jeremy?"

Ashley snorted. "No offense, honey, but the man gave you workout DVDs for Christmas. He's not exactly the original type. Plus, if this is real, he couldn't afford gems like this."

"Well, then who is it?" Samantha asked, anxiety twisting in her stomach. "I mean, I'd like to thanks him--or her, I guess. I'm also a little...nervous."

"Nervous?" Ashley raised a disheveled eyebrow. "Honey, if I had some mysterious person sending me magic flowers that sprouted jewels, I'd marry them even if it was a 400 lb. mobster from New Jersey with permanent garlic breath who lived with his neurotic mother and nine cats." Seeing her friend's worried expression, she rolled her eyes and grabbed her hand.

"Come on," she said, pulling her towards the kitchen. "We got a lot of work to do."

"Huh?" Samantha replied inelegantly. "What do you mean?"

Ashley whirled around and dangled the gem. It glittered in the early morning light streaming through the hallway, shimmering among her parent's sleek wooden cabin furnishings.

"If you're anything like me," she said with a grin. "You've got a lot of ex-boyfriends. Let's figure out which one wants you back."

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! we have an award for ten of my favorite Invisible Friends and Tuesday we have an escape that we all can agree with! Wednesday is a new Twirl and We have a week full of whimsical fun! TomorrowThursday I share my perfected chicken pot pies with you--and they're LOW FAT! If that wasn't enough, we've got the Blond Duck Confessions on Friday. So grab some pie and settle in--we got enough whimsy to keep you twirling for days!

The Candy Animals and the Mysterious Drawer

2009-01-10T05:06:00.000-08:00

Before we read about the candy animals' newest adventure, I have an award to share!

Ashley at Domestic Fashionista was kind enough to give me the fabulous Friends award.

The award states:

"These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."

Since I've had the pleasure of meeting so many lovely new friends lately, I decided to honor both the old and new Invisible Friends.

1) Jen at Tater Tots and Jello, for her never ending support

2) Diana, a fellow blond and fabulous fellow food-lover.

3) Prudy. I love Prudy.

4) Spring Fricks, because we writers got to stick together.

5) Molly at Less of a Marilyn, More of a Jackie. She's just too cute.

6) My good buddy Kristen.

7) Silvia at Magnolia Wedding Planner, who always seems so thrilled to stop by the Pond. It just tickles my toes.

8) And last but not least, Leslie at Stethoscopes and Stilettos. She makes fashion and nursing look good.

Thanks so much Ashley!

And now, for an adventure.

To read the previous edition of Candy Animals, go here. And here.

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It was early morning when Callie crept into her grandmother's dining room. The sun was barely peeking through the shades, and her grandparents were fast asleep. Tomorrow would be the end of winter break, and Callie would be back in her own house. Instead of spending days frolicking in the yard she would be carting books around and listening to teachers who didn't want to be there either drone on and on.

But for this morning, she had her kitchen.

Callie ran her hands over the tiny wooden stove and play refrigerator her grandmother had made for her. Biting her tongue, she wrapped her hands around the play oven door. It had been awhile, she thought to herself. But maybe...just maybe...they would be there. Excitement buzzed in her chest as she cracked the door open, peeking into the dark cavern.

There was nothing. The animals weren't there. Callie let out a sigh. She stared into the darkness for another moment, then closed the oven door.

Callie bit her lip and slid on her play apron. "It's ok," she said softly to herself. "I'm sure they're busy. I'll just make some cookies until Grandma gets up." She opened the play refrigerator and pulled some old tupperware her grandmother had given her to play with.

"I'll make glitter sprinkle cookies," she said to herself, cracking open the play freezer. "I need ice cream and honey and sugar to roll it all in...." Reaching in the freezer, her hand touched something soft. She gasped and took a step back. Pink bubbles streamed from the freezer door.

The animals were all beaming at her.

"Hello!" Bubbles the baby blue candy elephant beamed as pink bubbles billowed from his trunk in a steady flow. "We wondered when you would let us out!"

"It's been ages," whined a caramel giraffe known as George Hambleton Leafton the Third.

"Oh stop," Sasperilla, the pink hippo with an attitude scolded. "You're just a big baby. The freezer animals were quite kind to us. We had a wonderful Fall Freezer Party."

"We stayed until winter!" George Hambleton Leafton the Third bellowed. "We have overstayed by three months!"

