For all you Kitty Morgan lovers out there ...She's back!

Back in the latter half of the twentieth century …

“Lordy, Kitty, can’t you just snap out of it?” Tomika Ashby chastised for at least the ninth time that day. “There is nothing we can do about Shona not being here anymore and you and I are just …” She choked back a sob. “Are just going to have to learn to deal with it!”
Kitty stared straight ahead at the television in her room. She and Tomy sat on her bed amidst various half eaten and empty containers of junk food. She pressed the mute button of the remote to better hear Tomy, her own tears falling again. Without looking she grabbed a nearby box of tissues off her night stand and shoved them at her friend. Her only friend, now that Shona was gone.
Tomy took another tissue, as did she. They both blew their noses in unison, then threw the tissues onto the already growing pile on the floor in front of them.
Kitty finally turned to Tomy and asked, “More ice cream?”
“Are you kidding me, girl? We’ve done near eaten a whole gallon already! I’ve gained eight pounds hanging around you these last three weeks!” Tomy grabbed another tissue and blew her nose again. “Hand me that package of Oreos!”
Kitty complied but not before grabbing a handful for herself. “Shona said she would be back again in a week after she came and got some of her stuff, but she hasn’t shown up yet!”
“Well someone certainly showed up and took the rest of her things back to … well … when ever they are.”
“I wish we could go see her.” Kitty mumbled between bites of Oreo.
“Now how are we supposed to do that?”
Kitty stopped chewing and sniffed against renewed tears. “That’s just it. There’s nothing we can do!” She burst into sobs again. “And we can’t even talk about it with anybody except her parents!” Tomy threw the box of tissue at her and took another cookie.
Sinclair, Kitty’s cat approached his mistress and rubbed himself against her legs. She absently reached down and petted him. “At least I still have you, Sinclair.” She said then hefted him up onto her lap.
“That has got to be the biggest, fattest cat I have ever seen!” Tomy exclaimed.
“Sinclair is not fat. He’s just big boned.” Kitty retorted as she hugged the animal until he let out a grunt.
Tomy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure he is.”
Sinclair looked right at her. Tomy met his stare head on. “And what is up with the looks he gives? Lordy, you’d think he could understand every word we say!”
Kitty buried her face in Sinclair’s thick yellow fur and mumbled, “He’s a smart cat! Aren’t you Sinclair?”
Sinclair let out a howl in response, jumped from Kitty’s lap, and ran out the bedroom door.
“He’s smart enough to leave!” Tomy laughed.
“He loves me, probably more than any of my other cats. Don’t you be mean to him!”
“I’m not being mean. I just think he’s funny looking that’s all. Lordy, he’s as big as a dog and he’s fat and boney all at the same time. Face it Kitty, he’s about as different a cat as you can get!”
There was a natural pause after Tomy spoke and both girls let out a sigh as an oppressive silence suddenly filled the room.
Kitty fidgeted on the bed then took another cookie. “Something doesn’t feel right, Tomy.”
“What do you mean, something doesn’t feel right? Lordy girl, after eating all this junk food how can anything feel right!”
“That’s not what I mean. I think something is wrong where Shona and Dallan are.”
Tomy could only look at her. “Did you have another one of those weird dreams again about Shona dying? You know they give you the willies. Stop thinking something is wrong and start thinking positive. What is up with all the doom and gloom anyway? You should be happy for Shona!”
Kitty stared straight ahead again. “I know I should be. But I’m telling you, something just doesn’t feel right. Maybe I’m dreaming things because things are wrong with them.”
Tomy scooted over and put her arm around her friend. “Tell you what, tomorrow is Sunday. Why don’t we call Maggie and Evan and see if they want to go have dinner with us? Then you can ask them about things. Who knows, maybe they know what’s going on or have even seen Shona since we talked to them last.”
“But that was only a week ago we saw them.”
“I know, but a lot could happen in a week.”
Kitty certainly knew that. In one week her best friend Shona had met the man of her dreams, gotten married, and then been whisked away to a far off land in another time. “If only it would happen to me …” she whispered to herself, and then took another bite of cookie.




