tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43814046943613111272024-03-28T20:28:16.970-07:00Little Sources of Joya blog by Paula Gail BensonPaula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.comBlogger199125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-55041300843912308202023-12-21T10:48:00.000-08:002023-12-21T10:48:58.427-08:00Continuing The Babas Dilemma: Parts Two through Four of a Four Part Tale<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><b><u>Tato’s
Mama’s Story: The Adopted Snow Child (Part Two of a Four Part Tale)</u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0rjKuD21YR3_UZfYnWi1dsksKchFz4njghoFb9Jqz4bYmsz3x-wEnJTwQaO81sDogaLDykurmLmQMC3klrMq7aqKjFD2xxoG03l4YMuC9Y8vqBjMkg9jGxObw2VBg2zwxPi6V1xvLOGZoFWY4PPGN9VmcTixXasQ0eXfu0OwTT3LsraW2lhetkBXDcg/s1000/Snow%20Maiden.NJSV.Snow%20Doll%20Sneugurochka.Amazon.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0rjKuD21YR3_UZfYnWi1dsksKchFz4njghoFb9Jqz4bYmsz3x-wEnJTwQaO81sDogaLDykurmLmQMC3klrMq7aqKjFD2xxoG03l4YMuC9Y8vqBjMkg9jGxObw2VBg2zwxPi6V1xvLOGZoFWY4PPGN9VmcTixXasQ0eXfu0OwTT3LsraW2lhetkBXDcg/s320/Snow%20Maiden.NJSV.Snow%20Doll%20Sneugurochka.Amazon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CHDVC2QX?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details">NJSV Snow Maiden Doll</a></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">by Paula Gail
Benson<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Tato’s mama looked sternly at the
assembled grandchildren. They fidgeted and giggled. “No respect,” she muttered.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Listen,” I instructed my cousins. “So
you can judge.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> They quieted. She began:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">“At midnight on
Christmas Eve, a childless couple fashioned a snow baby. The next morning, the baby
came to life, a beautiful girl they named, Snegurochka.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Like Pinocchio?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Tato’s mama ignored the question.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Snegurochka played with the other
girls. They went into the woods and made a great fire. The others jumped over
it. But, when Snegurochka tried, she melted away.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Everyone was silent. Then, the
youngest granddaughter began to cry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><b><u>Mama’s
Mama’s Story: The Icy Immortal (Part Three of a Four Part Tale)</u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNANEJLh-h52ZpTC2PGBFS-LvxYoo4w7T8j20lYgu5pASJ-ojE4iLetlx-CzUFqdI5AznJYJjoytgqfsUUv1Vkjh_ePn8SR-VPVEAiCTNqA1LvMVVfQTx7-ruY38gpssCiLl8xz_cM6heQkU_OwEiJvBfGU3NRLlZjEe1TEnALi4K5eVIqTIXvRUAacA/s402/Ded%20Moroz.Wikipedia.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNANEJLh-h52ZpTC2PGBFS-LvxYoo4w7T8j20lYgu5pASJ-ojE4iLetlx-CzUFqdI5AznJYJjoytgqfsUUv1Vkjh_ePn8SR-VPVEAiCTNqA1LvMVVfQTx7-ruY38gpssCiLl8xz_cM6heQkU_OwEiJvBfGU3NRLlZjEe1TEnALi4K5eVIqTIXvRUAacA/s320/Ded%20Moroz.Wikipedia.jpg" width="175" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ded_Moroz">Ded Moroz</a></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> by Paula Gail
Benson<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Coddled,” Tato’s mama huffed.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Mama’s mama tsk-tsked. “They are caring.
My turn.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Silently, the grandchildren listened.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Traditionally, Snegurochka accompanies
Ded Moroz to distribute Christmas presents.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Ah, Grandfather Frost,” said one
child.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Father Christmas,” another insisted<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Mama’s mama raised her hand for quiet.
“Snegurochka was created from snow by Ded Moroz and Spring, both immortals. When
Snegurochka sought to befriend a mortal shepherd boy, Spring allowed her to
feel love. But the warmth in Snegurochka’s heart caused her to melt.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Like Frosty?” asked one child.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Why are both versions so sad?”
another wondered.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> The Babas shook their scarfed heads in
unison.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><b><u>Iryna’s
Question (Part Four of a Four Part Tale)</u></b><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj2gqZntu-GfVtY9TpaqdsPKcp_StGZ3P6uL0zv8LHxnaOI9oSxLJDS6P4Kt2Z3jOgj8EqbrpjbsWOL8j3OjM8xDUlFl-3ZxoFcdeO9Dvj9OJrI1lzBlcWfSGahQebhZUIpuO40QRTXbpjHVfqXyW0qTAHKk0Qr2tGfhMyXnm5ibjhwVIANYQNVRH2lCU/s978/Snow%20Maiden%20and%20Father%20Frost%20Ornament.Amazon.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="978" data-original-width="707" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj2gqZntu-GfVtY9TpaqdsPKcp_StGZ3P6uL0zv8LHxnaOI9oSxLJDS6P4Kt2Z3jOgj8EqbrpjbsWOL8j3OjM8xDUlFl-3ZxoFcdeO9Dvj9OJrI1lzBlcWfSGahQebhZUIpuO40QRTXbpjHVfqXyW0qTAHKk0Qr2tGfhMyXnm5ibjhwVIANYQNVRH2lCU/s320/Snow%20Maiden%20and%20Father%20Frost%20Ornament.Amazon.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09LJW9JF3?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details">Father Frost and Snow Maiden Ornament</a></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"><br /> </span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;">by Paula Gail
Benson<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Neither Baba’s story won the contest. They
walked away, huddled together, despairing no respect for tradition and blaming
American child-rearing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Later, in her room, I found Iryna, my
youngest sister, comparing two books. One told the immortal Snegurochka’s story.
The other was <i>The Wizard of Oz</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JcHgQQq6jGVUAwluryRbYbJnrDFemwFFvhMuWuRo5vRlwyZix3177kPW0oAAqtcjmf3DAN-k2CrPfpCZVLNtpvUqg6OUaS7C2ypKmlzPaAnC2nctGqM8syXMNM4SOkyUg5Fw9_kejac3Kl4UxXv7P9GrV3J7By4-YytZBjjDCaa3PXj2pWikdu974_s/s1500/Hallmark%20Keepsake%20Ornament%20Tin%20Man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JcHgQQq6jGVUAwluryRbYbJnrDFemwFFvhMuWuRo5vRlwyZix3177kPW0oAAqtcjmf3DAN-k2CrPfpCZVLNtpvUqg6OUaS7C2ypKmlzPaAnC2nctGqM8syXMNM4SOkyUg5Fw9_kejac3Kl4UxXv7P9GrV3J7By4-YytZBjjDCaa3PXj2pWikdu974_s/s320/Hallmark%20Keepsake%20Ornament%20Tin%20Man.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Hallmark-Keepsake-Ornament-Wizard-Oz/dp/B0032MW5NS/ref=sr_1_8?crid=2QIZI9C6VTTUY&keywords=tin+man+ornament&qid=1703184168&sprefix=%2Caps%2C122&sr=8-8">Hallmark Keepsake Ornament</a></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> I sat beside her. “What are you
thinking?”<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “The Tin Man and Snegurochka were hurt
by receiving hearts. If they remained heartless, couldn’t they love each other?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Hopeful little matchmaker, I thought.
