Writers-- at a glance...

I am supposed to be leaving the house to climb into a limo, make out with Ahmed (his idea) and attend a Super Tuesday shindig as I type this. It was TOO GOOD not to share-- an at-a-glance goof-guide. These are far-too-common slips many writers make, and the graphic layout is adorable. Thanks to Rhonda Helms' twitter feed for the tip!

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Coming to Your Kindle for Saint Patrick’s Day!

Coming from Amazon just for Saint Patrick’s Day—a short, fun, fantasy romance by Chrissy Olinger.

MORE ABOUT HEART OF GOLD:

Finn Mór is a leprechaun prince, but he has no interest in his clan's throne. All he has ever wanted was to be BIG. By the sacred laws of the leprechaun clans, any of the wee folk who can keep every last coin in their pot for two hundred years earns that very boon... or is it a curse?

Two hundred years have finally passed and Finn's wish is granted. He's 6'6" and drop-dead gorgeous. No longer immortal, he still keeps his magic as long as he keeps his gold.

Happy to sample the sins of the mortal world, enhancing his luck as he goes with the source of his power— the pot of his people— Finn runs into trouble when a sexy little thief snatches his pot. He's got to snatch it back or kiss his luck goodbye. But it's more than luck he's thinking of kissing, and she may have stolen more than his gold.

EXCERPT:

In a quiet glade, a few miles from Lackanaloy Creek, Finn shucked off his clothes, hooked a feedbag onto the nose of his only companion, and crawled beneath the pony cart to sleep. He slumbered without dreams, never waking when the moon found its zenith. The beams of wild magic that lit the small glade in that last hour of his weeness were seen by none, for the pony had fallen into a mindless doze.

The sun rose on a very different Finn Mór. Banging his dark head on the cart, he sat up with a yelp, came to full waking with a gasp, and stared down at his lap with a broad, cheeky grin.

“Woop! I’m big! Well and truly BIG!” Gaze fixed between his new long legs, his grin grew wider still. “Every bleedin’ bit o’ me!” *

*from Heart of Gold by Chrissy Olinger

Down to the Wriggly Bits

When you love someone deeply—down to the wriggly bits, the twiggy bits, the very tips— that love occupies forgotten territory in your spirit. There are little fingerling leaves and rootlets we very often forget. Deep love seeps into these. This is sometimes love-of-your-life stuff, the partner with whom you’ll spend your final days. But very often—perhaps MORE often—it’s a friendship or fellowship tangling its way into the places God knows need nourishment.

I’m very lucky to have good friends. I’m very lucky to have a good man. I’m very lucky to have a spiritual community that crosses several belief systems and communities. The support, prayer, and fellowship I find with these people is a pearl of great price. We support one another in pain and sorrow, take joy in the blessings and successes. We feel each pinch and pleasure down to the wriggly bits.

This month I am losing a friend to what I hope, for him, will be greener pastures. The greening of the world came, this year, out of joint and season. My snowdrops, which always poke up through a blanket of white, are bobbing in an Ides of March rain that washed away February’s Leap Day snow. But my tulips, daffodils, and crocuses are threatening an early bloom that has left the tips of their green shoots yellowed and thin. I always worry when this happens—a warm winter tinkers with the natural order of things, and threatens my bulbs and flowering bushes. Lilacs, forsythia, quince… will they be okay?

They will. And so will my friend, Father Mark Ballard, who has been the Pastor at Our Lady of the Assumption for these past few years. OLA lost our beloved Father Donald Clifford to retirement, and will lose Father Mark to re-shuffling at the command of the archdiocese. Nobody is happy about this, but we have nothing to say about it.

When Father Clifford left it felt like spring was gone forever. He has stayed close, but parishioners missed him terribly, and still do. Father Mark was a warm breeze in a community gone cold and damp, a parish struggling to find its way without the leadership upon which it had come to rely so casually. Assumption had a temporary pastor, meandered a little, and felt the seasons tipping out of order. But the thing about nature is that it simply IS. Anything alive, anything wriggling its way through the earth toward the sun, can’t be UNNATURAL. Life itself is natural, however it manifests. It is a product of nature, which is a mercurial beastie at best. Cold ground gave forth new life with Father Mark.

I find myself hoping, as my nephews make their way through the religious education program, that Father Mark’s best and most-missed legacy will be his family liturgy masses. He called the kids to sit on the floor in front of the altar and spoke directly to them. He took a new-school attitude to underscore old-school ideas and beliefs. He created a wonderful atmosphere of trust and love for God, and made it easy.

I don’t really understand the changes taking place in parishes on the South Shore at the moment. I’m a webmaster for Assumption, and someone with family and friends marrying, learning, and being buried in this community that has survived—literally—fire and destruction. Changes are coming regardless of what the parish wants. I worry that priests being displaced by the new plan—whatever it really is—will lose the sense of extended family, connection, HOME that so often makes a good priest great. Will people want to talk to a rotating pastor they don’t see every day? None of that is for me to say, but it does make me think about Catholics who will be living with the changes.

