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BLONDE MATH

from Catherine Castle

I’m a blonde. Always have been a blonde.

Always will be a blonde.

If I had any doubt about that it was reinforced the other day when my husband brought me a new blonde joke.

You have to understand that I love blonde jokes. The dumber the blonde the funnier I think the joke is. That’s because at my core I know blondes are really smart, and we know how to work things to our advantage. That’s why so many women, and men, want to be blondes nowadays.

I have a collection of blonde jokes sent to me by friends and that I have garnered from the internet. One of my favorites is about the blonde driving down the highway knitting.

A highway patrolman pulled alongside a speeding car on the freeway.  Glancing at the car, he was astounded to see that the blonde behind the wheel was knitting!

Realizing that she was oblivious to his flashing lights and siren, the trooper cranked down his window, turned on his bullhorn and yelled, 'PULL OVER!'

'NO!' the blonde yelled back, 'IT'S A SCARF!'

I get that joke. I also get the one about the three construction workers, also one of my favorites.

Three male construction workers—an Italian, a Mexican, and a Swede—are sitting on a high construction beam eating lunch.

The Italian pulls a meatball sandwich from his lunch pail and says, “If I get another meatball sandwich for lunch, I’m going to throw myself off this high beam.”

The Mexican pulls a taco from his lunch pail and says, “If I get another taco for lunch, I’m going to throw myself off this high beam.”

Then the Swede pulls a sardine sandwich from his lunch pail and says, “If I get another sardine sandwich for lunch. I’m going to throw myself off this high beam.”

The next day, the Italian pulls a meatball sandwich from his lunch pail and throws himself off the beam. Then the Mexican pulls a taco from his lunch pail and throws himself off the beam. And finally, the Swede pulls a sardine sandwich from his lunch pail and throws himself off the beam.

At the funeral for the men the wives were commiserating. “If I’d only known he hated meatball sandwiches, I wouldn’t have packed them,” said the Italian’s wife.

“If I’d known he hated tacos, I wouldn’t have packed them, either,” said the Mexican’s wife.

Then the two women looked at the Swede’s wife.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “He packed his own lunch.”

I get this joke. Duh…the Swede could have just packed something different and then he wouldn’t have to throw himself off the construction beam.

But the following joke stumped me, proving I’m a true blonde, even when my roots grew out 3 inches during the COVID-19 shutdown.

“Listen to this,” my husband said as he came into the kitchen and proceeded to tell me a new blonde joke.

A blonde answers the door and sees a census worker who asks her a variety of census questions. Then he says, “How old are you, ma’am?”

“Well,” says the blonde,” I was married when I was eighteen and my husband was thirty. He’s sixty now, which is twice his age, so that makes me … thirty-six.”

There was a pregnant pause in the kitchen, and then I said, “So what’s the punch line?”

My husband started howling with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Her husband was thirty when they married and now he’s sixty.”

“Yeah,” I said, “twice his age.”

“And she’s how old?” he asked.

“Thirty-six. Eighteen plus eighteen is thirty-six, right?” I said.

“He’s thirty years older,” my husband said. “He’s now sixty. Do the math.” When I didn’t answer right away he started laughing even harder. “No wonder you were thirty-seven for so many years. You really are a blonde.” Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

“I didn’t add wrong,” I hollered at his retreating back. “I just forgot how old I was for all those years.”

As soon as he was out of sight, I pulled retrieved my phone calculator and did the math again. Eighteen plus eighteen still came out thirty-six.

Thank heaven for calculators, because I flunked word-problem math in seventh grade. Without my calculator I’d be lost doing higher math problems.

Are you a real blonde, too, or do you know the answer my hubby was after? I'd love to know.

∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼∼

Catherine may not be great at higher math, but she sure can write, as is testified to through her multiple book awards. Check out her romantic comedy, with a touch of drama, A Groom for Mama, for more funny situations.

A Groom for Mama

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes, she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

AMAZON BUY LINK

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer, she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing, she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Follow her on Twitter, FB, or her blog.

 

 

Thanks Dad!

by Catherine Castle

Father’s Day is this month. With this holiday comes a rash of blogs about fathers and how they affected their children’s lives. I thought I’d add mine to the mix, but with a writer’s slant.

When I was growing up and working on a school assignment, I often wanted to use a word I didn’t know how to spell. You have to realize that this was way before the advent of computers where misspelled words are often automatically corrected by computer software programs. My available resources were a beat up dictionary and my parents, who didn’t have more than an eighth grade education. I’d usually ask my dad how to spell a word since Mom claimed she never knew. Every time I asked, Dad’s answer was always, “Go look it up in the dictionary.”

“How can I look it up, if I don’t know how to spell it?” I whined.

“Figure it out,” Dad said.

At the time, I thought Dad didn’t know how to spell and he was ashamed to tell me. So, I’d get the dictionary, look up the word using phonetics, and eventually I’d find the correct spelling.

