Grits, for the southern only?

In case you've missed this bit of news, I like to write. The following short piece below is a book that I've not yet had the opportunity to publish. For those who don't know me, please be kind and don't copy this. It is a writing from my mind and heart. Anyway, back to my original thought, the subject below is of grits. There seems to be a general consensus that there is an invisible line drawn between the north and south when it comes to grits. Generally speaking, the northern states care nothing for the dish and the southern states like it so much they make t-shirts out of the word grits. So, if you care to, read the short excerpt below, I think you'll understand what I'm saying.


“Oh, that’s grits.”
“Grits? I’ve heard of the southern dish, but never tasted it,” she said with a homemaker’s interest.
“I’ll fix it for you this morning,” Tony offered.
“Okay, and I’ll fix some eggs to go with it.” Side by side they worked in harmony. Every now and then they would brush up against each other. While she reached for the butter, they would briefly touch, or when he walked around for a serving utensil, their bodies would contact ever so lightly. The contact sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. But neither one said anything in the less than ten minutes it took to get breakfast prepared.
Gingerly, Amber took a small taste of the grits he had prepared. A dab of butter floated on top. Putting her spoon back into the mush she stirred the butter around and tried it again. Putting her spoon back down, she placed her hands on her lap and looked him straight in the eye and said “Yuk.”
“Yuk?”
“Yuk. You enjoy eating cardboard?” she asked, completely amazed that anyone could enjoy eating the dull, tasteless food.
“How would you know what cardboard tasted like? Have you ever eaten cardboard?”
“Yes, I just tasted it. Right here in this bowl.”
“Well, aren’t you the Yankee doodle! And that’s just dandy. Don’t eat it then.”
“What, Rebel’s don’t have any taste buds?” Sounds to me like ya’ll - listen to me, now I’m sounding like one! Sounds like you are all a bunch of red necks.”
“I beg your pardon, my cute little Yankee, but my neck is nice and tanned from hard work and endless labor.”
“Not only are you a bunch of red neck hicks, but you all must also have a slick tongue - no taste buds on them whatsoever.” She had caught that personal pronoun ‘my cute little’ that he casually inserted, and although it gave her mind a whirl in all different directions, she chose to ignore it. They both looked down at the grits that to Amber looked sort of lonely. To Tony they looked a little insulted. He really wanted to laugh out right, but gee, he was having too much fun with her to ruin the effects of their friendly fencing. Next thing he knew, she had yanked up his bowl of grits and took it away from him.
“Where are you going with my grits?” Tony asked, horrified to watch his breakfast disappearing, and not into his stomach where it was supposed to go.
“I intend to educate you and put this stuff out of its misery.”
“But, I like my grits.”


Okay, So, Tony was born and raised in the south and enjoys the southern dish. Amber on the other hand is from Michigan and is not thrilled with the southern dish. So, she takes matter into her own hands. Keep going.


“Well, some like to remain blissfully ignorant. However, being a teacher, I’m too stubborn to allow a potentially intelligent southern hick to remain in a stupor of ignorance.” She quickly took the two bowls and spooned them back into the pot with what remained of the left over grits.

“But, my grits!” he exclaimed, a little on the worried side.
“In my hands your grits are going to be fine. Man, are all ya’ll - good grief. Are you all this nutty about your grits?”
“Hey, it’s the food of the south.”
“There may be no hope for you then. Go on outside, and let me give this mushy gunk a proper eulogy.”
“A eulogy? You’re giving my grits a eulogy? But, what about my breakfast?” Tony was beginning to fear he might not get any thing to eat.
“I’ll keep your food warm. Go,” she said as she guided him outside. After she escorted him out and put the eggs in a warm oven to keep them from getting too cold and rubbery, she came back to the pot of white runny mess. She smiled to herself...


So, within the pages of my book, she tries different ways to make the grits taste better. Nothing suits her taste. To Amber the stuff is just a "pathetic looking white mush." But, continue and you'll find something that if you don't care for grits either, you'll think adds a bit of taste to "cardboard." Read on -


“I hope you haven’t buried my poor grits. Woman, I’m hungry!”
“They needed a burial, but no I saved them and made the stuff better.” Then under her breath she included, “I hope.” Amber put the plates back on the table and served up the grits. “Do you think we need to say another prayer?”
“I think it was well blessed the first time. I’m always thankful for my grits,” he said with a smile. They both sat down in front of their plates. “However, after you’ve messed with a good thing - who knows what you’ve put my poor grits through.” They both took a taste test...


Keep reading, really!


“Now it’s cardboard with a flair,” Amber said to the second spoonful. She vowed on the third bite, “I promise I’m going to make this stuff taste like food, one way or the other.”
“You’re going to kill me. I just know it.” Tony suppressed his laughter and quickly hid his smile behind his coffee cup which was now lukewarm. He had no way of knowing that each morning she would find a new way to fix his grits. He had to admit though the best tasting was when she added cheese, diced tomatoes, green chili peppers, and flour. She formed the grits into a patty and fried them in olive oil. Now that was actually some good tasting food...


I really have tried this. This is my own recipe (if you want to call it that)of a little twist to grits. However, when I tried this it was with leftovers and had cooled and hardened like leftover grits tend to do after awhile. Anyway, let me know what you think of my Grits turned spicy when you try it.

