Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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New Book for Middle-Aged Women Wins National IPPY Humor Award

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photo (2)Midlife Cabernet – Life, Love & Laughter after Fifty by Idaho author Elaine Ambrose won the Silver Medal for Humor in the annual Independent Publisher Book Award (IPPY) competition that honors independent authors and publishers worldwide. More than 6,000 entries were judged in this year’s competition to recognize and reward independent spirit and creativity in publishing. Awards will be given on May 28 in New York City.

Midlife Cabernet was published by Mill Park Publishing of Eagle. Ambrose founded the company to publish works by local women writers and donate proceeds to local charities. This is the company’s second IPPY award, and Ambrose’s other books also have won a national humor award from ForeWord Magazine and five awards from recent competitions sponsored by the Idaho Book Extravaganza.

“We are thrilled to receive another award to acknowledge quality books from Mill Park Publishing,” said Ambrose. “The success of Midlife Cabernet proves there are millions of middle-aged women who would rather laugh than break something, preferably while holding a bold Cabernet.”

A national review by ForeWord Reviews wrote that, “Elaine Ambrose’s Midlife Cabernet is an Erma Bombeck-esque tribute to women who are over fifty and ready to explore life on new terms. It’s a humorous and sassy-yet-compassionate view of life over the hill, as well as a retrospective on the climb to the top. The writing and mechanics are solid, and the tone is cheerful and friendly in a punchy and humorous series of essays.”

In the past few years, Mill Park Publishing has donated more than $10,000 to local non-profit organizations and charities. Proceeds from the novel The Angel of Esperança by Judith McConnell Steele provided $1,000 to fund a Writer in the Schools teacher sponsored by The Cabin. Other recipients include Dress for Success Treasure Valley, the Women’s and Children’s Alliance, the West Valley YMCA, the University of Idaho music program, and the Idaho Writers Guild.

Ambrose is the author of nine books, including the bestseller Menopause Sucks. Her blog “Midlife Cabernet” is featured on www.Blogher.com and on her web site www.test.elaineambrose.com. Mill Park Publishing also organizes writer’s retreats throughout the year, and details are listed on www.MillParkPublishing.com. Books are available from the web sites, amazon.com, and local book stores.

When Mom Sang “Que Sera, Sera”

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I was 7-years-old the first time I saw my mother cry. She leaned against the kitchen counter with her face pressed into a gingham tea towel, and I didn’t know what to do because it was my fault she was sobbing. She had returned from the hospital and told me she “lost the baby,” and I yelled at her to go find it. I didn’t understand what had happened.

My grandmother took my older brother and me to the mortuary to see the perfect baby wrapped in a delicate pink blanket cradled into a tiny white casket. They named her Carol, and I wanted to hold her. Grandma tried to explain how the cord was wrapped around her neck but that just made me mad. My friend’s mother had a healthy baby almost every year and they never strangled at birth. All I knew was that I could hear my mother crying when she thought we were asleep, and I only wanted her to be happy.

For weeks after the funeral I tried in vain to make her smile. Then one autumn day she placed the needle on her well-worn Doris Day record album and sang a few off-key verses of “Que Sera, Sera,” shattering the heavy gloom that had settled like an unwanted, sickly guest. “Whatever will be, will be” became my mother’s mantra, and it sustained her through a life of abundance tempered with physical and mental pain.

Mom worked two jobs while my father was gone building his trucking business. She babysat other children during the day and typed reports for various businesses during the night. I remember being lulled to sleep by the clack, clack sounds and the rhythmic ding of the manual typewriter. When I was four, my mother gave birth to my younger brother but my father was gone driving an 18-wheel truck to California with a load of meat from Montana. He didn’t return for four days because he needed to broker a load of frozen food to bring back. My mother waited patiently for him to return and name the baby. I never appreciated the magnitude of her sacrifices until many decades later.

By then, I too was a mother. I’ll never forget the first moment I felt the faint flutter of my unborn baby. I was alone on a business trip to Logan, Utah, and I silently celebrated and also trembled with fear at the mysterious wonder that grew near my heart. My biggest concern was about the umbilical cord, and even though my daughter was born in critical condition and rushed to intensive care, she rallied and we went home together. The first few months, I got up several times during the night to touch her to make sure she was still there. During those quiet lullabies in the night, I promised to love her and make her happy.

Two years later I was blessed with a son, and again, I got up in the night to touch him. The rhythmic breathing of my sleeping children was nourishment to my soul and offered a cadence that motivated me to take care of them. My daughter and son now have daughters of their own, so they know the intense power of parenthood.

Mom was widowed 25 years ago at age 62, and though she maintained her steadfast attitude claiming “What will be, will be,” I noticed a sadness in her eyes as she slipped into dementia. She is frail and frequently talks of angels and of seeing my dad and her departed sister and friends. I will mourn her passing but rejoice when she is free from her earthly limitations. I envision her running to her lost child and rocking the baby without distraction. Then, finally, she will be happy.

(Update: My sweet mother passed away in 2014, and my brothers died in 2017 and 2019. I imagine her smiling with Carol, my dad, and my two brothers.)

