I love to read old recipes and imagine the pioneer women cooking up a batch of Hopping John or Son-of-a-Biscuit Stew or Molasses Cookies on their wood stove. I can just see them getting out their ingredients and setting to work building a fire and getting it the right temperature.

Old-time recipes called for a smidgen of seasoning, a pinch of this, a dab of that, or a dollop (usually butter) the size of a walnut. And sometimes the recipe called for a dash of something or “enough flour to make a stiff dough.” I’m guessing that housewives pretty much cooked by trial and error and adjusted things to suit them because it would be extremely difficult to know what these measurements meant.

Is a smidgen more than a dash or a dab? I doubt anyone knows. If you do, speak up.

My mother rarely used a recipe. She’d get out her ingredients and start mixing things together until it looked, tasted, or felt right. I used to love watching her cook. It was an amazing sight. And boy, did her dishes taste wonderful! She must’ve had the pioneer spirit instilled in her.

For the record, that talent was not passed down to me!!

I can cook just enough to get by.

But to demonstrate what I’m talking about, here’s an old recipe for Gingerbread:

½ cup sugar
2 dollops of butter
1 egg
1 cup syrup Enough flour for a soft dough
1 ½ small spoon soda Smidgen of cinnamon, ginger, cloves Pinch of salt
1 cup hot water

Mix all ingredients together and bake in a medium oven.

A medium oven? Precisely how hot is that? Good grief!

* * * *

With Thanksgiving being a week away, I wanted to share this old recipe for Indian Pudding that was derived from the English Hasty Pudding. It was supposedly prepared by the housewives of Plymouth, Massachusetts at the first Thanksgiving. The recipe even traveled West with the settlers and eaten at gatherings. This recipe makes a lot. (I’ve used modern measurements.)

Indian Pudding

7 cups milk divided
1 cup molasses
1/3 cup sugar ¼ cup butter
2 teaspoons ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon ¾ teaspoon nutmeg
1 cup packed cornmeal

Heat the oven to 350 F. Lightly coat a 9 x 13 inch baking dish with cooking spray. Combine 6 cups of the milk, the molasses, sugar, butter, ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg and cook over medium heat until just about to boil.

In a medium bowl, mix together the remaining cup of milk and the cornmeal. Whisk this mixture into the pan of cooked ingredients. Return to fire and bring to a simmer, stirring constantly until nicely thickened.

Transfer to a baking dish and bake for 90 minutes or until pudding is set at the center. It may puff during the baking, but will flatten when cooling. Let cool slightly before dolloping with whipped cream.

* * * *

As a side note, pioneer women gauged the heat of an oven by holding their hand inside and counting. If she could hold her hand inside for a count of 40, it was right for baking bread. A count of twenty would be sufficient for baking cakes and pies.

So, I’m wondering how many of you could cook using the smidgen, dab, dash, dollop, or pinch measurements. Aren’t you glad our recipes read much clearer today?

Mark your calendar for this release the first of February!

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Yee haw!  Janet put all the names in her cowboy hat and drew a lucky winner!  Well, I’ll be jibbered –

Fillies like to win books, too!

LINDA BRODAY is getting an autographed copy of CALICO CHRISTMAS AT DRY CREEK!

Thanks for visitin’, Janet, and don’t be a stranger!

Because of her escape attempts, she was fastened securely at night. Her white companion and son were not, and both escaped on the second night. Fanny was alone.

The Sioux traveled at night, traveling up into the mountain, taking precipitous trails over the dark abyss “where only the Indian dares to venture.” Fanny secretly dropped letters that she hoped would be a clue to their destination although they had taken paths inaccessible to white men. Hope, even dim hope, was all she had. They crossed the Platt, then separated into small groups and started in every direction to confuse pursuers.

She was forced to lead a horse and carry a number of items, including the chief’s three foot long pipe. Tired and thirsty, she dropped it, not knowing the significance of the pipe and that night the chief told her that she would not arise the next morning, that she was not to be trusted and her life would be forfeit.

An untamed horse was brought into camp and they told her she would be placed on it as a target for the arrows, and the animal might then run at will, “carrying my body where it would. Helpless and almost dying with terror at my situation, I sank on a rocky seat in their midst. In speechless agony, I pledged my soul to God. . . ”

Then she remembered a purse of money in her pocket, and she drew it out, dividing it among them. One hundred and twenty dollars. The Indians laid their weapons on the ground and eagerly took the money, wanting to know what each bill meant. The danger was temporarily over.