Smiling, I placed my arm across her shoulders. “Only with pain does one know
love is real.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> With a sigh, Iryna nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5MVqy8h-9l566HlKIpD5xe_w2d__jjexN5PVYXmEug-Wj0DNSNyW6weO5GNgWwFIOkD577imuy8-Xar2gHA516rRRTIzS3jcG91aOiGhhAfCdjOwYUGt0tiKSQKbgHlg9mPXw_gCEe6N9uwTGOeFU-YEspBM4YFd3Cgq2ihV-eZrN8SjvU5UE8GWiHk/s1500/Snegurochka%20snow%20maiden%20Glass%20Ornament.Amazon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="593" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx5MVqy8h-9l566HlKIpD5xe_w2d__jjexN5PVYXmEug-Wj0DNSNyW6weO5GNgWwFIOkD577imuy8-Xar2gHA516rRRTIzS3jcG91aOiGhhAfCdjOwYUGt0tiKSQKbgHlg9mPXw_gCEe6N9uwTGOeFU-YEspBM4YFd3Cgq2ihV-eZrN8SjvU5UE8GWiHk/s320/Snegurochka%20snow%20maiden%20Glass%20Ornament.Amazon.jpg" width="127" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09GWG1VWY?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details">Snow Maiden<br />Glass Ornament</a></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"></span></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">***</span></p>
<p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">These
three 100-word stories are offered as entries for the annual Advent Ghosts
event hosted by Loren Eaton at </span><a href="http://isawlightningfall.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #d52a33; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">I Saw Lightning Fall</span></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">. See
the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity! </span> </p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-40500801327552199482023-12-16T21:30:00.000-08:002023-12-16T21:30:00.123-08:00The Babas’ Dilemma (Part One of a Four Part Tale)<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">by Paula Gail
Benson</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; font-size: 14pt;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZoDzqnsRWvYmuZnXXhc3IuQz_7Nu6XjsBVTOWgZqQU50SrGNQ8XVkbUWOot0oGVsifFJCs70iConVZt5VFFTQJAuGjUh7mi88l3aB_9wWalxb3id5fzPttwZ8exmDBTZTcmU-Fn49r7y0UKkH6LqMgtlBiow3IKY3hEccFa-4Gt4afMrYsKEvZRqaauk/s1183/Snow%20Maiden%20Vasnetsov_Snegurochka.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1183" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZoDzqnsRWvYmuZnXXhc3IuQz_7Nu6XjsBVTOWgZqQU50SrGNQ8XVkbUWOot0oGVsifFJCs70iConVZt5VFFTQJAuGjUh7mi88l3aB_9wWalxb3id5fzPttwZ8exmDBTZTcmU-Fn49r7y0UKkH6LqMgtlBiow3IKY3hEccFa-4Gt4afMrYsKEvZRqaauk/s320/Snow%20Maiden%20Vasnetsov_Snegurochka.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="By Viktor Vasnetsov - Scanned from A. K. Lazuko Victor Vasnetsov, Leningrad: Khudozhnik RSFSR, 1990, ISBN 5-7370-0107-5, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=216029">By Viktor Vasnetsov</a></span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>My two Ukrainian Babas
sat with their scarfed heads touching. Their fierce tempers showed in the
whispers spewing from their lips.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“What is it?” I,
the favorite grandchild, asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Tato’s mama said, “The
American babies beg for us to tell the Snow Maiden story.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“You have heard it
many times.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Mama’s mama
replied, “In different ways.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“How different?” I
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“In one version,
she is a child crafted from snow by mortals,” Tato’s mama explained.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“No,” Mama’s mama
maintained. “She is the daughter of immortals who seeks to love a mortal.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I advised, “Tell
both and let the children decide.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">***</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">This 100 word story is offered as an entry for the
annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><a href="http://isawlightningfall.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #d52a33;">I Saw Lightning Fall</span></a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the
opportunity! </span></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-47532314546983450602023-12-15T21:30:00.000-08:002023-12-15T21:30:00.132-08:00Second Chances<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;">by
Paula Gail Benson</span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3PlFoZuI1rKc3whEp6IZOBchnwkrNEcjiqNwTe0SccZOHFxnG0XXQZTpkdITvdBbnvjizTv8N9CrBzzao4LyG-GlKuXrfNLnvDYZjGEDdiaStiL9ghQuQUG9f4Ph4Z3kt0HhNYXdkNTWO-wgC6VSausce7hIuj-xr3KW0yfBOPrn8bPX_NVO0RVhP6Ng/s640/clouds%20sky-3499982_640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="640" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3PlFoZuI1rKc3whEp6IZOBchnwkrNEcjiqNwTe0SccZOHFxnG0XXQZTpkdITvdBbnvjizTv8N9CrBzzao4LyG-GlKuXrfNLnvDYZjGEDdiaStiL9ghQuQUG9f4Ph4Z3kt0HhNYXdkNTWO-wgC6VSausce7hIuj-xr3KW0yfBOPrn8bPX_NVO0RVhP6Ng/s320/clouds%20sky-3499982_640.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Despite Heaven’s beauty and comfort,
the wait outside Saint Peter’s office seemed interminable. Griffin sighed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The female admin viewed him
sympathetically. “You miss your earthly wife.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“We spent every Christmas together.
Now she thinks I haunt her spitefully.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The admin’s youthful face clouded. “She
wants to move on.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“She’s found someone else.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The admin made no response. Griffin
turned and saw his own pain reflected in her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Finally, the admin spoke. “I died
young. My true love and I never connected on earth.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Is there still a chance?” Griffin
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She smiled. “Perhaps. Can you set your
wife free?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">***</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">This
100 word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted
by Loren Eaton at </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://isawlightningfall.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #d52a33;">I Saw Lightning Fall</span></a></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">. See
the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity! </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-13329480164331810982023-08-07T00:00:00.002-07:002023-08-07T00:00:00.141-07:00Punk Noir Magazine<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16pt;">by Paula Gail Benson</span></p>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQfHdyOEANOSGZqyyhTred06KjffgCyPyzg7GlB5Y3s8ztWa5gGxEgEqDmq4IyEZYxG8U8Riy7qRaAz-moP4iEvASyP6vbv7HVUAKqAN66AzBFnnJwlQUrRXT1Iak3mZnn3m_Nfyh4MrtulgRZyyElumZ0xw0PF2aCl80f4yvw8bqVj_N_nZEAVgGkHM/s509/punk%20noir%20magazine.August%202023.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="509" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQfHdyOEANOSGZqyyhTred06KjffgCyPyzg7GlB5Y3s8ztWa5gGxEgEqDmq4IyEZYxG8U8Riy7qRaAz-moP4iEvASyP6vbv7HVUAKqAN66AzBFnnJwlQUrRXT1Iak3mZnn3m_Nfyh4MrtulgRZyyElumZ0xw0PF2aCl80f4yvw8bqVj_N_nZEAVgGkHM/s320/punk%20noir%20magazine.August%202023.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Punk Noir Magazine</td></tr></tbody></table>I discovered a great
online publication: <a href="https://punknoirmagazine.wordpress.com/punk-noir-magazine-3/">Punk Noir
Magazine</a>. James C. Jenkins, the July editor, accepted submissions with the theme
<b>corruption</b>. Following are the stories, the first two by favorite authors: “Wait
a Minute” by Kaye George; “The Medicine Show” by John M. Floyd; “Town Ain’t What
It Used to Be” by Jay Bukowski; “Export Issue W/R/T/ Poison Inner Sleeve” by
Clem Flowers; “Heart of Darkness” by Daniel Schultz; “Why Slagfield, Texas,
Gave Up Football” by Stephen Sossaman; and three flash fictions: “New Borns” by
L.P. Ring; “Las Cucarachas” by Ron Riekke; and “The Other Cheek” by Matthew R.