"We went to the Thanksgiving party and the Christmas party and the Post Christmas party and the New Year's party and the New Year's Day party and the Post New Year's Party and the Winter Party," Bubbles informed Callie. "You missed quite a lot!"

"It sounds like it," Callie replied. "So what will you all do now?"

The animals looked at each other and shrugged. They looked at Callie. "What are you doing?" Bubbles asked.

"I'm going to make glitter sprinkle cookies," Callie replied. "I'll give them to my grandmother for breakfast."

"What's in them?" Sasperilla asked.

"Glitter and sparkles and peanut butter and ice cream and chocolate chips and icing," Callie replied. "I've got everything here," she said, gesturing to the empty play refrigerator. "Want to help?"

"I'd prefer to eat them," Bubbles giggled. A pink bubble floated into the air, landing on Callie's nose.

"With cookies as lovely as those, we must set the table," George Hambleton Leafton the Third informed Callie, peering up at her with his long caramel neck. "Where does your grandmother keep her most elegant dishes?"

"In that drawer," Callie said, pointing to a old oak hutch against the dining room wall. "The bottom one. You can set the table while I make the cookies."

"I'll help make cookies," Bubble said with a gleam in his eye. He licked his lips. Another bubble popped from his trunk.

"I'll watch," Sasperilla decided, daintily perching on the edge of the kitchen counter.

As Callie pulled out the old blackened baking pans her mother had given her and a bottle of glitter, the caramel giraffe scurried over to the drawer. Looping his long neck through the handle, he grunted as it slid open with out a sound. Hoisting himself up on the wooden edge, he peered into the drawer.

"You wouldn't believe what's in here!" he cried. "Come see!"

Part two to be continued next week.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a special edition of the Gift tomorrow and a new week of whimsical fun. Also, we have a special Blond Duck confessions post coming up. Anything you want to know about me? Whether you want to know what I do for a living or what my deepest secret is, I'll confess all next week! Leave your questions below! And stay tuned!

Interview: The Cookie Stealing Bunny

2009-01-09T03:00:00.000-08:00

Today's guest is the notoriously quiet Cookie Stealing Bunny. He's a critter of few words, seen lurking about blog posts containing tasty treats such as cookies, pie and hamburgers.

He has a thing for cookies.

Let's learn more about him, shall we?

So, Cookie Stealing Bunny--is that your real name?

(Nose twitches)

What's your favorite type of cookie?

Carrot cookies.

They don't make carrot cookies.

That's why I steal them.

Are you a sock or real bunny? There's been speculation here at the Pond.

What do you think?

I'm asking you.

(Nose twitches)

You're not making this easy on me. Don't you ever talk?

I'm a bunny.

Fine. What's your favorite movie?

Babe. I dated a pig once. Didn't work out. She didn't like carrots as much as I did. And Wallace and Grommit-- the one with the wererabbit.

What's your favorite book?

Bunnicula.

What's your ideal vacation?

England during the spring. They have giant gardens over there.

Tell me about yourself. Where do you come from?

The forest.

What forest?

I can't tell you.

Why not?

It's a magical forest. Very exclusive.

What happens if you tell me?

He gets mad.

Who gets mad?

He does.

But that's just a wee little rabbit.

(Nose twitches nervously. Looks around) Next question.

Why do you steal cookies?

Why not?

Why can't you just bake them? Or buy them?

Because I'm the cookie-stealing bunny. (Eyes light up). Excuse me.

Apparently, the cookie-stealing bunny is done with us. He just ran into the bakery down the street.

And the sirens are going. Excuse me. I'm going to go pick through the scraps.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we've got a new Candy Animals story and Sunday, a special edition of the Gift. Then we've got a whimsical week of more fun! Stay tuned!

BBQ Chicken and Baked Beans

2009-01-08T03:00:00.000-08:00

First, before we talk food, many of you have been asking about my book. The Twelve Tales of Christmas is a collection of 12 whimsical stories, including Rosalita (part two and three) and Priscilla Piper. The tales range from romance to whimsical children's stories to suspense (Noelle is haunted by her grandmother's fruitcake, literally.) To order, go here or click on the blue button in the side column of my blog. You can also go to lulu.com and type in my name and 12 Tales of Christmas.

And now, for barbecue!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is a truth universally acknowledged that barbecue, no matter how delicious, never photographs well.

That's right. I just used a Pride and Prejudice reference on barbecue.