They traveled on, and she continued to drop papers by the way, hoping they might lead to her rescue. She had little or no water and no food, and her bed was the hard earth with no covering. With little water available, the Indians kept it for themselves and carried little sticks in their mouths, which they chewed constantly, thus creating saliva, and preventing “the parching sensation I endured for want of this knowledge.”

They traveled three hundred miles to their camp. The thought of death by fire was with her the entire way, and thirst and hunger were daily companions.

Once arriving at camp, she was at first treated with kindness by the women who cared for her bruised and almost broken limbs. To stay alive, she presented a pleasant face even as she tried not to think about her daughter’s fate. She was also given the chief’s daughter to take the place of her own daughter, but every moment in the coming months was dangerous. Her treatment deteriorated after a battle between the Indians and soldiers when many tribe members were killed. Once again she was threatened with death at the stake by the elders, and only a plea by the chief saved her. The Sioux were then forced to escape into the badlands where many children and women starved.

She tried many times during summer and late fall to escape. She is repeatedly betrayed by those who say they will help her, and each attempt puts her in more and more danger.

She also encountered one fair little boy. His mother has been the wife of a white army captain, but because his white wife would soon be arriving from the East, the Indian wife was returned to her people, along with the child. Fanny saw many other fair-faced children and heard “the sad story from their mothers.” They were often cruelly treated by the full-blooded children. (I see a hero here).

She also learned that many Indians who were trusted by soldiers at the nearest fort were, in truth, hostile. And this fact would later play a part in her escape and her heroic – and successful – attempt to save an Army post.

The tale ends during my next blog in two weeks.

When Cheryl asked me to blog with you today, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. My first historical book, Calico Christmas at Dry Creek, is being released this month and I want to get your opinion on something. In this book, I take a contemporary small town, Dry Creek, Montana and move it back in time – all the while, hoping readers will take one look at the people in 1879 (who are living beside a creek called the Big Dry Creek) and feel they are as familiar to them as the people who live in the fictitious town of Dry Creek, Montana today.    

My question to you is ‘how do you make a town work for readers?’  By the way, I will be drawing a name from the people who post today and offering them a free copy of Calico Christmas at Dry Creek.

When I wrote my first book, An Angel for Dry Creek, I had no thoughts of developing a town.  I just needed a place for my story and I thought any fictitious town would do – all I really needed was a small town off the main freeway running through southern Montana. But then it started to snow, and snow led me to a cozy wood burning stove and some men who sat around talking.  Which, of course, eventually led to a sharp-tongued older woman who gave them grief. Before I knew it, a town was born.

Here I am now, working on my 23^rd contracted book (mostly for Steeple Hill), and seventeen of the books have been set in Dry Creek.  I wish I had taken a better look around when I unknowingly started the series.

I never expected the town itself to become a character in my books. 

Once I realized that the overwhelming majority of my letters from readers talked about how much they loved the town (not the hero, not the heroine – but the town), I started wonder what I had done and whether or not I could do it again for a new series.

Since I’ve read enough blogs here to know that everyone likes to help each other figure things out, I decided I’d throw out what I’ve learned about building a fictitious town in the hopes that others might chime in and offer what they’ve seen work, or not work, in books they have read or written.  Hopefully, by the time we’re through, we’ll all know how to make a location carry its weight in a story.

Since I had no intention of building a long-term series when I wrote the first Dry Creek book I can’t claim to have done anything right. But this is my collection of thoughts on the matter (in no order of importanace):

1. Welcome your characters to the town.  Again, I didn’t do this by design, but I built Dry Creek to be a place that accepts people the way they are. I think I stumbled upon a deep longing people have today and even though the characters have disagreements and challenges and failures, the reader likes to be in a place where everyone is welcome at a basic level.  I’m not suggesting that all towns need to have open arms.  There are other longings that a town can personify. I do think though that it’s helpful to tap into something strong.
2. Have some of the conflicts revolve around the town.  I think this may be where a location becomes more than window dressing.  I’ve had books where the townspeople all band together in their feelings. In one book, they all refused money a stranger wanted to give them.  In another, they overcame their suspicions of an ex-con. The key is that they did these things together. This tends to give the town a character.
3. Keep it small – or at least, keep it to what you know.  This may just be my preference, but I’ve always thought a small town is easier to use than an urban city in a series.  Maybe it’s because the people in a city generally don’t think of themselves as ‘we’ whereas in a small town a lot of attitudes are shared. This sort of goes along with the thoughts above.
4. Build the town through its scars.  In Calico at Dry Creek, the town of Dry Creek is only a couple of cabins along the creek. It turns out that is enough though.   The people who live there band together to fight for acceptance in a larger town, primarily because the hero and heroine want to provide a home for two Indian children.  I imply this sense of fighting for right is what makes Dry Creek the town it later becomes.

