Chocolate Eclairs--Yummers!

My favorite dessert without a doubt is a delicious chocolate eclair. And not just any eclair, mind you. For instance, I won't touch a eclair from a donut shop. I want the real deal. The ones in a donut shop or grocery store bakery are filled with pudding. Gag! Real eclairs are not filled with pudding. I should know. I've made my own and consumed quite a number of chocolate eclairs over the years. Hope you enjoy making these. Visit the site below too!

http://www.famousfrenchdesserts.com/chocolate-eclair-recipes.html 

Chocolate Eclair Recipe

Eclair au Chocolat… A delightful French classic!

Preparation Time: 1 hour
Cooking Time: 20 minutes

Ingredients (for 20 eclairs):

Eclair Dough:
2/3 cup Milk
2/3 cup Water
4 oz. Butter
1 cup Flour
5 Eggs
2 tsp. Granulated Sugar
Pinch of Salt

Chocolate Cream Filling:
6 oz. Unsweetened Baking Chocolate
1 cup Milk
4 Egg Yolks
1/2 cup Granulated Sugar
1/4 cup Flour

Chocolate Icing:
5 oz. Unsweetened Chocolate
2 oz. Butter
1/4 cup Water

How to Make It:

Eclair Dough:

Preheat oven to 425°F
1. In a pot, mix water, milk, butter, sugar, and salt. Bring to a boil.
2. Once butter has completely melted, take off flame, and slowly pour in flour, stirring constantly.
3. Put pot back on flame and continue to work it with a wooden spoon. Continue stirring and kneading with spoon until the dough dries out and stops sticking to the sides of the pot.
4. Take off flame. Add eggs, one at a time, stirring energetically.
5. Fill a baking sac with batter. Butter a baking sheet. Squeeze out "finger-sized eclairs" onto baking sheet, well-spaced.
6. Bake for 10 minutes. Then turn oven down to 385°F and bake another 10-12 minutes with the oven door open.
Voilà!

Chocolate Filling:

1. Melt chocolate (chopped) and milk in a pot, and bring to light boil, remove.
2. In a bowl, whisk yolks and sugar until it whitens.
3. Slowly add flour, stirring.
4. Slowly add chocolate and milk, stirring until homogenous.
5. Put back in pot, bring to light boil, stirring constantly, until cream thickens and becomes smooth.
6. When cream cools off (and eclairs have cooled off as well), you can begin filling the eclairs: Cut a small slit lengthwise, and then stuff with cream, using your baking sac or a small spoon.
Voilà!

Icing:

Almost done! Hang in there! Chocolate eclair recipes are well-worth the time they take!!!
1. Melt chocolate with water in a small pot over a low flame.
2. Once melted add butter, whisking the whole time. Should look shiny and creamy!
3. Remove from heat. Spread a thin layer on each eclair, using a spatula.
4. Wait until icing hardens a bit to serve it.
Voilà! And Bravo!

Tip:

Even if you are making fewer than 20 chocolate eclairs, make the full quantity of dough (it will prepare better!). You can always freeze what you don't use.

Serving Ideas:

Depending on how many people you are serving, you will want to vary the size of your eclairs. Traditionally, chocolate eclair recipes come in three varieties:
Small for large dessert platters. 
Medium (what you most often see in the bakery window). 
It is also possible, although less common, to make one large eclair. You can serve it on a beautiful dessert plate, and cut it directly on the dinner table! 

Whatever you choose, you will be delighted (and so will your guests!) with this magnificent French dessert! Chocolate eclair recipes make everyone smile!!!

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Wake of the Storm--by Linda P. Kozar

We all knew it was coming. Hurricane Ike. The day--September 12th, 2008. Just a swirl of clouds on the TV screen with a button eye in the middle, but it was big, no doubt about that. And we knew what big could do from the footage of the aftermath of Katrina.

         People in authority told us to "hunker down" and stay off Houston highways trying "get outta Dodge." So we stayed and "hunkered" whatever that is, in our interior closets--full of things we forgot were in there. My husband and I hauled things out of the two closets in our master bathroom, shoved in some air mattresses, flashlights, radios, food and water and tried to get comfy.

         Our teen daughters in the closet next to us slept right through the howling wind that night, proving with infallibility that teenagers can sleep through ANYTHING. My husband slept too, for a while. But I kept my eyes and ears open---listening for the train-like sounds of tornados and punishing downdrafts. All I heard though were howls and snapping branches, things bumping against the house and windows, and the pelting rain. Our power went out at 6:30 am central standard time. After that, civilization and life as we knew it, began to disintegrate.

         The morning after, we discovered neighbors we barely knew before the storm, wandering in the rain assessing the damage. There were lots of downed trees and branches in the road, leaning against homes and resting over SUVs. Tentative cleanup began, with neighbor helping neighbor on every street throughout our town, but more rains were coming and by nightfall--the REAL nightfall--the kind without electricity, tropic rains were pouring and pounding down in sheets.

