Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the category “Family”

Today is Waffle Day!


Waffles are wonderful

I follow the National Day Calendar and while I don’t relate to all the celebrated days (National Leathercraft Day did not do a thing for me, not even a summer camp memory of failed wristbands and key fobs), there are some like August 24th being National Waffle Day.

There are two breakfast camps: pancakes vs waffles. I could extol the wonders of waffles, how their warm and crunchy square golden perfection makes any dull morning sparkle, but then I might offend those who are satisfied with the blobs of dough identified as pancakes resting on their plates getting soggier by the nanosecond.

Clearly, waffles are winners in the breakfast arena of menu offerings.

My earliest memories of becoming a waffle connoisseur start when I am still in the finicky years of childhood, say sixish. My babysitter, a gem of an older woman known as Nettie, had such amazing patience. She had a waffle maker that was oblong, not the usual round variety, and it would produce four square delights of crispy dents that I would slather with butter and maple syrup. They had to be crispy, browned, not dark. Oh, I was demanding then.

Growing up I remember waffles more than pancakes, although there was a crepe phase for awhile. It takes many a crepe to make a decent filled effect. Pretty, yet not terribly satisfying. Waffles provide a square meal. Indeed they do.

Marriage and subsequent family days included a waffle maker. I can make a decent, even an exemplary pancake, but waffles are still the choice. When my sons had sleepovers their friends clamored for “Pamcakes” in the morning.

These days, in our empty nest era, waffles and pancakes are rare treats for we acknowledge the calories attached. By now, after 40 years of marriage, it would be ideal if my husband would acquire a taste for waffles, but he remains a pancake man through and through.

They do say opposites attract.

But we both agree that a waffle cone is the cone of choice for ice cream. Compromise will see us through to another 40 years.

Word Nerd: November


Photo by Askar Abayev on Pexels.com

Thanksgiving comes around in November and getting together with friends and family can be emotional for some. Needing a few choice words to express feelings might be handy.

verklempt: overly emotional and unable to speak.

velleity: a mere wish, unaccompanied by an effort to obtain it.

stultify: to render absurdly or wholly futile or ineffectual, especially by degrading or frustrating means

thrawn: contrary; peevish; stubborn

longanimity: patient endurance of hardship, injuries, or offense; forbearance

foofaraw: a great fuss or disturbance about something very insignificant

megillah: a lengthy, detailed explanation or account

brabble: to argue stubbornly about trifles; wrangle

fustigate: to criticize harshly; castigate

gasconade: extravagant boasting; boastful talk

nescience: lack of knowledge; ignorance

frumious: very angry

snollygoster: a clever, unscrupulous person

beamish: bright, cheerful, and optimistic

Let’s hope if someone should start a megillah at the table no one will fustigate or brabble should it lead to gasconade. Instead, the gathering be one that is beamish.

UPDATE: Read about a picture book that features delightful words here: https://kathytemean.wordpress.com/2021/11/14/book-giveaway-hornswoggled-a-wacky-words-whodunit-by-josh-crute/

Christmas Green


Mom called: “Come over and get your Christmas present. It’s green,” adding a bemused half laugh to her statement.

I laughed as well. She always gives us a check so we can buy want we want.

Apparently this year green took on a new meaning. It was quite literal.

A Christmas Tree-t

Mom decided the little palm tree plant that had fit so perfectly in the corner of her living room had outgrown its decorative touch.

What does one do with a largish palm tree plant that is unexpectedly gifted? Decorate it for Christmas, of course.

If we still have it by Easter we will be ready for Palm Sunday.

Debut Redeux


With libraries and bookstores barely on the open side, you may not have had the opportunity to properly meet my debut picture book, Someday We Will.

written by Pam Webb
illustrated by Wendy Leach

The book’s focus is building the anticipation of grandparents and grandchildren sharing activities when they visit together.

Swimming is a favorite activity

The idea for the book developed from my own anticipation list, for all the “someday” activities I would one day share with my own granddaughter.

There are so many fun activities to share together!
Reading books together builds lovely memories

Reading books together is a favorite activity. Going to the library and selecting titles, suggesting favorite authors, or discovering new reads creates shared moments of lasting value.

