Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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Midlife Happy Hour – An Excellent Excerpt

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Chapter Four – The World Can Kiss Our Attitude

We never decided what to name our group of six middle-aged women friends. Suggestions varied from “Six Pack” to “Six in the City” to “We Were Seven but One Died.” Every time we met, we would vote on a new name, but we couldn’t agree so we stayed with the “Midlife Happy Hour Club.”

 “That’s so boring,” Kitty said. “Can’t we add something sexy?” 

“How about that waiter?” Linda replied. The joke was old, but we were, too. We clinked our glasses, savored the martinis and wine, and settled into a familiar pattern of camaraderie. We had promised Pam, the one who died from breast cancer, that we would carry on without her.

 “Chop them off now so you won’t get sick!” She’d whispered at the end, as we took turns pressing ice chips onto her lips. We nodded in solemn agreement. “And promise me you’ll all stay friends. Keep laughing. You don’t need boobs to laugh.” 

Over the years, the Midlife Happy Hour Club gathered regularly to acknowledge the fact that life sucked so we should laugh hard. The agenda varied, and we could grow equally passionate about politics, religion, nail polish, or the best stool softener. Sometimes we placed a glass for Pam. 

Birthday Card Blues

One memorable occasion was to celebrate Linda’s birthday. Such annual affairs often took a wicked turn as greeting cards turned into cruel and unusual punishment for still being alive. 

“I’m weary of birthday cards that mock seasoned women,” said Debby. “Over the hill, my ass. We couldn’t climb a hill taller than a plate of cookies even with sturdy tennis shoes and an industrial crane.” We agreed and vowed to stop sending each other stupid, insulting cards. Unless, of course, the card included a lovely photo of fit, shirtless dudes in cowboy hats. We’re shallow like that. 

A flock of perfect women tittered past on heels that cost more than my first car. “Look at her,” laughed Debby as she adjusted her don’t-give-a-shit matronly body. “She’s so skinny if she swallowed an olive it would show in front and back. I should stab her with a fork to make sure she’s not a poster.”

Linda, the birthday babe, gasped with feigned indignation. “I read that some women are paying for a fake butt. Can you imagine making your behind bigger on purpose? I can see mine even when I walk forward, and I didn’t pay a dime extra for it!” 

“Stop,” Jenniffer said with mock chagrin. “At least we don’t have periods anymore and can wear white pants without worry.”

“Ha!” I retorted. “The last time I wore white pants my grandkids told me to hold still so they could show a movie on my butt.” 

We Love Midlife Happy Hour

Friends for Fifty Years

Kitty bit into a carrot cake muffin smeared with enough cream cheese frosting to adhere a Buick to the wall. “Mmm,” she moaned. “I just eat this for the vegetables.”

“True,” I agreed. “And this medicinal lemon drop martini has just enough citrus to cure my scurvy.”

We giggled and snorted with middle-aged abandon. We loved the glamorous gals, we really did, but our biggest consolation was knowing they were growing older, too, and would someday arrange their own midlife happy hour. By then, we would be watching reruns of The Carol Burnett Show and reading salacious novels in big type. We would live together in a quaint cottage near the park and pool our savings accounts to hire off-duty firemen to rub our feet. It was a glorious plan. 

(I’ll be reading excerpts from three books Friday evening in Garden City, Idaho at an event I’m hosting titled “ATaste of Poetry: Conversations with John Roedel.” John Roedel will read from his poetry and discuss storytelling to a sold-out audience. My readings will include three genres: memoir, children’s books, and humor. This excerpt is from “Midlife Happy Hour – Our Reward for Surviving Careers, Kids, and Chaos.” The book was a finalist for “Book of the Year for Humor” and won two writing awards from the Independent Press Book Awards program.)

Writing Workshop for Losers

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Writing Workshop for Losers
(Who Can Become Winners)

Do you feel like a failure? You’re not alone. Hundreds of writers have received caustic rejection letters, nasty reviews, and public insults, and some of those came from their family members. However, many people overcome the disappointment to achieve recognition and gather rewards for their talents.

CLICK HERE FOR REGISTRATION.

