Recently in NaNoWriMo Category

He was dressed as a little chick. Did you really think I would vary from my theme?

Here is the crew just before they went out.

What would trick-or-treating be without a Scarlett O'Hara?

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Once again I am setting myself up for failure for the month of November.

Please, stay tuned.

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For those who were concerned. Chicken people are honorable and most are reputable. The eggs are no big deal. They will be replaced at no charge and I'll try again sometime this month. I am one of those crazy chicken people and I plan to some day have me a flock of blue, black and jubilee orpingtons. I will!

...Or Why do I Punish Myself With Ridiculous Goals During One of the Busiest Months of My Year I have been trying to decide if I would or would not share my feeble attempt at NaNoWriMo this year as last year ended way short of my goal of producing some sort of fictional offering equaling 50,000 or more words. I guess the decision has been made because I am posting a link to where the last 3 days of writing can be found. As I am a glutton for punishment the story I started and never finshed last year can be found here as well. All I can think is I need to crank out at least another 1666 words today to stay on goal.

With so much to read and with more and more being published every minute of the day, do you ever wonder about the books written in the distant past? Do you ever revisit the books that were once required reading in high schools (and college)? Do you constantly seek out the new and wait for the next volume a writer may be working on? As much as I want to be a great American writer I do not believe I have the talent to be so. And that is okay. It is something I accept. It has freed me to write for myself and not worry about what a reader would think -of my talent, my skills, my word choice and even of myself. Perhaps I will one day finish a novel and maybe it will be next month during NaNoWriMo. And maybe it won't. But the desire is there. Saturday Steve and I stopped in a used book store run by Friends of the Library. Many of the books were old from the 1930's and 40's. Some were more modern. Much of the fiction was the likes of V.C. Andrews and John Grisham, etc. There wasn't near as many paperback books as you would expect to find in a used book store. As I worked my way around the walls of the narrow little building I delighted myself with a few cookbooks from the 1930's. (50 cents!!) I choose a couple of first edition books from the turn of the century with such mundane (hahaha!) topics as Napolean and Queen Victoria which will be excellent gifts for Colby for Christmas. She will just scream with delight. Steve was much more methodical and studied sections of books like a scientist. He chose several books that dealt with the history of the world and such having been written by H.G. Wells and whatnot. Not really my cup of tea but the cookbooks weren't his so we were even. In a box on the floor I thumbed through old hardbacks of ladies fiction and was pleased to read the dust jackets. For some reason it just made me smile. I did choose one of these books and brought it home with me for $1. I like the title and lovely red binding. If it turned out to be boring and a struggle to get through I hadn't really lost anything because for the moment the books had given me at least a dollars worth of pleasure and delight in its discovery. Last night as I soaked in a hot bath I broke open the red book and instantly fell in love with the charming lead character and the voice and tone in which the author wrote. So pleased am I that I formulated a plan to hurry back down to the store today ASAP to see if the sister novel to the one I chose might be in that old box or somewhere on the dusty shelves. What did I find? I am so glad you asked! The Man Miss Susie Loved by Augusta Tucker. The sister novel Miss Susie Slagle was adapted to a screen play in the 40's and featured Lillian Gish. I was so charmed by the style of writing that I did a little research and found this on rootsweb:

Tucker, Augusta. Second Interview. Hazel B. Greene Journalist February 9, 1938 Interview with Augusta Tucker Fort Towson, Oklahoma I was born in 1867, at Indianapolis, Indiana. My father, Dr. O. N. Tucker, was born in South Carolina, but my mother, Sara Ann Apple Tucker, was born in Indiana. My father, Dr. O.N. Tucker, was selected by the Choctaw council as a white physician to administer to the sick, wounded, etc., of Doaksville and the surrounding community. There were plenty of Indian Medicine Men, but some of the most progressive citizens thought that a man who had graduated from a Medical College should be more competent to care for the sick, so they held a meeting and decided to "import" a white doctor. My father applied for the honor of being selected by the Council of the Choctaw Nation, and won the place, over the applications of several more, so he and his family of children some of us grown, moved over into the Choctaw Nation, Indian Territory, in January, I believe of 1884.Before coming to the Territory we had been living at Paris, Texas, to which state we had come from Indiana. I, being one of the grown children, and being qualified to teach school, began doing that all over the country. I taught up north of Doaksville, I taught at Doaksville, and I taught a school on Scott Hill, which is now called Terry Hill at the west edge of the present town of Hugo. I also taught out at the Long Creek School, in the Turnbull neighborhood: that was about 3 miles northwest of the present town of Hugo. Then of course, there was no Hugo and Goodland was the railroad station. In those days, "the teacher" was considered pretty smart, simply because she knew enough to teach school, and she automatically became a leader in all social and religious activities. She was suppose to lead the singing at the funerals; she was supposed to be always introducing new games at the parties of the neighborhood. She was called upon to write deeds and mortgages, and pioneer teachers in the Indian Territory frequently held Notary Public commissions. Being "the teacher" was, I suppose, one of the reasons that Thomas E. Sanguine selected me to make notes for him at a meeting that was held at Goodland, and I believe that meeting was one of the first meetings of the Dawes commission to be held in the Choctaw Nation. Few who were there that day are living today. The party got off of the train at Goodland and walked about an eighth of a mile to a grove of trees, where benches and a speakers stand had been placed for the comfort and convenience of the people who would speak and listen to the speakers. I am not sure of the date of that meeting, but of course, it is a mater of history. I simply am calling attention to the fact that I was one of the many in attendance that day, and am one of the few who are living today. I am past seventy now. Among those present whom I recall were: Bailey Spring, Thomas E. Sanguine, Green McCurtain, Willie W. Wilson, V. M. Locke Sr., Frank Ledbetter and I believe George Scott of Stigler was there. He is the son-in-law of Green McCurtain. The object of the speeches was to persuade the Choctaw Indians of the advisability of individual allotment of the Indian Lands. I made notes of all of the speeches that were made that day, but unfortunately I never kept them. I imagine that they are on record somewhere. I remember, especially one old "Snake" Indian, Ben. He had ridden his little pony all the way from away up in the sand hills in Cedar County, to be at that meeting and represent his community. But he was never convinced that individual allotments were the best thing for the Indians. Poor old fellow, he was so old then that he looked pitiful after his long ride. He lived to be nearly a hundred years old and dropped dead after a ride of about twenty miles on his little pony to attend a funeral of a granddaughter.