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These are a few things I’ve learned in building my town.  Does anyone have anything else they recommend?

Need something to do tomorrow other than trim your toenails or floss your teeth?

Come right on over to Wildflower Junction and sit a spell with Janet Tronstad.

Miss Janet’s gonna be chatting up a storm about fictional towns and the people who live there. And she sorta needs your help. She’ll also talk about her new book, Calico Christmas at Dry Creek. Sounds like a humdinger of a story!

The dear lady is also going to give away an autographed copy of the book to one lucky person who posts a comment. What’s better than that?

So, saddle up and follow the trail to town. You’ll have fun. I swear on my mama’s grave!

1.  A Silk-Popper is a stagecoach driver.

2.   Music roots are sweet potatoes.

3.  A Texas cakewalk is a hanging.

4.  A hot rock is a biscuit.

5.  A cowboy cocktail is bourbon whiskey straight up!

How many did you know?  

CHARLENE SANDS

Some of these definitely fooled me! 

I love words and phrases. I love learning their origin, which helps me understand the word and how it came to be.  Here’s a few that might have you stumped too. See how many you actually know…

Sea lions – a name given to early day wild long-horned cattle “that came right out of the Gulf of Mexico” and so called because they could swim like ducks.  (so why not call them sea ducks?)

Prairie butter – a cowman’s name for the grease left in the pan of fried meat or bacon that he sometimes poured over his bread.   

Prayer book – what the cowboy calls his book of cigarette papers.

Owlhead – a cowboy’s term for a horse that cannot be trained to work or be ridden.

Hardtail- a cowboy and logger’s name for a mule. 

Credit – a notch carved upon a gun to commemorate the killing of a victim. Outlaws and gunmen of the wild bunch who killed for the sake of bragging rights followed this custom, but no man of principle wanted to remember the men he had killed.

Rosebud - a roper’s term for a knot tied in the dally end of the rope.

Talk turkey – a westerner’s expression to talk seriously, mean business (Hey, I knew this one!)

Unshucked – a cowboy’s word meaning naked.  When the word was used referring to a gun, as in “unshucked his gun” it meant that the man had drawn it from his holster thus making it a naked gun.

Stogies- a cowboy’s term for cheap hand-me-down boots.

Nickel-plated – a cowboy’s term for the best in anything, from the nickel-plated decorations on his clothing and riding gear, to a well-dressed woman.

Jingle your spurs – a cowboy’s command to someone to get a move on, or hurry up!

High-line rider – what the cowboy called an outlaw. He usually rode the high country to keep a lookout for sheriffs or posses.

Front-door puncher- a cowboy who spends too much of his time in town.

Man at the pot! – a shout heard in a cowboy camp at mealtime. If a man gets up to refill his coffee cup and hears the yell, he is duty-bound by camp etiquette to go around with the pot and fill all the cups held out to him. 

Okay, now it’s your turn. Just for fun see if you can answer these questions.

1. What was the occupation of a “silk-popper?”

2. What kind of vegetable was called “music roots?”

3. What event occurs at a “Texas cakewalk?”

4. What is a “hot rock?”

5. What is a ”cowboy cocktail?”

What western words or phrases surprised you most? Do you use any western phrases in your everyday life?  And what phrases are you tired of hearing in westerns?  

Look for the hunky cowboy picture in another post and you’ll see the answers later on today!

Oh and if you like Christmas stories, Do Not Disturb Until Christmas might be just for you!  My hero’s not a cowboy, but he’s every bit an rugged alpha male and my heroine is a famous country western singer!  Click to purchase.

RT Top Pick and Border’s #4 Bestseller in romance this week!

www.charlenesands.com

 It’s wonderful when the magic happens.  You’re lost in your writing.  Your fingers fly over the keyboard as your creative forces flow, driving the story forward.  Description, action and dialogue fall into place as if they were happening in real life.  distractions fall away as if the real world didn’t exist.  You’re on fire.  You’re in the zone. 

     Notice that I wrote the previous paragraph in second person.  Maybe because, for me, writing in the zone happens less and less frequently these days.  Recently I heard something that might explain this.  A new brain study has shown that as people age their ability to filter out distractions and focus on one thing lessens.  In other words, those of us who are “over the hill” are paying attention to so many things at once that it’s easy to lose track of what’s important.  Makes perfect sense to me (Excuse me, the UPS truck just stopped by, left me some cute new shoes and a sweater, just had to open the box and try them on.). 