I mean, that's the fabulous thing about barbecue, in my opinion. Whether it's ribs (beef, not pork), chicken, brisket, sausage or turkey legs, it all looks about the same. In a professional smoker, it'll be blackened on the outside with pink tender meat on the inside and slathered with sauce. In an oven, it'll be crisp on the outside, tender on the inside and slathered in sauce. On a grill, it'll be slightly charred on the outside, tender on the inside and slathered with sauce.

So no matter which way you cut it, it'll be slathered with sauce.

And I love food slathered with sauce, dripping with dressings and drowned in gravy.

I suppose you could say I'm a girl after my father's heart.

And when you've got good barbecue, you need good barbecue beans.

Like these.

Now, beans have a misfortune in the food world. They're not pretty, they're not particularly colorful and they often look like a simpleton food.

But these beans are my grandma June's beans. And while they're simple to make, they're anything but simple tasting. Bush's Beans and his talking golden retriever don't have anything on my grandma's beans.

The barbecue chicken is part of our New Recipe Series from the Serving Louisiana cookbook my dear mother-in-law gave me for Christmas. I've marked up the majority of this book, so you can be expecting a lot to come from it in the next few weeks. Delicious treats like chicken dressing, chicken and gravy, south of the border pie, chicken spaghetti, chicken and dumplings, brisket, lasagna, creole meatballs, po' boys and baked fish....

Poor Ben. He'll never stick on his diet with me around.

Especially with these in the freezer.

The FDA considers me a hazard to people's health.

But at least we can get some good barbecue in before the dietitians and nutritionists haul me away.

Barbecue Chicken from Serving Louisiana

1 cup ketchup
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup wine vinegar
1/4 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup chopped green bell pepper (Mine was rotten so I used a can of green chilies.)
1 1/2 tblspn Worcestershire sauce
1 tblspn mustard
1 tblspn brown sugar
4 chicken breasts, skinless and boneless or one small chicken cut up
1 tblspn garlic salt
1/4 tsp. pepper

Combine ketchup, water, wine vinegar, onion, bell pepper, Worcestershire sauce, mustard and brown sugar in sauce pan. Mix well. Bring to boil then reduce heat.

Simmer over low heat for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and cover to keep warm.

Sprinkle chicken with garlic salt and pepper. Arrange in baking dish, single layer, and pour sauce over chicken. Bake, covered at 325 degrees for 1 hour or until cooked through.

Serves 4.

And the book says it's only 238 delicious calories. Hooray!

Grandma June's Baked Beans

2 lbs. of pork and beans, canned
4 strips of bacon
1/2 cup chopped onions (or onion powder equivalent)
2 tblspn. brown sugar
1 tblspn. Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp yellow mustard.

1) Cook bacon until crisp. Drain and keep 2 tblspn. bacon fat.
2) Cook onions in drippings until tender, not brown.
3) Mix beans with other ingredients in casserole dish. Chop bacon into small pieces and add to remaining ingredients.
4) Bake at 350 for 1 hour and 15 minutes or 325 degrees for 1 hour 45 minutes. Cool for 15 minutes before eating.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have an interview with the Cookie-Stealing Bunny! Then this weekend, we have a edition of Candy Animals and a special edition of the Gift, where we learn what happened to the flower! Monday will kick off another chapter of the Gift with a week of whimsical fun (and the answer to what is in the letter!)

A dance from long ago

2009-01-07T03:00:00.000-08:00

A few days ago I realized that new Twirl enthusiasts (the three that are out there) had no idea how to catch up and read old twirls. I have two solutions for you:

1) Check out the Dancing and Dance categories and read all the old entries. This weekend I'm going to figure out how to get this on the sidebar, I swear. I'm in the middle of a vast redesign/organization project. It'll be awesome. Eventually.

I don't like organizing.

2) I can e-mail you the text so far. Just drop me a line!

And for the previous Twirl, go here. For the one before that, go here.

Shall we find out what's in the mysterious envelope that was hidden in the dance hall wall?

Yes, lets.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leaping onto the horse, Vivi and Wade discussed what was in the envelope the entire way back to the car.

"Money!" Vivi shouted over the horses' hooves.

Wade tapped the envelope and shook his head. "Too light!" he said. "Maybe it's a will."

"No, it's definitely too light for that," Viv protested. "Plus, it'd be sealed."

Wade nodded, his back flexing as he turned the horse away from a cactus. "Maybe it's movie tickets." Vivi could feel his grin and shook her head.

"A recipe," she added, giggling. "For fried squirrel."