Davis.<br /></span>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-70092299152089099802023-08-01T14:55:00.003-07:002023-08-06T10:39:36.840-07:00Rabbit, Rabbit, Rabbit!<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16pt;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nukcOw3IXSAHWoDsF6i5gHhitpfHq8U19tqOQO2FPzgQjWVy9JI9jT4arpKzrH-EggZgyXtHcgzjZIIQEx9pjcQojt0syU_3XVMKoa89d2clkrFD_bwaVbgHCU9G8Omksskw3Su0vC9Rr9YnX0TYEmT9BQNPeN6FlAIAEpn-h36h3nw7m8idqoH5mlI/s768/White%20Rabbit.Brina%20Bunt.Readers%20Digest.GettyImages-694542042-e1586274805503-scaled.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="768" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nukcOw3IXSAHWoDsF6i5gHhitpfHq8U19tqOQO2FPzgQjWVy9JI9jT4arpKzrH-EggZgyXtHcgzjZIIQEx9pjcQojt0syU_3XVMKoa89d2clkrFD_bwaVbgHCU9G8Omksskw3Su0vC9Rr9YnX0TYEmT9BQNPeN6FlAIAEpn-h36h3nw7m8idqoH5mlI/w400-h268/White%20Rabbit.Brina%20Bunt.Readers%20Digest.GettyImages-694542042-e1586274805503-scaled.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brenna Bunt/Getty Images/Readers Digest</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">by Paula Gail Benson</span><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit! In Great Britain and North America (particularly
New England) repeating “rabbit” or saying “white rabbit” upon waking on the
first day of the month was considered a way to ensure good luck or presents. According
to Wikipedia, such diverse sources as Trixie Belden and President Franklin
Rosevelt indulged in the practice. While some thought of rabbits and a rabbit's foot as lucky, others view them less favorably. In the 19th century, fishermen would not say the word while at sea. Similarly, seeing a white rabbit could mean a gravely ill person in the village would die soon.</span><p></p></div></div>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-88467365118420999822023-01-01T00:00:00.000-08:002023-01-01T12:32:07.511-08:00New Year, New Book!<p> by Paula Gail Benson</p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqHUgOy48q1E15wZAiRCeCh20xMDeg39fSpJycfjD35p1d1weqD1O2_fJCmLhCtAPXl-eNXHs70Abdi7n6R8wYs2iW7vumwNbXSDSODqIkXx5BXAkjPj-TQYN591ggvezRPgzvReK-GgRp5uaRFrl_Vk-Mb8l9Ud6NG3tY_SCCtHWmB9Ef4PIcuwn/s500/Promophobia%20Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="328" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbqHUgOy48q1E15wZAiRCeCh20xMDeg39fSpJycfjD35p1d1weqD1O2_fJCmLhCtAPXl-eNXHs70Abdi7n6R8wYs2iW7vumwNbXSDSODqIkXx5BXAkjPj-TQYN591ggvezRPgzvReK-GgRp5uaRFrl_Vk-Mb8l9Ud6NG3tY_SCCtHWmB9Ef4PIcuwn/s320/Promophobia%20Cover.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><br />I received the happiest news on New Year’s Eve: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Promophobia-Taking-Mystery-Promoting-Fiction-ebook/dp/B0BR8K6Q92/ref=sr_1_1?crid=8J62KM0EJFLE&keywords=promophobia&qid=1672605006&sprefix=%2Caps%2C66&sr=8-1">Promophobia</a>,
a book several years in production was being released! Diane Vallere, while completing
her term as Sisters in Crime national President, sought members’ contributions
to a book about publicity and using social media. I asked if she would take an
article describing how to promote short stories and was delighted when she
agreed. Time passed as a publisher was secured. Finally, about a month ago, Diane
requested that we update our submissions. The result is a terrific guidebook
for marketing crime fiction written by extraordinary authors. Please check it
out!<o:p></o:p><p></p><br /><p></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-13420162254076394962022-12-17T00:00:00.001-08:002023-01-01T12:41:42.209-08:00Traditions<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">by Paula Gail Benson<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiii-eFAdHukztrDjolz6w0qWO_Ei6EmYUdv43bMhIWzb4TmQnztXZrElQb7kOD0X3lpTdB2TdvZiSGvfH2nKb1R9bfppls5tYNXbGnn6mNsLLdjeILqA4Al-hifCfZaXtmDta6acztihYnYIbSaOa_DZezAC-0-rd3tUPyT2RjSSg52PpAuPIei0Tb/s679/Advent%20Calendar%20featured%20on%20Amazon.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="679" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiii-eFAdHukztrDjolz6w0qWO_Ei6EmYUdv43bMhIWzb4TmQnztXZrElQb7kOD0X3lpTdB2TdvZiSGvfH2nKb1R9bfppls5tYNXbGnn6mNsLLdjeILqA4Al-hifCfZaXtmDta6acztihYnYIbSaOa_DZezAC-0-rd3tUPyT2RjSSg52PpAuPIei0Tb/s320/Advent%20Calendar%20featured%20on%20Amazon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aoutrow 24-Day Advent Calendar<br />featured on Amazon</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Mom always prepared the wooden Advent calendar, placing unique
treats in each drawer.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the spring, celebrating twenty-five married years, Pop
gave Mom a new engagement ring. She removed the original and told me. “Joe,
this is for your bride.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I said, “Keep it for me.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We lost Mom unexpectedly. Auto accident. With Sheila beside
me, I watched Mom’s remains guided into the mausoleum vault.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;">The
holidays approached. Important little things went undone. Regretfully, I lifted
the empty Advent calendar, not having the heart to fill it until I heard something
rattle in drawer 24. Mom’s engagement ring for Sheila.</span></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">***</span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This 100 word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at </span><span style="color: blue; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://isawlightningfall.blogspot.com/" style="color: #d52a33; text-decoration-line: none;">I Saw Lightning Fall</a></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity!</span> </span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /></span></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-56436408494692546182022-12-09T15:06:00.000-08:002022-12-09T15:06:03.541-08:00Colonel Sanders and Santa?<p>by Paula Gail Benson</p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;">In the 1970s, Takeshi Okawara, who managed Japan’s first KFC, began the “Kentucky
for Christmas” campaign after visiting an elementary school dressed as Santa.
