Dear Reader

Dear Reader Column 07-10-2020

Dear Reader,

Grease, gravy and pink buttercream frosting stains, these are all signs of a great cookbook. Yes indeed, it's the "dirtiest" cookbook I own and several of my favorite recipes are inside.

Email me one of your favorite "dirty" recipes (no story about it required), and your name will automatically be entered in a drawing for a cookie scoop, like the one I use. The winner won't be drawn until Monday, so you can still enter over the weekend. Email Suzanne@DearReader.com.

Book club reader Leslie R., sent in one of her favorite "dirty" recipes, along with a story...

"Suzanne, yesterday I had two very ripe bananas so I made a batch of my favorite banana rolls, from a very dirty Chiquita Banana Recipe Book. You know, one of those little paperback cookbooks, probably free when you mailed in so many Chiquita banana stickers.

Anyway, I had three rolls that had to go into an extra baking pan. Hot out of the oven, I frosted the rolls and decided I would run the extra three over to a friend, who had knee replacement surgery last week. My husband volunteered to take them since he was running an errand. I texted my friend, she said she would put the garage door up, and he could come in and put them on her kitchen counter. A half hour later she texted that since it was going to storm, she wanted to put the garage door down, did I know when my husband was coming?

Total panic, I told her he should have dropped them off 30 minutes ago at least. Did he put them on someone else's kitchen counter? My husband doesn't have a cell phone, so I had to wait for him to come home and solve the mystery. Come to find out, he had put them on a counter in her garage, on top of a box, just out of my friends reach. She had to wait for her husband to come home to retrieve them. So much for hot-out-of-the-oven! Below is the recipe, although I 'cheat' and use a bread machine to make the dough. The ingredients are listed in the order I put them in the bread machine.

2 mashed, very ripe bananas
1 slightly beaten egg
1/4 cup melted butter
1/8 cup warm water
1 tsp ground cardamom (my secret ingredient)
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 cup sugar
3 1/2 cups flour
2 tsp yeast

I let the bread machine do its job, but if you do it by hand, let the dough rise until doubled. Rollout into a flat rectangle, brush with melted butter, sprinkle with brown sugar, cinnamon, chopped pecans, and roll up. Cut up and place the slices in a buttered pan. Let rise an hour and bake at 350 for 20 minutes. Frost with your favorite buttercream frosting." -- Leslie R., Centerville Washington Township Library

*I've promised to feature photos of some of my vintage hats, but I've been receiving such delightful emails from readers, that I've put off that column until this coming Monday. Have a safe, enjoyable weekend.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader Column 07-09-2020

Dear Reader,

My column posted July 2nd brought readers to share some memories of their own.

If you missed the original column you can read it here, plus see photos of the quilt I wrote about, and the one I'm currently working on.

"Hello Suzanne, thank you for another from the heart Suzanne story! I am so glad you had the foresight to save the quilt you made for your mother. It sounds like there were many mixed feelings but you chose love in keeping the quilt. Think of the happy memories when admiring your quilt!" -- Carol

"Still on my first cup of coffee when I read your piece about the 'Wizard of Oz' plates, the unused but jealously guarded crock, and the quilt you made, thoughtlessly bunched up on the garage floor. My first thought was a memory of packing for Goodwill my mom's t-shirts after she died; I swear she must have had over 100. My second was a nasty fantasy of taking that [your mom's] crock and throwing it from the top of the highest hill in Florida (I believe it's all of 500 feet high). But there you are, taking that symbol of your love and effort to reach your mother, and turning it into a quilt of acceptance of what was. If I were there, and we were close enough to do so, I'd give you a hug. You are pretty amazing." -- Sue M.

"My mom wasn't good about keeping things I made for her, or gave her. Always hurts a little bit even though she's been gone for 26 years." -- Sandy L.

"Suzanne, we all have drawers we need to open, be they literal or symbolic. Your column this morning is a most moving lesson on forgiveness and how it floods our own hearts with love. Letting go....Thank you." -- Merle H.

"Your note was the first message I read this morning. The book club messages bring pleasure and I always look for them, especially on days when I wake up with nothing to look forward to, or so I think. Your story, few words but a vivid picture, made me look at some of the things that surround me in our home, drawers that I too have been opening at this lonely time. My experience with my mother was different, those things I come across in those drawers and boxes bring good memories. I am sorry that yours didn't. I thank you for reminding me how lucky I have been. I love [your words], 'filled the space with love.' I can remember the love and release the objects, and now pass on the stories. My granddaughters love 'When Grandma was little' stories at bedtime. I need to write some down now that I don't get to see them." -- Nancy H.

