This is the official blog of the husband and wife writing team of Barry Andrew Chambers and Janice Chambers. If you took Jane Austen's, EMMA, put her in a 21st century luxury resort hotel, surrounded her with a cast of off-beat characters that would feel at home in a Janet Evanovich novel… you would get Emma Wood, matchmaker. Check out our "Bio to Bs" (behind the scenes) posts to read our personal stories that have found their way into our Emma Wood novels.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Monday, June 30, 2014
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Think about it,Thursday - The Dingleberry Story
Have you ever thought you knew a word's meaning or just thought it was a cutesy term and wanted to use it? Have you ever called your minister at church a dingleberry and then watched as he turned raspberry red and looked like a deer caught in the headlights?
Did you then, rush out to your car, grab your cell phone and Google it? And then, turn raspberry red and move on to blackberry purple and look like a deer caught in the headlights?
Just some random thoughts...it certainly NEVER happened to me. =)
Did you then, rush out to your car, grab your cell phone and Google it? And then, turn raspberry red and move on to blackberry purple and look like a deer caught in the headlights?
Just some random thoughts...it certainly NEVER happened to me. =)
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
My Grandparents are spawns of the devil... Bio to Bs
My grandparents came to visit us, when I was six. When they got ready to leave, they invited me to come with them to stay at their house for a week. My first road trip without my parents...I was practically an adult.
As we motored through the rural lands of east Texas, my grandfather pointed out different types of birds and trees. Suddenly excited, he said to my grandmother, "Lois, look at those cat tails." Naturally, my head whipped around. I couldn't see them and yelled, "Pappaw...where?" He told me they were all along the fence. I looked back, but I still didn't see them.
Through the rest of the trip I kept wondering why there would be cat tails on a fence. Who would put them there and why weren't my grandparents upset about this? The way my grandfather pointed them out, he actually seemed happy about the cat tails. How could these people that I adored, be happy that there were cats walking around without tails...or worse, maybe they had been killed for their tails. And now, I was about to be spending a week alone with these depraved people. How could my parents let them take me?
Later that night, when we were having dinner at my grandparent's house, my grandmother mentioned that she wished we would have stopped and gotten some of the cat tails so that she could add them to her collection. I said in a stunned voice, "You have a collection?" My grandmother replied nonchalantly, "Yes, I can't believe you never noticed them, they're all over the house. Come on, I'll show you."
Morbid curiosity getting the better of me...I got up from the table and followed my grandmother into the living room where she pointed to several dried flower arrangements. You can't imagine my relief in finding out that cattails were plants and my grandparents weren't...spawns of the devil.
As we motored through the rural lands of east Texas, my grandfather pointed out different types of birds and trees. Suddenly excited, he said to my grandmother, "Lois, look at those cat tails." Naturally, my head whipped around. I couldn't see them and yelled, "Pappaw...where?" He told me they were all along the fence. I looked back, but I still didn't see them.
Through the rest of the trip I kept wondering why there would be cat tails on a fence. Who would put them there and why weren't my grandparents upset about this? The way my grandfather pointed them out, he actually seemed happy about the cat tails. How could these people that I adored, be happy that there were cats walking around without tails...or worse, maybe they had been killed for their tails. And now, I was about to be spending a week alone with these depraved people. How could my parents let them take me?
Later that night, when we were having dinner at my grandparent's house, my grandmother mentioned that she wished we would have stopped and gotten some of the cat tails so that she could add them to her collection. I said in a stunned voice, "You have a collection?" My grandmother replied nonchalantly, "Yes, I can't believe you never noticed them, they're all over the house. Come on, I'll show you."
Morbid curiosity getting the better of me...I got up from the table and followed my grandmother into the living room where she pointed to several dried flower arrangements. You can't imagine my relief in finding out that cattails were plants and my grandparents weren't...spawns of the devil.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Assaulted by Romantic Food - Bio to Bs
A couple of weeks after we were married, I decided that I would make a romantic dinner for my new husband. I got out the tablecloth with matching napkins and set the table with our new wedding china, silverware and candle sticks.
I spent the day getting the spaghetti sauce just right and made tons of meatballs, trying to get a few that were actually round and not too dry.
I showered to remove the garlic smell from my hair and put on a pretty, floor length dress. As the romantic music played on the tape deck (maybe I should have mentioned, this was back in the Stone Age), I dimmed the lights and lit the candles. Everything was perfect.
When Barry walked through the front door, I raced to hug him and show him what I had done. It was going to be a magical evening.
We sat down at the table and placed the spaghetti and meatballs on our plates. A few seconds later, I heard this chop, chop, chop sound. I looked over at Barry and he was chopping his spaghetti into tiny one inch segments. I smiled sweetly at him and said, "Honey, you're really supposed to eat your spaghetti like this." With my big spoon in my left hand and my fork in my right, I began to twirl the spaghetti around my fork. Then I held up my fork and just as I was about to take a bite...a long piece of spaghetti unwrapped and glued itself, with a massive amount of red sauce, to my cheek. I was horrified and so stunned, I didn't move and neither did the spaghetti.
After Barry realized I wasn't going to burst into tears, he started laughing hysterically. For years after that, anytime we would have spaghetti, Barry would ask, "Now, how am I supposed to eat spaghetti?" To this day, I still wince a little when I see spaghetti. And if you see me eating at your local Olive Garden, more often than not, you will probably hear a chop, chop, chop...coming from my plate.
JC
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