From Time Masters Book Two; The Prophecy

Meet Time Master Assistant, Melissa Meeks. Yes, behind many a good author, there sits, (or in many cases runs) a good assistant. Be it a research assistant, editing assistant, or in my case, "Melissa! Gads where are my glasses?!" Melissa: "You're wearing them." Me: "Oh crumbs." Melissa: "You said it." Some times one needs a good assistant to become a second brain. Many writers need that special person or persons to bounce ideas off of. We like sounding boards. Others prefer to quietly contemplate their ideas, write them in a scene then get an opinion. Myself, I'm a little of both. It much depends on the scene I'm writing. An author's assistant is also usually a voracious reader. A good thing. After all, any time spent with an author usually includes being surrounded by a lot of books. We writers also love to read and it's just darn fun to discuss what we've read with someone! Not to mention trade books with. With a knack for detail, Melissa will remember things about a book I might have forgotten, especially if I'm outlining or prepping a scene for one of my own books. It's very hard for some writers to read fiction while creating or writing it. Alas, I'm one of them. So it's nice to hear a little about a book I want to read, but can't quite as I have to finish my own book first! Kind of like getting to have your own movie preview system only with books! So thank you, Melissa for all you do! Including making sure I know where my glasses are at all times, your superb copy line editing, attention to detail, and good company while brainstorming over tea! Now, let's get to work!

A Little Bit About Shona Whittard ...

Evan walked them to the door and kissed them both good-bye. Shona felt oddly detached at his brief peck on the cheek and wondered why she was feeling that way around him lately. She didn’t feel that way around her Mother. In fact, she was feeling increasingly more comfortable around her, whereas her father ... it was as if he was becoming more distant, or distanced, from her. The relationship had not changed. What could be making her feel this way?
Maggie interrupted Shona’s thoughts as they pulled out of the driveway. “Julia will be by this evening. She said she has something to tell us.”
“Did she say what it was?” Shona asked as they drove down from the west hills of the city into downtown.
“No, but I have a strong feeling it has something to do with that European university she’s been in contact with lately.”
“The one in France?”
Maggie threw a smile at her. “That’s the one. Excited?”
Shona stared out her window and watched the expensive old homes pass by. “I do not really know,” she replied quietly.
“Well, no use jumping to any conclusions until we hear what Julia has found out about them. Let’s not worry about it now.” Maggie looked at Shona. “Are you sure you feel all right?”
“I am sure.” Shona’s voice was weak as she fought for some semblance of control, the waves of emptiness hitting her harder by the minute. They had come so fast she could think of nothing to defend herself with. She didn’t want to break down in front of her mother, and certainly didn’t want her mother finding out what was wrong. If that happened, any hope of getting out of her parent’s house and claiming her own freedom would be gone. She concentrated on Julia and the news she held. If Shona could get accepted to this new university, her dream of going abroad, not to mention just getting out of the house, could at last be realized.
Shona Elsey Whittard loved her parents, loved her home, her few friends and her music. She had a lot; everything she could possibly ask for, some would say. Except for the freedom to run her own life and make her own decisions. She had so many people telling her how envious they were of her singing talent. But if all her competitors and fellow musicians only knew that Julia and her mother ran the show, made the recital and concert schedules, handled everything from the time she got up until the time she went to bed, they might not be so envious. Or would they? She supposed she didn't know or care anymore.
What Shona did know was that she was tired of her life. Other girls her age, including Kitty, were all in their second year of college while she was still under her mother's and Julia's educational thumbs. Other girls went to parties. Shona was stuck at home watching Masterpiece Theater or studying some sort of cultural etiquette that Julia insisted she learn. Other girls dated. Shona, not really interested in the opposite sex at the moment anyway, was still jealous of the freedom of choice normal girls had. More than once Kitty had made the comment, "Geez Shona, are your parents planning on sending you to a convent or what?"
Or what indeed, she mused feeling as if she was to be sent somewhere. She could speak four languages for crying out loud and was working on a fifth. She spoke proper English. Something others teased her about. And she was well tutored by Julia as to what was acceptable for a young lady to do or say in not only the twentieth century, but the fifteenth through nineteenth centuries as well. On the other hand, she could also fence and land a man smack on his back in the wink of an eye. "Martial arts and fencing are excellent workouts." Julia would exclaim along with, "A girl can't be too careful now a days! It's best to know how to defend one's self."
Careful? If she counted, Shona could come up with at least a dozen ways she'd been taught how to kill a man and hardly leave a mark! A lot of good all that training had done her though …
Shona shuddered and pushed the incident she was about to think of aside as her mother pulled up in front of their first stop. She looked longingly at all the normal people inside her mother's favorite little cafe eating and chatting away. She continued to watch them as she got out of the car, choked back the cold emptiness she'd learn to battle over the last few months, and told herself she'd just have to accept the facts. It was, after all, the logical thing to do.
There were no if ands or buts. She wasn't some astounding musical sensation to be envied. She was a freak.