And it makes me think of those struggling buds, tips gone yellow. Perhaps we must look to Robert Frost and see the gold, “nature’s first green.” Because this is, after all, New England. We have wacky winters and chaotic springs, but the seasons come just the same. My hyacinths will appear, in a few weeks, with somewhat twisted and sparse blooms. While I regret that they will not show in bold, lush, thick brushes of purple and rose, I will celebrate the color and fragrance, and be grateful to have them.

Father Mark is leaving us too soon. We’ll miss him here in Green Harbor. I hope we see him on occasion. No person who gives so deeply to a community should disappear completely. That’s what harborfests, Irish nights, and pancake breakfasts are for: old friends, new friends, people who love down to the wriggly bits getting together. That kind of love goes deep, through the veins and roots, into the very earth. It stays, enriching us, always.

I hope Father Mark finds new blessings in his new home, and is appreciated by his new family… all the way down.

I’m Sorry You’re Dying- Balancing Schadenfreude and Denial

I just finished participating in a workshop: DEALING WITH CHRONIC AND TERMINAL ILLNESS WITH KINDNESS AND CARE. Strangely, my presentation was inspired by a little boy in my life. Out of the mouths of babes, and all that.

About two months ago my friend Roxanne’s son, who is 7, overheard a conversation between his mother and me. In retrospect, this little boy considers me to be an aunt, or perhaps secondary godmother. That I am his mom’s best friend translates this way; that I am unabashedly in love with him and his siblings is obvious, reciprocated, and joyous. So I was sorry to know he overheard us talking about death and dying, and that it may have upset him. But I was deeply touched, and incredibly moved, by his response. It was this:

“I’m sorry you’re dying, Olie.”

He followed his comments with a hug. That was it. Having recently encountered some of the worst examples of reactions, it blew me away to see perfection in action. What adults struggle to master was embraced in simple honesty in a 7 year old boy’s pure, innocent, and immaculate reaction. He got it exactly right without even thinking about it.

What often happens, at least among adults, is not quite as deft. Usually those of us living with terminal illnesses deal with reactions in three very clearly defined groups:

1. DENIAL: Probably the most common. It can manifest as pollyanna refusal, which generally involves negating comments like “you’ll be just fine, I know it!” This makes the commenter feel better, but also dismisses the struggle entirely. It may appear supportive, but is actually the opposite. Also common is a total rejection of the person. Many people with serious illnesses are shocked to find that people they like, love, and even depend on can’t face the possibility of death or are terrified by illnesses associated with death. Cancer patients can be crushed to discover that an old and dear friend stops taking calls. It has nearly nothing to do with the sick person. The friend simply can’t deal with his or her own fear of death, and runs. This is also very hurtful, but it’s important to remember that the reaction has to to with the reactor.
2. SCHADENFRUEDE: Almost the opposite of denial, the schadenfreude club is an arm of the “professional mourners” brigade. We all know these folks—they absolutely revel in the misery of others and wouldn’t miss a funeral for anything but their own death. These are the people who call immediately, can’t offer to do enough, and want to talk about death and dying and misery constantly. They may, at first, appear to be helpful. Often these people are hypochondriacs or overtly neurotic themselves, and attach to others who are ill or dying in order to milk the misery for attention and melodrama. Ironically, they are not helpful. One way to identify a misery addict from a genuinely helpful soul is precisely that: the schadenfreude crew crowds every sick room and funeral parlor, can’t be front and center enough, but does absolutely nothing to help. He or she is in the way, wringing hands, moaning and crying, and often has only a casual acquaintance with the party in question.
3. THE REST: Hopefully-- and most likely statistically, though no data that I know of exists—the majority inhabits this group. Though most of our friends and loved ones WANT to be supportive and loving, most of them don’t necessarily know how. Those who do—who may have lost a loved one and know how to react—often step up first. Women who cook, clean, and offer to carpool when a neighbor is dealing with chemotherapy, men who do yard work for a friend who is losing a parent, the doers in our lives who seem to be there the instant we need them without requiring a single response—these are the best gifts we can receive. Family and friends may struggle; they may not respond as we want them to, but they care. Most want to help, but very often don’t have words or a blueprint for such a difficult and challenging issue.