"Everyday I am inspired to write back to you, when I read your daily note to all of us I feel like I'm chatting with my best friend. Today is no different, however your keepsakes from your mom really hit home. I quilt too, and it all started with my mom. We took a quilting course together back in the 70's and I took it up again when I retired. Not to get side tracked, but in my closet I have my mother's old house coat. It used to be white with bright pink flowers splashed on it! To top it off I also keep a bottle of Elizabeth Arden's Blue Grass perfume in my underwear drawer. It seems that keeping these two things close by help me keep the memories alive, especially the perfume. Thank you Suzanne for being there for so many of us every morning when we drink our coffee. Thanks for the laughs, the tears and bringing back so many lovely memories." -- Suzanne D.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise this title deserves your attention:

(Fiction) AN APPALACHIAN SUMMER by Ann H. Gabhart

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

 

Dear Reader Column 07-08-2020

Dear Reader,

Grease, gravy and pink buttercream frosting stains, these are all signals of a great cookbook. Yes indeed, it's the dirtiest cookbook I own and it's my favorite. Spiral-bound, The Loring Family Cookbook is over 30 years old. Bound with a bright blue, torn paper front cover (the back cover is missing), on the first blank page of the 416-page cookbook, I've handwritten my own Table of Contents, directing me to my favorites.

Read on and you'll discover...

A Bit of Family Loring History 1917-1980. Miss Josephine M. Siepker and Matthew Loring were united in marriage June 19, 1917 at St. Andrew's Catholic Church, Tennyson, Wisconsin by Fr. Pape. Ten children came to bless this marriage. Seven girls and three boys." And the family history continues, ending in 1980 when the cookbook was assembled. As of this writing, Mother and Dad Loring could have boasted of 45 grandchildren, 44 great-grandchildren and six great-great-grandchildren.

That's a huge family, which could explain why some of this family's favorite recipes include a few shortcuts, but they aren't short on flavor. I've shared a favorite recipe from this cookbook before, and this past weekend I discovered another: Peanut Butter Cookies, submitted by Bernadine Lauber, a member of the Loring clan.

The cookies are especially tasty with a cup of coffee or tea. And while you're indulging, look through your cookbooks and share some of your dirty little "secrets" with me. Are your favorite recipe pages as stained as mine?

Email me one of your favorite "dirty" recipes, and your name will automatically be entered in a drawing for a cookie scoop, like the one I use. Email Suzanne@DearReader.com.

PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES
Submitted by: Bernadine Lauber

1 1/2 cups sifted flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup shortening
1/2 cup peanut butter (I used chunky style)
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla

Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Cream together shortening, peanut butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add egg and vanilla. Beat well. Add flour mixture to creamed mixture, mixing well.

Form dough into balls. Place 1" apart on ungreased baking sheets. Press crosswise with fork. (I dipped my fork in granulated sugar before crisscrossing.)

Bake for 10-12 minutes in a 375 degree oven. (My oven may run hot. I baked the cookies for 9 minutes.) Makes about 5 dozen cookies.

Bernadine's household hint at the bottom of her recipe page: Use a plastic fork to flatten cookies, dough will not stick to it.

Email me one of your "dirty" recipes and you'll be entered in my drawing. You can reach me at: Suzanne@DearReader.com

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

Dear Reader Column 07-06-2020

Dear Reader,

My husband always likes to drive the car when we're going somewhere together and I've decided I might as well let him. There's a long list of wonderful things I could tell you about my husband, (we've been married almost 43 years and it just keeps getting better and better), but he's a backseat driver.

When I'm driving and he's riding along, why you'd think I was new to the city and had no idea where the market, the vet and our favorite Mexican restaurant was, because my husband thinks he has to tell me how to get there.

"Turn here. No, don't go that way. This way is faster. Turn left. Look out, that car looks like it's coming over into our lane. I think you should drive a little slower, Suzanne."

"I think you should be quiet, Dear."

There have been times I've simply pulled the car over and surrendered the wheel.

