Cherry Cabernet Brownies

Jun 24, 2014 by

Here I am wanting to start my recipe blog and never get around it, then one day I’m on facebook and I mention Cherry Cabernet Brownies and everyone wants the recipe, that if I had my blog going I could readily post. Instead, I have to post it here among my other mental meanderings. Alas, it’s still great to share. I’m without a photo of the brownies, so grapes will have to do. I call them Spicy because I add extra cinnamon to almost everything that calls for it. So, if you do the same, be sure to adjust the rest of the dry ingredients accordingly, so the brownies will be moist. Cherries, cinnamon, cabernet and chocolate. Is there really any need for anything else in life?? Here’s the recipe! Cherry Cabernet Brownies Servings:...

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Saturday & Mr. Kline

Jun 24, 2014 by

A co-worker, Mia, liked to tell me that our names were mirror images. A-me. Me-A. Okay. We both worked as drive-up tellers and had many regular customers. One, a sad woman whose little boy dangled himself out the car window while she tried to fill out a check. A veterinarian who tempted us with adoptable abandoned strays. The owner of the pipe and knife store in the mall whose deposit money smelled of cherry almond tobacco. And then Mr. Kline in his green Crown Victoria and bitter scowl. Even though he wasn’t a Merchant, the lanes where he had to manipulate canisters that got sucked up into the vacuum tube were too much trouble, he said, so he always came to the first lane with the automatic drawer meant for large merchant transactions. When...

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Tuesday and Mrs. Tibbles

Jun 24, 2014 by

Mrs. Tibbles, a character in my next novel, is inspired by a friend and student I had many years ago who had been a Martha Graham dancer. She had that willowy bend to her arms and legs. The lilt of her head that said grace. Her shoulders square and straight, but not soldiery. She worked on a memoir of her dancing days in the writing workshop I facilitated. Her stories were tales of working with Zero Mostel, Tennesee Williams, entertaining Russian delegates in her dinky New York apartment, serving dinner on a table made from her bathroom door laid over two bookcases. I picture her in a velvet and lace red dress while pouring ouzo or chilled vodka into tiny crystal glasses. That last part is in my head, details that arrange themselves based...

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