Waiting, waiting for that special day to be together again

Being separated from loved ones is difficult, yet keeping that hope of being together again someday is important. That hope and anticipation of one day sharing good times together again is like keeping a bit of sunshine in our hearts on cloudy days.

Memories are sunshine for cloudy days

Although the book’s target audience is for grandparents and grandchildren, holding on to that “Someday” applies to anyone who anticipates being together with a loved one.

Thanks for stopping by!

If you are looking for a book that expresses how you look forward to being with someone, especially if you are a grandparent, I hope you will look up Someday We Will.

BOOK DETAILS
TITLE: Someday We Will
AUTHOR:
Pam Webb
ILLUSTRATOR:
Wendy Leach
PUBLISHER:
Beaming Books, 2020
TOPICS: family, visits, multi-generational, anticipation
AGES:
K-3
FICTION: Hardcover

Goodreads
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Beaming Books
Video Link

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Birthday Songs


Happy, Happy Birthday to Me!

June 14th. It’s Flag Day and it’s my birthday. It’s embarrassing to admit, but clear up to the age of twelve, I believed my mother that the neighborhood, in recognition of my birthday, hung their flags out. You would think I would have become a bit suspicious of her story’s validity since there were flags out all over the town. Maybe I simply believed that strongly in my mother’s influence.

Flag Day first, then my birthday

Birthdays have always been a big deal for me. Growing up with flags unfurled can do that, I suppose. However, as the candles marked the increase of years, my enthusiasm has decreased for acknowledging my yearly passage. Unless it’s a big deal year—as in significant. Fifty was a big deal year. Not because 50 is a big deal—rather it was because my first grandchild was born the next day. That’s right, the next day. We missed sharing the same birthday by that much. This year, 2020, is not a big deal year. Two years from now, yes. Not this year. In fact, with the pandemic on, and the family separated, and in isolation, I’m not expecting much. I will hang my flag out though.

As for birthday songs, that’s another reflection of note. I’ve never understood the traditional birthday song. It’s morose sounding and usually sung off key. Trevor Noah provides an enlightening dissertation on the birthday song. He grew up with a much better version.

Years ago, my mom and step-dad began calling up and leaving a rendition of the birthday song on the answering machine. I had never heard that version before, and even though two retired permanent-status snowbirds sang it pitch unaware, it became a highlight of my birthday. Sadly, my step-dad passed away last May. No more songs, and Mom is too sad to sing solo. Yet, I discovered the song in a movie—a Disney movie called The Emperor’s New Groove. I don’t think the folks watched that movie, maybe if Barbra Streisand had been one of the voices, she would have, so I am wondering where they got their birthday song. I will have to ask her. In the meantime I will go find my flag.

Do you have a Flag Day birthday? Then happy birthday. May you have a happy birthday song sung to you!

Mail can be a happy place…


Amidst the current state of concerns arrived a day brightener:

Yes, a bit of celebration receiving a box of my debut picture book!

A happy moment holding my first published book

The premise of Someday We Will seems even more appropriate now. The anticipation of being together once again due to distance takes on different meaning.

In these times of uncertainty my prayer is that you and your family stay well and stay strong. Take care and celebrate being together in ways that bring you happiness.

A Wee Christmas Story


I’m taking up Susanna Leonard Hill‘s challenge of writing a children’s holiday story. It must be about a holiday treat and it must not exceed 250 (that is a challenge). From what I understand the prizes are an array of writer delights–critiques, writing courses, book bundles, references and resource books. How could I not be tempted!

This story is based on an actual recipe handed down to me from my German grandmother, my Oma. We always called it her Christmas cookie recipe, but I have since learned it is a type of shortbread. I might be convinced to post the recipe (if I can find where it’s been tucked away in my recipe books). I’ll be anticipating whether my story made the finalist list…

OMA’S SECRET INGREDIENT
 by
Pam Webb

(207 words)

“What makes your Christmas cookies taste so good, Oma? Do you use a secret ingredient?” 

Oma laughed. “I use nothing but what you see here in my kitchen,” Then, as if a thought had tickled her, she smiled just ever so. “Actually, Engelin, I do use a secret ingredient. You guess what it is.”  

Greta looked at all the different spices and canisters in Oma’s kitchen, wondering which ingredient it could be that made the cookies so delicious. 