Pulling out of a driveway--it takes two. Did you know that? Funny, I remember doing it solo in my Driver's Ed test, and I passed on the first try. When I'm pulling out of a driveway my husband leans over so far to look out the side window, that all I can see is his head when I'm trying to look for cars.

"All clear," he'll assure me.

But somehow I think I'd be the one getting the ticket. "Officer, the accident is really my husband's fault. He told me it was all clear to go."

I'm beginning to think there's a backseat driver gene that runs in our family and our son has inherited it, because whenever we go anywhere together, even if we take my car, my son wants to drive. And if I don't relinquish the wheel, it turns into a bad rerun. I might as well be driving with my husband.

"Mom, you shouldn't go this way. Turn here. It's faster."

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

* For readers who've been asking, yes, I'll be including photos of my vintage hats in a column later this week.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

AN APPALACHIAN SUMMER (Fiction) by Ann H. Gabhart

With the country deep in depression in 1933, Piper Danson shrugs off the expectations of her debutante season and heads to the Appalachian Mountains to volunteer with the Frontier Nursing Service. Adventure and romance await as she cares for the nurse midwives' horses, experiences the miracle of birth and more. Much more. Fascinating FNS history combine with the beauty of the mountains in this story of a young woman caught between two worlds--each promising something different.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on AN APPALACHIAN SUMMER to read more and to email author Ann H. Gabhart, you'll get a reply.

Dear Reader Column 06-30-2020

Dear Reader,

Despite having lectured in English Literature, today's guest author, Suzette Hill had never hankered to write a novel. However, after retiring and on a whim, she embarked on a short story--to see what the creative process felt like. She found out. For the story grew, and to date Suzette has produced twelve novels comprising two series. The first concerned a bumbling vicar (plus cat and dog), who thoughtlessly committed murder; the second features a bright young woman who, with eccentric companions, becomes embroiled in murky skulduggery. Satirically humorous, both series span the 1950s. Deadly Primrose (starring the vicar's sister) is the latest sequel to the first series. The second's current tale is The Cambridge Plot--absurdities in English academia. Suzette lives a merry, but blameless life in rural Herefordshire in the UK.

Please do say "Hello." Email: molehill@svengali.plus.com

Not planning, but spinning!

As a novelist I often think how pleasant it would be to have an ordered mind, a mind instinctively geared to plan and arrange, to devise ends whose means are meticulous and whose route assured and logical. Yes, how comforting to have supreme mastery over one's material and to know exactly where it is going! There are such authors, and I envy them their logic and control.

Alas, I am not so endowed, am not of that ilk; and my plans, such as they are, soon come adrift and I am left in a 'cloud of unknowing'. But surely, I hear you ask, a so-called skeleton draft would be immeasurably useful. It would give direction and 'structure,' would be a firm scaffolding on which to harness your flitting thoughts! With the bones already in place you would then merely have to flesh the skeleton with detail and niceties of style, i.e. create the 'texture'.

Hmm. This is precisely what I used to tell my students: organise first and write afterwards. But the moment I took up my pen to write 'fiction' such sane advice vanished in leaps and bounds, and I wrote as the spirit moved: intuitively, nudged by instinct not logic. Why? Because it seems I am less concerned with puzzles per se than with people; and it is the latter--the invented characters with all their quirks, oddities, lusts and conflicts--that really absorb me and dominate the whole imaginative process. It is 'their' lives and antics, rather than the steps of a prescriptive narrative, that directs the drama. So yes, as with some of my colleagues' novels (reassuringly!) mine are what can be called evolutionary and 'character driven', relying less on the ramifications of a premeditated plot for their momentum than on the wayward cavorting of individuals--including cats and dogs!

Naturally, not sticking to a cogent plan has its downside--writer's block, irritation, bemusement etc. But it has its benefits too. For with only a hazy sense of how things will proceed, I write to find out. Thus in a way I am telling 'myself' a story, and never quite know what or who is round the corner. It is a process of exploration and discovery. And it is partly that element of lurking surprise that keeps me writing!

-- Suzette A. Hill
Email Suzette and say "hello," molehill@svengali.plus.com

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

Dear Reader Column 06-26-2020

Dear Reader,

Thank you very much to everyone who sent in a memorable bird story this week. I wish I could have published them all in my column. Please do remember your bird story could very well be the beginnings of your entry for the Write a DearReader contest this fall.