"Directions," Wade added. "To the nearest pharmacy."

"And a magic tonic to make one fall in love with you over stewed toad," Vivi chortled, leaning against his back as she laughed. The horse hurried over the dry brush as her laugh filled the quiet Texas night.

"A map," Wade mused, running his fingers over the envelope. "It's thin enough. And there were plenty of outlaws back in the day. They could have hidden it in the wall so others couldn't find their secret stashes."

Vivi poked his shoulder blades. "You've been watching way too many pirate movies. Why don't you just open it?"

"Because," Wade drawled, slowing down the horse. "That'd be too easy. Besides, we should wait for the sheriff."

"Why?" Vivi asked, waiting for him to lift her off. He set her in the dirt. In the fading sunlight, it looked like crinkles of joy had been etched around his eyes. With a grin, he leaned down and pressed her lips to hers. When he raised his head, he said simply, "It's the right thing to do."

Vivi wondered if arguing with him would win her another kiss. Before she had time to decide, Wade was boarding up the horse and wiping him down. After a quick dinner at a nearby diner, Wade dropped her off by her car. She drove home humming to herself, her thoughts focused on the envelope. Someone went to a lot of trouble to hide a thin envelope in the wall of a old dance hall. It could have been there for more than 100 years.

She wasn't sure if she could wait for tomorrow to find out.

Sliding into the back door, she placed her foot gently on the first stair. She hadn't been home since nine this morning. If she hurried, she could get upstairs before her parents realized she was back and deal with the lecture tomorrow. She stepped up and the stair squeaked in betrayal.

"Vivi!" her father bellowed. "Come into the living room."

Cursing, Vivi placed her dance bag at the foot of the stairs. Smoothing back her frazzled curls, she hoped she looked pleasant. She stepped into the living room and stared at her father. His sallow face was twisted into a scowl, his inky hair plastered to his forehead. The purple circles under his eyes had grown saggy over the past few years, and the dark goatee on his chin was peppered with grey. Vivi's eyes slid to the wall, where her father was immortalized at the height of his youth. His black eyes bore into the camera, his arrogant smile etched into the photo for all of time.

Until that moment, she had never realized it was a shot of the Lover's Dance. The dance Mrs. Angelson wanted her to do with Damien. It was like she had stepped from a dream. All the worry of Mrs. Angelson's favor, Damien, her father, her school--even how she saw herself came flooding back. The comfort and calm she had felt with Wade was gone. She felt drained, her eyes sinking to her cheeks.

"Vivienne!" She snapped back to attention. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes," she lied. Her father's eyes narrowed and he stood, stepping towards her in one graceful movement. Once a dancer, always a dancer, she thought bitterly.

"Then you agree?"

Vivi said nothing. She held his gaze, her jaw tight. He snickered. "Just as I thought. You were not listening at all."

Vivi stayed quiet as he circled around her, hurling his words in short jabs.

"Vivienne, Mrs. Angelson called this afternoon. She is concerned about your performance. And your dance teacher at school e-mailed me the other day and said you had been off in practice." Vivi opened her mouth. Her father shot her a look and she closed it. "I don't care about your excuses. I don't care if it's drinking or drugs or even a boy. As long as you don't get pregnant or too deep into anything, I'm not concerned." Vivi's eyes widened as he continued.

"What I am concerned about is your dancing. When you were little, you had a place etched for you in the dance world. But when I"-- His face tightened and he shook his head. "However, things have changed. You will have to fight harder than I ever did." Her father's jaw tightened. "And you are better than I ever was. Mrs. Angelson can take you far. But you must work harder. From now on, you are to focus on your dance only. I will e-mail your teachers and hire a tutor for the house. You can return to school for finals only. Right now, dancing is all that matters. We must prepare you to audition for New York, Europe."

Vivi felt like her throat had been scraped dry. "What about college?"

"College?" her father roared. His pale skin flared into purple and red splotches. "For what? You have a talent, Vivi. A gift. Why would you throw that away? You can attend college after your knees are shot and your feet twisted. You know a dancer has a small amount of time. You're already much later than I wanted."

"But what if I'm good at something other than dancing?" Vivi argued, clenching her fist. Whether it was the fatigue or a fluke, she felt strength she had never known while facing her father. For once she wasn't afraid or worried. In fact, the only thing she really cared about at this moment was what was in the envelope.