Midlife Cabernet: Mothers and Daughters from a Different Story

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photo (3)In fits of exasperation during my volatile teenage years, my mother would exclaim, “I hope you have a daughter just like you!” Thankfully, I did. And during my daughter’s spirited times, somehow my mother’s words came out of my mouth. And yes, she also has an ebullient child. We have several years before my granddaughter is a teenager, but I predict the same conversation will occur.

Another accusation my beleaguered mother used to say was that I was only happy doing what I wanted to do. Even as a defiant little girl, I would retort, “What’s wrong with that?” Sorry, Mom.

I can’t write a warm and glowing tribute to my mother because we have never been close. There weren’t any shared secrets or long calls or exchanges of advice. Once a man hit me and split my lip, but I couldn’t tell my mother even though she was only 30 minutes away. I fled to the home of a friend’s mother for consolation. I wish it had been different.

My mother always has been timid and insecure, and our personalities clashed from the start. She was the Sunday School teacher, the Cub Scout Leader, and the dutiful wife and mother. But she didn’t know what to do with me, and I couldn’t be the daughter she wanted. When my parents drove me to college and found the reception area, I bolted from the car and never looked back. There weren’t any hugs or tears because all three of us were relieved that I was out of the house.

I respect my mother and know that she’s had a difficult life full of pain and sorrow. I admire her because she has a fierce determination that should be studied by medical science. And I love her as best I can. Widowed for 25 years, now she lives in a nursing home and is confined to a wheelchair. She is afflicted with dementia and I hope that when she smiles she is remembering the good and positive times she experienced during her 87 years.

The legacy of growing up in a loveless family is that there are no guidelines to follow to a better life. I knew that I wanted a close family and when I was blessed with two children, I became the Mother Bear of the Universe. I made mistakes, as we all do, but my allegiance to them remains true and unwavering. Now they have strong marriages and excellent relationships with their children, and I am in awe of their parenting skills.

The greatest parenting achievement for me is that I see and talk with my children regularly. They taught me how to do this, and I highly recommend it. I’ll continue to visit my mother and be attentive to her needs, but spending time with my adult children is like receiving a gift I always wanted. And as my mother used to say, I’m happiest when I get what I want.

With sincere admiration and love, I wish my mother, my daughter, and my daughter-in-law a splendid Mother’s Day. Remember that your children want you to be happy.

Midlife Cabernet: From Blog to Book

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My first blog post for Midlife Cabernet was published in February of 2008 when I was a youngster in my fifties. Since then, I have repeatedly lost and regained the weight of a piano, divorced and remarried, moved twice, authored or published ten books, attended both my children’s joyful marriages and then held their darling baby girls, supervised the building of a mountain cabin, admitted my mother into a nursing home, and enjoyed enough red wine to preserve me for another twenty years.

This blog was the constant activity through all the chaos and commotion. My first topics were about how to survive the empty nest and described the powerful realization that I would live longer without my children than with them. (This may bring some relief to beleaguered moms of toddlers.) Subsequent blogs covered the raw realities of menopause, body failures, eldercare, and old, old friends. Looking back, Midlife Cabernet is a private journal that I happened to share on the World Wide Web.

So, why not make it a book? Voila! Midlife Cabernet – Love, Life & Laughter after Fifty will premiere in April. It’s a combination of my published blogs and new material, previously unseen by human eyes. Chapters include “Midlife Dating and Mating,” “The Proper Care and Coddling of Curmudgeons,” and “A Time to Laugh, a Time to Get a Weapon.”

If you write a blog (and you should), here’s how you can turn it into a self-published book:

Write well and regularly about topics that interest a target audience.
Save all your published essays into word documents and divide them by categories. For example, I organized all my blogs about grandchildren into an entire chapter titled “Grandkids as Speed Bumps.”
Add 50% new material.
Set a budget. For about $3,500 you can pay for design, editing, printing, and shipping for 100 copies of a 230-page book that contains 60,000 words. Be sure to price the book to cover your costs. Profit is nice, too.
Study online resources and talk to published authors to learn how to self-publish a book. If you want bookstores to consider carrying your book, obtain an ISBN number.
Work with a professional graphic designer to create a dynamite cover and design the interior text. If you’re also doing an e-book, a different configuration is necessary.
Hire a professional editor or two and enlist a few of your literate friends to proofread the copy. My final copy went through four edits and revisions.
Choose an online publishing company. I have used Lulu, BookMasters, and CreateSpace. I prefer CreateSpace. Study their website for instructions. Upload the cover and text, order a proof copy, make any changes, and then order the books.
When the box of books arrives, open it carefully and then relish the moment you first hold your precious creation. This euphoria lasts only a few moments until you realize that the books will languish in your garage until you sell them. Marketing and promotion is just as important as the production. Again, learn from a variety of resources about how to arrange book signing events, obtain reviews, promote through social media, and basically become a book peddler. Remember that your friends and relatives will only buy so many copies before they stop taking your calls.

Finally, enjoy the process of writing a book. There is an enormous feeling of accomplishment when you walk into the local bookstore and see your title on the shelf. You may or may not obtain fame or fortune from your work, but take comfort in knowing you did it. Then go home and start writing your next masterpiece.