         Lightening strikes hit the ground like pinball machines. We listened and shivered in spite of the heat. AND yes, it was most certainly hot. Without air-conditioning, life is different. Without AC, living by candle and flashlight, we morph into little lost panting people. It's not fun.

         After a few days passed, I began to notice something. Without the intrusion of cell phones, iPods, television and electronic games, our family talked more. With neighbors too, not just the people next door—we held conversations with people who lived blocks away. And our family actually played board games, read books, even listened to the radio! Sometimes we listened to music, but mostly to emergency channels. There were dismal accounts of destruction, heartbreaking tales of heroic help and story after story of suffering and loss. . .the true definition of “hard” news.

         I tried my best to keep things clean. My broom and mop were in constant use. There was always a sink full of hot sudsy water. But without air-conditioning, every room revealed a distinct smell. The kitchen smelled like onions and other food-type smells. The study had a bookish wafting about it and the family room started to take on the odor of sweaty, mud-caked family. Not so good.

         I noticed something else too. You would think after all the sweating and not eating a decent meal, that I would have dropped a few pounds, but the scale stuck in the same place. How was that possible? There I was--going all “frontier woman” and not a blessed pound melted off. Good grief! And let's just say it now, without hair dryers we women started to look a bit ragged. But thank God for caps--caps with witty words, caps with rhinestones, or with pretty bows--hiding split ends, and crazy bed-head cave-woman hair. 

         Then our clothes started getting gamey. The laundry room was definitely fermenting its own unique smell after only three days without power. So I decided to hand-wash a load in the bathtub. I used a large seafood boil spoon to stir the tub-o-clothes, (like Granny on The Beverly Hillbillies), then hung 'em out on a clothesline I strung up in the backyard. Our underwear now visible to the world, I began to feel vulnerable.

         For me, there was a low point one day--only one. The whole situation was depressing. So I opened my Bible and came across a passage about thankfulness. Hmmm—why wasn’t I more thankful? Things could definitely be worse. Our family was safe, our home intact. There was food on the table, a gas range to cook on, candles, batteries and ice. My attitude changed once I began to focus on the positives of our circumstance, not the negatives.

Our power came back on a week later. And when the lights and AC came on, the cap came off my head. My hair started looking good again. The smells in every room went away too, replaced by the familiar and exotic scents of room deodorizers in outlets throughout the house. But the conversations also went away. Poof! So did the board games, the neighbors as well.

And you know what? A part of me began to miss the kind of camaraderie and fellowship we experienced with each other and with those around us in the wake of the storm. I appreciate and am thankful for the little things in life more too.

I hope we never experience a storm like that again. But just in case, I’m stocking up on batteries, canned food, good books and rhinestone caps. You never know.

An Interview With Eleanor Clark

The Eleanor Series

Eleanor Clark, author

eclark@windstream.net

www.eleanorseries.com

Leaving a Legacy for Your Children

People from north to south, east to west are celebrating the summer months in a variety of ways: leisurely days at the neighborhood swimming pool, a family vacation to the beach, camping out with loved ones. In the midst of this fun season, don’t forget to give your kids the very best sort of vacation—the kind they can take in their imagination!

Today I’m interviewing octogenarian, Eleanor Clark, a vibrant woman in her golden years who has written a lovely series of books for girls called The Eleanor Series. The books released a few years back in hardback, but she’s in the process of putting them out as e-books. Exciting news for parents on the lookout for great literature for their kids!

Eleanor, welcome! Can you tell us a little about yourself?

Perhaps I should start by telling you that I just celebrated a very important birthday—my 80^th! And yes, I’m still very active! I’ve spent years researching my family’s lineage. After discovering some exciting stories, I decided to write them down in The Eleanor Series. I spend every day telling others about my books and sharing my love of faith, patriotism and godly character. What a wonderful life I lead!

So, the stories in this series are based on real-life experiences?

Yes, loosely based, anyway! I’ve fictionalized several very real stories, going back to my 8x great-grandmother! My family instilled a wonderful legacy in me and I want to pass that on to my children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and to all of my readers, as well.

Can you tell us about the book you're featuring today?

Today I’m featuring the first book in the series: Mary Elizabeth, Welcome to America. I’m so tickled to announce that this book is now available in e-book form! In fact, it’s free on kindle from June 15^th – 19^th. I’ve waited for this day for some time, so I’m very excited. Here’s a little tidbit about the story: Mary Elizabeth's life undergoes a dramatic change when she leaves the only home she has known for another world far away in a place called America. The journey aboard the ship not only teaches her about perseverance but also that making a home in a new world has its share of challenges. Join Mary Elizabeth as she lives one of the greatest adventures of a lifetime and learns the importance of family and the value of perseverance.

So this book is already out in print?

Yes, the entire series released in hardback a few years back. Hardback copies are still available. All seven books are available at Amazon.com or by contacting me through my website.

Will the other books in The Eleanor Series release as e-books as well?