Book club reader Martha H., who I think has been reading with me since the club began, shares her remarkable story today.

There are more stories and photos at this link.

My beloved husband Betts died three years ago, June 26. The morning of June 28, close to 6 a.m., I walked down our sidewalk to the street to get the morning newspaper. Walking back, a bird flew very, very, fast--zoomed--right past my head, so close that its wings brushed my right cheek. I was so startled--at first I thought, it's a bat because it was so fast. But it was larger than a bat and definitely feathered; I had felt the feathers on my cheek. It zoomed around the front door light three times and then off into a tree, where it landed and sang in an almost conversational way.

A bat? A bird? Betts! He had died after 11 days in the hospital and as he became more and more ill, and we realized he was not going to get well, we had asked him, if he could, to visit us or give us some sort of sign that he was fine. We also talked about what he was most looking forward to in heaven, and he had said flying and singing.

I hadn't been able to see what kind of bird it was, just its outline against the light--it was about the size of a large robin, or a jay. On New Year's Eve, having been with my local daughter who lives with her family about five minutes away, I had come in and went to the front door to turn off the porch light. It was about 5:30 p.m. and already dark. Through the glass in the front door I could see a big shadow zooming toward me--a bird--three times around the light and off. This time I could see the bird, though I had never seen one like it before. It was a solid color, orangey-brown. I've been talking to people and looking at bird books, trying to determine what kind of bird it is--we've narrowed it down to probably a thrush, though I haven't found a picture of a solid colored thrush yet. Two friends, one in NC and one in FL, said they have had birds like that in their yards.

I truly felt this was a message or messenger from Betts, keeping his promise with 48 hours of his death, and coming again with the new year, to let me know he's in touch. Such a blessing!

Now birds--of all kinds--have become really, really special to me!

-- Martha H.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

Got kids who love science? Check out what author Jennifer Swanson (who runs the Solve It! For Kids science podcast) has to say about new her book BEASTLY BIONICS: Rad Robots, Brilliant Biomimicry, and Incredible Inventions Inspired by Nature. For a chance to win free copies, to talk with the authors, and more, see KIDSBUZZ.

Dear Reader Column 06-25-2020

Dear Reader,

Thank you so much for sending in your bird stories. Reading them is the perfect way for me to find calm and a feeling of peace, even if only for a brief moment. Enjoy today's stories from readers and there are more stories and photos here.

"Hi Suzanne, many years ago when my family had just moved from the city to a brand new house in the country, we woke up to flapping noises in the living room where the fireplace was. There was a beautiful male mallard duck flying into the windows trying to get out. My mom kept the little kids in the doorway while my dad and I tried to corral it. After one hard hit, it seemed stunned, so I quickly picked it up. It's heart was beating so fast! But I think he knew I wanted to help him. We walked out of the slider and onto the deck where I lifted him high and off he flew! That memory comes to me every time I see ducks in the wild." -- Mary S.

"Suzanne, my bird story is short but I hope it brings a smile. We often hear owls hooting around our house and if my husband is outside, he hoots back, trying his best to replicate their calls. I'm not sure if they understand his 'dialect,' but they often reply anyway, which delights him. We figure the owls should have names but we don't know how many there are, so we refer to them individually or collectively as 'Jolson.' You know, Owl 'Al' Jolson!" -- Anna D.

"Suzanne, for the past three weeks we have had an unexpected alarm clock. Each morning, around 6:00 a robin starts hitting at our bedroom window. This robin will fall to the ground, get up and strike the window again and again. It will eventually leave for about 15-20 minutes, then start in again and this will go on for a couple of hours. Later in the day, it will repeat hitting the window. There is a tall bush at this window and we searched for a nest in the area. No nest has been found, but there are a couple of eggs under the window that appear to have been hatched. Yesterday, we put a photograph of an owl's eyes in the window. It's 7:30 in the morning and it appears that this might be the answer to eliminate the activity. We've been so concerned that this robin would seriously injure itself." -- Donna S.

"My bird story involves a beautiful spring faux wreath that I purchased from Michaels that I hung on my front door. I noticed that after a week of hanging it up, I kept hearing little birds chirping everywhere. I wasn't sure where that was coming from. When I came home one day, I saw that a mother bird had built a nest within my faux wreath! The mother had given birth to a few baby birds. I didn't realize there was another family living here with me! In order to ensure the safety of these birds, when the babies grew older, I eventually moved the nest to another real tree so that they could grow much better there." -- Nina W.