"You're a dancer," her father hissed, poking a long bony finger in his chest. "You will always be a dancer. I don't want to hear anything else about it." Grabbing her chin in his hands, he glared at her. "We have a meeting tomorrow morning at 10 with Mrs. Angelson. Then you will practice the rest of the day in my studio. There is much to do."

"I have plans tomorrow," Vivi protested. There was no way she would miss dinner at Wade's grandfather's house and visiting the sheriff. She had to know what was in that envelope. It was driving her crazy.

"Cancel them," her father commanded. "There's a lot you must learn." Taking Vivi's silence for acceptance, he whirled around and disappeared into the back of the house.

Vivi stared after him, her eyes burning a hole in his back. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her dance bag and barreled up the stairs.

She wasn't too concerned about meeting Mrs. Angelson or what she had been telling her father. Because she wouldn't be at that meeting.

In fact, she wouldn't be here tonight.

To be continued.....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a second edition of the New cookbook Series, BBQ Chicken and Baked Beans. Friday we have an interview with the Cookie Stealing Bunny and a Candy Animals on Saturday. And of course, we find out what's in the flower that Samantha received!

The Search for a Moose in the Pond

2009-01-06T03:00:00.000-08:00

Bear was depressed.

You see, all he had wanted for Christmas was a moose. Just a moose to ride on through the backyard, past all the tall grass and over the cold sidewalks.

But Santa hadn't brought him a moose. He had brought him plenty of toys and treats, new Chihuahua Christmas friends, and even some new clothes. But there wasn't a moose in sight.

Wuffle.

It was enough to make a puppy wuffle with all his might.

Finally, one day, Bitty had enough.

"Stop wuffling!" she bellowed. "We're going to go find a moose!"

Then the Babies realized they had no idea where a moose lived. In fact, they didn't know what a moose looked like.

They looked in the dishwasher.

They checked the pantry.

They checked the loveseat cushions. Bear was thrilled to find a chew stick.

They checked under the entertainment center and found another chew stick. Bitty claimed it. After all, she is the Queen.

There were no mooses in the hallway.

Nor in the bathroom.

There wasn't anything in Ben's office either. Not even a dead spider.

Finally, the Babies gave up the search. They trotted into the Blond Duck and Ben's room for snuggle time.

And ran smack into a moose.

"A moose!" Bear cried. "A moose! A real moose! Sent to me by Santa!"

"Pardon me," the moose said, looking perturbed. "I'm not anyone's present from Santa. I simply live in the Land of the Flowered Bed."

Bear felt his hopes fade away. "So I can't ride on your back in the tall grass out back? I can't run to the mailbox with you and scare the mean dogs? We can't go ice skating on the kitchen floor?"

"Of course!" the Moose cried. "That's what friends do!"

And just like that, Bear had a new friend in the Moose. Even if the Moose had to stay in the Blond Duck's bedroom due to the fact Bitty had the overwhelming urge to shred it like her other toys.

He had never been happier. In fact, he wuffled with joy.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new Twirl! Thursday we have the new cookbook series of bbq chicken and baked beans, and a interview with the cookie-stealing bunny Friday. Stay tuned!

The Gift 3

2009-01-05T03:00:00.000-08:00

Hello, dear Invisible Friends! Hold on!

Did you read about my tasty light lunch?

What about Twirl?

What about the special edition of Twirl?

You did? Fantastic. Now, who is up for a light lunch? I'm buying...

Although I never promote movies or books, I must say I saw for the preview for this on TV today and screamed so loud Ben thought zombies had burst through the patio. I haven't been this excited since Stranger than Fiction.

And now for what you've all been waiting for....what's in the BOX!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh my God," Samantha repeated, staring inside the small silver box.

"What is it?" her friend Ashley asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Yes, come on!" Cleo nearly shouted, teetering perilously on the armchair. "What is it? I can't see that far without my contacts?"

Even Jeremy seemed curious. He stood up and wondered over, peering over her shoulder. Samantha glared at him and he blushed, taking a step back.

"It's a flower," Samantha informed them, lifting the tiny bloom out of the box. A deep blush colored lily-like flower with burgundy tips rested in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter. Silver specks glimmered in the bright blue center and the petals sparkled in the dim light. "And look, there's another note!" She plucked a yellowed small scroll out of the box.

"Oh," Cleo cooed. "How cute. A scroll. So old fashioned." She glared up at Jeremy. "Much more appropriate than work out DVDs."