As I searched a little more I found this in the New York Times:

Paid Notice: Deaths TOWNSEND, AUGUSTA TUCKER Published: March 9, 1999 TOWNSEND-Augusta Tucker. 94. On March 5, 1999. Survived by many nieces and nephews. Funeral service on Thursday, March 11, 11 AM, at the Episcopal Cathedral of the Incarnation, Baltimore, MD. Graveside service Thursday, March 11, 2:30 PM, at St. Anne's Cemetery, Annapolis, MD. John M. Taylor Funeral Home Inc.

I can't help but wonder what she was like in person as charmed as I am by her words. I have decided to try and read more of those dusty old books at the used book store and not try to seek out the newer popular fiction. For some reason new fiction doesn't impress me these days. I find I am easily bored with the popular writers of our day. I find that a lot of the subject matter doesn't suit me. Heaven forbid I should get offended by some of the subject matters. Maybe I am tired of the attempts to be titillated with less than savory characters or stations in life. Whatever the reason I am now charmed with the past and will be seeking out more of these old books to be my companions through the long cold winter. I have also decided that I should try to find my voice in my writing style and will give much attention to an attempt at writing and being charming next month for the NaNoWriMo -unless real life gets in the way -which it does tend to do at the most inoportune time. Is anyone out there considering giving NaNo a try this year? I need a buddy to kick me in the rear encourage me when I start slipping this time. Raehan? Are you writing this time? Badger? You can add me as a Buddy through the profile section. Here's mine. Anyone? Please?!? ... Steve did some maintenance on his Deere saturday. It needed a good lubing and an oil change. Steven helped. Content to just sit with his Daddy and play.
Inspecting dirt -one grain of sand at a time.
Dirty Fingers = Hard Days Work.

With NaNoWriMo in full swing I am guilty of neglecting all of you. I really feel bad about it. It is taking me 3 - 4 days to get around to read each journal that I was reading daily. I have set a pace to meet the daily quota of words but it is a pace that really eats alot of time. Nothing I write has been proofread nor edited. As if it isn't hard enough to meet the word count it is even harder to get the words out of my head and to end of my finger tips. I think I know where I want a story to go but I hit a brick wall nothing wants to flow and seriously this may sound VERY deranged but these characters I created have other plans and they lead me in a direction completely opposite of where I think we are going. How is that for the insanity of nation novel writing month? You want to know something even more insane? I thought you would. Yesterday, when I ruined my heroines life and her Thanksgiving celebration I felt guilty! You read that correctly. I was in a funk for destroying that poor woman's happiness. Now I have to get her out of there and I am not sure how to do it. Do you see how out of control writing a novel has gotten? Do you completely understand why I am not getting to your journals daily? Will you forgive me? Can you forgive me? I am also pretrified every time I post a piece of the story. I am not trying to force anyone to read it. It is very easy to add to the word count meter and then not prove you actually wrote one word. If I write it and post it I am lending credit to the fact I am busting my ass to do this thing that really doesn't mean squat and eats all my time and most likely will never come to anything but a little graphic that says I participated in nation novel writing month. So why I am doing this again? BTW, Vicki, where the hell are you? Raehan, I love your characters and all that you have written so far. I can't wait until you post another section. I'll be waiting with anticipation. You will be glad to know I am not neglecting Steven and kids too badly. I am feeding them daily. Except yesterday we had hotdogs and I forgot the cabbage for the slaw and there wasn't any Bush's baked beans so we had potato chips and mac and cheese. I owe them food big time. We had take out two times last week. Chinese and pizza back to back in the same week. Oh, how the mighty have fallen! I did make spaghetti, chicken pie and beef stew on the other nights. This a complete tanget here - I woke up the other morning feeling as if I were starving. I opened the frig a hundred times looking for something to eat. Not one thing in there appealed to me. I was craving something that wasn't available instantly. At 10am I was eating a big bowl of chilli that just spent the past 20 minutes thawing in the microwave. Talk about a cast iron stomach! But it was delicious and as I am typing this I suddenly have a hunger for more of that chilli. A chilli popsycle at 6am is very gross, even to me. Maybe around 10 I'll get to it. I promise when this is over I will update my reading list too. I just don't have time to write all the html code snippets right now. But I will very soon. I promise. I have to take the kitten to the vet today for his followup vaccinations. The vet will also evaluate him for his turn under the knife for the kitty vasectomy. Mr. Darcy, formerly the 'we thought it was female cat' known as Tink, has really begun to thrive. He has more than doubled his weight and is a fiesty thing! He also has claimed Steven as his own and will come ONLY when Steven calls him. Steven is also a VERY BAD INFLUENCE because he let the cat on the sofa to sleep while he watched TV and the cat thinks it now has rights in that one spot! Steven tries to act like he doesn't like the cat when the kids are around. When everyone is gone off to bed he brings the kitten in, holds it and cuddles it and plays with it and laughs at it. But don't tell him I told you. He would deny it completely. Now that you have all witnessed my mental state and the complete disjointment of my thoughts I will go try to add to my word count and help my poor heroine out of this aweful situation I thrust her in. NaNoWriMo Word Count: 16971 Moving it with Mistress Mary: A walk around the yard between rain sprinkles.