Midlife Cabernet: The World is Tilting Upside Down

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My wee granddaughter likes to poke her butt in the air, place her head on the floor, and look back between her legs. This position is best executed by little people who are close to the ground. I tried it once but strained my back, ripped my pants, and fell on my face.

It’s tempting to try this pose again because everything seems to be upside down, and what once was considered strange and inappropriate is now accepted and even celebrated. Here are some perplexing examples of recent news stories that hurt my brain and cause me to mutter (more than usual.)

A man in Portland frantically called 911 because his cat scared him into cowering in a bedroom with his family. The man was paid to tell his terrifying tale on a television entertainment program, and the cat is in therapy. I live with a Marine who could strangle a ferocious beast with one hand without spilling his gin and tonic. And I’m thankful for that fact.

In a related story about a new product, when the killer cat dies the owner can memorialize the feisty feline by having its nose molded into a sterling silver necklace. This lovely tribute is available at several online stores and costs a few hundred dollars. I don’t want any friends who wear animal noses as jewelry. That’s just wrong.

Then there’s the news about a 31-year-old Michigan woman who is in jail because she bit off her boyfriend’s ear during a domestic dispute. Maybe the boyfriend should enlist the help of Angelica Velez of Brooklyn, a tattooed sideshow star who was interviewed last week about her unique and enviable ability to hammer nails up her nose. You can bet your sweet hammered nostrils that she would organize and sell tickets to a catfight between the ear-chomping girlfriend and the notorious kitty.

She’s probably not part of a peculiar group of lonely women who choose to marry inanimate objects. I read a report that a woman in Florida married an amusement park ride because she experienced special feelings while riding it. (And who doesn’t? But we don’t marry the things!) Women also have married other items, including the Eiffel Tower in Paris and the Berlin Wall in Germany. There’s not a single chance of biting off ears in these relationships.

Finally, I’m stunned by the “too damn many lawyers” story about the teenage girl suing her parents for child support. Too bad that sweetheart hadn’t met my father. If I had tried that, I would have been given a one-way ticket on the next bus to Florida to go live with a tattooed woman and her one-eared cat.

I’ve decided to stop reading news bulletins because they clutter my brain with disturbing images and confounding details. I’ll just focus on things I already know to be weird, irrational, and irrelevant. The US Congress comes to mind.

Today’s blog was fueled by a Sebastiani Cabernet from Sonoma County. It’s $40 a bottle at the Kona Grill in The Village at Meridian, but go on Wednesday because all wine is 50% off the regular price. Enjoy a bottle or two and then you’ll be able to strike a downward facing dog pose to get a balanced perspective on our tilted world.

Midlife Cabernet – Wedding Advice to an Ex-Niece

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A dozen years ago, I married into an Italian Catholic family and became part of a gregarious clan that gathers regularly to celebrate weddings, funerals, family reunions, and any excuse to cook and share the “La Bella Figura.” Although my marriage ended in divorce, that family remains an important part of my life and I miss them; well, most of them.

My ex-niece is getting married Friday, and of course, I’m not invited. One of the many unfortunate realities of divorce is that the ex-spouse belongs to the ex-family. I remain in contact with my delightful ex-sister-in-law and her charming children, and I wish we were closer. Because of my past failures and my current success in marriage, I want to offer some advice to my ex-niece on the eve of her wedding.

  1. Believe in Yourself. You can’t depend upon anyone or anything else to make you happy. Your tenacity will sustain you throughout your life, and your husband will appreciate a self-confident partner (and vice versa.)
  2. Retain an Attitude of Gratitude. Sometime after the wedding you will experience the first major disappointment or crisis. Be grateful for the opportunity to prove that you are strong enough to handle it. Kick some butt, if necessary.
  3. Respect your Family and In-laws. My ex-mother-in-law, your late grandmother, raised six children and dutifully supported her military husband. And, she made the best green lasagna in the world. My ex-father-in-law, The Colonel, is still feisty, and I miss talking with him.
  4. Children are Fabulous and Frustrating. If you are blessed with children, share equally in the responsibilities. Make your marriage a priority so that when the kids move away you’ll be excited because the two of you can run around the house naked.
  5. Keep the Faith. It’s great fun to experience the abundant joys of life. The true challenge comes when you’re assaulted with pain and circumstances that bring you to your knees. But, that’s where you will be comforted and inspired by the grace of God. Trust me.

I believe that people come into our lives for a reason. I was raised in a critical, competitive family; my father chose not to attend my high school graduation, my parents and brothers refused the invitation to my first wedding, my brother sued me and I haven’t seen him in 14 years. So I’m grateful to the Romanos for giving me a brief but boisterous look at how families should celebrate together. Now, I eagerly enjoy spending time with my wonderful husband, our children, and their families. It’s with that conviction that I raise a glass to toast Jenn and her new husband and sincerely invite them to come to Idaho for a visit. I have a well-worn recipe for her grandma’s green lasagna, and we will eat, drink and be merry.

Today’s blog is compliments of a bottle of Amarone, a bold, Italian, dry, red wine that is worth the price, and perfect for a special family celebration. Ciao!