"I'll take it back and get a necklace!" Jeremy sputtered.

"Oh, it's way too late for that," Ashley informed him. "You might as well just roll over and die." She turned to Samantha as she carefully unrolled the tiny scroll. "What's it say?"

Samantha peered down at the thick black ink. "Dear Samantha," she read. "Even this rare bloom cannot compare to your beauty. Until sunset. Love, Me."

"Who is me?" Jeremy demanded, his cheeks turning red. "And what is going on at sunset?"

"Breathe," Ashley snapped. "It's almost ten at night. It's probably from a poem or something."

"Is this flower real?" Cleo wondered aloud, poking at the elegant blooms. "It looks real, but it's so soft. Wouldn't a real flower be rotting right now?"

"I've never seen a flower like that," Ashley pointed out. "I mean, it looks perfect. Like it was carved out of glass or something."

"It's a stupid silk flower," Jeremy sneered, his voice a little too loud. "It's probably just a joke. It's not like you have a secret admirer or anything. I bet Ashley or Cleo did this."

"We did not!" Ashley snapped.

"You're simply the worst boyfriend ever!" Cleo growled.

"Whatever," Jeremy snorted. He plucked the scroll out of Samantha's hand. "It's just some stupid prank."

"And what if it's not?" Samantha's voice was quiet, but hard.

"What?" Jeremy blinked. Samantha swiveled her dark head around, her light green eyes piercing his.

"What if it's not a stupid prank?" Samantha repeated. "What if it is a secret admirer?"

Jeremy snorted. Samantha's eyes flashed, but her voice remained calm. "Just because you don't recognize my value doesn't mean others do not." Jeremy squawked and Samantha shook her head. "I think you should leave. I'm tired and we're going to bed."

"What do you me we?" Jeremy glared at her. "All my stuff is in your room."

"That's easy to fix," Samantha replied, her voice icy. "And I prefer you do it soon. I'm not sharing my room with someone who doesn't appreciate me after three years."

Jeremy's face tightened and he stormed off, slamming the cabin door. Amy and Cleo immediately rushed to their friend.

"I'm ok, I'm ok," Samantha reassured them before they could speak. "I know I sounded harsh, but I'm just frustrated. I really thought"-- Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Oh, honey." Ashley smoothed her hair. "Why don't you go lay down in my room? I'll get your stuff for you later. I'm so wired right now I'll probably watch a movie." Cleo nodded, patting her shoulder. Samantha forced a smile on her face.

"Thanks," she said. Plucking her flower from Cleo, she picked up the tiny scroll Jeremy had dropped on the floor and toddled off to Ashley's room with both pressed to her palm firmly. In Ashley's room, she dropped the tiny flower into a glass of water and slid the scroll under her pillow.

"Love, me," she repeated, shaking her head as she slid under the covers. "Who is me?"

She was asleep immediately. The next morning, she stretched in the early sunlight, careful not to disturb the snoring form of Ashley's next to her. Sliding out of bed, she stood up and stumbled to the dresser. Smiling, she leaned over the glass to finger her floating flower.

Her eyes widened. "Ashley," she whispered. "Look at this!"

To be continued...

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow Bear and Bitty go on a search for a moose. We also have a new BBQ chicken recipe, another Twirl and a interview with the cookie stealing bunny! Stay tuned!

Twirl: Special Edition

2009-01-04T04:46:00.000-08:00

You asked, I delivered. To read what scandalous events inspired this special edition of "Twirl", go here.

Wade stared at his bleeding fist, then at the hole in the wall. His mouth opened. Before he could speak, a burly red-faced man shoved through the crowd that had gathered around them. The musicians peered down from the stage and people stood on top of the bar to see better over the crowd.

"WADE!" the burly man bellowed. "What the hell did you do to my wall?"

"I didn't do anything," Wade replied, giving his hand a bewildered stare. "I was just talking to Vivi and I leaned against it. Next thing I know, my fist is through the wall with about a billion splinters in it."

"That's a lie!" the burly man snarled. "This building is solid. It's been here since the 1800s." He narrowed his eyes and looked at Vivi. "Was he trying to pull something on you, darlin'?"

Vivi's eyes flashed and her cheeks bloomed red. "No! Wade would never do that!"

"You been drinking, Wade?" the burly man pressed on, ignoring Vivi's indignant gasp. "You know, your grandpa used to"--

"Leave him out of this!" Wade snarled, his blue eyes flashing. Vivi's throat went dry as she watched his normally serene face crease into hard lines. She had never seen him mad.