Abbey worked in the store in the early morning instead of the afternoon the following day. She needed to be at home in the afternoon to begin some of the longer preparations for their Thanksgiving dinner the following day. Tom was to go hunting later as well with George so it was really necessary to have Carl behind the counter. They did not expect a busy afternoon as most people had everything they intended for the next day but they kept the store open just in case. Tom had posted a big sign out front announcing the store would close early for the day and remain closed on Thanksgiving day. After the train had made its daily stop Carl was free to close up and head out to his own family and celebration. In her kitchen that afternoon Abbey had the stove roaring. Pots bubbled on top, the pumpkins were roasting in the cavernous belly of the stove. When those came out she had a ham shank that needed to go in. The room became over heated, the windows steamed and her cheeks were flushed. She swung open the door to the back parlor and the heat pour into the room. Still the kitchen was hot with the oven pumping out a steady fire of heat. She closed the doors to the front rooms and their bedroom and swung open the big front door, latching the screen shut. She opened the back door in an effort to get the November winds to pull through the house and move the heated air. As the weather itself was warm it didn’t cool the kitchen as much as she wished but it did make it tolerable to work in the room. When the pumpkins had nearly reached perfection, Abbey took out the ham and unwrapped the butcher paper. It was a fresh cured ham that she would glaze in brown sugar and black pepper. Placing in the large roasting pan she scored the top in a cross hatch pattern then rubbing seasonings into the meat. Using whole cloves she pinned pineapple rings to the top. In the center of each she skewered a bright red cherry on a pick and pushed it into the ham. She stood back and took in her handiwork and smiled one of her biggest ever. For as long as she could remember she had wanted to make one of these big decorated hams for a Sunday dinner or for the holidays. She had never before been able to afford the large portion of meat and instead she had always cooked a very small chicken for her and her father during the holidays. Things were so different she could hardly believe this was her life. The pumpkin halves came out of the oven and the ham went in. Boiled eggs were set to cool in a pan of cold water. She rolled out pie crusts and mashed the pumpkin to be made into pie filling. She mixed batter for cornbread and rolled out biscuits for her dressing. She chopped vegetables and herbs. Pots and crocks and jars began to neatly fill the work spaces. The smells coming from the kitchen poured out side and through the house. She nibbled and dipped and tasted. She double checked her grandmother’s recipes and then triple checked them. She was struggling so desperately for perfection. She was pulling cranberries from the heat have waited patiently for them to start to pop in their skins when she heard Tom voicing calling from outside. “Helloooo, the house,� his voice boomed loud. Abbey went out, whipping her hands on the apron covering her skirt. She was met with the sit of Tom holding up a monstrous gobbler. “Tom! Oh my goodness,� she started laughing, “that turkey must weigh twenty five pounds!� “Having carried it 3 miles I am guessing it weighs closer to forty,� he grinned like a school boy raising the bird high for her inspection. She marveled and remarked and stroked ego making him grin bigger and puffy out his chest on the harvest bounty he was bringing home. She took his rifle and pack into the house while he went out behind the barn to dress the bird. After checking everything would fine left in the kitchen without a watchful eye she took a large butchers knife and a clean towel out to bring back the bird. Once cleaned and dressed Tom pumped gallons of fresh water to clean the bird inside and out. Pin feathers were picked until the skin was smooth. Tom cleaned the giblet pieces and placed them in a dish to be carried in for more of Abbey’s cooking preparations. The bird was buttered, seasoned and wrapped in clean muslin and set in the cool of the cellar to marinate the flavors over night. Early the next morning everything kicked into high gear as if it wasn’t already at an accelerated pace. The turkey went into the oven. The dressing was put together and stood in a roasting pan waiting its turn in the oven. Pies where placed onto lovely stands and covered with crisp white linen and set on the sideboard in the dining room. Small glass dishes appeared and were filled with cranberry relish, nuts, pickles, olives, pearl onions and a variety of condiments. The ham was the centerpiece of a huge serving tray that had been lined with lacey edge greens. The platter would grace one end of the dinner table and the opposite end was reserved for the turkey that Tom would carve. She was so happy to be receiving guests and proud of the beauty of the home she was able to open to their friends. While there was a moment in which the preparations stalled only because everything was in a stage of cooking she at the table with a small stack of cards. She created place cards with the name of each guest and put them in the little silver holders she found in the drawer of the silver chest. She then set about creating a menu card for the table, decorating the edges with little turkey, pumpkin and corn drawings that she carefully colored in. Thanksgiving Dinner Menu Entrees Roast Turkey with cornbread dressing and cranberry relish Baked Ham with pineapple and cherry garnish served with brown sugar and cracked black pepper glaze Vegetables Sweet Potato Pone with a pecan crust Creamed Corn baked as a southern pudding Braised Collards with white onion and pickled pepper vinegar sauce Green Beans steamed in lemon and butter Copper Pennies marinated and chilled Salads Potato Salad Deviled Eggs with olive and paprika garnish Bread Yeast Rolls served with honey whipped butter Condiment and Garnish Roasted Pecans, Miniature Pickles, Pearl Onions Pickled Okra Pods, Olives Beverages Chilled Sweetened Tea Red Wine Dessert Pumpkin Pie with fresh whipped cream and nutmeg topping Coconut Cake with raspberry glaze conserve Freshly Brewed Coffee with Amaretto Liquor The menu card was placed on a small plate stand and sat on the sideboard in clear sight of the guests. She made a quick trip out side to gathered greenery of magnolia leaves, spruce, boxwood and fall leaves in rich colors. She put together a centerpiece for the table using those things as well as vegetables and fruits from the cellar with a few stems of dried wheat and grasses. Candles where placed on the table. Tom had seen to it a fire was laid in the dining room in hope the steady fall of the temperature would continue throughout the day. By the time the kitchen had been cleaned for what seemed like the hundredth time over the past two days she was pleasantly tired but ready to dress for their guests. With hot water from the stove reservoir she covered the window and took time out to bathe, dressed her hair and slipped on her best pencil thin skirt and lace blouse with pearl buttons. Tom took time and did the same, shaving and donning fresh clothes. With the bath waters splash out the back door the large washtub was leaned against the side of the house to drain. George and Myrtis arrived with the boys looking spit shined and polished. While the husbands sipped on a thimble full of brandy purchased for the purpose of soaking fruit for Christmas cakes, the boys given a small punch cup of cider with a stick of cinnamon, the women finished setting the dishes prepared by Myrtis on the table and sideboard. The turkey was pulled from the oven and transferred to a serving platter and taken to the dining room table. Carving utensils were laid at Tom’s place setting. Critically eyeing every detail Abbey lit the candles and finally declared dinner could be served after she over heard the boys whispering about how many times she was going to straighten the dishes before they could eat. The blessing was asked as everyone bowed their heads around the table. Dishes were passed as plates filled. The conversation was happy and light. Laughter filled the room. No a peep was heard from the boys as they sat and ate and ate until she was sure they would pop. She did notice they both were eyeing the desserts. Abbey excuse herself to refill the tea pitcher. As she returned to the dining room a knock on the glass of the front door interrupted their meal. She stepped out in the hall seeing a woman with a child that she did not recognize through the glass. “May I help you?� she asked pulling the door open. “I sure hope so. I am looking for Thomas Harlow.� The woman shuffled the child from one arm the to the other. “My husband is having Thanksgiving dinner with our guests. Perhaps I could be of some help.� Abbey was polite as she took in the state of the child the woman held. The baby girl was soiled and her face tear stained. “The best help you can give me would be to tell Tom the mother of his child is standing outside on the front porch.�

