Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

You are here: Home / Archives for blog

blog

Elaine’s Idaho Potato Soup

By

potato soup

 

Record-breaking amounts of snow and frigid temperatures mean it’s time for sweaters and jeans, a cozy fire in the fireplace, and a large pot of homemade potato soup. Here’s my favorite recipe. It serves a large family or two teenage boys.

 

6-8 Idaho Russet potatoes, cubed, (peeling is optional)

1 pound bulk spicy Italian sausage

1 pound bulk regular Italian sausage

One onion, diced

6 stalks of celery, diced

2 Tablespoons mustard seed

2 Cups Chicken Stock

2 Cups of Cream or Half-and-Half

Salt, Pepper

Optional: 2 cans of creamed soup, any kind

Cover spuds with water and boil in a large soup pot with mustard seeds for 10-15 minutes. Do not drain. (The mustard seeds are for my mother who always believed the parable of having the faith of a mustard seed.)

In separate large skillet, brown sausage. Sauté onion and celery in sausage drippings or olive oil.

Combine all ingredients into the soup pot. Add salt and pepper to taste. (For thicker soup, add 2 cans of creamed soup, any kind.)

Heat but don’t boil. Yummy. This soup is delicious to reheat for several days but doesn’t freeze well.

My favorite memory with this soup: My wee 2-year-old granddaughter and my 80-year-old mother competed for the last helping.

 

 

Do Not Start a Relationship in Winter

By

cold woman

Winter arrived early like an unwanted relative and dumped record amounts of snow as if to announce, “Put away the jeweled flip-flops, Sweetheart, and grab a coat before you freeze your assets.”

Because I’ve been around the block many times in all kinds of weather, I’m here to give unsolicited but helpful advice if you intend to enter into a new relationship. Here are some reasons you should never start dating during cold weather:

  1. Shivering is unattractive. Gazing into a new lover’s eyes loses a romantic spark if your nose is red and producing enough snot to fill a salad bowl.
  2. Bundling is bulgy. If you go out for the evening, you can’t wear sexy sandals or else you’ll slip on the ice and bruise your ego. Instead, you’ll pull on clumsy boots, thick pants that could protect a Sherpa on Mt. Everest, a muffler that sticks to your runny nose, and a parka that’s too big to squeeze through the door. And you’ll be sneezing into crumpled wads of messy tissue. This is not a sensual look.
  3. Don’t lose the coat. If you go to a restaurant or fancy event and check your coat, you’ll sit with your date and tremble because you’re so cold. Crawling onto your companion’s lap or pulling the tablecloth around your shoulders for warmth can stifle a genuine return of affection. Keep your coat nearby, and add a wool shawl and portable heater, if necessary. There comes a time when your comfort trumps protocol.
  4. Forget strolling hand in hand. Unless you were raised on a frozen tundra, avoid long walks in frigid temperatures. Such an experience could cause your nostrils to freeze and your feet to go numb. Then you’ll stumble into the nearest open business, fall onto the floor, and barter your first-born child in exchange for hot coals to be dumped upon your freezing body. This action will cause your date to doubt that you’re “The One.”
  5. Expect to gain weight. We’re innocent descendants of our ancestors, and in order to survive the winter they always packed on some extra fat. To honor that tradition, we’ve been known to add 20 pounds during the first weekend of December. We can’t help it. But, that added weight could be a negative when meeting a new beau.
  6. Home is comforting. When you’re in a new relationship, there’s an added stress to be ready for action. The prospective mate better raise the bar if you’re going to leave your warm recliner, shave your legs, floss, and find matching socks. Cuddling up at home in your sweatpants with a hot toddy could be a welcome alternative to the dating scene.
  7. The other seasons bring problems, also. Don’t date in the spring if your allergic rhinitis causes you to wear a nose cap. Beware of summer because you easily get sunburned and can’t be touched. And forget about autumn. No one wants to be in a new relationship knowing that the coming holidays could require introductions to your crazy family or the daunting dilemma surrounding gift-giving. Face it, there is no good time.
  8. Ignore all these suggestions. You could meet someone and suddenly feel that unique tingle that says, “Shut the front door – this one’s a keeper!” Then by all means, relish the experience and enjoy the fun, regardless of the season.

 

Four Weeks and a Funeral

By

funeral flowers

A month ago, I followed Alice in Wonderland and fell down a mysterious rabbit hole and experienced events that must have been orchestrated by the crazy rabbit and the hookah-smoking caterpillar. I soared, laughed, cried, and crawled through a series of events that changed my life forever.