As the two men snarled and cursed at each other, a pot-bellied sheriff shoved through the crowd. "All right, all right," he yelled over the noise. "What's going on here?"

"Sheriff, I leaned against the wall and my fist went through it," Wade informed him, cutting off the burly man's attempts to speak. "I think the wood is rotten. But now Burt thinks I was intentionally trying to damage the wall. I just pulled Vivi back here to tell her something real quick, leaned against the wall and boom!"

"Why were you pulling her back here?" Burt bellowed. "This isn't a football field. Go to the front of the dancehall if you want to talk, not behind the bleachers. You were distracting the band! You're cutting into my profits!"

"You would have charged me re-admission!" Wade argued.

"That's true," the sheriff commented. "He's done it to me before.

"I've got a dancehall to run, not a charity!" Burt bellowed.

"We didn't even know they were back there," the lead guitarist interjected. "Until he went through the wall."

"It was really cool though," the drummer said with a big grin. "It happened in sync with the music." Vivi stared at him. She felt like she was in a bad Western movie. All she needed was a satin dress and some jewels--never mind, that's what saloon girls wore.

As Vivi pondered the proper dress for a proper lady in a B-movie Western, the sheriff shifted and pulled his slipping pants over his enormous stomach.

"Oh Burt, hush up," he growled as Burt continued to squawk about the wall. "You'd fuss if someone gave you a million dollars. I've known Wade since he in diapers and he's been here a million times. You know as well as I do he's the only cool headed one in his family. I think you're just trying to rope him into paying for the wall. If you would keep this place up, people wouldn't be falling through walls."

Burt's face turned purple as he huffed away, his feet slamming so hard into the wooden boards with every step that Vivi could see them bend over the pressure. Some of the crowd drifted back to the bar, and the band started to play again. Wade grabbed the sheriff's arm and pointed to the hole.

"Look, sheriff," he murmured, glancing around at the few stragglers hoping for a fight. "There's something in the wall." Vivi stepped on her tiptoes, trying to peer over the men's shoulders. All she saw was a dark hole in the wood.

The sheriff pulled a flashlight off his belt and clicked it on. Shining it over the broken wood, he peered into the dark space behind the wall.

"I'll be damned," he muttered, reaching his hand in. He pulled out a yellowed envelope. Peeking inside, he sucked in his breath. The sheriff glanced back and forth. He shoved the envelope at Wade and grabbed his shoulder.

"Do me a favor," he muttered. "Meet me at my office tomorrow around two and we'll talk about this. Right now, you got to get this out of the dance hall. See you then."

Whirling around, the sheriff plastered a smile on his face and lumbered onto the dance floor. He scooped up one the ancient town librarian and twirled her around the floor. Over her shoulder he motioned for Wade to leave. Wade nodded and grabbed Vivi's hand, clutching the envelope in his bloodied hand that had gone through the wall.

"I don't get it," she murmured in his ear as they ran out of the dance hall. "What's the big deal about an envelope? Why do we have to meet the sheriff tomorrow?"

"Dunno," Wade muttered. His grin was white and bright in the early dusk. "But we're about to find out."

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a busy week coming up at the Pond. We've got another Twirl, the search for Bear's moose and a brand new BBQ chicken recipe! Also, tomorrow we learn what was in the box!

A Light Lunch

2009-01-03T04:23:00.000-08:00

Yesterday afternoon, I drove up to Austin to have a light lunch with my Dad at Ironworks, a legendary Austin barbecue joint.

It's the perfect barbecue spot--old, simple and really really good.

There's even a cute little wood stove. But that's not where they cook the barbecue.

You're all familiar with Dad. He's the man who hates Christmas and loves gravy.

Now we get to the real meat of the issue (get it?) A lovely light barbecue lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly. A light lunch. A girl's got to watch her figure.

Have I mentioned how much I love barbecue? Particularly ribs? I love ribs.

I really love ribs.

It seriously excites me.

I just can't help myself.

The worst part is you think I would be embarrassed about being seen like this in public, but I'm not. At the moment, I'm simply in a coma of pure barbecue bliss.

Obviously.

I'm embarrassed to even show you this. As my mother in law would say, the Queen won't be inviting me over any time soon. As my Dad would say, I'm not acting like I've been to town before. There's still meat in my teeth. It's terrible really. (That's why he's not in any of these pictures. Would you want to be seen with this face?)