The first of the crates to be opened contained heavy yet luxurious featherbed mattress covers for the bed. Getting the down filled baffled cases upstairs was cumbersome but not too difficult to manage. It was the one meant for the monstrous bed that was a struggle which tom took upon himself and took to their bedroom for her. Two barrels were opened and inside beds of straw were beautiful pieces of delicate china. Abbey had Tom move those into the dining room to make it easier to unpack the pieces and less likely something would get broken. By the Tom headed off to work there were a dozen open containers for her to start sorting through. She was impressed with the way things had been packed and so far had revealed nothing had been broken in its journey. Table and bed linens had been wrapped in clean pieces of muslin with sachets of herbs tucked to keep them fresh. These she was able to put away in the linen presses with no need to have to wash and iron them. They were more than serviceable items. The linens were finely stitched and embellished with embroidery and tatted laces. Beautifully pieced quilts gave her a thrill and she took time to inspect the hand work of the stitching. Abbey spent time to make the beds properly, fluffing pillows and smoothing coverlets until each bed looked ready and fit for the most important of guests. She moved on to placing the china in the dining room hutches. Her hands caressed the fine platters. They would all have to be washed before being used but for now just wiping them with a clean cloth left them perfectly fine to display. She continued to plow through at a steady pace. When Tom came up for his supper she had empty nearly every crate. The house had taken on a much different look and feel. There was a refined looked and a more homey and cozy feel. After supper Tom helped her put books into the cases in both their evening parlor and the front parlor. Working through the evening they managed to finish off most of the unpacking. Abbey was exhausted but pushed Tom to open one more box from the back porch and the rest could wait until the next day. He made a big production out choosing which box to pry the lid off of . He further teased by having her guess what she thought would be in the crate, refusing to lift the lid until she answered. “A purple elephant wearing green pajamas and smoking a pipe,� she answered saucily. Tom threw his back in laughter and wondered if the pajamas might be red instead of purple. He then wanted to know if the pajamas might be silk and if the elephant would be wearing a smoking jacket. In the midst of their laughter Tom lifted the lid. Abbey held the lamp closer and they both peered in. Tom pulled out an odd shaped item covered in a velvet bag. Under it was what appeared to be a box also under a veil of velvet. They took the pieces in to the kitchen to the table. “A phonograph!� the words burst from her lips. “Oh! How luxurious! Is there music in the box?� Looking for the records that surely accompanied the player required Tom to open all of the boxes left. The phonograph was taken to the evening parlor and given a place of prominence on a polished table. When all the pieces were assembled she chose a record to play. Once on the turn table Tom turned the crank. In a matter of moments the tinny sound of music filled the air. Abbey closed her eyes and let the sound fill her. “Pardon me, Ma’am,� She opened her eyes and Tom stood before her in a gentlemanly bow, slightly bent at the waist, his right hand extended. “May I have this dance?� Abbey thought about being coy and even simulated checking her dance card but was so pleased by Tom’s sincere playfulness she took his hand. Tom was a beautiful dancer and she stumbled her way along as he waltzed her about the room. They danced through the evening stopping to clean up the mess of opened boxes and removing remnants from the kitchen. Tom added logs to the fire in the hearth as the evening were becoming more and more cool as the month progressed. She prepared an evening drink for the two of them. Afterward they settled into their chairs by the fire each having chosen a book from the shelves. The quiet of their evening was broken only by the sounds of turning pages, the crackle of the fire and the tick of the clock on the mantle. Two days before Thanksgiving the weather changed from the cool of autumn to an unseasonable warmth. The wind picked up and blew the brightly colored leaves that fell from the trees. Leaves which piled up against the side of the walkways and porched and anything else in their path. Abbey was in the store placing spools of thread into a case. Tom was stacking can goods on the highest shelves. Carl was out back splitting logs and stacking firewood that would fill the black pot bellied stove in the center of the store when the weather once again turned cool. The bell on the door tinkled as it was pushed open by George Franklin. In a gust of wind he was followed by Myrtis and their boys. Amidst smiles and handshakes they all greeted one another. George and tom drifted off to the to look up some sort of thing in a catalog. Abbey and Myrtis had gravitated to the mill goods and were discussing ordering a fabric for Myrtis who wanted to make new shirts for the boys. “They are growing out of everything. As soon as Todd out grows one thing it is handed down to Toby and suddenly nothing fits and I find myself wondering how they grew so fast without my knowing it.� Myrtis chattered. “You probably should be thinking about making them both new shirts for Christmas,� Abbey suggested. “I could order some heavier flannel and get it here next week. That should give you time to have them sewn up in time.� “I am a slow sewer, Abbey. It is all I can do repair clothing as it is. I would never get two shirts finished in time for the holiday.� “You could come over for tea and we would use the sewing machine. The work will fly by. You will have two shirts finished in no time.� Abbey had already been using the machine and was pleased with the results. In the mornings after tom left the house she had been working on a new pair of trousers with a matching suit coat and a nice white shirt for his Christmas present. It didn’t take my convincing for Myrtis to agree. “What will you be serving for your Thanksgiving table?� Myrtis changed the subject as abbey wrote up a ticket for the fabric order. “I know I am going to make dressing from the my grandmother’s recipe. There will be vegetables and other fixings. I am hoping Tom will get us a turkey. But then it just seems wasteful to cook so much food and there is only the two of us to eat such a dinner.� “I know what you mean. I was hoping this year my parents would get to come for a holiday visit but my sister had her first baby a few weeks ago and my mother is set on going to see her new granddaughter.� Myrtis and Abbey looked at each other with a similar thought apparent on their faces. “Let’s have dinner together!� Both said the words at once. “Oh, please let’s have dinner at our house,� Abbey asked excitedly. “I have been to your house for tea several times and I would be honored to entertain you and your family at my table.� They chattered like magpies and moved across the floor of the main room of the store toward where their husbands stood. “George asked if I wanted to go hunting with him tomorrow,� Tom spoke first. “We thought we would go looking for a turkey for the Thanksgiving table.� “Myrtis and I were just talking and we thought it would be lovely to have our dinner together.� Abbey’s eyes were bright with anticipation of being able to entertain in her own home now. The men took to the idea. A spirited mood filled the air which kicked up excitement in the boys as well. The men agreed to meet in the afternoon of the next day for their hunting expedition. The women put their heads together and planned the dinner menu. Myrtis chose to bring the breads, salads, a vegetable and a dessert. Abbey planned to handle the rest of the meal herself. By the time the other family had left the store she was a mash of planning and had filled a pad with lists and notes scribbled in hurry. Her brow was furrowed with her thoughts. When they finally closed up the store for the evening Abbey had a basket full of items for their Thanksgiving dinner and Tom had a ham tucked under his arm as well as a croaker sack filled with various potatoes, nuts and greens. With so much to get ready for their guests Abbey hurried Tom through his supper and sent him to bring in several buckets of water from the well. Hurrying to the dining room she pulled dishes and serving pieces from the hutches and set to washing. Tom rolled up his sleeves helping with the work drying and setting cups in a neat row, stacking clean plates and wonder out loud why women needed so many serving pieces. To answer his question Abbey told him his sassiness just earned him the privilege of polishing the silver table ware when he finished. While Tom worked at the table with soft flannel cloths and silver polish, easily working his way through the spoons and forks and dinner knives, Abbey heated the iron and pressed a beautiful white damask table cloth with matching napkins. Bringing everything back to the dining room she had set the table and laid the place settings before they retired for the night.