     Now let’s see, where was I…?  Oh, yes, distractions.  In my early writing days when I was dealing with a full time job, children at home and a floundering marriage, writing was a welcome escape.  Going into that other world was often the best part of my day.  Now that I’m retired and live alone, distractions are like seductive sirens (My 20-pound kitty boy just stretched out across my wrists; time out to love him for a minute).  Still, every now and again I hit that zone and it’s exhilarating.  Just wish I could do it more often. 

     Getting in the zone is easier with other things.  When I’m in my yoga class, the workout is so intense that I don’t think about anything else.  Or when I’m doing a presentation for the local zoo, showing an animal to a classroom of wide-eyes kids, I’m totally there.  Likewise when I’m dancing or reading a really good book.  But after 31 books, writing just gets harder (Hey, is that a rosy finch on my feeder?  Where’s my bird book?).  At the climax of the recent election I just had to give up.  All I could do was stare at the TV.                                                                                                 

     How about you?  For those of you who write, is the zone an easy place for you to get to?  Do you have any tricks for getting there?  Things that distract you?  What other activities put you in that magical zone where the world goes away and you’re totally in the moment?  I’d love to hear. 

     Click on the small book below to purchase it on Amazon.com. 

Hello Darlings,

Saturday will be a special day with a special lady.

Miss Janet Tronstad will make her way to Wildflower Junction and delight us all with ways to build a fictional town for a story, or a series in this case.

Those of us fortunate to live in Wildflower Junction know all about this subject. Shoot, over the course of time you’ve all learned about the stubborn cantankerous mule that keeps getting in my vegetable garden! And how a sexy cowboy can make me swallow my spit backward and start taking off my clothes. Yep, for sure. And how the Fillies dearly love entertainin’ guests and visitors.

Anyway, be here Saturday and help us show Miss Janet a good ol’ time. She’s got a book to give away too.

I found this list and we love lists on Petticoats and Pistols so, even though it’s not specifically cowboys I decided to use it today.

The list is from Oxford, which begs the question, don’t they have something better to do at Oxford?

And they appear in a book, which begs the question, how’d they get a BOOK out of this little bit of info. But I’ve read many non-fiction books that honestly should have been a pamphlet.

A good example of that–have you ever read The Rules? It’s a book of Rules for girls in relationships. It’s gotten a lot of ridicule and it also sold about umpteen-million copies. The truth is, there’s a pamphlet’s worth of good stuff in The Rules.

But you know publishers, ‘we want X number thousand words’ so an author is forced to take her pamphlet and pad the thing to up the word count. I suspect this may be the case in the irritating phrases book Damp Squid—named after the mistake of confusing a squid with a squib, a type of firework. And I’ll add here that I don’t mean the phrases book Damp Squid is irritating, I mean Damp Squid is a book about irritating phrases.

And ho-hum who cares about squid and squib. Not me, so the title is a little irritating in and of itself.

The book’s author Jeremy Butterfield says that many annoyingly over-used expressions actually began as office lingo, such as 24/7 and “synergy”.

Other phrases to irritate people are “literally” and “ironically”, when they are used out of context.

Mr Butterfield said: “We grow tired of anything that is repeated too often – an anecdote, a joke, a mannerism – and the same seems to happen with some language.”

The top ten most irritating phrases:

1 – At the end of the day

2 – Fairly unique

3 – I personally

4 – At this moment in time

5 – With all due respect

6 – Absolutely

7 – It’s a nightmare

8 – Shouldn’t of

9 – 24/7

10 – It’s not rocket science

‘At the end of the day’ popped into my head when I read the title of the article. I’ll add a few of my own.

Awesome.

The overuse of the word awesome is so, so irritating.

I could care less.

This means what exactly?

And I’ll add one here my husband says all the time.

Don’t know. Don’t care.

You know, this is very rude. He thinks it’s funny when he doesn’t want to listen to me yammer on about whatever vital bit of free association words are currently being shared with him.

Let’s share.

That’s also annoying. Someone coming up to you and saying, “I want to share something with you.” Don’t know why that bugs me, but it does.

And it always bothers me when someone, talking about holding a meeting says, “We need to sit down and (whatever)

I always think, no, let’s have the meeting standing or laying flat on the floor. How how about we meet at the swimming pool…MORON. Still, I have a hostile streak so that could just be me!

How about you? Do you have words or phrases that irritate you?

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