Years later, when my own daughter would ask me how to spell a word, my answer to her was more often than not, “Go look it up.” And it was not because I couldn’t spell.

You see, after years of searching the dictionary for illusive words, somewhere along the way I became a great speller. Thanks to my father.

Today it doesn’t matter whether my father could spell or not. Today I see there was wisdom in my dad’s avoidance of handing me an answer. Instead of relying on someone to give me an answer, Dad taught me to go figure it out on my own. What a great lesson that was for a future writer.

Thanks, Dad.

Where novice Sister Margaret Mary goes, trouble follows. When she barges into a drug deal the local Mexican drug lord captures her. To escape she must depend on undercover DEA agent Jed Bond. Jed’s attitude toward her is exasperating, but when she finds herself inexplicably attracted to him, he becomes more dangerous than the men who have captured them by making her doubt her decision to take her final vows. Escape back to the nunnery is imperative, but life at the convent, if she can still take her final vows, will never be the same.

Nuns shouldn’t look, talk, act, or kiss like Sister Margaret Mary O’Connor—at least that’s what Jed Bond thinks. She hampers his escape plans with her compulsiveness and compassion, and in the process makes Jed question his own beliefs. After years of walling up his emotions in an attempt to become the best agent possible, Sister Margaret is crumbling Jed’s defenses and opening his heart. To lure her away from the church would be unforgivable—to lose her unbearable.

Amazon Buy Link

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle has been writing all her life. A former freelance writer, she has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit (under her real name) in the Christian and secular market. Now she writes sweet and inspirational romance. Her debut inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, from Soul Mate Publishing, has garnered multiple contests finals and wins.

Catherine loves writing, reading, traveling, singing, watching movies, and the theatre. In the winter she loves to quilt and has a lot of UFOs (unfinished objects) in her sewing case. In the summer her favorite place to be is in her garden. She’s passionate about gardening and even won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club.

Learn more about Catherine Castle on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out Catherine’s Amazon author page and her Goodreads page. You can also find Catherine on Stitches Thru Time and the SMP authors blog site.

 

Happy Reading

Determining Mr./Mrs. Right-for-Your-Life

 from Catherine Castle

How do you know it you’ve met Mr. or Mrs. Right—the one true love of your life?

Now that’s the question of the century. Sometimes you know right away with a “zing” goes the heart strings. Sometimes you don’t know until certain dramatic things happen in your lives. And sometimes true love is revealed only after the loved one is gone. I saw all three of these in the lives of my parents.

Let me tell you a story about my parents, who apparently got it right.

My parents met after WWII, right before Dad was going to enlist in the Foreign Legion. He came to visit Mom’s uncle. Mom peeked at Dad from behind a newspaper during that visit and her interest in him was obvious enough that he asked her on a date. Their courtship was a short one. They met in October and by Thanksgiving the following month they were married. All Dad’s family said, “Don’t marry him. You don’t know what you’re getting into. He drinks. He gambles. He carouses around with his brother.” But ‘Love is blind.’ And Mom didn’t listen to the naysayers. That’s the “zing” goes the heart strings moment.

The dramatic happening for my folks occurred early on in their marriage. True to the warning of his family, Dad did drink and gamble and run around with his brother, leaving Mom at home with two small children.  After about two years of this kind of behavior, Mom gave Dad an ultimatum.  “It’s me and your daughters or carousing with your brother. You can’t have both. Choose what you love most,” she told him.  Dad chose us. He walked away from his old life and built a life around his family.

It took the remainder of their lives together to discover the last expression of love.

Dad was a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Dinner fare for us was always a meat, which ran the gamut from pickled pigs’ feet and cow brains to fried chicken and smoked pork. Some form of potatoes (usually fried) sat next to the meat platter. Then green beans and another vegetable filled out the menu. We’d often have bread, too, from sliced store-bought bread to homemade cornbread or biscuits. Dessert was rare and saved for company. Without fail, meat, potatoes, green beans and a second vegetable appeared on every dinner table.

No matter what combination of those four dishes Mom put on the dinner table, Dad ate it. He wasn’t choosy about what meat Mom served, or how the potatoes were fixed, or what alternate veggie she served beside the green beans. He ate it all, and as I remember it, with gusto. In all the years I sat at the table with them, eating Mom’s down-home meals I never once heard Dad complain about or critique Mom’s cooking. I thought he loved everything she made, even though I always didn’t.

Then, in 1987, Mom died of complications from pneumonia. After the funeral Dad was wandering around the house saying, “You girls should take this, or this. It belonged to your mom and I can’t look at it now that she’s gone.”  We obliged him and took the offered items, because, as I’ve since learned, guys can’t deal with looking at stuff that belonged to their deceased wives.