The Time Master Chronicles

To the Readers and Students of these Chronicles,
Salutations,

Time Masters Book One; The Call was written quite some time ago during the latter half of your race’s twentieth century and shortly after the events themselves took place. At least from the perspective of those involved within said events. To the Muirarans (Pronounced Muir –are-ans.) events leading up to those recorded go back further still, occurring within the previous centuries and then tied to the current year of 3698.
The Time Master Chronicles on the other hand, have taken the recorded events and added the missing pieces so to speak. The Muirarans feel this to be only fair, as Time Masters Book One; The Call was recorded mainly by the Humans involved, one Human in particular, who lumped the events into one huge book and whose accuracy in recording what happened was somewhat skewed. At least according to the Muirarans who feel the Human scribe wished to tone down some of the events to make the documents more appealing to a general audience, namely Human children who, over recent years, have been taught about the Muirarans through the use of these records. Let it be noted that what was recorded did add significantly to the histories of both the Human and Muiraran races, but the latter feel they need further clarification. Further study of these chronicled events have educated many, and managed to relieve some of the tensions growing between the two races of late. Especially those of the lower working classes of your species, who question the very existence of the Muirarans. Before going further it would behoove you, the Human reader studying these events, to be told some history dated prior to the chronicled events themselves. Or in essence, your future.

For those making a study of these chronicled events and who are from time periods prior to what has been called, ‘The World’s End’ which took place in 2313, the Muirarans apologize. Their intent by making these chronicles available to you via utilizing what technologies you have within the centuries prior to 2313 is to educate, not cripple the reader by fear of your world’s impending doom. It is what it is and it serves what it serves. All you can do in the mean time is live your lives as best you can and pray your descendants do not make the same mistakes to the degree you yourselves will. Lucky for you, the Muirarans and their Time Masters have been most generous in helping your race out in that area. But you will learn more of that later. What you need to know now before delving into the recorded events is the following:

