I'm stepping slightly away from the Christmas overload at the Dregs.
Today I'm posting a link to my new and improved book trailer for Gallimore.
I'm also suggesting that you check out author Michelle Griep's website and the Gallimore page at Amazon.
Seriously, this book, Gallimore, cemented our friendship. We discovered, way back when, while ripping each others' words to shreds via our on-line writing critique group that Michelle and I...
a) consider our love language to be mutual...one that involves pratfalls and/or physical noises/pain.
b) that GOOD coffee is a major weakness and pretty much necessary for sustaining life.
c) that as imperfect as we are as moms, we a
ren't completely insane nor all bad. d) that a friend has nothing to do with miles between but the hearts involved.
e) you can meet great people on the internet, though it it advisable to be pretty sure the person is "great" before dragging innocent children along for a visit.
f) sisters don't always have to come from the same genetic pool or set of parents.
That said. Here's a little piece about Christmas that Michelle wrote up for our reading pleasure (he,he so I kind of departed from the Christmas theme.)
Dieting is for Sissies
by Michelle Griep
Have you wakened from your Thanksgiving tryptophan coma yet? Seriously, it's December, people.
Frankly, we have become a bunch of food wienies. We snarf back a plateful or two of a little turkey then moan our way to the sofa, forced to sit and rest a spell while the game is on. How dare we blame our couch potato status on an innocent amino acid?
If we lived in Europe about 600 years ago, we wouldn't dream of whining about the serious after effects of turkey gluttony. Not at all. For starters we'd probably need to be alert and on our toes. Though the twelve days of Christmas was an implicit time of peace, one could never be certain that the peace wouldn't come after a brutal attack and the loss of a few heads.
We'd also have to make sure we didn't offend the neighborhood wassailers. The savvy Dark Age dweller would make certain to have food, drink and maybe a bit of pocket change for the needy should the singers bearing spiced cider show up at the door. Those most generous received blessings for a fruitful new year. As for the stingy, well, let’s just say they might want to watch their back until the next holiday season.
Finally, people today don't have a clue what a feast truly is. I’m talking massive boar head complete with a rosemary/bay garnish and a mouth stuffed with an apple or festive orange. Think someone possessing a cooked goose is some sort of joke about big trouble? Not during the Middle Ages. It’s more like a slam implying that you had to settle for an ugly fowl while your neighbors served swan or peacock.
Interestingly, the pie we think of over the holidays is pumpkin. Child’s play compared to a knight’s appetite. They didn't mess around with something trivial like a slice a la mode. One keeping up with the Knight Jones’ party featured the Queen Mother of all pies. I wonder if it was called the 12 Days of Christmas Pie as it must have taken nearly that long to eat the 165 pound monstrosity. It also included several reminiscent ingredients like geese, blackbirds and partridges.
Which brings me to my final thought… a few extra pounds around the middle was certainly not cause to sign-up for a lifetime membership at the local Y. If you were fortunate enough to eat well and have the belly to show for it, you were a success.
That being said, I think I’ll have me a few more Christmas cookies.