Abbey was up earlier than usual the next morning. She was excited but also had a lot of tasks to accomplish and wanted to get a big jump on the day. It was dark outside the sun not even hinting at rising yet. She lit a lamp carrying it down the stairs and into the kitchen. She kindled the embers from last night and soon had the kitchen nice and warm. She lit another lamp and both from hook in the ceiling so that she could see more easily. She mixed up a small batch of biscuits, laid strips of bacon out in her skillet, scrambled eggs in a bowl waiting for the last minute to cook them. She had coffee brewing and ready for Tom’s first cup when he appeared in the doorway. “You’re up early,� was his comment as he kissed her good morning. “I really wanted to get a start on the day. There are a lot of things to unpack and sort as well as store away.� “It will all still be there when you get to it. Don’t over it do today.� “I don’t want things to sit in crates on the porch. First off it is an eyesore and secondly I don’t want to chance things being ruined if it blows up a rain. I have heard this time of year rain is unpredictable and snow cam come without a warning.� She sipped a steaming cup of coffee. Tom nodded his understanding waiting to speak after he had swallowed. “Why don’t I send a Mrs. Cates’ daughter up later this morning to help with the chores? She is a nice girl. She and her mother could benefit from her having a few hours work.� Abbey was thoughtful for a moment before she spoke. “I would like to agree to the idea of help but really we -I - have no clue as to what is in the crates and barrels and I can’t leave someone to put things away when I have no idea yet where they will be put myself.� Tom nodded as he chewed listening at the same time. “Let me get the majority of it out of the way and then if I need help I will certainly have Margaret come up an afternoon or two.� “You have a point. I had not thought about that.� He drained the last of the coffee from his mug and rose from his chair. He reached for his jacket on the peg by the backdoor and shrugged into it. Kissing him at the door she saw him out on his way to the store and she hurriedly put away the items from breakfast. The extra bacon she wrapped and placed in a tin on the counter. She didn’t plan to stop and prepare a big meal at noon. Instead Tom would be getting a bacon sandwich with fruit and cheese. Bringing in the pots of furniture cleaner and wax, she gathered soft clean squares of flannel to use and headed to the front rooms downstairs. She had finished with the pieces in the parlor and was moving to the dinning room when she could finally extinguish the flame in her oil lamp. She took her time polishing the wide dining table. Her hands lovingly spread the polish over its smooth long surface and she caressed it to a mirrored sheen. The smell of bees wax and lemon oil and turpentine was strong lending to the proof of her efforts. At the same time it was a pleasant scent that lifted her spirits and gave her added energy to finish the bedrooms upstairs. She and Tom had slept in the massive bed downstairs and she blushed at the thought when recalling Tom’s teasing about chasing her around in the bed like a boy on a playground. Her cheeks shown pink when she recalled she had let him catch her ‘on the playground’. She stripped the bed laying the sheets aside so as to not soil them while she paid the same careful attention to the beautifully carved wood of the bed they slept in. She probably took more time working in their bedroom than any other. It was suddenly a very intimate space and she wanted to keep all of the secrets it held and would hold to herself. Tom came up early for his lunch. The smell of the cleaning fluids and wax met him at the door and he teased her about over doing it. “I am ready to open the first of those barrels and crates,� she told him as she spread mayonnaise on thick slices of fresh bread. “I am surprised you haven’t already,� Tom reaches around her to whisk a strip of bacon from the plate. “I have been cleaning and polishing first. It makes more sense to it now than to have work around everything later,� she tapped the back of his hand with the handle of her knife. Tom slide his hands and around her waist and leaned in close against her watching over her shoulder as she made his sandwich. “I will need your help getting them opened,� she craned her neck around to look up at him. “That’s no problem. After lunch I’ll open several and give you time to unpack them then come back up to the house and crack open a few more.� He kissed along the side of her neck causing her to shiver and goose flesh to pop up along her arms. “Stop that,� he laughed and tried to move out of his arms, finding herself trapped between him and the counter top. “I can’t,� he continued to leave biting little kisses along her jaw. “Tom, please …� “Tom, please … what?� he prompted. “Please …� she couldn’t think clear. “Yes? Please? Don’t stop?� “Yes, please don’t stop,� the words came out in a rasp. She was weak kneed and sure that she would crumple to a heap on the kitchen floor if he moved an inch away from her. The racing of her heart hammered in her ears. The heave of her chest was forced as she dragged air in to lings that seemed to have forgotten how to breath. Through a fog of thought confusion set in as the hammering in her ears got louder. It wasn’t until Tom pulled away from her that she realized someone was knocking loudly on the back door. She struggled to regain her composure. Thankfully Tom was the one to answer the door. Her cheeks were a red that could not be explained by heat of the kitchen. It wasn’t hot where she stood and she murmured a quick apology and excused herself. She stood in the cool between the kitchen and the evening parlor. Attempting she slow her breathing she fanned her face hoping the heat would leave her cheeks. When she had gathered some bit of sense about her she opened the door and went back into the kitchen. Tom was thanking the young boys who stood in the kitchen each one holding a fat round orange pumpkin. “Hello, boys,� she greeted the two sons of George and Myrtis Franklin, the proprietors of the feed and farm supply just across the dusty road from their own establishment. “Momma sent us over with pumpkins, ma’am,� the freckled older boy smiled. “She says you will want fresh pies for Thanksgiving and wanted you to have two of ours.� “You tell your momma I said thank you and how happy I am to be able to cook my husband a pumpkin pie for our thanksgiving dinner.� Abbey smiled at the boy. “You boys leave those pumpkins on the table. Tom haven’t we got something in the jar over in the cupboard for two boys who carried such nice pumpkins all the way here?� “Why I think we do,� Tom made a big show out of taking the big glass canister out and letting the boys see it was filled with delicious looking pieces of candy. “Whoa,� came the muffled sound from the youngest boy and he was elbowed by his brother and given a stern look to mind his manners. Tom gave them both two pieces of the sugary treat because they had of course brought two big pumpkins and boy who carried heavy pumpkins need something to restore all the energy. It was a delight to her to watch their faces when they received the candies and even more fun to see them tear out across the yard when they had thanked her and tom properly and managed to get out of the house with their manners still intact. Tom caught her off guard by pulling her to him and landing a long kiss on her lips. “Remember where we were when we were interrupted. I’ll be back for what is mine after my supper,� he winked at her and left a smack on her fanny before waltzing out of the house much the same way those two young boys had just left. She knew she would be forgetting any time soon. She called to him not to forget the crates and he in turned called back he need to get a pry bar and would be back in a jiffy. While her husband went about his task she once again straightened the kitchen. Everything was neat and in its place soon enough and she went to the front porch where Tom was prying the lid off of the first of the household goods.

