Little known fact about me: I love 80s music. Well, now, anyway. Back in the 1980s, I preferred 70s "classic" rock to the flashier, many times cheesier 80s alternatives. At least that was what I told myself back then, as I tried to carve out this very elitist music snob identity for myself. Truth was, however, I lived by my radio. Most of my memories I can link back to a song or an artist of the era. This is especially true for Christmas music, and you'll see quite a few 80s holiday tunes over the next week. The 1980s took cheesy holiday music and made it cool, even for a pseudo-snob like me.
Plus my 80s holiday music featured long-haired rocker boys. And you just can't get much better than that.
A favorite holiday movie/show:
If you read yesterday's excerpt from San Francisco Serenade, you probably figured out the movie that I alluded to Vance and Sabrina watching on their first "date." It is a movie that, without question, is one of the best Christmas movies ever made simply by taking a familiar holiday classic and slapping some 1980s irreverence onto it. This is courtesy of Bill Effin Murray's portrayal of Scroogy Frank Cross, a nasty TV executive, the epitome of the Greed is Good era of the 20th century. It is rousing and heartfelt, and gave the 80s "Me" generation something to think about besides themselves for a change.
A holiday recipe:
A familiar sight on my family's holiday table (both Thanksgiving and Christmas,) is a big bowl of pink fluff that lasts about a day. I started making it way back when I took over the holiday dinner, and historically every guy in my family, except for Steven, will inhale this "salad" like it was left by Santa himself. I use the term salad because "technically" it is a dish that combines fruit and nuts, there's just a ton of sugar holding it all together. This recipe is in no way healthy, and it's quite impossible to make it so.
I know. I've tried.
But if you want to splurge a little and appeal to the kid in all of us with a sweet, pink treat, then give this tried and true recipe a go. Just be sure to use finger quotes every time you refer to it as a "salad."
Cherry Delight "Salad"
1 can cherry pie filling
1 can Eagle Brand Milk
1 can pineapple tidbits, drained
1 small package chopped pecans
1 tub whipped topping
Mix together and chill overnight.
Book of the Day:
I love Christmas so much that you'll find it used quite a bit through my work, and never was this truer than with my book, "Picture Postcards." I wrote this story back in 1995, and prior to self-publishing it was the closest I came to making my writing dreams come true. It landed me my first agent and gave me direction how to make my characters more three-dimensional. Once I found my niche writing fiction for plus-sized heroines, I wanted to revisit this story and finally publish it for a wide audience.
There was one teensy, tiny problem. It was horribly outdated.
I crafted the plot for PP in the mid-90s because of a call for submissions by Harlequin or some such imprint, that wanted romances that centered around the written word. I mentally toiled and toiled until I came up with the idea of a hopelessly romantic heroine intercepting some anonymous picture postcards written to someone else entirely. Fast forward to 2011/2012 and I realized that the 17 years that had passed rendered my plot obsolete. We are far too connected for this happy "accident" to have happened.
I was overjoyed when I realized that all I had to do to fix the problem was to fudge the dates a little bit, and relay the story within the story... as a mother telling her child how she had met and had fallen in love with her father... as a Christmas tale of romance dated - wonder of wonders - in the 1990s.
EXCERPT "PICTURE POSTCARDS"
Prologue
Christmas Eve, 2004
With nary a creek, a tiny bundle of boundless energy opened the door that led from her bedroom, a cheerful pink oasis tucked in the large neocolonial style home on a tree lined street in Pasadena, California. She pulled some of the playful tangles of her tousled dark hair from her dancing blue eyes before carefully and soundlessly padding down the carpeted hallway. Her feet followed the sound of carols playing in the warm and cozy living room downstairs to find her mother putting the finishing touches on their cheerfully decorated Christmas tree. She held each trinket like a cherished treasure, turning it over in her hands with a nostalgic smile as she examined each memento. The Eiffel Tower, the old jalopy, even the pink pair of slippers found their place among all the other ornaments that told the story of their family.
Her mother looked so happy and peaceful the little girl almost didn’t want to disturb her. But despite her best efforts to stay concealed her mother turned with a barely contained smile. “It’s not morning yet, you know.”
“I know,” the little girl sighed as she plopped onto the sofa. “But I’m too excited to sleep.”
“Santa won’t visit as long as you’re awake.”
That piqued the child’s interest. “Where is he now?”
“Let’s see,” her mother responded as she abandoned the decorating to head toward a computer sitting on a desk in the corner. Within a few clicks she had the information. “Looks like he’s headed to New York. That means he’ll be here in just a few hours.”
The child pouted. “But I can’t sleep. Maybe you should tell me a story.”
Any reprimand died on the woman’s lips as she glanced over at her beloved child. How could she deny her anything, much less a bedtime story? “Okay,” the mother agreed as she came to sit beside the little girl. “Which one?”
The child smiled wide. “You know.”
Her mother giggled as she pulled the cuddly little girl close. “Yes, I suppose I do.” Her eyes fell on the computer sitting across the room from where they huddled on the sofa. “It’s a story that took place only ten years ago, but things were a little different then. Back then we couldn’t get a lot of our information in the blink of an eye like we do today. People still got letters in the mail and sent special cards to let those they loved know they were thinking about them no matter where their travels would take them.”
“Postcards,” the little girl supplied.
“Postcards,” the mother affirmed with a smile. “We still send and receive postcards today, but back then it was different. You could connect people all over the planet with brave little messages even a stranger could intercept. But you know what makes them extra special?”
“It was how you met Daddy,” the little girl whispered, in awe at the power of fate.
“It was how love brought your daddy to me,” the mother said softly. The little girl always thought her mother grew even lovelier when she spoke about the special bond they shared.
So the little girl snuggled in her mother’s arms and waited for the story she had heard many times in the previous seven years, but one that seemed to get better each and every time her mother told it.
“It was 1994,” the woman said, a softness creeping into her voice as she remembered how it all began. “I had just moved to Los Angeles to start my new career. I was pretty excited, and a little scared. And I had no idea that fate was about to change my life in a remarkable way.”
Spread some joy!
One charity near and dear to my heart is St. Jude's Research Hospital. I lost my youngest son Brandon to health complications in 1995, just days after he was born. Of all the things I've been through in my life, the helplessness of not being able to save my son tops the list as the most horrific. St. Jude's has a commitment to help children who need them the most, no family is billed for the life-saving services that they provide. People can partner with St. Jude's for only $19 a month, to provide for care and partner for a cure so that our youngest and most innocent will not fight this battle alone... and hopefully, one day, not fight the battle at all. For every dollar, $0.81 goes towards this research and treatment, which includes care (transportation/meals/housing) for the family.
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