Woodburning art,

Okay, I'm foremost a writer, but somewhere in my ADD mind I'm also an artist. I'll let you determine whether I'm a good artist or not. After all, isn't art a relative talent? A piece that I may think is beautiful, you may not like at all, and vise versa. My favorite genre of art is that of woodburning. My favorite way to wood burn is to do so on uniquely shaped wood. Recently I completed an order on a deer. I titled it "Hunter's Paradise". I started out with one deer, but because of the uniqueness and size of the wood, I had to add an extra deer. Okay, my romantic heart came into my drawing so the second deer just had to be female.

Speaking of deer, it happens to be one of my favorite things to draw. My other favorite is horses. I've also done lighthouses and flowers.

The majority of my woodburning is done with the help of my father, Don Snyder. He finds my wood and puts the finish on the drawing to add just the right amount of gloss to the finished product. He is a woodcrafter and specializes in making boxes that most will call jewelry boxes, but he also makes pens and holder, and treepots. What is a treepot? You'll have to click on the former treepots to find out.

There are two essential things needed for woodburning. 1. A good woodburner with multiple tips for different effects and 2. being able to enjoy yourself when you're burning into the wood. After that, it's a world of creating special peices of art.

"Child of Sorrow"

Hello, my name is Nancy and I love to write.

Child of sorrow is the first book that I published. It is perhaps the one I fell in love with; the story line, the characters, it all touches my heart more perhaps than the other two that I've written. As with the other two, it is a clean romance, but it deals with rape and the consequences to its victim. Mystery Reads, my main female character, must find a way to survive the horrible reality that she's been raped. Not only that, but she's pregnant from the violent act. The child she carries is a child of sorrow. Within all the difficulties that she faces, her hero, the man that found her, gives her the physical and mental support that she needs to survive.

There is a touch of fantasy within these pages. Mystery is special, but only to the man she truly loves. Christopher Page, the first in the saga of the Page brothers, discovers that he has a special link to Mystery's most intense thoughts and feelings. When she is being hunted down by an unknown perpetrator, Christoper feels her fears and the torment that won't let her go.

Linda Bateman, who is a photographer, and who happens to also be my sister, read this book and called this my fireside story. She said it was a book that would make you want to curl up next to a fire place, with a cup of hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around you and feel what this woman is going through.

Give this book a try. You might shed a tear or two, but more than that it will cause you to sigh at the way she learns to love through tragedy. I don't want to give the ending away by no means, but I do want to give you a rainbow in this touching story. When all is said and done, the child inside her becomes the child of delight.

You can order child of sorrow for $12.00 plus $5.00 shipping charges.

I sincerely hope you enjoy this book and that it will take your mind to places of the heart.

"Track Records of the Heart"

If there is one kind of man out there, that will cause most
women's heart to skip a beat and take a second look, it's a
cowboy. Add a dimpled smile, and it's a recipe for a hunk.

Cowboys have always been a fascination to me. I mean the real
cowboy who is willing to get his hands dirty and work hard, but
at the end of the day will say howdy in the most gentlemanly way.

That's why I've written this book about a modern day cowboy.
He's a hard worker, enjoys working with beautiful and majestic horses,
yet can find other interest beside riding on a Florida range.

This romance is about one of the Page brothers in a family of three
handsome men. His name is Lee Page. He's the only cowboy of the three.
This cowboy may not want love to fill out his cowboy hat, but try as he
may to reject the very idea, LiSando Patrick just got to him.

"Simply put, he was stuck. The aggravating part of all this is that it all pointed
to one woman. His mind constantly ran to silky hair, short shapely legs,
eyes that rounded him up short of insantiy, held him, and corralled him
in places that long ago he swore he would never go again." [short excert taken
from the book]

LiSando's stubborn ways, her beautiful voice, and he couldn't forget
the strange electricity that ran through him everytime he touched her, all
gave way to a cowboy in love.

This book is a limited edition and the second in the "Page" brother series.
This particular book is available only while supplies last. Pay only $10.00
plus $5.00 shipping charges. Ask me, and I'll sign it. Order Here.

I write because I've created stories in my imagination and I just love
to write them down with the hopes of sharing my romantic heart with others.

"I'll Just Bet"

"I'll Just Bet is a humorous romance with a bit of mystery.
Although this book stands alone, this is the final in a saga
of three brothers.

The main Character is Major Page. He's got an attitude! Women are
off his mental list. After a divorce, he wants nothing to do with
the female gender, pretty or not. So, how did he get stuck with going
on a blind (literally) date? Three simple words got him in trouble
"I'll Just Bet". So, when would he ever learn to keep his mouth shut?
Apparently, he finds difficulty in doing this, because it keeps getting
him deeper involved with Gabriella Harbor. The woman spells Trouble with
a capital "T".

This book is set along the beautiful Florida coast line in the small town
of Port St. Joe. This town has special meaning to me as it is the place
that my husband and I honeymooned in.

I'm a romantic at heart. From this romantic heart, comes the perfect
inspiration to write my stories. You see, I've been married to the same
man for 25 years now. It's been an interesting and wonderful marriage
and I look forward to many more years. Love is always present, but so
are the occasional disagreements for we are truely opposites.

Give this light hearted book a try. Laugh a little, giggle some, and
click your tongue at the mess that Gabriella gets herself into. If you
request me to do so, I will gladly sign this book for you. It's only
$14.00 plus $5.00 shipping cost. Order Here.

In Fond Memory

His music found sweet tunes within;
Fingers strummed chords, to our soul it did send.

Played with devotion and love, it gave us a door,
To precious memories of his songs to echo forever more.

In Fond Memory of
George D. Bagley
May 21, 1955 - November 12, 2009