But as bad as I look, it's oh so delicious.

After wiping all the sauce off my face and hands, I did what any sophisticated eater of true Texas barbecue. I cleansed my palate with crackers. My Dad informed me that any true, good Texas barbecue joint will offer you crackers and white bread, never wheat.

And I'm the sophisticated type.

Did I mention the pecan pie is really good? Well, it is. Or it was.

I had so much fun at my barbecue lunch with Dad, that I think I'll meet him again for lunch at Ironworks soon.

After all, a girl can always use a light lunch to kick off her weekend.

You've begged, you've pleaded---and I've given in. Tomorrow, stay tuned Invisible Friends for a Special Edition of TWIRL! That's right, find out whether Wade punched the wall or fell through...and learn exactly what everyone is staring at. Is it Vivi's Dad? A dead body? A chest of money? Or is it something mysterious?

And on Monday, we find out FINALLY what's in the box! Stay tuned!

Two steps in the past

2009-01-02T03:00:00.000-08:00

To read the previous Twirl, go here.

***Special Saturday Announcement! OK, I know you're dying to know what happens after this. All questions will be answered Sunday! Stay tuned!

For the next few hours, Vivi was swept away in the muggy dance hall. Her frizzled curls were plastered to her forehead, her leotard slicked with sweat where Wade's hand pressed against her lower back. Her feet ached and her legs burned.

But all she wanted to do was dance.

Wade's bright blue eyes crinkled at the edges as she twirled across the floor. In his gaze, she felt like the prettiest girl in the world pirouetting in a lovely dress that swirled around her in smooth waves, instead of her ancient jeans and scuffed tennis shoes. Old couples smiled fondly at them and young children gazed up at them. Her fingers were locked against his, their feet sliding in a steady rhythm. She didn't even notice when the bands changed out and the sun slid behind the trees.

All she could do was dance.

The beat slowed, and Wade pulled her into his arms. Leaning her cheek his shoulder, she breathed in his scent.

"I have to tell you something," she blurted out.

"What's that?" His voice was amused.

Pulling away from him, Vivi looked up into his eyes. "I've never been happier than I am with you, dancing."

Wade nodded, his face breaking into a shy smile. "That makes two of us."

"I mean, I know that this is really forward," Vivi babbled. "And I know things are moving fast. I mean, after all, we've just known each other a few weeks. You've already met my friends, you know about my weird family and my crazy teacher...but still, I just feel like I'm skating across the sky when I'm with you. And when we're dancing, it just feels like...I know you probably think I'm coming on too strong and overthinking things and I want to assure you that I'm an independent, well-adjusted individual who is not expecting any sort of--"

Without warning, Wade's lips pressed to hers. At first, it was a soft brush. His blue eyes locked onto hers. Grabbing the sides of his stubbly cheeks, she leaned up. With the same rhythm as their feet, their lips moved together slowly, tenderly. But the burn in Vivi's chest wasn't tender at all. When Wade raised his head, she gasped. He had quite literally taken her breath away.

And she thought that was only something that happened in movies and trashy romance novels.

Taking her hand, Wade pulled her off the dance floor. Her lips tingled as they ducked behind the wall of the stage, huddling under the rig that held flashing red and yellow lights. Wade's lips brushed her ear.

"You know what I saw when I looked at you at that old dance hall the night we met?" he half-shouted.

"What?" Vivi murmured.

"Joy," he replied. "I saw pure joy. And I thought, I want to feel just like how that girl is feeling. I want to be as lit up inside, as excited by an old pile of boards as she is."

Vivi couldn't move or speak as he took her hand and rested his chin on it. He leaned his other arm against the wall.

"And tonight, I'm full of joy," he told her. "Thanks to you."

His eyes met Vivi's. Her lips parted.

And then Wade's fist went through the wall with a loud crack. He cursed, pulling his hand out of the wall and brushing splinters of wood off it. The music stopped and people rushed toward him. Vivi peered at his hand, terrified at what she would see. She glanced at Wade and opened her mouth to comfort him. But Wade wasn't looking at his hand. He didn't even look like he was in pain. He was staring at the wall, his jaw hanging low. Vivi peeked closer at the wall and blinked.

"What is it?"

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a fun whimsical post tomorrow and find out what's in the box on Monday! Next week we have all sorts of fabulous things, including barbecued chicken from the new recipe series and Bear and Bitty's search for a moose. Stay tuned!