When I sat in this seminar—attended mostly by terminally ill patients and their relatives—what most people wanted, and could not seem to find, was a plan of response. Don’t we all, really? Even the well-meaning deniers and grief-addicts are, mostly, only doing what they feel is best. So what IS best? Here are a few things that seemed to be helpful to others, and have been to me on many occasions:

1. ASK: Initially many people who are ill—whether terminal or not—don’t have any more of an idea about what to expect than you do. So give your friend a bit of time, and then check back. By week two of chemo or radiation he or she may be ready to accept help they initially refused. Most of us don’t know how tiring treatments are going to be, or how many people we ASSUMED would help don’t or won’t. Your friend is in a tail-spin. Let the spinning slow, then call.
2. DON’T ASK- JUST DO: In some cases a person in need has no idea how to ask for help, or simply comes from a background that teaches this is a weakness. If you know him or her well, consider simply doing what you can see needs to be done. This is best with tasks that are non-intrusive, since many times a sick or dying person doesn’t want to feel either obligated to be a “host,” or even have to deal with the world at all. Mow the lawn without asking for permission. If he or she has a family, drop off food and leave with a wave and a promise to pray. You just lightened the load without requiring anything in return.
3. CONSIDER THE COLLATERAL ISSUES: Of course you want to help the friend, but is he a dad/ is she a mom? Spouses, kids, aging parents, pets… all of them are going to need things that our sick friend can’t be expected to do. The relief a sick person feels when he or she knows the kids are being picked up, can stay for dinner, and have a break from the sadness or pressure at home is immeasurable. Taking the dog to the groom, giving the spouse a break with menial stuff, or making sure an aging parent has a ride to a doctor’s appointment makes a HUGE difference to people who are struggling with their own issues.
4. DON’T FORCE IT, AND BE READY FOR AN ABOUT-FACE: It may hurt when your offer to help is initially rejected. It may even be rejected repeatedly. Back off, give it time, and simply let your friend know the offer stands. Check in, LISTEN, and keep an open heart. Remember #1 and try to be ready to accept a change in attitude or need. Asking for help is hard; knowing what help will be needed is nearly impossible; and asking or accepting help after rejecting it is humiliating, even though it shouldn’t be.
5. KEEP PLATITUDES TO YOURSELF: Offer prayer, offer to listen, offer whatever your heart feels right offering. But don’t assume anyone shares your spiritual beliefs, and don’t force them on someone. Don’t dismiss the struggle/journey. Don’t push. Be a good listener.
6. GIVE YOURSELF PERMISSION TO MESS UP: Your sick friend or relative may go through mean stages, cold stages, and outright offensive stages. You may do the wrong thing. Illness, pain, death—these are things nobody wants to deal with, but all of us will. They hit us at the very heart. Don’t beat yourself up if feelings are hurt, and try not to take it personally. We lash out when we are confused and scared. Forgive, let go, and try not to take things to heart. If you do something that, in retrospect, may not have been the best thing, forgive yourself, hope to do better, and don’t beat yourself up.
7. KNOW THE FACTS: Terminal doesn’t mean tomorrow. Some patients (like me) may live for years with a terminal illness. Some may be chronic, but not terminal—even many cancers are now considered TREATABLE, though not CURABLE. This can lead to “sick-bed fatigue.” Many spouses, in fact, can be wonderful at the start, but after years of struggle, become overwhelmed and reject their loved one. Friends and loved ones may, initially, be helpful but grow weary. This is understandable, but very often ends in damage to relationships that can’t be healed. If you are genuinely close to the person, it may be a good idea to consult with physicians and counselors who can help you and the rest of the people around him or her understand the depth and breadth of the journey.

Special thanks to all of those who attended the workshop, DEALING WITH CHRONIC AND TERMINAL ILLNESS WITH KINDNESS AND CARE. You, your loved ones, and all of us living with the struggle are in my prayers—always.

My Home Made Peanutbutter Eggs Recipe

I have recently become completely obsessed with Pinterest. YES! Have you joined? If so, please follow me at http://www.pinterest.com/chrissyolinger

One of my folders, FOOD, resulted in a recipe request on twitter, and some additional interest on facebook. We make these every year and they never last very long. I also make a walnut-fudge version and a cherry cream version. Ultra simple!

Just a heads-up—these are a FANTASTIC thing to make with kids. Lots of yummy mess and mostly hand-mixing and molding. A test-run before Easter would be a great vacation day project.

HOME MADE PEANUTBUTTER EGGS

Eggs:

1/2 cup Reese's Creamy Peanutbutter
1/2 cup softened butter
2-1/3 cups confectioners' sugar
1 cup graham cracker crumbs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Coating:

1-1/2 cups quality chocolate chips OR good melting chocolate
2 tablespoons butter

Directions

Combine all the egg ingredients in a large bowl, and mix until well combined. Using your hands, shape into eggs (flat bottoms, please). Place on waxed paper. I put these in the frig for about a half hour to firm up and cool before dipping.

In a double boiler OR microwave, melt chocolate chips and butter. Blend until smooth and glossy. Using a large spoon or spatula, dip the eggs in the chocolate and place back on waxed paper. Chill until firm (they begin setting as you work).

Yields between 12 and 16, depending on how large your eggs are.