photos from one of my mom's favourite cookbooks
"Sit up straight," Mom told me. I'd been sitting on my knees.
She passed a bowl to Dad. "More peas, dear?" She had a strange look on her face like the cat that had just swallowed a canary.
"Yes, I love your peas." Dad stretched 'love' out like it was a rubber band.
Something weird was happening between them. Something about peas. And I wanted to know what.
"Years ago, when we were newlyweds, I made Irish stew, for the first time--corn, carrots, peas," Mom told me. "Your father ate every bite."
"And asked for seconds." Dad used his knife to catch a pea and speared it with his fork. "Your mother is a good cook. I enjoyed the meal."
"So. Dad loves peas."
"That's what I thought." Mom took a sip of coffee. "But I discovered the truth the next day when I was hanging the wash on the line. When our neighbour, at that time, Mrs. Foster--"
"A childhood friend," Dad added.
"When Mrs. Foster stopped by to talk. 'Have you taught Jim to eat peas, yet?' she asked."
"Taught him to?" I looked first at Mom, then at Dad. "You mean you didn't like peas?"
"Not until I tasted your mother's." He grinned at me.
"I don't get it? What makes her peas so different?"
"Her secret ingredient." A smile filled Dad's face and he passed it to Mom. "Love."
Sharing my author journey...
What is social networking?
-Marketing to potential readers...
-Networking with your peers...
-Building community...
-Gaining support...
Last year I came rather hard in favour of blogging and Google +. Anything else I maintained was a time suck. This year... Well, this