The couple settled into a comfortable habit of rising together in the mornings. While Tom dressed and shaved she made the bed and started his breakfast. After breakfast he went down to open the store while she puttered in the house. She straightened the parlor, scooped the ashes from the fireplace laying in wood for the evening fire. She tidied the kitchen, started the bigger portion of their supper as well as planning Tom’s noon time dinner. With her tasks finished she would go down to the store and relieve Carl for his dinner and anything Tom might need his help with. She found she liked the time she spent behind the counter in the store. She was meeting people in the village and met others as they passed through on the train and got off to stretch their legs or to make a purchase or to give rambunctious children a time to run off their energy. She swept out the back storeroom and tidied the shelves. She took over the inventory and kept Tom abreast of needed stock as well as a suggestion of other items that women would be interested in. As she had taken in sewing to provide for her welfare in the past she also encouraged Tom to expand the millinery goods and notions. Making room in a far corner of the store that had housed and odd mix of items that were not selling well she began to create her own niche. The bolts of fabrics expend and soon filled not one shelf but three. She also stocked spools of thread and buttons to accent the colors in the fabrics they now were carrying. Instead of selling all of the buttons on little cards she put in a small supply of plain standard shirt buttons for replacing those on men’s and boy’s shirts making it easier for the wives and mothers to purchase exactly what they needed without the fuss of having four other buttons they didn’t need at the time. She brought in laces and ribbons, taking time to tie pretty bows and advertising them for girl’s hair dressings to match their daily ware. The sales in this portion of the store had more than doubled in the week since she had stocked the product women needed as well as wanted for their daily fashions. She also made herself invaluable to her customers by giving them examples and demonstrations of fancier stitches, French seams and ideas for embroidery embellishments. Little did she know she had created a buzz in the village and everyone wanted to have “Tom’s wife, Abbey� as a part of their social set. On Tuesday afternoons she walked down to the village church and joined the ladies for Bible study. Occasionally she would be invited for tea at the home of one of the neighbor ladies. She was welcomed into the life of the village and the lives of the people. She wanted to be as gracious a hostess and invite the ladies to her home for tea. The only thing holding her back was the fact she had a kitchen table with two chairs and the rocker and chair in the parlor. At the moment it really wasn’t fitting to have a ladies social. It was with anticipation she awaited the furnishings Tom was being shipped from his uncle’s estate. When the shipment was delivered by train the week before Thanksgiving Abbey could not believe her eyes nor their blessing. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was expecting but she most assuredly wasn’t expecting the quantity and quality of household goods packed up in crates and barrels and wrapped in thick padded blankets and tied with sturdy ropes. As the train car was unloaded Tom needed a trio of wagons to begin hauling things up to the house. Even then the items being offloaded where stacked and piled high on the front shelter of the store, some things sat on the bare ground. She gave up trying to keep up with it all and hurried up to the house to make way for each piece to find its place in their home. She was excited to say the least. The flush on her cheeks told Tom more than words ever could. The furnishings had been tagged so that each piece of a set could be easily identified. There were four bedsteads with matching bureaus and wardrobes. Each of the rooms upstairs would be beautifully accented by the red mahogany pieces. There were also room sized rugs made of wool that had been exceptionally well cared for. Each room was first the recipient of a beautiful rug then the furnishings were brought up piece by piece. The beds were set up with thick mattresses of horsehair padded with cotton and sown into thick coverings of cotton ticking. A long carpet was unrolled down the length of the upstairs hall. Three of the small tables were placed along its length. She just couldn’t imagine someone collecting all of these beautiful pieces in a lifetime. To think they now belonged to her and Tom and filled their home beyond the norm of comfort was thrilling. One of the men called up the staircase asking her to come down they needed her to tell them where to put the pieces being pulled off the wagon that just came up from the store. Out on the porch she was shock to see what appeared to be a giant bed nearly twice the size of the beds upstairs. Merciful heavens the bed was huge beyond any stretch of imagination -the girl who grew up sleeping on a tiny cot for most of her life. There wasn’t much else to do but to have them set it up on the room directly across from the evening parlor. First the men had to bring out her trunks, lay another large rug then bring in the bed parts. There were other pieces of furniture that went with the bed, a tall mule chest, an armoire, a dresser, an oval wall mirror and 2 bedside tables. It took her a moment to layout a floor plan in her head but soon each piece was in place and the room looked comfortable. There was a handsome piano, sofa, chairs, glass door barrister cabinets and small tables that soon filled the front parlor. The opposite front room became the home to a large dining table that easily would seat eight guests along with a side board and two china hutches. Still there were pieces of furniture to be placed. Another small sofa, chair, foot stool, table and glass fronted bookcases were put into the evening parlor she and Tom used nightly. A linen chest was squeezed into the central storage closet downstairs and another similar was placed up stairs in the small work room between the two back bedrooms. A long thin console table was set in the hall along the long wall and much to her astonishment there was a relatively new sewing machine brought in. She had the men put it in the tiny alcove created by the stair risers in the front hall. There was a larger sturdier table and chair set that replaced the tiny table in the kitchen. The current table being placed on the side entrance porch. Not knowing what to do with the other odd bits and pieces she had them take those up to the attic. She would have to deal with those later. There were still the crates and barrels and trunks of household goods to unpack and sort through. Those would have to wait till the morrow. She had the workmen stack them along the front porch and around on the side porch. She would get to them later but right now she had to get Tom’s supper and she intended to hurry down to the store for the ingredients for a good bees wax furniture polish. Every stick of wood would have to be cleaned and polished before any of the other goods could be unpacked. After supper when the dishes had been cleaned and Tom was sitting in his chair by the fire reading the newspaper that had come from Richmond earlier that day, she gathered the ingredients for the polish in her kitchen. Into an empty large coffee can she shaved bees wax and paraffin wax. Setting it on the stove she watched for it to begin melting and gently stirred with a wooden spoon until each scrap had turned to liquid. With a thick cloth she took the can out on the back porch where the air was moving and let the liquid cool just a bit, not letting it begin to solidify but cool down to a temperature that would not ignite when she poured in the turpentine. As the wax and spirits mix cooled she added lemon oil then used the spoon to whip it into a cream smooth paste. She poured the waxes into small tins and covered them with a cloth and left them to sit in the night air and cool. The following morning she would use it polish the entire lot of furnishings that filled the house. Back in the kitchen she had to pull out her grandmother’s recipe book to double check the ingredients for the furniture cleaner she intended to use. If there was something she did know it was that good wood furniture needed to be cleaned and the wood fed before it was polished to shine with wax. Tom’s uncles furniture had been in storage in a train car and sat in an old house for years before it arrive at her door step and she knew it needed both cleaning and feeding. On the stove she set a pot of water to boil. Over it placed a slightly larger pan and to it added olive oil, lemon balm and let it gently steep to draw out the scents and extracts. Once her base oil was finished she removed it to a work space and added to it beeswax and carnauba wax shavings. With those melted she added vinegar and grain alcohol mixing everything well. She knew she could not rush the production of this wood cleaner and took her time to carefully complete each step. Working with flammable materials could be very dangerous and she didn’t fancy a fire in her kitchen. Each step served a purpose. The oils feed the wood, the vinegar cleans the wood, spirits allow the wood to absorb the oils and the wax seals the wood. She wanted to take proper care of the wood furnishings and this was the only way she knew how to do so properly. A couple of times in her efforts Tom popped his head in wondering about the smells. He saw her adding the grain alcohol to the mix and asked if she was preparing a nightly hot toddy. They both laughed at what the ladies at the church would think. As she finished up her recipes and placed them on the table on the porch to settle till morning she prepare Tom and evening drink and she did so from the recipe in her grandmother’s book. Together by the fire they sat in quiet comfort sipping hot buttered rum. Tom passed her a section of the paper and she propped up her feet and enjoyed the ambiance of late evening, the warmth of the fire, the headiness of the drink and comfort of their home.