When Dad walked into the pantry where Mom kept all her home-canned goods, he said, “Take all these green beans home with you.”

“I can’t take food off your table, Dad,” I protested.

“I hate green beans,” he replied.

I’m sure my mouth dropped open, because it still does when I think of this story. “But you ate them almost every night,” I said. “If you hate them why did you eat them?”

“Because your mother served them.”

For thirty-seven years and four months, my father ate a hated vegetable every day just because Mom served it. And he ate it without letting anyone at the table know he hated green beans. Now, if that isn’t true love, I don’t know what is.

Ain’t love grand?

Catherine loves to laugh at herself and loves to write comedy. Check out her award-winning romantic comedy, with a touch of drama, A Groom for Mama.

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

Amazon Buy Link

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle has been writing all her life. A former freelance writer, she has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit (under her real name) in the Christian and secular market. Now she writes sweet and inspirational romance. Her debut inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, from Soul Mate Publishing, has garnered multiple contests finals and wins.

Catherine loves writing, reading, traveling, singing, watching movies, and the theatre. In the winter she loves to quilt and has a lot of UFOs (unfinished objects) in her sewing case. In the summer her favorite place to be is in her garden. She’s passionate about gardening and even won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club.

Learn more about Catherine Castle on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out Catherine’s Amazon author page and her Goodreads page. You can also find Catherine on Stitches Thru Time and the SMP authors blog site.

 

Happy Listening

DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR

from Catherine Castle

The other morning while having breakfast my husband said, “Listen. Do you hear that?”

"What?” I asked.

“That whoosha whoosha sound.”

I listened intently. “Nope. All I hear is the ticka ticka ticka of the refrigerator in its thaw cycle.”

“No,” he replied. “It’s definitely a whoosha whoosha.”

I cocked my head toward the fridge. “No it’s ticka ticka.”

“Wait,” he said. “It’s changed. It’s now zzz zzz zzz, like the vibrating sound my toy football players used to make on their metal field.

“That’s more of a rooma rooma rooma noise.” I replied.

“No. It’s zzz zzz zzz,” he insisted.

Breakfast was on hold and the cereal got soggy in our bowls as we argued back and forth while the sounds of the thawing cycle of the fridge changed every few minutes. Neither of us heard what the other heard. Finally, the debate ended with a ka-thunk at the end of the defrost cycle. Silence filled the kitchen.

“I don’t hear anything now.” I spooned up a serving of mushy bran cereal, anxious to get back to my breakfast before it dissolved any more.

“Tick tock tick tock,” hubby said as the Mickey Mouse clock second hand rounded the clock face.

“I hear that,” I said. It was the only sound we agreed on, and it’s one that is universally known to represent a clock.

Now, I know men are from Mars and women are from Venus, and we are different in sooooo many ways. But I always thought hearing was hearing. After all, our ears, male or female, are built the same way. We have the same little ear canals connected to the same parts of the brain. I knew, even when I couldn’t hear the sounds, what the writers meant when Batman and Robin fought the bad guys and cartoon balloons appeared on the television screen screaming BAM! POW! SOCKO!

But that morning in the kitchen I had a revelation: I wasn’t to blame when I couldn’t get a mechanic to understand me! All those years I failed to fully communicate with male mechanics wasn’t because I lacked something.

When my husband describes a funny sound in our car, the mechanics all nod their heads knowingly. But when I describe the odd sounds, the male mechanics look at me like I have two heads. I always wondered why I could never get my point across to them, no matter how many times I repeated the explanation of the sounds.

Now, I know why. Apparently, men lack the finite hearing of a woman. They don’t hear things right. A rattle rattle, clatter clatter, boom boom boom probably sounds like chicka chicka, sissa sissa, thunk thunk thunk to them. And anyone with a pair of ears can hear that there’s a world of difference between the two sounds.

Hummm. Maybe I need a female mechanic. She’ll get it. Unlike a guy.

What about you? Does your man hear the same things you do? And I don’t mean when someone speaks to you. But that’s a whole ’nother blog post.

May your upcoming Holidays be happy and bright!

Catherine

Take your mind off the sound discrepancies between men and women with a copy of Catherine’s award-winning romantic comedy that has a touch of drama. You’ll laugh as Mama searches for a husband for her daughter.

One date for every medical test—that’s the deal. Allison, however, gets more than she bargains for. She gets a Groom for Mama.

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness. A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

Amazon Buy Link

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle has been writing all her life. A former freelance writer, she has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit (under her real name) in the Christian and secular market. Now she writes sweet and inspirational romance. Her debut inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, from Soul Mate Publishing, has garnered multiple contests finals and wins. Catherine loves writing, reading, traveling, singing, watching movies, and the theatre. In the winter she loves to quilt and has a lot of UFOs (unfinished objects) in her sewing case. In the summer her favorite place to be is in her garden. She’s passionate about gardening and even won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. Learn more about Catherine Castle on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out Catherine’s Amazon author page and her Goodreads page. You can also find Catherine on Stitches Thru Time and the SMP authors blog site.