He realized that Japan did not have established family cultural traditions for
celebrating Christmas. In addition, fried chicken is similar to the popular
dish of karaage, panko-breaded, deep-fried chicken or fish. Some think chicken also
might have been a good substitute for turkey that was not as accessible and
drier in taste. KFC offered its Japanese customers a “party barrel” which
included chicken, cole slaw, and cake. Although alternatives now exist, KFC
remains a holiday favorite.</span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrzTGRtPgTM7Cpes6mwfqWEj3mkfYlkZkWtn01pP24BO-t8YtdTf8EqFGDS3U68gHikHXWof0oq9QEh5xRFewM8NnEjPZrw4KbVy30y-Z7rqzVs6EEI_a926Nb8oARCSQUW8n7CMrUsgSftOr_fUlNPNBcFXQruQUl9haYUGOSP7lveozT76JvoNO/s634/Col.%20Sanders-getty-kfc-japan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="634" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrzTGRtPgTM7Cpes6mwfqWEj3mkfYlkZkWtn01pP24BO-t8YtdTf8EqFGDS3U68gHikHXWof0oq9QEh5xRFewM8NnEjPZrw4KbVy30y-Z7rqzVs6EEI_a926Nb8oARCSQUW8n7CMrUsgSftOr_fUlNPNBcFXQruQUl9haYUGOSP7lveozT76JvoNO/w400-h225/Col.%20Sanders-getty-kfc-japan.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CNN Travel Yuichi Yamazaki/Getty Images</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-23764322960163970592022-12-01T12:22:00.004-08:002022-12-01T12:23:13.468-08:00Japanese Christmas Traditions<p><span style="font-family: times;">by Paula Gail Benson</span></p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEF8PnKeeerLOK8Br9_rxjzLXUZOFKIZD1mvGe8kUAOkBFpqjwViGhPlc6WAkUcG7BvzVT-DJF8KhaGAVoSdg4U8ipQ2Q8CxMlI2g5-gdKQXPteyvOPs1aJUIXUvoxDe6aDvkrqvNCe9hwIo6Nm_pQ5c6PHIrdP-LHknuluFZ3yibeXcdyfwPlDt9/s318/Hoteiosho%20Illustration.twinkl.com.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="159" data-original-width="318" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEF8PnKeeerLOK8Br9_rxjzLXUZOFKIZD1mvGe8kUAOkBFpqjwViGhPlc6WAkUcG7BvzVT-DJF8KhaGAVoSdg4U8ipQ2Q8CxMlI2g5-gdKQXPteyvOPs1aJUIXUvoxDe6aDvkrqvNCe9hwIo6Nm_pQ5c6PHIrdP-LHknuluFZ3yibeXcdyfwPlDt9/s1600/Hoteiosho%20Illustration.twinkl.com.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hoteiosho with good luck fan</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: times;">Japanese children call the western figure “Santa San” or “Mr. Santa.” With
few chimneys for him to enter, they consider him a ghostly presence bringing
treats. KFC fried chicken is a preferred Christmastime meal, and often must be pre-ordered
to meet the demand. A large, smiling Buddhist figure, Hoteiosho, referred to as
a monk and one of the seven good fortune gods, is a gift giver associated with happiness.
His name means cloth bag and he is never without his sack, which contains life’s
good things. With eyes in front and in back of his head, he observes children’s
behavior.</span></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-11370386637959807242022-02-04T01:30:00.002-08:002022-02-04T15:39:12.000-08:00Flag-Maker and Caregiver<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgt5Q-783FSYgCdADiBd2ebWYZ72DqxaRSwII-Ps82YDwBjEM71EllGR8oheVvvL4woNLyWrvS6_Gg4S1g-ew02LRSOBWgyckSJ8WELGYHx68FbOzDlcYn44nlqk6LI8bZ2dbM37cspvi_TNLRff4OcjiVOupYh5-xuZUlKko8gUXEyY3GMtNnd9Q70=s800" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgt5Q-783FSYgCdADiBd2ebWYZ72DqxaRSwII-Ps82YDwBjEM71EllGR8oheVvvL4woNLyWrvS6_Gg4S1g-ew02LRSOBWgyckSJ8WELGYHx68FbOzDlcYn44nlqk6LI8bZ2dbM37cspvi_TNLRff4OcjiVOupYh5-xuZUlKko8gUXEyY3GMtNnd9Q70=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From: Mommy Nearest</td></tr></tbody></table><br />As she grew older, Betsy Ross took in many family members and offered
them a home, including nieces, Betsy’s widowed daughter Clarissa, and Clarissa’s
five children. With Clarissa’s help, Betsy continued to work as an upholsterer
and flag-maker until she retired at the age of seventy-six and went to live
with her daughter Susanna outside Philadelphia. Despite losing her vision,
Betsy made the weekly carriage ride into Philadelphia to attend services at the
Free Quaker Meeting House. Three years before her death, Betsy was completely
blind. She spent the last years of her life with her daughter Jane in
Philadelphia.</span></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-1878954215093400722022-01-29T01:30:00.006-08:002022-01-29T01:30:00.174-08:00Three Times a Widow<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuVbkBR-ewkGRSk0an3lQiLKLtBn7PkKNqJoy6bAiv5AIBeGyFXSFZcCNAG5bDozpnWAjX6pD7oVAyRsGMBl48dkMKmR1i_bV8uy6R3HmiGAcWoHUlEh9dK8Mi337uzOuoXLT4_jQ4OYtXmu1AZHllJr8xMz5aEv05MjTVfBORkBUDHoc6hxa8DcJf=s3328" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2273" data-original-width="3328" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuVbkBR-ewkGRSk0an3lQiLKLtBn7PkKNqJoy6bAiv5AIBeGyFXSFZcCNAG5bDozpnWAjX6pD7oVAyRsGMBl48dkMKmR1i_bV8uy6R3HmiGAcWoHUlEh9dK8Mi337uzOuoXLT4_jQ4OYtXmu1AZHllJr8xMz5aEv05MjTVfBORkBUDHoc6hxa8DcJf=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Wikimedia Commons</td></tr></tbody></table>Betsy Ross had three husbands. With John Ross, she opened an upholstery
business. Following John’s death, she married, Joseph Ashburn, a seamen whose
vessel, </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;">The Lion</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;">, was captured. After
being charged with treason, he died in the Old Mill Prison in Plymouth,
England. He and Betsy had two daughters, only one of whom lived to be an adult.
A fellow prisoner, John Claypoole, brought Betsy the news of Joseph’s death.
John and Betsy married and became members of the Society of Free Quakers, which
supported the colonists’ fight against Great Britain. The Claypooles had five
daughters, one dying while young.</span></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-62141716740614822302022-01-23T01:30:00.022-08:002022-01-23T01:30:00.176-08:00A Woman of Mystery<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFBSvevwjAC9EDzgf4Co-tVyougomjcaguG8LIjEtGaDisW1OESNtazsbLonK6oGrYupVkOCsW1IW8BpfmM58ipV0-edond-B-5N6e__Ah2GIhVkqcr9U-5_8hNo-yMFPyNo8EekYzmNIIvpge5J2aAPli7qebk8fkAuMXyMDGpM8vccnspJmi6X_6=s400" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="400" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFBSvevwjAC9EDzgf4Co-tVyougomjcaguG8LIjEtGaDisW1OESNtazsbLonK6oGrYupVkOCsW1IW8BpfmM58ipV0-edond-B-5N6e__Ah2GIhVkqcr9U-5_8hNo-yMFPyNo8EekYzmNIIvpge5J2aAPli7qebk8fkAuMXyMDGpM8vccnspJmi6X_6=w400-h314" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #636363; font-family: AdobeGaramondPro; font-size: 16.8px;">Percy Moran, The Birth of Old Glory (1917). Courtesy of the Library of Congress.<br />From: </span><span style="color: #636363; font-family: AdobeGaramondPro;"><span style="font-size: 16.8px;">http://commonplace.online/article/how-betsy-ross-became-famous/</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;">While people know George Washington asked Betsy Ross to sew the first U.S.