After World’s End, Man barely scraped by for centuries until finally, two hundred years before the rebellion of 3349, (which resulted in heavy casualties for the human race, civil war always was a nasty business) he finally started to show promise. Man began to rebuild his civilization and technology that was lost to him when the old world died. Let it be interjected here that you will not find out how your world nearly, as your kind from your twentieth and twenty first centuries phrase it … “bit the big one.” That information is held within the latter chronicles. It is best to start at the beginning in order to understand fully the impact of actions taken by not only your race as pertains to war, but the Muirarans as well.
After the rebellion and subsequent civil war of 3349 Man had to start over yet again, and the Earth once more began the slow process of healing. This time however, new, never before seen things began to grow and species of animal discovered. Some in the form of edible plants and fauna, others in the form of strange mammals, and lastly beings on a much higher intellectual plane began to make their presence known. None of your kind has ever been able to determine where the Muirarans livestock, agriculture, and they themselves came from. For that matter, those at your famous Anontist Center, that ‘Den of Death’ as the Muirarans call it, tried everything to find the answers to a sudden rash of questions. Where did the Elvin like race originate? How did they come to possess such great knowledge and power? Are their origins extraterrestrial? Could they be the Fairie of old? Whatever the Muirarans place of origin, most of you didn’t care. It didn’t matter. (Except to those at the Anontist Center whose sole purpose was to do whatever it took to find out whom and what the highly reclusive Muirarans were. They’ve never done a very good job.) What did matter at the time was they were able to help your kind rebuild some of what was lost.
Though not as technological as man used to be before nearly annihilating himself, the Muirarans were still able to advance man at a much faster pace than if left to his own devices. The Muirarans lived simply and used their own methods to heal their sick or fight any battles that needed to be fought in order to defend themselves from harm. Man, seeing this simplicity, longed for a chance to make it right again for themselves. Let it be known to you, the reader, that your kind decided to forgo rebuilding the world on a technological basis and instead adopted new laws and new ways of doing things. Certain advancements that could be recovered and revitalized were. Mostly in the areas of medicine and some forms of communication. Ideas and philosophies deemed useful were also revived. This put the two races on a more even playing field, as far as your race was concerned. But over time Man noticed the reclusive Muirarans possessed a few things Man did not. Abilities Man could only dream of. Abilities and attributes bred into certain strains of the Muiraran race. Certain Muiraran family’s bloodlines contained more powerful abilities, much more rare abilities, that others did not and these you will soon learn about as you read these chronicles. Man, however, had no such power.
A little more than sixty years ago (3635 to be exact) Man sought to create his own “special abilities” without the use of technology, returning to and resurrecting practices found thousands of years in man’s prior history. Witchcraft, vampirism, reanimation and sorcery to name a few. This went on for at least a decade but he to no avail as the dark arts practiced by man often tended to go sour on him. For a time the Anontist Center was thought to have become the hub of such practices despite all the failed attempts man made. This caused a bit of a rift with Man’s relationship with the Muirarans who told Man in no uncertain terms he’d best “get his act together” as you say. What Man was doing just wasn’t in the Divine order of things as far as they were concerned. And of course, when people began disappearing and Man had to enlist the Muirarans help to find them, (unfortunately all were dead, obvious victims of these detestable practices) this caused even more tension. Needless to say after that, anyone caught dabbling in said practices were severely punished. So even though many tried and failed at these dark arts, they soon gave up on the notion completely once the new laws were enforced.
All but a few.
It is believed that this “few” are behind Man’s current dilemma but no one is really sure. All anyone is sure of is civil war is once again brewing, near boiling in fact. People are once again disappearing, and man is scrambling to try to find a solution to the problem. Some blame the Muirarans, those that actually believe they really do exist. While others lay blame on the Anontist Center, which ironically was created for the sole purpose of proving the Muirarans do exist. While even more blame what ever village or province is right next door to them, this group simply out looking for a good fight, not caring who started what, they just want something to pulverize first and ask questions later. Boredom and bad living conditions will do that to a human.
And for those actually in charge of coming up with a plan of action and putting a stop to the death toll, they weren’t above asking the Muirarans for help. Again. After all, wouldn’t it be easier to use a Time Master to fix the problem before it even really got started? But unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. No one really had much of a clue of what was going on. This could take time, and time wasn’t something they had if they wanted to put a stop to it all fast. The rebellion of 3349 escalated so rapidly that before anyone knew it Man had practically once again obliterated the planet. No one wanted to go through that again. But any trails and clues as to who was behind things fifty to sixty years ago had gone cold. No one had an answer, a clue, even a starting point. Man faced an unseen enemy that was meticulously picking him off sector by sector, village by village. Man was killing man and no one knew why. And the Muirarans were none too happy about it. A nasty business no matter how one looked at it. And this, dear reader, is where you will begin …

EGADS! There's a bear in the woods. No really, there IS! He's a bit late this year. He usually passes through during the month of August, at times lingering for a bit some years all the way until the end of September. But this year he's LATE! Not sure why, as I'm not prone to keep an eye on a bear's yearly planner, but the least he could do was phone first! The nerve of some wildlife ...

The local raccoons also seem to be a bit off schedule and have decided to embark on their nightly excursions onto my back porch several months early. They usually show up in the dead of winter looking for something, ANYTHING edible. They hit the jackpot last night and supped on my cat's dinner. The audacity! My cat thought it was rather rude of them as well. I chased them off the back porch with a fire place poker. Not the best tool to use. A water laden mop usually works best ...

Ahhh the country life. I'm home today from my day job. Got my schedule changed so now I have more time to write. It's NaNoWriMo month! And though I'm not officially contributing to the word count, I am taking the month of November to write a book. No, not a Time Master book ... That takes a bit more than a single month. No, I'm crossing over to the other side for a bit while looking for a new home for TM, and in the interum, I'm writing something for Harlequin.

Now stop that gasping! It's not all THAT bad! So it's not exactly science fiction or fantasy. It's still fun and it's still exciting! No I'm not going to be writing for a suspense line as some of you have already asked. I'm writing a book for Harlequin Romance. A line that meets my needs as a writer. Those of you who have read Time Masters know how I love emotional roller coasters! And of course, Happily Ever Afters. And I like a challenge. And fitting a bit of suspense (I can't help it you know) lots of emotional tension and a satisfying ending all into a tight little fifty thousand word package is a challenge! Let's face it, Time Masters was 219K words! I'm long winded! So I thought a wee challenge would be just the ticket. Besides, those girls are having fun!!!!! And so I decided to join the party.