The next day, after Christmas Eve dinner, Greta brought out the dessert tray. Glancing at Oma, Greta saw the happiness reflected on her grandmother’s face as she watched everyone enjoy the baked treats. Realizing then what the secret ingredient was, Greta selected a heart cookie from the dessert plate. She quietly made her way over to Oma, presenting it to her. “I know what the secret ingredient is,” she whispered.

 Oma whispered back, “Is this so?”

“Mmhmm,” Greta nodded. “It doesn’t come from any of your spice jars. And I know you put it in all you do, not just cookies,” she added, giving her grandmother a measured hug of love.

“Yes, my little angel, love makes everything taste that much better.”

Shortbread Cookies, the ultimate melt in your mouth cookie.Traditional or brown sugar. Your new Christmas Shortbread recipe.
These cookies disappear fast!

Do you have a special Christmas recipe handed down from a special relative?

An Invitation


The journey began with a thought tickle, “If visiting with my granddaughter is this much fun when she’s a baby, what will our future someday visits be like?”

That tickle grew into a smile of ideas: “Someday we will—“

Which eventually became a story-

Which eventually became polished enough to catch the eye of a publisher-

Who believed enough to coach the manuscript into a book that is laugh out loud delightful, at least those who have read the story seem to think.

Someday will be here in April 2020!

And in four months my debut picture book , Someday We Will: A Book for Grandparents and Grandchildren will arrive.

Laughter is contagious and I am inviting you to share in the joy of my first published book by being part of my launch team. For now, all that is required is to go to Amazon and place Someday on your wish list. No purchase obligation required. This simply indicates Someday is an anticipated book. And, yes, of course, you can certainly buy it when it goes on sale April 7th.

You can also tag Someday We Will “want to read” on Goodreads which boosts up anticipated reading status.

I am excited about this book as it fills in the overlooked niche of anticipating that visit grandparents and grandchildren look forward to so much.

Someday—Someday a book will be published with my name on the cover—and that someday is almost here!

Thanks for cheering me on this journey, and as copies become available I will have giveaways—stay tuned…

For now, I look forward to getting the word out and I appreciate your support.

POM: April 22


I have fond memories of my father and boats.

Work

by Sally Bliumis-Dunn

I could tell they were father and son,
the air between them, slack as though
they hardly noticed one another.

The father sanded the gunwales,
the boy coiled the lines.
And I admired them there, each to his task

in the quiet of the long familiar.
The sawdust coated the father’s arms
like dusk coats grass in a field.

The boy worked next on the oarlocks
polishing the brass until it gleamed
as though he could harness the sun.

Who cares what they were thinking,
lucky in their lives
that the spin of the genetic wheel

slowed twice to a stop
and landed each of them here.

Copyright © 2015 by Sally Bliumis-Dunn.

image: morguefile/seabreeze

POM: April 3


Confession: I was a closet poker as a child.

*Whew* I’m glad that one is out of the way. Yes, I see that nod. You, too? What is it that fascinates the child to stand before a parent’s closet and sift through their belongings? I enjoyed parading around in my mom’s high heels, arraying myself in her scarves, her jewelry, and balancing a purse in the crook of my arm. Hats were in style back in my childhood. Well, maybe in the childhood before my childhood. I’ve always admired the fashions of the forties. A well-dressed adult always wore a hat. I missed those days of unspoken dress code by a decade or two. Hats once had meaning. Now they hide bad hair days. Never mind. I do enjoy what Mark Irwin shares about his own closet discoveries.

My Father’s Hats

     Sunday mornings I would reach
high into his dark closet while standing
     on a chair and tiptoeing reach
higher, touching, sometimes fumbling
     the soft crowns and imagine
I was in a forest, wind hymning
     through pines, where the musky scent
of rain clinging to damp earth was
     his scent I loved, lingering on
bands, leather, and on the inner silk
     crowns where I would smell his
hair and almost think I was being
     held, or climbing a tree, touching
the yellow fruit, leaves whose scent
     was that of clove in the godsome
air, as now, thinking of his fabulous
     sleep, I stand on this canyon floor
and watch light slowly close
     on water I can't be sure is there.

—Mark Irwin

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