flag, few are aware of her <a href="http://historicphiladelphia.org/betsy-ross-house/history/">personal history</a>. Born into a Quaker family, the
eighth of seventeen children, Betsy moved to Philadelphia at age three. Following
her formal education, she apprenticed to an upholsterer, where she met her first
husband, a fellow apprentice and Anglican. Because her family did not approve,
they eloped. He died two years later. In 1774, Betsy made bed hangings for George
Washington. Finding her both trustworthy and skilled, Washington commissioned
her, a childless widow of twenty-four, to make a flag he designed.</span></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-22365730731286907102022-01-17T01:30:00.001-08:002022-01-17T01:30:00.179-08:00The Betsy Ross Flag<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"><br /><a href="https://www.womenshistory.org/education-resources/biographies/betsy-ross">A biography of Betsy Ross</a>, written by National Women’s History Museum
Fellow (2018-2019) Kerri Lee, contains the account of William Canby, Betsy’s
grandson, explaining to the Historical Society of Pennsylvania why the United
States flag has five-pointed instead of six-pointed stars. When George
Washington, Robert Morris, and George Ross approached Betsy about stitching the
flag, their design featured thirteen red and white stripes and thirteen
six-pointed stars. Betsy convinced them to agree to five-pointed stars by folding
a paper into triangles and creating a five-point star with a snip of her
scissors. Betsy then made the first United States flag.</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicmZst12sMFU7w-pOiSqMM_7VKUkDCcCq-3Jw-jASMbvZvUf_rAIG63TGC458kfrt5s24xpaS1EUY2rw6vGnxiUm0yo6XTbGz5eAtfLywUtD2hgtULci271dMkZQXyEJXYkCcBrUbkY9B3Uy7INoF5OlAAuRAXyURTUBvPM9sEkDf9e1j6X-S1ozb2=s300" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicmZst12sMFU7w-pOiSqMM_7VKUkDCcCq-3Jw-jASMbvZvUf_rAIG63TGC458kfrt5s24xpaS1EUY2rw6vGnxiUm0yo6XTbGz5eAtfLywUtD2hgtULci271dMkZQXyEJXYkCcBrUbkY9B3Uy7INoF5OlAAuRAXyURTUBvPM9sEkDf9e1j6X-S1ozb2" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From: <a href="https://www.womenshistory.org/education-resources/biographies/betsy-ross">https://www.womenshistory.org/education-resources/biographies/betsy-ross</a><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p></td></tr></tbody></table></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-42745689943393757722022-01-11T01:30:00.009-08:002022-01-11T01:30:00.163-08:00George and Martha Washington's Wedding<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmKKUAvLD4PChxhmU3bVTZB-tbbOxItWb9qI0LgSRrQjLNIlnRyq12pNJjq9tViPzPzvRyrtvGCg-vsgK0uI6sNSEg57aywC0pQPxYFNyd1KZJRk6fqeVTCcKfP4q6os2f7dSB3dBomoSmcQZycZboY1s_Okz-Ao4UVsYo3jsh4WXe4eRjwAWK982D=s259" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgmKKUAvLD4PChxhmU3bVTZB-tbbOxItWb9qI0LgSRrQjLNIlnRyq12pNJjq9tViPzPzvRyrtvGCg-vsgK0uI6sNSEg57aywC0pQPxYFNyd1KZJRk6fqeVTCcKfP4q6os2f7dSB3dBomoSmcQZycZboY1s_Okz-Ao4UVsYo3jsh4WXe4eRjwAWK982D" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From: commons.wikipedia.org</td></tr></tbody></table><br />George and Martha Washington were married on January 6, 1769, at White
House, the estate Martha had inherited from her first husband, Daniel Parke
Custis. Many festivities took place during this time of year. Likely, Martha
prepared for numerous guests and stocked for them to stay an indefinite time
period. Daniel, twenty years older than Martha, had been her husband for eight
years before his death, probably from a heart attack. Eighteen months later,
she married George, who was almost a year younger. A beautiful widow, aged
twenty-six, with two children and an impressive inheritance, Martha made quite
a catch.</span></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-22624639893401497972022-01-05T01:30:00.010-08:002022-01-05T01:30:00.172-08:00The Six Pointed Star<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9-AY90iCLkRxd_Kn_oG4CdHyRg9O6cA3dw6_qUMnTTa3nxAQ31qAW6VjmK8Z6tl_KtifKkcCrFZHHxlwSx4daXu7y00_lg3snj1__ITHCCuxjbTQF3ZSvBVOhSKwrZZ5i4IQnpwWGx4VY_KWJ4Hrdjb7EhU027dbj0hmW6YJ3KqPNjStPLOFqwtgr=s1500" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9-AY90iCLkRxd_Kn_oG4CdHyRg9O6cA3dw6_qUMnTTa3nxAQ31qAW6VjmK8Z6tl_KtifKkcCrFZHHxlwSx4daXu7y00_lg3snj1__ITHCCuxjbTQF3ZSvBVOhSKwrZZ5i4IQnpwWGx4VY_KWJ4Hrdjb7EhU027dbj0hmW6YJ3KqPNjStPLOFqwtgr=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br />The 2021 Mt. Vernon Christmas ornament features the six pointed star found
on Washington’s Commander in Chief Standard or Headquarters Flag. The original silk
flag, on display at the Museum of the American Revolution in Philadelphia, is
faded from a much darker blue and one of the earliest flags containing thirteen
stars symbolizing the thirteen colonies. It indicated Washington’s position on
the battlefield or his tent in an encampment. Interestingly, the ornament has
twelve instead of thirteen stars. I wonder if they represent the twelve days of
Christmas (since George and Martha Washington married on Twelfth Night or
January 6)? <p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCX0a9YaTC5Dgi2K8Bi_b5Brn2We52aBg-GRCnkOxtnoAKRrqN8PYciIhqJKiIUn2aoR21y3mCqVhDLCNFRw7fQw2xItTOVVIVY_DstVv7Kh834utTFW5adBoeP6acDoh_92nSB3QA3wYxvZoETZxeV9sonG5Q-2gpagH_LAYo1QM-3JkprYElDTIX=s267" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="189" data-original-width="267" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCX0a9YaTC5Dgi2K8Bi_b5Brn2We52aBg-GRCnkOxtnoAKRrqN8PYciIhqJKiIUn2aoR21y3mCqVhDLCNFRw7fQw2xItTOVVIVY_DstVv7Kh834utTFW5adBoeP6acDoh_92nSB3QA3wYxvZoETZxeV9sonG5Q-2gpagH_LAYo1QM-3JkprYElDTIX" width="267" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From: Flagline.com</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-36178568252819608682021-12-30T01:30:00.017-08:002021-12-30T13:00:46.684-08:00My Writing in 2021<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">My writing success this year included: “Cosway’s
Confidence” winning second place in the short story contest and featured in the
Bethlehem Writers’ Group Roundtable; “Hollandaise” receiving honorable
mention in the South Carolina Writers Association, Surfside Chapter’s short
story contest</span> and appearing in its blog; and three pieces published in the
Red Penguin Books Collection (a group of anthologies) (one twice!): “Beloved
Husband,” a monologue based on Norman Baskin, Majorie Kinnan Rawlings second
spouse, in <i>An Empty Stage</i>;</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfLD8UWDF9z8aDKtWWT_IjHQNocj0JRiZGiJwy5UKPiNieW16Zcwzi8K_oz9VXcHwlNpSzGvfXhTeucJt_vtT3Ai3yk5_UIo4o7F5hl-GiX6XcrtBWOEGqWXp17oWblZTCeNjpk44JB_Vim-egv7mBbHNhvTa5lIARIU3OrlCGfwlLgCVloH_ZQNjE=s240" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfLD8UWDF9z8aDKtWWT_IjHQNocj0JRiZGiJwy5UKPiNieW16Zcwzi8K_oz9VXcHwlNpSzGvfXhTeucJt_vtT3Ai3yk5_UIo4o7F5hl-GiX6XcrtBWOEGqWXp17oWblZTCeNjpk44JB_Vim-egv7mBbHNhvTa5lIARIU3OrlCGfwlLgCVloH_ZQNjE" width="160" /></a></div><p></p><p>“The Fairy
Godmother’s Christmas” in <i>Once Upon a
Time</i> and <i>Stand Out: Volume Two</i>;