I managed to meet the weekly goal of 10002 words for the NaNo thing. My current word count is 10020. My hands are tired. My eyes are tired. My mind is a bit numb. I have not proofread or checked for errors. That will have to come at another time. I have posted six parts to my novel. Each one is listed by date and linked in my sidebar. If you think it is crap I would thank you very much to move along and not stop to look at my train wreck. If you can do better please sign up with NaNo and do it yourself. OMG I have to do this again tomorrow. Why do I find that so shockingly frightening? *** The pies were delicious. Thank you for the lovely compliments on the photos of them. I made them from fresh roasted pumpkin. Judy, the pie crust was made by Ritz and found in the freezer section. I am not up to fresh pumpkin and homemade crust. We managed to get another large section of the backyard under control and put out another 25 bags of mulch. Things are shaping up well. If I were not pregnant I would be sitting here nursing a great dark beer or a nice lime margarita. I think I am something akin to shell shocked. Goodnight from Virginia.

Tom brought out his ledger book and sat at the table. Abbey looked on and together they calculated costs for animals, feed, appropriate dwellings, seed and trees. Initially it would not be too expensive to get started with the cost defrayed over the winter and into spring. They planned for specific vegetable crops that most people in the area did not grow in abundance, the more affluent of the vegetables if you will allow, along the lines of asparagus, artichokes and various colored tomatoes. They also planned for easy to grow vegetables that would produce quickly with large portions so as to not only fill their larder but to have fresh produce for the store. They discussed hens and chicks, which would be better for laying and which would be better for meat. It was also brought up the need for a part time hand to help with all the chores when the time came. The evening was filled with so much conversation and planning it was late by the time they climbed the stairs for bed. It wasn’t until they reached the bedroom door that abbey realized they were again sharing a bed and became visibly nervous. Tom made an excuse to double check the doors and fire while she scrambled into her nightgown and climbed under the covers but not before turning the lamp flame down very low and leaving it on Tom’s side of the room. She lay flat on her back, board straight with her eyes closed. She tried to slow her breathing and not move when she heard Tom enter and cross over to his side of the bed. She heard the rustle of his clothes and the heavy thud of his boots as he undressed. The bed gave as he climbed on and stretched out along side of her. He shuffled around blowing out the lamp, situating himself on the mattress and finally giving a long sigh of relaxed pleasure. The sheets were cold but had begun to warm under her body and slowly she let the tension leave her muscles. Tom shifted and his feet came into contact with hers. His feet touching her feet startled her and she jerked her foot back. In the dark Tom let out a muffled kind of laugh, turned on his side. He reached out an arm and pulled her body tight into his. His face buried in the lemony scent of her hair he whispered in her ear. “Goodnight, Abbey. You are safe with me this night.� “Goodnight, Tom.� Whispered words filled the night air in front of her. She shifted and turned on her side facing away from him and snuggled a little deeper into his arms and against his chest. He cradled her thighs against his and they slept. Abbey’s eyes blinked open and closed in the dark gray light of early morning. Her body was warm and soft, resting against Tom’s. during the night their feet tangled together in a comfortable fashion as if they had been sleeping together for years with their movements carefully choreographed by their unconscious selves. She was caught between lying still in the quiet of the morning listening to the breathing of the sleeping man beside her and easing his arm off of her and slipping out of bed to begin her day. Both had good and bad sides to them. The good was she might drift off into sleep again in the luxury of tom’s arms. The bad was Tom might wake if she were to sleep again and he would leave the house without breakfast and her seeing him for a good morning. Getting out of bed meant she could greet him on her own terms, prepared with his breakfast and the day awaiting him. The bad side she wouldn’t get to explore what it meant to not be safe in Tom’s bed and arms. The last thought made her shiver in unanticipated delight. These secrets of marriage still yet to be discovered were mysterious and intriguing to her. She wanted to discover them yet at the same time she felt shy, intimidated even frightened of the unknown. While the battle waged on in her head she missed the tell tail signs of Tom stirring slowly to wakefulness behind her. She did become aware of something ledged painfully between them that left an uncomfortable ache in her lower back. She shifted to change her position but whatever it was seemed to press more pointedly into flesh. With her arm contorted to reach behind and between them to discover whatever was lodged between them in sleep her hand encountered his warm flesh. Pressing her fingers along her back and his stomach she reach the object and as her fingers closed around it she realized the object in question wasn’t an object but instead Tom’s rock hard flesh. “Sweet Jesus,� the words flew out of her mouth before she knew she had said them. She jerked her hand back and tried to still the gallop racing of her heart and the jolt that zapped through her body like lightening. Tom moaned into her ear. His sighing breath passed warm on her skin and he pressed himself more firmly into her, his hips slightly rocking against her. The arm that had held her against hi all night slid up then down. The length of is arm stretching and his hand running itself up her leg, over her hip, firm against her belly and ribs were it reached her breast and gently cupped the heavy globe loose under the cotton of her nightgown. Instinctively she moaned as her tender fleshed began to