Losers who want to become winners are invited to attend a productive, empowering workshop on October 4-5, 2019, facilitated by bestselling author Elaine Ambrose in the Saloon near Spurwing in Meridian, Idaho. Through interactive sessions with professional survivors of rejection, participants will discover how to cope with failure and change negative energy into optimistic achievement The cost is only $125, and the agenda includes a Friday night informal reception with area writers, all Saturday sessions, all materials, lunch, snacks, and assignments. The address to the Saloon will be emailed after entrance fee is paid. This workshop is open to beginning and intermediate writers. Space is limited. No refunds after October 1.

The Saloon at Spurwing. Photo by David Day

Friday, October 4
An informal evening reception will include area writers and members of the Idaho Writers Guild.

Saturday, October 5 – Speakers and Workshop Facilitators

Jennifer Basye Sander

New York Times bestselling author, book packager of more than 50 titles, and literary talent Jennifer Basye Sander will describe how her failures led to magnificent success stories. As an acquisitions editor, Jennifer turned down the first book proposal for the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. Subsequently, the series sold more than 500 million books. Using creative exercises, Jennifer will lead participants through a cathartic bonfire to purge past failures and emerge energized for future accomplishments. Participants will perform a rejection ritual and toss their fears and rejections into the firepit while imagining the creation of a better, tastier chicken soup for their souls. Jennifer is a former editor for Random House and teaches at the UC Davis Creative Writing Program. She lives in Sacramento, California. View her author page here.

Donna Beckman Tagliaferri
Donna Beckman Tagliaferri writes a popular blog titled My Life from the Bleachers and is the voice of compassion and reason in a vitriolic world of social media. She writes about having great expectations and what to do when hopes and dreams don’t occur or turn out differently. She’ll discuss how we use our challenges, trails, and tests to help and encourage each other and do our most creative work. Her workshop will focus on finding the sunflowers because they face the sun but on cloudy days, they turn toward each other to share energy. Donna lives in Las Vegas, Nevada. Click here to find her online blog.

Elaine Ambrose
Elaine Ambrose’s recent bestselling memoir Frozen Dinners describes how she survived a challenging childhood and became a humor writer. To conclude the retreat, she will provide a “Music as Muse” exercise so writers can focus on their negative emotions to produce positive feelings. Follow Elaine on her website.

CLICK HERE FOR REGISTRATION.

Presented by

The Saloon at Spurwing. Photo by David Day.

When Your Audience Says “Stop Talking”

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At a recent presentation, I was shocked when the audience seemed irritated because I was there. They refused to laugh at my jokes, so I began an energized speech sure to sway their misguided skepticism. I failed.

Throughout my writing and public relations career, I’ve presented hundreds of speeches and workshops. I follow a familiar routine of entering the room, greeting the participants, and embarking on proven techniques to earn an immediate laugh. The sparkle in their eyes and their animated body language tell me I have them in the palm of my hand. Surely, my provocative and brilliant oratory is destined to entertain and enlighten the world.

For paid appearances at national conferences, I arrange the details in advance and keep complete notebooks with facts about Power Point presentations, audio/visual equipment, handouts, room arrangements, conference schedules, key contacts, and important information about the audience. I’m less organized when I give free speeches to local organizations and usually pop into the meeting, do my thing, sell some books, and leave them laughing.

The Idaho Writers Guild organized a series of free workshops for local writers in the Boise area. Because I recently completed a memoir titled Frozen Dinners, I agreed to present a workshop about how to write a memoir. To prepare, I wrote and printed handouts and gathered business cards, bookmarks, and copies of my books. I promoted the event on social media and anticipated the two-hour workshop would be fun and easy.

I arrived at the Collister Library 20 minutes before my workshop and introduced myself to the staff. A kind woman escorted me to a meeting room full of a dozen women. I proceeded to unpack my supplies and arrange my books and materials. I noticed that they seemed aloof. That immediate rejection caused me to try harder and bring out my killer jokes, usually reserved for tepid audiences. This tactic didn’t work, so I kept talking, mentally scrambling to rearrange my outline. They continued to stare at me without emotion.

Self-doubt creeped over my confidence. Did they detect manure on my shoes because I grew up on a pig farm? Maybe my speaking career was over. Maybe I was a fraud. Maybe no one ever wanted to hear me talk or lead a workshop, and I should run away to live alone in the mountains. Then I noticed the women all had sewing projects on the table.