and</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgitIlWUGcR4__t2necsfoV-_lYRSGfIeEoFqcxRWXluFZtVzpWLGetyVpSll-cK10t740n1hssWz8REPVaayEmII_mHO-zsRk3GawBuS0IwbCRTUbEyUVdM5xR-PGE6ztLRON8CD-Z9w1puUPMne8XzCwcpI00tT8pcjVpniN3nuBQCDUZ8tIyRyXN=s240" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgitIlWUGcR4__t2necsfoV-_lYRSGfIeEoFqcxRWXluFZtVzpWLGetyVpSll-cK10t740n1hssWz8REPVaayEmII_mHO-zsRk3GawBuS0IwbCRTUbEyUVdM5xR-PGE6ztLRON8CD-Z9w1puUPMne8XzCwcpI00tT8pcjVpniN3nuBQCDUZ8tIyRyXN" width="160" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8wZ6miV0g7tKihWIJO6gzV1U7VlyN9qYv6YCeMAh3ZdbUTXmwWuY9-omIFnqA6RietW2r7T_38l1pYzd-mmKEVBk2hMlhsRxDW2TqVTdcAQTUNAWWPS9MRxTbu0rzyHjnI8bV_bSBf7uO0wMdxaoNTWqoeHCRYFEEV3rNDF5DYPa1dBET7yxF659H=s240" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8wZ6miV0g7tKihWIJO6gzV1U7VlyN9qYv6YCeMAh3ZdbUTXmwWuY9-omIFnqA6RietW2r7T_38l1pYzd-mmKEVBk2hMlhsRxDW2TqVTdcAQTUNAWWPS9MRxTbu0rzyHjnI8bV_bSBf7uO0wMdxaoNTWqoeHCRYFEEV3rNDF5DYPa1dBET7yxF659H" width="160" /></a></div><p> “No Legs” accepted for <i>The Robot and
Me</i>.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNEUtGv-nz-0Bi5fBJBIF0Ld0bjeb0YffyOzZcBS1NU2LpHxQmzlN7dPXHSrywwS1q1ueoUl7n4C_W9CXfB5fyUuHidDXAegfNbqKtl7e5dzsix_D3yzuhEhWsAJ67BaihuNKmt37-2vYwHgVzNvfnhet-JqBroE8zJ-poeq5Gqo2JlNNh262vDeVz=s500" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="261" data-original-width="500" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNEUtGv-nz-0Bi5fBJBIF0Ld0bjeb0YffyOzZcBS1NU2LpHxQmzlN7dPXHSrywwS1q1ueoUl7n4C_W9CXfB5fyUuHidDXAegfNbqKtl7e5dzsix_D3yzuhEhWsAJ67BaihuNKmt37-2vYwHgVzNvfnhet-JqBroE8zJ-poeq5Gqo2JlNNh262vDeVz=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-19522880897457800992021-12-27T01:30:00.029-08:002021-12-27T01:30:00.176-08:00Celebration of Lights<p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">On December 21<sup>st</sup>, the Winter
Solstice and shortest day of the year, <a href="https://hiddeniceland.is/christmas-and-new-years-in-iceland/"><span style="color: blue;">Reykjavik, Iceland, has only four hours of light</span></a>.
Many holiday traditions focus on light. People bring wreaths of light to
cemeteries. The last of the Yule Lads is Candle Snatcher, who originally took
candles to eat. <a href="https://hiddeniceland.is/christmas-and-new-years-in-iceland/">The statue of the Yule Cat is lighted in Reykjavik’s mainsquare</a>.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The Northern Lights or aurora borealis are
visible outside the city. According to Icelandic tradition, in order to begin
the new year, the old one must be burned away. Bonfires and fireworks are part
of the New Year’s Eve celebrations.</span></p><p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghsUut9v3ZiMyj6bVXDL8biuGS-NJhoLggh-8kIS_l3KRl_HfPj8aZI5u_faIedFgAA639i8kRu0UqD-Rrb5L8oYVQyivW2OiW8l67woMl8sjj0pXY89EpHlUOs0PzTrnN_lXPTc8nXiLpniAzeuh5dze1y0IeMDBfAvoeYJS5QWZ8B2BAp-mQyfzR=s1143" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEghsUut9v3ZiMyj6bVXDL8biuGS-NJhoLggh-8kIS_l3KRl_HfPj8aZI5u_faIedFgAA639i8kRu0UqD-Rrb5L8oYVQyivW2OiW8l67woMl8sjj0pXY89EpHlUOs0PzTrnN_lXPTc8nXiLpniAzeuh5dze1y0IeMDBfAvoeYJS5QWZ8B2BAp-mQyfzR=s320" width="215" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lighted Yule Cat Statue</td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><div style="text-align: right;"></div> <p></p><p><br /></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-31621142632082223012021-12-24T01:30:00.011-08:002021-12-24T01:30:00.196-08:00The Christmas Yule Book Flood<p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Iceland has a strong
literary tradition. </span><a href="https://www.theuncorkedlibrarian.com/iceland-jolabokaflod-tradition/#:~:text=Iceland%E2%80%99s%20Book%20Flood%2C%20or%20J%C3%B3lab%C3%B3kafl%C3%B3%C3%B0i%C3%B0%2C%20is%20a%20popular,a%20book%20fair%20dedicated%20to%20this%20holiday%20tradition." style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">One
in ten Icelanders has written and published a book</a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">. Jólabókaflóðið, or the </span><a href="https://www.icelandwonder.com/articles/icelandic-christmas-traditions/" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Yule
book flood</a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">, occurs leading up to Christmas in Iceland with a catalogue sent
out in the fall.</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWFLsltQRKOK2UOyLUUe7utKQzyiQ4dPMZcOa8K7nPbjp98O1cyaQbDTYZUnDpfX5Y8eplRD4-iX2HBIBAtyMHK8ke7E_bdysL0jEs2-GczFhio4CYu-w--6lHS2NdogtIgJhgEf9suM0DzfWURsSTEVscEFRw9lMvedElMZ5SPeJy_opDJVJug_Pl=s680" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="680" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWFLsltQRKOK2UOyLUUe7utKQzyiQ4dPMZcOa8K7nPbjp98O1cyaQbDTYZUnDpfX5Y8eplRD4-iX2HBIBAtyMHK8ke7E_bdysL0jEs2-GczFhio4CYu-w--6lHS2NdogtIgJhgEf9suM0DzfWURsSTEVscEFRw9lMvedElMZ5SPeJy_opDJVJug_Pl=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From: @booksaremybag</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Since World War II, books have became a popular gift. During
the war, there were fewer restrictions on imported paper and books were </span><a href="https://bigseventravel.com/christmas-traditions-iceland/" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">not subject to
rations</a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">. Each year, the number of books purchased has grown. Now, Iceland
exceeds all other nations in selling more books per capita. Christmas Eve and
Christmas Day often are spent reading books and eating or drinking chocolate.</span></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-49627297040071631982021-12-21T01:30:00.001-08:002021-12-21T01:30:00.168-08:00Continuing Icelandic Traditions<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiEtE4bLQHRMAViMLJM4I7rHw2Vwvs_R6DDHQ73V7BthBPV86Y3tKUY9EhOWfgv9Q_YR5yFFHJl1CHujeVfP2gEm_-h7mJLMakQfap2EkhuAou6GUMZOJ15yLpx2arDJO7NPGRvao4xUu3CY5Hdf3HGFwDpfYh27W2sRrsk-dLeK460DbIuKuhEXwy=s758" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="758" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiEtE4bLQHRMAViMLJM4I7rHw2Vwvs_R6DDHQ73V7BthBPV86Y3tKUY9EhOWfgv9Q_YR5yFFHJl1CHujeVfP2gEm_-h7mJLMakQfap2EkhuAou6GUMZOJ15yLpx2arDJO7NPGRvao4xUu3CY5Hdf3HGFwDpfYh27W2sRrsk-dLeK460DbIuKuhEXwy=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://icelandmonitor.mbl.is/news/eat_and_drink/2018/12/23/hangikjot_remains_iceland_s_most_popular_christmas_/">Hangikjot (from Icelandic Monitor)</a></td></tr></tbody></table>On December 23<sup>rd</sup>, Icelanders </span><span style="background: rgb(254, 254, 254); color: #3a3a3c; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">complete their
shopping and decorating while celebrating Iceland’s</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;">
patron saint, </span><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Thorlak Thorhallsson</span><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span>also known as<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <span style="background: #FEFEFE; color: #3a3a3c;">Þorlákur Þórhallson</span>.