"When I was growing up my folks would feed the birds in the morning and in the evening--our house set back on a lot in the country. The birds would sit on the trees and the fence, and wait for when it was time to be fed. If we were late, the birds would fly under our window awnings and peck on the window--and even peer inside to see if we were coming." -- Mary M.

I'd love to read your bird encounter story. Send it to: Suzanne@DearReader.com

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: With so many new books out every week, we promise this title deserves your attention:

(Fiction) SEXY LOVE by Carly Phillips

Go to: http://authorbuzz.com/dearreader

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

 

Dear Reader Column 06-24-2020

Dear Reader,

The book club has gone to the birds and I couldn't be more thrilled! Apparently you're enjoying the bird stories, too. Because readers sharing stories about their bird encounters has been the most popular topic we've ever had at the book club. And I can see why, because as I'm writing this morning, I hear two new red-bellied woodpeckers out in our old oak tree. The 'apartment' in the old oak tree just became vacant when four young woodpeckers flew off on their own. And now it looks like another newlywed couple will be moving in and starting their own family. I'm very excited and I'm keeping my binoculars close by.

Over the next two days I'll continue sharing readers' bird stories and even some heart warming photos. (The link is at the end of today's column.) If you haven't sent me your bird story, I'd love to read it. Email me at: Suzanne@DearReader.com

(Your story might be just the thing to expand on and save for this year's annual Write a DearReader Contest in September.)

"We have a wren that comes back every year, and builds a nest in two bird houses we have hanging from the gutters of the house. When the nests are finished the hard work starts, finding the right mate. The male spends hours singing from the top of our umbrella cover looking for the right partner. The funny thing is, when he finds his partner and she inspects the nests and picks one to start her family, she throws everything out of the house and rebuilds it to her satisfaction. My friend always says if you want something done right don't ask your husband. Sounds like birds feel the same way. Thanks for letting me share my bird story." -- Joanne S.

"My bird story is a little different. We have lots of birds who return every year to build their nests in the same spots. They are always so quick and efficient at building a solid nest. It was a shock to me when I went out to bring in my laundry from the clothesline, that I hung that morning, only to discover the clothes were on the ground. Apparently the birds like my clothesline for building their nest and managed to shred it apart!" -- Maria K.

"Suzanne, I had to Google if a chicken was a bird, and the answer was yes! Every spring we would get a delivery of 100 baby chicks which we would nurture in the basement under warm lights until the weather warmed up for the outdoor chicken coop. I developed a close relationship with a beautiful Cornish hen who had a malformed leg. This bird followed me everywhere from morning until night, perching on my handlebars, shoulder, or sitting next to me on the tractor seat. It was a beautiful love story to behold. I would sometimes spend the night in the coop cuddled to my forever friend. The neighbors would love to give us rides on haystack carts to show us off.

As some love stories don't have happy endings, this is the doomed story of my first love. One morning as I raced out the door to begin my day, I was greeted with mass carnage. A fox had obliterated the whole stock of laying hens. Even in death, my beloved Hennie was beautiful. We had a tender burial with over 100 mourners. I still remember the softness of her feathers and feel her gentle beak of a kiss in my dreams." -- Alice S.

To read more stories and see photos of the birds, click here.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

Got kids who love science? Check out what author Jennifer Swanson (who runs the Solve It! For Kids science podcast) has to say about new her book BEASTLY BIONICS: Rad Robots, Brilliant Biomimicry, and Incredible Inventions Inspired by Nature. For a chance to win free copies, to talk with the authors, and more, see KIDSBUZZ.

Dear Reader Column 06-23-2020

Dear Reader,

Kyle McCarthy, today's guest author has a new release, Everyone Knows How Much I Love You. Her fiction has appeared in The Best American Short Stories, American Short Fiction, and the Harvard Review. A graduate of the Iowa Writers Workshop, she lives in Brooklyn, New York.

Kyle would love to hear from you! You can reach her at mccarthk@newschool.edu.