On October 16, I endured an MRI for a knee injury and wrote a silly blog titled “Don’t Fart During an MRI.” I scattered 632 words into ten paragraphs and submitted the essay to The Huffington Post and it was published on October 27. In two weeks, the piece went viral and received more than 640,000 likes on Facebook and was reprinted on dozens of websites around the world. I received emails from people in other countries and had offers to host trips for middle-aged women, appear at wine tasting events, arrange book signings, and appear at a music show in Nashville.

On November 6, Whoopi Goldberg mentioned me on the ABC show “The View” and talked for several minutes about the essay. My book sales soared, and people subscribed to my website newsletter. I’ve been a professional writer for several decades and never intended to reach international status by passing gas. It definitely was the fart heard around the world, and I was amused at being the “air to the throne.”

On October 21, I had surgery to repair a torn meniscus in my knee and a cracked bone in my leg. I couldn’t put any weight on my ravaged leg for one week, so was confined in my recliner with my leg strapped to an ice machine. At least I had my laptop so I could blog about the wonders of legal narcotic painkillers.

My sweet mother’s health had been declining for several years, and compassionate Hospice associates were keeping her comfortable at a nearby assisted living facility. During her last week, I was able to use crutches to go to her room, join my daughter as we talked with her, and play her favorite spiritual music. On October 31, my husband Studley and I made our last visit and kissed her goodbye. She passed away the following morning. I blogged about her on Huffington Post for several days as I planned the funeral for November 11.

My mother’s funeral offered beautiful music, an inspirational message, an amazing display of floral arrangements, and heart-felt tributes from my children to their grandmother. At the following graveside service, a chill wind passed through the cemetery. My 7-year-old granddaughter, named after my mother, sat on my lap and we kept warm under a blanket. The sky was overcast as we walked away, as if all the heavenly tears were waiting for us to leave before they fell. My dear Studley held my hand, as usual.

On November 8, I learned that I had received three writing awards: First Place for Humor in the North American Book Awards competition for my book Midlife Cabernet, one of the Top Ten Authors in the Idaho Book Award program, and First Place for Cover Design. The awards ceremony was November 13 in Boise. Of course, the awards were presented on a stage that had 12 enormous steps and I resembled Quasimodo from the book Hunchback of Notre-Dame as I lumbered up post-surgery to accept the trophies.

All these events created the perfect storm of intense physical and mental pain combined with feelings of recognition and personal achievement. I struggled with the agony in my leg and sobbed for my dear mother while I checked my Huffington Post numbers and wrote a news release about the book awards. This surreal time has caused me to reflect on priorities and evaluate what is truly important. I conclude that life is crammed with highs and lows, joy and sorrow, opportunity and struggle. I feel fortunate to hang on and not fall off of this wild, funny, traumatic, and magnificent ride.

In the 1994 movie Four Weddings and a Funeral, Andie MacDowell and Hugh Grant play delightful characters in the popular romantic comedy about love and loss. These past four weeks have presented a powerful personal script and I only wrote a small part of it. Now it’s time to grab some popcorn, find a comfortable seat, and get ready for the sequel.

 

 

 

 

Pain Sucks

By

stop the pain

This morning brought a splendid gift: I can walk without pain for the first time in two months. I feel like joyfully dancing in the street, but I’m so uncoordinated that I’d trip on a pebble and break a bone. I’ll just be quiet and appreciate the simple pleasure of moving without projectile spittle, profuse swearing, and the manic desire to club strangers with my crutches.

After falling down with such spectacular efficiency that the meniscus tore beneath my knee and the leg bone cracked, I needed surgery to repair the damage. It’s humbling to depend upon others to care for me but there are some handy perks.

If you endure an accident and are temporarily incapacitated, here are some tips for surviving the ordeal:

  1. Realize that everything is relative. Forget fashion. My sassy shirts and stylish capris weren’t touched for two months because I could only wear sweat pants and comfortable tops. It didn’t matter if my socks matched. But I still wore earrings, even while confined to my recliner. If I can’t put on earrings, my family will know I’m near death.
  2. The world will continue to turn without you. By canceling appointments and staying home, I gained a new appreciation for my house, chair, books, and silence. I also saved a lot of money not buying gas.
  3. A loving, patient partner is better than gold. For weeks, Studley took me to doctor’s appointments, made meals, washed dishes, did the laundry, and maintained the ice machine on my leg while also working a demanding, full-time job. However, there is a limit. I told him last night that he was welcome to continue these activities, and he remarked that a nearby apartment complex has some openings.
  4. Appreciate your family and friends. I received nice phone calls, hot meals, hugs from grandkids, and a can of chocolate-covered pecans from Texas! I exploited the situation to full advantage.
  5. Be kinder to disadvantaged people. My discomfort lasted for two months, but there are people who suffer for years with physical disabilities and chronic pain. Find ways to help them. When I finally was able to bumble about on crutches, I was thankful for those who opened doors for me, allowed me to go first in line, and didn’t complain when I used my handicapped parking permit.
  6. Do not become a television zombie. Daytime television offers a bunch of brain-eating crap! The soap operas have had the same plot for 30 years, and the beautiful actors always have the same tortured expression at the end of every angst-filled scene. Lady, if I had clothes and jewelry like yours, I’d at least crack a smile every now and then. Reality talk shows display and exploit the worst of humanity, and game shows remind me of rats in a maze at Vegas. There are some good shows on Public Television, the Discovery Channel, the History Channel, and I love the old movies. The best part of home confinement was to be surrounded by books, and I actually read some from cover to cover – a splendid treat.