On the 24<sup>th</sup>, presents (often books and chocolates) are delivered to
friends and family, then at 6:00 pm the family gathers for dinner, church
services, and a gift exchange. The traditional meal consists of smoked lamb (Hangikjot)
with potatoes in Bechamel sauce and green peas. Ptarmigan, a grouse-like bird,
may be substituted if lamb is too expensive. For dessert, risalamande, a rice
pudding containing a single whole almond is served. The person who finds the almond
receives a prize.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpW9Ae-S_ZlD7L1JhKxO_-E1s0IVe3QP0VpfLX4WdP0PB3WNHImtOBvlnkCxThCE3f1sj9l92inX6Ua5OpoBJ0gZDUhGPlvckvYb6ux6HVLA97KsZIR5ojFp5VQzI3hXfJLY9cHU_37GIViBBcyllx4IoTYhlkRkqV3AgW6TPNMoZpeJ5rSsOW3jRt=s1000" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpW9Ae-S_ZlD7L1JhKxO_-E1s0IVe3QP0VpfLX4WdP0PB3WNHImtOBvlnkCxThCE3f1sj9l92inX6Ua5OpoBJ0gZDUhGPlvckvYb6ux6HVLA97KsZIR5ojFp5VQzI3hXfJLY9cHU_37GIViBBcyllx4IoTYhlkRkqV3AgW6TPNMoZpeJ5rSsOW3jRt=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span><p></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-84130136861184666052021-12-18T01:30:00.015-08:002021-12-18T01:30:00.161-08:00The Yule Cat's Fury<p> <span style="text-align: center;">by Paula Gail Benson</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9goidS4gdqxrUn_2l-yICFVZ_Aoi_7PGVlFU2X5G1HQr4q4s4Pd_JrztNvaUaQMlhUhWtqYQIiUzMCuiR-rVevWKTY-W66TvUznEhsDCTB9A4SLaePqeRidY7yaP2DjYayV0deu0srM/s615/Cat+with+lamp.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="615" data-original-width="461" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK9goidS4gdqxrUn_2l-yICFVZ_Aoi_7PGVlFU2X5G1HQr4q4s4Pd_JrztNvaUaQMlhUhWtqYQIiUzMCuiR-rVevWKTY-W66TvUznEhsDCTB9A4SLaePqeRidY7yaP2DjYayV0deu0srM/s320/Cat+with+lamp.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>As Skeggr placed the candle stub on his grandmother’s
tombstone, its melting wax burned his fingers.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I’m alone without you, Amma,” he said. “I’ll receive no Christmas
gift of clothing to save me from the Yule Cat’s fury.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He heard a low growl from the shadows.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“The thirteen Yule Lads played no tricks on me. Window Watcher
saw I had nothing worth stealing.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A light flickered nearby, illuminating Candle Snatcher, who
handed Skeggr a ribbon with attached bell.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gratefully, Skeggr donned his new apparel before leaving.<o:p></o:p></p>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Seizing
the smoldering stub, Candle Snatcher whispered, “Yule Kitty, follow your collar
bell’s ring.”</span><div><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">***</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This 100 word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at </span><span style="color: blue; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://isawlightningfall.blogspot.com/">I Saw Lightning Fall</a></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity!</span> </span></div>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-27741479558638118892021-12-15T01:30:00.020-08:002021-12-15T01:30:00.164-08:00The Yule Cat<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Hbcr7WlpgmkOJeDQWueoP4vmwQZVB7Ry_riTUx-bhLSxIcOoWQW9ZWHFMCgCjU_y8WDzhHRwHex6qzLn-90YybWDJTFWI4bJhR-VhjdOyAUi0RocaPCNGZzUjjDT9km75gUx1Xhf34g/s500/The+Yule+Cat+by+Eldritch+Black.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="313" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Hbcr7WlpgmkOJeDQWueoP4vmwQZVB7Ry_riTUx-bhLSxIcOoWQW9ZWHFMCgCjU_y8WDzhHRwHex6qzLn-90YybWDJTFWI4bJhR-VhjdOyAUi0RocaPCNGZzUjjDT9km75gUx1Xhf34g/s320/The+Yule+Cat+by+Eldritch+Black.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />From Harry Potter, I learned that a gift of clothing could
free a house elf, like Dobby. A parallel exists in Icelandic Christmas
folklore. The Yule Cat, a pet of Gryla and her Lads, prowls about looking for
people who haven't been given new clothes before Christmas Eve. Like the Lads,
the Cat began as a means of encouraging workers to finish processing the autumn
wool before Christmas. If completed, the workers would receive clothing as a
reward. If they failed, they could be eaten by the Cat. Unlike the Lads, the
Cat seems to have retained a monstrous presence.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_OyWTlVRWqhG21MJGrh_wrlmbdIS3uizVC7HkNpCr5M6hkoTT4MhZO3SZE7vFQTFwg3mfpjgHPK8bpYv8RUm5fFYYpdZNCW73yTid4G7Nn3hNonkiYgzE85TUZSex-sMJZwWHJ9bE99E/s600/iceland-christmas-cat-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_OyWTlVRWqhG21MJGrh_wrlmbdIS3uizVC7HkNpCr5M6hkoTT4MhZO3SZE7vFQTFwg3mfpjgHPK8bpYv8RUm5fFYYpdZNCW73yTid4G7Nn3hNonkiYgzE85TUZSex-sMJZwWHJ9bE99E/w400-h300/iceland-christmas-cat-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From: http://petslady.com/article/iceland-s-creepy-christmas-cat-ready-rock-reykjavik<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> <p></p></div>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-52392839681178088202021-12-12T01:30:00.021-08:002021-12-12T01:30:00.160-08:00The Yule Lads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWELimYFZAfnoUfilbleDbvEx4D39TsEGOrV5zioDzMF4JfS5ju8D660B03MmSA6JswipwvJC6rfjHkHV1GbYKsafj74Op0Rs1KrYBsOHx2REHEDvHxAqluaTDSEw2qRo6C_rhW4a7Ac/s2048/Yule+Lads.IcelandicAir.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="2048" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPWELimYFZAfnoUfilbleDbvEx4D39TsEGOrV5zioDzMF4JfS5ju8D660B03MmSA6JswipwvJC6rfjHkHV1GbYKsafj74Op0Rs1KrYBsOHx2REHEDvHxAqluaTDSEw2qRo6C_rhW4a7Ac/w400-h229/Yule+Lads.IcelandicAir.