Happy Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day

Yes! This really is such a thing. If you follow me on Facebook, you know I am currently addicted to grilled cheese sandwiches.

Trivia aside: when I was a child, we called them toasted cheese sandwiches, and they were usually accompanied by tomato soup, which is now a comfort food icon.

A great grilled cheese sandwich begins with bread. Not the spongy, soul-less, nutrition-free stuff on which we grew up (even if it was baked to music), but grown up bread. Like this:

This bread comes from a regional bakery and is 100% preservative-free. It also makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches.

Right now I’m on a Swiss and Havarti cheeses kick.

Then I use butter. The real stuff. Spread on the bread, not melted in the skillet.

A co-worker suggested mayo instead of butter. Not a good suggestion. I am a card-carrying member of the I Hate Mayonnaise Club.

Add these three ingredients together in a perfectly sized cast iron frying pan, and voila! Bliss on a plate.

Happy Name Yourself Day

I used to want to change my name, because very few others had my name. I couldn’t get those license plate name tag or anything else. Then I realized having an almost unique name was a good thing. Of course, nowadays, every Tom, Dick, and Harry…

I wasn’t the only person who wanted to change her name.  This passage is from one of my favorite childhood books:

“What’s your name?”

The child hesitated for a moment.

“Will you please call me Cordelia?” she said eagerly.

Call you Cordelia? Is that your name?”

“No-o-o, it’s not exactly my name, but I would love to be called Cordelia. It’s such a perfectly elegant name.”

“I don’t know what on earth you mean. If Cordelia isn’t your name, what is?”

“Anne Shirley,” reluctantly faltered forth the owner of that name, “but, oh, please do call me Cordelia. It can’t matter much to you what you call me if I’m only going to be here a little while, can it? And Anne is such an unromantic name.”

“Unromantic fiddlesticks!” said the unsympathetic Marilla. “Anne is a real good plain sensible name. You’ve no need to be ashamed of it.”

“Oh, I’m not ashamed of it,” explained Anne, “only I like Cordelia better. I’ve always imagined that my name was Cordelia–at least, I always have of late years. When I was young I used to imagine it was Geraldine, but I like Cordelia better now. But if you call me Anne please call me Anne spelled with an E.”

“What difference does it make how it’s spelled?” asked Marilla with another rusty smile as she picked up the teapot.

“Oh, it makes such a difference. It looks so much nicer. When you hear a name pronounced can’t you always see it in your mind, just as if it was printed out? I can; and A-n-n looks dreadful, but A-n-n-e looks so much more distinguished. If you’ll only call me Anne spelled with an E I shall try to reconcile myself to not being called Cordelia.”

I could related to Anne perfectly.

Did you have a favorite childhood story that resonated with you?

Going for Broke

Today is National Go For Broke Day, which research indicates started as a military slogan from World War II. What it means is giving your all regardless of the obstacles ahead. While most of us are not engaged in military situations, that shouldn’t stop us from Going for Broke.

Writers face this every time they sit at the keyboard and open their work-in-progress. Every time we submit to a publisher. Every time we decide to self-publish something we’ve created.We put it all on the line every time we go public with our stories. Will readers love our blood, sweat, and tears, or loathe them?

Because if we’re not giving our readers everything we’ve got, we’re not doing our jobs as authors.

Opening Day!

The calendar claims the first day of Spring is March 20. For many people summer begins Memorial Day weekend or the last day of school or June 20. Baseball fans know better. Spring started mid-February when pitchers and catchers reported for spring training. And today is the first day of summer.

My local Triple A affiliate doesn’t have its home opener until Tuesday. I may have to wear layers of sweatshirts, long johns under my jeans, and gloves to keep my fingers warm, but summer will have finally arrived. I live in a city that averages over 126 inches of snow a year, so opening day means the end is in sight.

The “chirrup” of a robin newly arrived from warmer climes isn’t the harbinger of the long, sunny and warm days to come. Give me “Play Ball!” any day of the week.