Most of us have done it before: painted a room the wrong color. A bad color. Well, last September, I painted my front hall pink. Not pale rose, not a shy girl's blush, but Pepto-Bismol pink. Right away I knew it was a mistake, but I was too stubborn to stop. After all, I had vowed to stop treating my apartment, where I had lived for seven years, like a temporary spot. I wanted to make it a home, and fill it with the bright colors I loved.

But I did not love this color. This color was childish and cheap. My mom, after seeing a photograph, was politely appalled. She reminded me that I could always repaint. I said I would, but knew, deep down, that I lacked the energy.

Then a funny thing happened: friends, over for dinner, complimented the color. They said it was like being wrapped in a sunset, or warm embrace. Under the shadowy light, it glowed. I thought about how many years I had spent thinking pink was frivolous, girly, babyish. That it was unserious. Or worse: in bad taste. For shouldn't a woman, above all, be discrete and well-mannered? Shouldn't vulgarity be avoided at all costs? No, of course not! How silly of me. I decided I liked my outlandish walls. Maybe I was even proud of them.

Fast forward three months, and I'm choosing the cover for my book. My editor likes one version, my agent another. I find myself, against my better judgement, gravitating again and again to the one of a woman looking away, the title exposed in trompe l'oeil gashes, the whole scene lit in a hallucinatory savage salmon. That one, I finally decide.

Not until last week, unwrapping my carton of author copies, did it hit me. My bright pink hall; my bright pink book. Unwittingly, I had chosen the same color twice. Or maybe not unwittingly: maybe learning to love the boldness of my walls helped me learn to love the boldness of my book. It helped me choose a fierce, unsettling color to house its fierce unsettling heroine.

All those months ago, when I was picking out a paint color, I was indeed making a home--just not the home I thought. Painting the front hall was a kind of practice for "painting" my book. It helped me see that outlandish is okay, even fun. And so there, between two bright pink covers, my outlandish heroine--who I somehow had the foresight to name Rose--will live.

-- Kyle McCarthy

Drop Kyle an email at: mccarthk@newschool.edu.

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

 

Dear Reader Column 06-22-2020

Dear Reader,

It was a fun 'bird' week at the book club. The baby birds in my daughter's back yard were robins. I'm happy to report the robins are happy and healthy and I think, almost ready to head out on their own.

Thank you to everyone who shared a bird story--they were delightful. You might consider expanding on your bird story and enter this year's Write a DearReader Contest. Watch for details later this summer.

Drum roll... Congratulations to last week's bird contest winners: Rachel B., the winner of the drawing for sending in a bird story and Amy B., the winner of the Guess-What-Bird drawing.

When my husband and I were raising our children, we had a spacious, sunny kitchen and there was always a cage off to the corner, with a soft, loveable guinea pig inside. "Screech, screech," the pig would know when we were peeling fresh vegetables and he'd holler (loudly) for his share of the scraps. To this day, whenever I'm peeling fresh vegetables, part of me misses Pig.

Pig would go outside on good weather days. He'd stay close to the foundation of the house and hide in the bushes. It was an every other day ritual, until one day when a huge hawk spotted lunch. I got Pig before the hawk, but that ended his roaming days. Instead, I'd put him outside in his cage. But it just wasn't the same for me; maybe it wasn't the same for Pig either? I missed looking out the window and watching Pig enjoying the outdoors. I imagine he missed feeling the warm grass underneath his bottom and the opportunity to occasionally nibble on a dandelion. And even though Pig might have been thinking, 'I bet I could outrun that hawk,' my motherly instinct knew better.

Over the years, when our children were growing up, we had several pigs because even though we gave each one tender loving care, after four years we'd have to say good-bye. "Guinea pigs don't have a long life span," I remember explaining to a friend one day when I had to cancel our lunch because Pig died the night before.

I think sometimes people feel awkward when they mention their pet is sick or has passed away, because the concern in their voice sounds as if they are talking about one of their children. But in a way, they are--even when they're remembering a guinea pig...."screech, screech."

Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.

Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com

AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.

SEXY LOVE by Carly Phillips

I've always found forbidden romances intriguing and what is hotter than a professor and his student? My new book tells the story of a mom whose future is riding on this chance at an education and a professor who is just shy of getting tenure. The last thing they need is for their affair to be exposed. It will only take one hint of a rumor to destroy everything they worked so hard to achieve.

Go to: AUTHORBUZZ click on SEXY LOVE to read more and to email author Carly Phillips, you'll get a reply.

KIDSBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.