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">IcelandAir</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Did you know thirteen trolls visit Icelandic children at Christmas? Good boys and girls find gifts in their shoes, while bad ones receive potatoes. The trolls, called the Yule Lads, were children of Gryla and Leppaludi. Originally, they and the monster Yule Cat were used to scare children into good behavior; however, as Santa Claus influenced them, they became more pranksters than mean spirits. Their names indicate how they act: Spoon-Licker, Pot-Scraper, Bowl-Licker, Door-Slammer, Sausage-Swiper, and Doorway-Sniffer, to name a few. Window Peeper looks through windows for items to steal and Candle Beggar takes candles, which used to be edible.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIBVYGULq2pJL2o7OZzznZcO_vTshU6q_LXna2DUd82Vx6oTPRxNY-6NE8BkQGvtmqBvtFA73k6O-HrHlr7Sbuz7dGyAtmnAQWfXW4o6z9Z75U5lhMdJmKWGaDN_svKgWBXRjZm-gl6s/s500/The+Legend+of+the+Icelandic+Yule+Lads+by+Heidi+Herman.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIBVYGULq2pJL2o7OZzznZcO_vTshU6q_LXna2DUd82Vx6oTPRxNY-6NE8BkQGvtmqBvtFA73k6O-HrHlr7Sbuz7dGyAtmnAQWfXW4o6z9Z75U5lhMdJmKWGaDN_svKgWBXRjZm-gl6s/s320/The+Legend+of+the+Icelandic+Yule+Lads+by+Heidi+Herman.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-52755619140130168412021-12-09T01:30:00.002-08:002021-12-09T13:32:51.267-08:00An Icelandic Christmas<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvItpycoXv-V8sQpEbhujLHu_9dram4IX1Y_2fydli1zbc3w4zSGQkQl01xExmdQrHGl_NjnuI96KJF6vMSta760jquAhZdeaAO1s3pslevKBUXRxev_s5aABX91Qf3V8eGR2SbraFTw/s220/Tree.Reykjavik.Iceland_December_2014_%252815816308610%2529Wikipedia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="147" data-original-width="220" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvItpycoXv-V8sQpEbhujLHu_9dram4IX1Y_2fydli1zbc3w4zSGQkQl01xExmdQrHGl_NjnuI96KJF6vMSta760jquAhZdeaAO1s3pslevKBUXRxev_s5aABX91Qf3V8eGR2SbraFTw/w200-h134/Tree.Reykjavik.Iceland_December_2014_%252815816308610%2529Wikipedia.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_in_Iceland">Christmas Tree Outside Reykjavik<br />Wikipedia</a></td></tr></tbody></table>I’ve been reading about Christmas in Iceland. Beginning four
weeks before Christmas Eve, on December 11, and ending on January 6, a total of
twenty-six days are devoted to the holiday. The celebrations include markets,
buffets, concerts, and lights. On December 23, people dress up, go into town, greet
neighbors, and do some last minute shopping. The stores stay open late and
gatherings occur in restaurants and bars. Traditionally, before meeting with
others, Icelanders eat a very aromatic fish called “skate.” For the meal, they
may dress in old clothes then change in order to leave the stench at home!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <p></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-30446353724390439352021-02-28T21:00:00.017-08:002021-03-01T15:55:48.741-08:00"Hollandaise" Receives Honorable Mention!I learned, out of submissions from several states and a foreign country, that my “Hollandaise” received honorable mention in the South Carolina Writers Association, Surfside Chapter’s short story contest. (Theme: isolation) In its <a href="https://wordsmattersurfsidescwablog.wordpress.com/2021/03/01/we-have-winners/">blog announcement</a>, the chapter called each story “an adventure.” How wonderful to think that solitude and separation from others could present intriguing avenues! My tale features a retired teacher remembering the first time she tasted hollandaise: the night Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. Although she never shared her experience, she finds a unique opportunity to do so. The stories will be published online at this <a href="https://wordsmattersurfsidescwablog.wordpress.com/2021/03/01/we-have-winners/">link</a>.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDE1Q8cHPD4aFAkxvagQ9Fip0JlOVdfU4ay6w8cmwg2w7OxUs4RCySvkX_FYlHcfmccAKLK8o1KtwXK-dNgg3VvZRXC1XQnZi_5jJyuC5t12zqUCEhllty31k8u1KqG1CvLpJR76-AJcY/s826/Hollandaise+with+Asparagus.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="826" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDE1Q8cHPD4aFAkxvagQ9Fip0JlOVdfU4ay6w8cmwg2w7OxUs4RCySvkX_FYlHcfmccAKLK8o1KtwXK-dNgg3VvZRXC1XQnZi_5jJyuC5t12zqUCEhllty31k8u1KqG1CvLpJR76-AJcY/w320-h240/Hollandaise+with+Asparagus.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Food Network: Roasted Asparagus with Hollandaise</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4381404694361311127.post-22686568707673098852021-01-10T02:00:00.016-08:002021-01-10T02:00:04.831-08:00Last But Not Leashed<p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_UJd5T4SIeh6zogMJWMr0aDQp7JGwqYYQ2x9w9jGDxkckTvlrAunCqm7h7PlhjeNM3knnkiYFcC7x4LHmyOY8J90P2_zvllB39SY48AcayPnOJ0k0WC_vX8f1CadS0JH66RV2OJyEYaA/s344/Alexandra+Otto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="230" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_UJd5T4SIeh6zogMJWMr0aDQp7JGwqYYQ2x9w9jGDxkckTvlrAunCqm7h7PlhjeNM3knnkiYFcC7x4LHmyOY8J90P2_zvllB39SY48AcayPnOJ0k0WC_vX8f1CadS0JH66RV2OJyEYaA/s320/Alexandra+Otto.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alexandra Otto</td></tr></tbody></table> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;">The Bethlehem Writers Roundtable 2020 third place winner is Alaskan
Alexandra Otto’s “Last But Not Leashed” about the House of Showdogs (H.O.S), a dog
grooming service and pet spa, which fronts for the world’s greatest known Human
Obediance School (H.O.S.). Operative Max, a German Shepherd and former CIA dog,
must determine if Labradoodle Shasta’s owner Amy is covertly acquiring a cat.
Not only is Max an intrepid investigator, but he has some interesting techniques
and tools at his disposal. Is Amy sneaking off to the Cat Palace? Can Max keep
Shasta’s life cat-free? Check out the delightful antics at: </span><a href="https://bwgwritersroundtable.com/featured-story/" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt;">https://bwgwritersroundtable.com/featured-story/<br /></a></p>Paula Gail Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08843350597811462936noreply@blogger.com0