Well I must be off to go do another chapter. See you all at the end of the month!

OK so who'd a thought my posting what I was making for my dinner tonight on face book would cause such a stir! But here it is! Cranberry Pot Roast!

3lb. beef chuck roast
2 Tbls. olive oil
2 Tbls. flour
2 cups fresh cranberries, but sometimes I just use a can if I can't find any fresh.
1 cup water
salt and pepper
1 orange

Coat the roast with flour, salt and pepper and sear in the olive oil until brown on all sides. Cook the berries if you have fresh in the one cup of boiling water just until skins pop. Add the berries and cooking water to the meat along with the orange (cut it into about eight pieces). Simmer on low in a covered dutch oven, about three hours adding water as needed.

I sometimes cut the meat up into large pieces and add a little wine. All depends. You can play with it. Nice recipe and not really very fattening at all. I added Brussel Sprouts to it the last hour. YUM! I do love good old fashioned cooking! Thus my penchant for collecting really old cookbooks I guess!

Enjoy all!

Geralyn

The Value of Etiquette vs. Sneering at Etiquette

By Mrs. Elsey Whittard

It is the practice with certain people to sneer at the word "etiquette," and to claim that it merely means a foolish pandering to frivolous customs which in themselves have no meaning or use. This is a misapprehension which a little thoughtful consideration will remove.
Certain rules for the government of social, business and political life have been current for generations, and have been handed down with almost unvarying exactitude, in all civilized lands. Such customs or laws, are grounded in good taste, a sense of the fitness of things, kindly feelings, and a natural desire to smooth away the asperities and roughness which would prevail among so many persons of varying tastes and ideas, without a certain set of rules to help to this end.

A Polite Person Admired.

Who is not attracted toward a polite, well-bred person? Who does not carry with them, perhaps through life, the remembrance of some real gentleman or lady with whom they came in contact, at perhaps, an early period of their life? The pleasant memory such a person has left, and the agreeable impression, may unconsciously have had some influence upon their own life, and served as a model for their own behavior when launched into the society which they wish to adorn.
To understand and cultivate the tenets laid down by good society, is not to assume airs, or does not prevent the recognition of the "rough diamond" that sometimes shines out from among those whose early advantages have not been many. Rather it adds a higher polish to that gem, and gives it a higher luster. Who are the gems in your life? Think about it ...

Certain Rules.

Rules of etiquette have their allotted place among the forces of life, and must be acknowledged as moral agents in refining and making more agreeable our daily intercourse with each other. They are agents for good. They teach us to be more lenient with the various elements which compose society. Life is a sort of a partnership in which each human being has an interest; and the laws of etiquette, well enforced, oblige us to make concessions to the many tastes, prejudices and habits of those we meet in the social circle , at public entertainments, in business relations, or when traveling. If the value of good breeding is in danger of being depreciated, it is only necessary to compare the impression which a gentle, pleasant demeanor leaves upon you, with the gruff abrupt or indifferent carriage of those who affect to despise good manners. If two applicants for a position are equally capable, it is safe to assert that in every case, the agreeable and courteous seeker will obtain it in preference to the other, who is his equal in all respects, save that he is deficient in that suave dignity that charms all.
We are all susceptible to the charm of good manners. Indeed, society could not be maintained save for the usages of etiquette. But true etiquette must spring from a sincere desire to make everyone around us feel at ease; a determination to exercise a thoughtful regard for the feelings of others. It is this patient forbearance with the eccentricities of all, which stamps the true lady or gentleman. It is a duty which each one owes to himself, to acquire certain rules for guidance, which shall make him a welcome guest in any circle.

What Etiquette Is.

Etiquette is not a servile yielding up of one's individuality, or cold formality. It is rather the beautiful frame which is placed around a valuable picture to prevent its being marred or defaced. Etiquette throws a protection around the well-bred, keeping the coarse and disagreeable at a distance, and punishing those who violate her dictates, with banishment from the social circle.

I will discuss manners in my next writing. Until then, study and learn my students, study and learn.

Mrs. Elsey Whittard, December 14, 1891