swell and harden under his palm. His lips found her ear and grazed her cheek. She turned in his arms and lifted her face to meet his. His hand found hers and pulled it between them. He pressed against her palm and wrapped her fingers around his length. He pressed his bent knee between hers and let his hair roughened calf rub her softer smother legs. The brush of his fur covered leg excited her. She loved the feel of him rough and hard and hair covered against her. She had the urge to rub herself from head to toe against his body. Knowingly he hushed and soothed her excitement, slowing their movements, prolong each touch, each taste, each discovery. Mingled breathes and sighs filled the room as they discovered one another in a way they never had before. Her hands discovered what made him groan and ask for more. His mouth learned the taste of her skin and the velvety smoothness of her softly full feminine flesh. Each discovery was a delight and a joy. She never wanted the moment to end. In soft whispered breathes and movements of her body under his hands she asked for more and he willingly gave her everything she asked for. As heat built between them she found herself pushing the bed clothes away. Her neck and along the line of her hair was damp with perspiration. The heat continued to build and flood through her limbs. She felt as if any moment she would burst into flames. Tom’s rock hard body radiated the same sizzling heat. One body kindled the fire in the other until they were both covered in a fine sheet of sweat. When his hands pushed her gown up further and further she didn’t protest. She wanted the offending material off her body. She lifted her arms letting him drag it over her head. She rolled closer and pressed herself into his body. She slid against him and groaned as the soft hair on his body raked against her tender flesh. She protested as he rolled her onto her back and moved his body away. He didn’t move far and where his body had pressed against her his moth found those places and her protests turned to encouraging pleasure. His tongue found the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat. He ate his away across her collar bones and done the centerline of her breast bone. His hands cupped and lifted her breasts to his mouth. His lips scraped over the tips of her taunt nipples parting let his tongue flick and taste. Her fingers pushed through his hair encouraging him to pay more attention to the throbbing ache that was deep inside her chest. She arched her back and forced herself upwards. He obliged her unspoken request by pulling each one into his mouth and sucking firmly, rubbing his tongue on the tightly puckered flesh that rose in pink tips. First one then the other. Each hand full to overflowing with the rounded globe of a full figured woman. He pressed them together and pulled his tongue back and forth over them at the same time until she forced his head to pull one firmly back into his mouth. The heat in her lower abdomen was threatening to consume her. She wanted more. She wanted something. She had no idea what it was she wanted. Her shaky voice begged him to put her out of her misery, to quench the fire and to fill the need that screamed through every vein of her body. Tom slowed and brushed her hair back from her face. He looked into her half hooded eyes and took in the sight of her red flushed cheeks. His gentle voice shushed her softly promising to make her feel so much better. His words soothed her fevered soul. She trusted him and willingly would follow where he wanted to lead. Slowly with quiet words and gentle encouragement he settled himself between her legs easing himself inch by inch into her moist hot depths. As her flesh closed around him he could barely contain his pleasure. He stilled her with his words asking her not to move until he could regain his control. With a rhythm as old as the ebb and flow of the tides he brought them both to the peak of the mountain ranges of pleasures and plunged them over the edge in a free fall of screaming emotion. They clung to one another in mesh of open mouths and grasping hands. Her legs encircle his waist. Her heels locked at the small of his back. She held on to him and took everything he had to offer giving the same in return. Abbey was completely overwhelmed by her initiation into womanhood. Her body was quivering and sobs left her shaking. Tom whispered in her ear, kissing away the salty streams that fell from the corners of her eyes. He lips pressed her lids closed as he engulfed her in his arms and held against his chest. As their bodies cooled and the air settled on them he reached down and pulled the bedclothes up over them both. Soft hiccups slowed as Abbey’s breathing returned to normal. It wasn’t long before she was sleeping in his arms. He knew he needed to rise and start the day but this moment was more important than anything else in his life. So he stayed and held her while she slept as the morning sunshine broke the eastern sky and began to filter into the windows. So many times over the past years he had dreamed of this moment and others like it. Since his boyhood he had dreams of marrying Abbey. As he grew and matured so had his dreams and fantasies. The adage ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ certainly rang true for him. He had been in love with Abbey as a boy and he was in love with her now. He knew who she was inside and out. He knew where she came from and never made her feel shame for being born into a poor family. She was everything he ever dreamed of and everything he ever wanted. He watched her tear stained face as it softened in sleep. Her lashes lay dark against her skin. Her mouth was swollen from kisses and stained red from the passion of they shared. There was a strength and innocence to her like none he had ever encountered in another woman. She was genuine and giving. She was woman with a loving heart and gentle spirit. She was also smart as a whip and knew her own mind. She wasn’t the type to be led into something she didn’t want to do. He had followed the best advice he had ever been given. Choose the woman who is to be your wife very wisely. Do not marry the woman you can live with, instead marry the woman you cannot live without.