 

A Cake For All Seasons

from Catherine Castle

Two years ago in late December, I discovered almond paste and went down a cake rabbit hole. My family celebrates Christmas on New Year’s Day most years, but that year we were celebrating after January 6, which is Epiphany. Epiphany is the traditional date the Wise Men visited the Christ Child, and to celebrate the event a special cake, with a plastic baby or bean hidden in the cake, is served. The Epiphany cake, often referred to as a King cake or the Three Kings cake, has many forms, flavors, and even many trinkets hidden in it. It is also a tradition in many countries, especially those with a Catholic background. 

I’d never heard of a King cake, except in reference to Louisiana Mardi Gras celebrations. After some research, I decided to come up with my own version of an Epiphany King cake using almond paste. It took several tries to create something that showed off the frangipane I’d made with almond paste. On my first attempt, using a yellow cake recipe, the frangipane melted into the cake batter and didn’t give me the definition I wanted.   

So I began experimenting. I decided I’d make a chocolate spice cake with a frangipane layer. That worked. I’m calling it Epiphany Frangipane Chocolate Spice Cake. If you don’t want to make it an Epiphany cake, complete with trinkets, just call it Frangipane Chocolate Spice Cake. Here’s a tip I learned the hard way - be sure to make the frangipane first! 

Also, you may want to consider adding the following: 

•       1 bean, or 1 plastic small baby figurine, or several small trinkets. Be sure to tell your guests these items are hidden in the cake!

•       Chopped maraschino cherries or chopped candied fruit for decorating the cake. You can add the chopped candied fruits to the baking pan before you add the batter, scattering them evenly around the pan, or you can reserve them and scatter them over the top of the baked cake adhering them to the cake with a bit of confectioner sugar glaze. 

Frangipane Chocolate Spice Cake 

2½ cups sifted cake flour

2 cups granulated sugar

1 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. ground nutmeg

1 tsp. ground cloves

3 tbsp. cocoa

1 cup shortening

1 tsp. vanilla extract

1 cup buttermilk, divided

4 eggs, room temperature 

Preheat oven to 350° F.  

Combine flour with spices and cocoa in a large bowl. 

In another bowl, cream shortening until fluffy. Add 1 cup sugar and mix again, then add 1 cup flour and spices. Mix and beat until combined, adding vanilla and ¾ cup buttermilk, ¼ cup at a time, as needed to make batter mixable. 

Add remaining flour, sugar, and buttermilk until combined. Beat 2 minutes on medium speed. Keep batter scraped down from sides and bottom on bowl while beating. 

Add eggs and remaining buttermilk. Beat 2 more minutes on medium. 

In a lightly buttered, easy-release Bundt pan, gently pour 2 cups of batter into cake pan, smoothing out until batter is level if necessary. 

Almond Cream Frangipane

½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened

½ cup granulated sugar

2 eggs, room temperature

¾ cup almond flour

2 tbsp. all-purpose flour

2 tsp. vanilla extract

1 tsp. almond extract 

Add all ingredients into a mixing bowl. Combine ingredients on medium, then on high until fully combined. Refrigerate frangipane until cake batter is ready. 

Drop frangipane by teaspoonfuls onto batter, taking care to center in in batter. Or alternately you could pipe frangipane onto batter. 

Gently cover frangipane with 1½ cups batter, leveling out if necessary. 

Add another layer of frangipane in same manner as before. 

Cover with 1½ cups cake batter. 

Put upper rack in the lower third of oven. Bake cake for 60-65 minutes or until wooden skewer inserted in cake comes out clean. You need a long skewer, not just a toothpick to test for doneness. 

Cool pan upright for 5-10 minutes. Invert onto a wire cooling rack, Cool cake completely on wire rack. 

Note: You will have extra batter and frangipane with this recipe. To use remaining mixes, make cupcakes. 

Spoon ⅛ cup batter into a cupcake line. Top with 1 teaspoon frangipane, centering it in batter.

Cover frangipane with another scant ⅛ cup batter. Bake at 375° F for 35 minutes or until

toothpick inserted in cupcake comes out clean. 

I hope you’ll enjoy my cake. While it’s baking check out my romantic comedy with a touch of drama, A Groom for Mama. There’s cake in this book, too. Wedding cake. 

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes, she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom for Mama.

Available from Amazon and Barnes and Noble

Multi-award winning author Catherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer, she worked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secular market. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a variety of subjects and several hundred poems.

In addition to writing, she loves reading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting, and gardening. She’s a passionate gardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances. You can find her award-winning Soul Mate books The Nun and the Narc and A Groom for Mama, on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Follow her on Twitter, FB, or her blog.