“Are you here for the writing workshop?” I asked.

“No. This is the weekly meeting of our needlepoint club, and we’ve been discussing new patterns,” said an older woman. I imagined her name was Blanche. She was working on a floral design for a pillowcase. The others continued to stare at me, their fingers holding pointed needles in midair.

“We didn’t know why you were speaking to us,” another woman said. She resembled my great-aunt Gertrude. “But, we didn’t know how to make you stop talking.”

I’ve heard that comment before, usually from teachers, bosses, and romantic dates. I reminded myself to stop agreeing to give workshops for free.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered as I gathered my supplies and stuffed them into my bags. “I guess you won’t want my books about menopause and midlife Cabernet.” They didn’t laugh. I made a mental note to investigate any mysterious crimes committed by stoic people who needlepoint.

I hurried out the door and wandered around the library until I found the room where my writing students were patiently waiting.


“We thought you weren’t coming,” the librarian said. She didn’t notice my eye twitching. She gave a glowing introduction and my confidence slowly returned. I arranged my books and materials, again, and launched into my workshop. They laughed within the first minute. I was back, and they were mine.

 

The Wisdom of Irish Taxi Drivers and Bartenders

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taxi driver dublin

“Why are all the Americans mad as a box of frogs?” David asked as he drove from the Dublin International Airport to my hotel. “I don’t understand all the vitriol. The waste of time is biscuits to a bear.”

“I agree with you,” I replied as I rummaged for a pen and notebook to write quotes from the taxi driver. “I’ve been writing that sentiment for more than a year. I try to balance all the garbage with humor.”

“Ah, so you’re a writer lady,” he chortled in a delightful Irish brogue. “Don’t you know most of us are cut to the bone – that means fed up – with all the drama over there.”

“Not all of us are angry or depressed,” I assured him. “I’m proud of my country and am convinced we’ll survive the current chaos.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re not in tatters about politics. And I trust you’ll be seeing the favorite pubs of the famous Irish writers?”

“Yes, I’m going to the Temple Bar to find the table where James Joyce used to sit,” I responded. “And, then to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to see where Jonathan Swift is buried.”

“Don’t you forget Oscar Wilde. There’s his statue near the park.” He pointed to the monument as we neared my hotel.

The 30-minute drive with David was a treat because of the nonstop commentary about politics, writers, pubs, and his love of his native Dublin. We arrived at the hotel and he offered a few more words of advice.

“Have a good craic and enjoy a pint of Guinness,” he said and added a serious tone. “And watch for pickpockets at The Book of Kells and shysters who will try to sell ya the eye out of your head.”

I appreciated his concern and noted that he didn’t judge the fact that I was a woman traveling alone. I thanked him, paid the 22 Euro fare and added eight more for the tip. He said we were best friends and shook my hand with the fervor of a long-long cousin.

“I’ll never make it to the States,” he said as he got back into his taxi. “But, I’ll be watching for happier news. It’s silly for friends and family to be doin’ a number and destroyin’ relationships over a political situation that constantly changes.” He drove away, and I acknowledged another memorable taxi ride.

Temple Bar Dublin

In my travels, I enjoy talking with local people I meet along the journey. They always have the best stories, advice, warnings, and opinions. Next to taxi drivers, the bartenders offer the best conversations. After checking into my room and grabbing a walking map from the front desk, I ventured onto the streets of Dublin. I found the Temple Bar and slide onto a stool at the bar.

A young woman named Elise came over and I ordered a ¼ pint of Guinness.

“That’s but a baby size,” she said. “Wouldn’t you like a big girl’s portion?”

I laughed with her and explained I wasn’t much of a beer drinker and after the obligatory taste of Irish beer would switch to red wine with a cheese board and a bowl of olives. She poured my beer and wine and set the glasses on coasters in front of me. I drank the beer first and then sipped the wine.

“It’s early and the crowds won’t start coming in for another hour so you have the bar to yourself,” she said. “What brings you to Dublin?”

I explained that I was spending the weekend by myself in Dublin after traveling on a week-long tour with Wayfinding Women. We had visited several spiritual sights including the Hill of Tara and Glendalough as we studied Celtic spiritual traditions.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Elise exclaimed as she pushed some wayward red curls from her face. “Did you see any fairies or goddesses?”