Accidents happen, and our attitudes can hinder or help our recovery. I didn’t always follow the instructions of my physical therapist, so my healing time took longer. Finally, I obeyed the order to be still and rest, and my body responded and became stronger. The best part of physical pain is when it goes away. Today, I can walk, and the world is beautiful.

 

Mill Park Publishing Wins Four Awards

By

Angel of Esperanza cover          MidlifeCab_ApproxLayout

           

Two recent books published by Mill Park Publishing of Eagle, Idaho will take home four trophies Thursday, November 13 at the Idaho Author and North American Book Awards program. The awards ceremony will be at the Powerhouse Event Center in Boise.

The Angel of Esperança by local author Judith McConnel Steele won Second Place in the Fiction Category sponsored by the North American Book Awards competition. Steele writes with hypnotizing imagery and seamless narration to tell the haunting story of Helena, a young wife and mother in the mythical village of Esperança. This is the second award for the book as Steele was selected last year for the Top Ten Authors in Fiction from the Idaho Author Awards.

Midlife Cabernet – Life, Love & Laughter after Fifty by local author Elaine Ambrose won three awards: First Place for Humor from the North American Book Awards competition, First Place for Cover Design from the Idaho Author Awards program, and Ambrose was named one of the Top Ten Authors in Nonfiction from the Idaho Author Awards.

Midlife Cabernet also won the 2014 Silver Medal for Humor from the Independent Publisher Books Awards program (IPPY), and Publishers Weekly wrote that the book is “laugh-out-loud funny!” Ambrose’s irreverent humor can be found on the Huffington Post and other websites.

Mill Park Publishing produces books written by local women writers and donates a portion of the sales proceeds to charity. The company also organizes writing retreats for women and sponsors writing events throughout the area. Details are on the website, www.MillParkPublishing.com

 

mpp logo simple

 

 

Serendipity Breeze

By

yard chimes

In the silent expectation of dawn, just before the first slice of silver reveals the horizon of a new day, a slight breeze moves through the pine trees in my yard. The brief rustle of branches releases a faint smell of long-past adventures in summer mountains and stirs the chimes that hang in the arbor. I look upward and smile at the memory of my mother.

Her morning ritual remained the same for twenty years. She woke early, and slowly walked down the lane to retrieve the newspaper. Her breath came in puffs as she tugged her sweater closer against the chill and gazed at the stars before they faded behind the emerging sunlight. Back inside, she turned on her radio, sometimes she listened to the farm report or else to gentle sounds from the 1940s. She fixed some toast, sipped coffee, read the paper. She did this every morning by herself.

Widowed for two decades, she forgot how it sounded to be greeted every day, to feel the touch of someone else in the house, to hear her husband ask for more coffee. Even though her schedule was full of volunteer activities and various appointments, she never got used to the loneliness. Her regular companions were the ticking clock over the mantel, the cooing mourning doves outside the window, and the pleasant voice on the radio telling her to have a nice day.

I finally convinced her to move into an assisted living facility 100 miles away from her home but closer to my grown children and me. She had endured too many serious falls, too many minor car accidents, and a growing number of health issues. On the last morning before the move, she lingered outside on her morning walk and noticed a warm breeze meandering through the trees, as if to say farewell. She nodded and went inside.

Years later, after enjoying the company of others in the facility and regularly seeing her grandchildren, her mind and body began to fail. Confined to a wheelchair and lost in dementia, she preferred to stay in her tiny room and listen to her spiritual music.  Finally, she knew it was time to go and she stopped eating. Not even congenial staff or patient family members could convince her to swallow a single bite of applesauce. She died in her bed on a quiet autumn morning as Tennessee Ernie Ford promised there would be peace in the valley. Outside her window, a sudden wind tossed the tree limbs, and the leaves floated to the ground.

A week later, I woke earlier than usual, dressed, and stepped outside. The stars were still bright as I walked to get the newspaper. I turned to go back and a fresh gust of wind tickled the chimes. “Good morning, Mom,” I said, beginning my own ritual of greeting her in the morning. “Let’s have a nice day.”