“I believe we experienced some of them,” I answered, truthfully.

Elise hurried to the kitchen and brought back a platter piled with cheeses, olives, and dense brown bread. She implored me to tell her more. I explained that I had been on a personal journey to deal with the recent deaths of my brother and mother. I also led writing discussions with the other women on the tour.

“I’m delighted to meet you,” Elise gushed. “I’ve seen plenty of Americans in here wailing about your political whankers and muppets. But you seem beyond all the olagonin’.”

“What’s that word,” I asked, reaching for my notebook.

“It means moaning and complaining,” she answered. “Maybe it’s because the United States is so young the country is hitting the rebellious teenage years. Our rugged Irish heritage has survived for thousands of years, and we’ve reached the wise, old ancestor stage. Maybe we’re luckier than you are.”

James Joyce in Temple Bar

Patrons began filling the bar, and many were eager to find the bronze statue of James Joyce. I had a favorite quote of Joyce’s and was waiting for the perfect time to use it. The time was appropriate.

I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women.
From selected Letters of James Joyce about his wife Nora

Elise laughed out loud and dashed off to chat with the noisy customers lining the bar. When she brought my tab, she took my hand and thanked me for being a happy American. I thanked her for the important lesson about Irish heritage.

As I walked back to my hotel, I thought about the conversations with David and Elise. They joined the long list of fascinating and wise people I’d met throughout the years. In their honor, I was determined to return to the States and not become a whanker in a box of angry frogs.

Photos © Elaine Ambrose 2018

Winners of Children’s Writing Challenge will Read Sunday before the Idaho Potato Drop

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Mill Park Publishing of Eagle sponsored the Children’s Writing Challenge in conjunction with the 5th Annual Idaho® Potato Drop on December 31, 2017. The judges chose the top ten winners after reading more than 100 clever and creative entries from local children. The original essays included robot potatoes, spuds with glitter and unicorns, fighting bakers that shoot French fries from their eyes, and tubers from outer space.

First Place – Megan B., age 10, Seven Oaks Elementary, Boise, for “Potato Invasion” – Reads at 3:45 pm

Second Place – Belle T., age 11, Crimson Point Elementary, Kuna, for “A Potato Named Jeff”

Third Place – Alexis W, age 8, Riverside Elementary, Boise, for “The Magic Flying Potato” – Reads at 3:00 pm

Fourth Place – Noah C., age 9, Seven Oaks Elementary, Boise, for “Cat and Bunny in the Potato Patch” – Reads at1:46 pm

Fifth Place – Noah W., age 9, Seven Oaks Elementary, Boise, for “Jerry and Barry”

Sixth Place – Josie R., age 10, Seven Oaks Elementary, Boise, for “The Potato Story”

Seventh Place – Evelyn A., age 9, Seven Oaks Elementary, Boise, for “The Invasion of Potatoes”

Eighth Place – Adelie C., age 9, Seven Oaks Elementary, Boise, for “Runaway Potatoes”

Ninth Place – Jeremiah P., age 9, Seven Oaks Elementary, Boise, for “Me the Potato”

Tenth Place – Paia C., age 9, Seven Oaks Elementary, Boise, for “The Long Journey”

The top 10 entries each will receive a certificate, $25 from Mill Park Publishing, and a copy of the award-winning book Gators & Taters: A Week of Bedtime Stories and The Magic Potato – La Papa Mágica. The top 10 winners will be introduced during a special program on the Main Stage at on December 31.

The top four winners will read their winning entries at a special ceremony on the Main Stage in front of the Capitol on December 31.

The Idaho® Potato Drop is a free and charitable community event that supports local arts, business, and charities. Activities feature a fireworks show, a Family Tent, Rail Jam, and live music at the state capitol for New Year’s Eve. The “drop” of the gigantic, lighted potato at midnight is now a worldwide attraction.

Mill Park Publishing is an official vendor for the event and will be selling books in the Family Tent. Parents can save $10 off the price of two books. The company was created by bestselling author Elaine Ambrose to promote and publish books for all ages, create motivating writing retreats, and sponsor writing challenges.