Yes, and I'm so excited about the adventure ahead! The books will release one per month over the next six months with the final story, a Christmas story, releasing in early December. Here's a list of the titles and release dates:

·      Mary Elizabeth: Welcome to America (June 15^th )

·      Victoria Grace: Courageous Patriot (July 15^th)

·      Katie Sue: Heading West (August 15^th)

·      Sarah Jane: Liberty's Torch (September 15^th)

·      Eleanor Jo: The Farmer's Daughter (October 15^th)

·      Melanie Ann: A Legacy of Love (November 15^th)

·      Eleanor Jo: A Christmas to Remember (December 1^st)

What sets these books apart from the American Girls series?

The American Girls series is a wonderful collection for girls, but my stories have something those books do not: faith elements. The salvation message is evident in every story, as well as a deep love of God and country. Not only will children get a comprehensive history lesson through the exciting stories, they will also receive a greater understanding of the role their faith plays in modern-day life.

I seen the book is intended for girls. What about my son? Well he enjoy it too?

I’m thrilled to report that some of the series’ biggest fans are boys! And adults, too. I’ve been tickled to see people young and old, male and female, enjoy these stories. Here’s what one reader had to say: We purchased four of the Eleanor Jo books for Christmas gifts for little girls on our list and after reading the book, we intend to order several more. We will be proud to give this book to any young children. We began reading the book, just to review the content and could not put it down. (Ella & David Lott, A reviewer, 11/07/2006)

How do I order a copy of the book?

Mary Elizabeth, Welcome to America is immediately available on kindle (free from June 15^th – 19^th; $3.99 after that), or in hardback (through my website).

What are you offering my bloggers today?

One lucky person will have an opportunity to win a hardback copy of Mary Elizabeth welcome to America when they leave a comment at the end of this blog!

You’ve been a delight to interview, Eleanor! How can we stay in touch with you?

Thank you so much for having me! Readers can reach me at:

My website: www.eleanorseries.com

My facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/eleanor.clark.50

My Eleanor Series facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/TheEleanorSeries

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/Eleanor_Clark

Friends, please check out Eleanor’s series. I think you’ll love it. The Eleanor Series will be a wonderful addition to any library. It will also inspire parents and grandparents to research their family’s history. So, this summer, as you’re setting your sites to the school year ahead. . .take a moment to look back at where you’ve come from. Then, be prepared to leave behind a legacy of love!

About the Author:

Eleanor Clark lives in central Texas. She is the matriarch of the family that includes 5 children, 17 grandchildren, and 5 great-grandchildren. Born the daughter of a Texas sharecropper and a child during the Great Depression, Eleanor was a female pioneer in crossing economic, gender, educational, and corporate barriers. Eleanor was an executive for one of American's most prestigious corporations and founded her own highly successful consulting firm. The appreciation of her American and Christian heritage comes to life along with her exciting and colorful family history in the youth fiction series, The Eleanor Series.

About the series:

There are seven books in the series that highlight the lives of young girls throughout American history. The stories are based on the true-life accounts of author Eleanor Clark’s family history. Each book focuses on a particular character trait and is laced with the pioneering spirit of one of Eleanor’s true-to-life family members. Twenty-first century readers are sure to relate to these amazing, character-building stories while learning Christian values and American history. Modern parents will be blessed as their children learn countless lessons from the pages of each book in the series.

Book Two and Three in my new mystery series...

Visit www.spyglasslanemysteries.com 

In My Meadow--by Linda P. Kozar

No, I don't write much poetry anymore. But inspiration sometimes comes when you least expect it. Like when you're at a party and wind up in the orbit of an egomaniac.


You know the type--the man or woman who rambles on and on about themselves while you just stand there nodding. You've stopped listening long ago, but they don't realize it because they don't care. 


There's a place I go during those times--a safe haven, my own personal Brigadoon. So if you see me at a party, looking all dreamy-eyed, you'll know where I've gone off to . . .

Prunella's Quest--A Tongue-in-Cheek Valentine Saga (Part 3)

Buxom Nina, the eldest of her sisters, pursed her lips clearly annoyed at the visage before her. With a firm, but practiced grip, she straightened the purple feathered hat on Prunella's head. "Ma'am, you must carry yourself well before the scrutiny of this family. The impression you profer tonight may decide your very fate."

Instead of responding, Prunella plucked a feather from her hat to pick at a bit of food stuck in her tooth. A dining engagement at the estate hastily arranged by Mrs. Brimley, she'd insisted Nina accompany Prunella and Prunella was most displeased. How much more agreeable would the trip been, had Pinta accompanied her instead! Pinta was quite reasonable and certainly more engaging a companion. Besides, Nina made no pretense of her aversion to Prunella's appearance. Yet in a curious irony, the sight of the maid seemed to set off a digestive malady in Prunella, the very object of the woman's distaste, a malady likened to nausea. Indeed, the sight of the mole, that great black blotch upon the womans face sickened, nay, nauseated Prunella. And the way in which the black hair sprouting from the blotch, bobbed up and down when she spoke. . .

Horrified, or perhaps disgusted at the feather bobbing from her lady's mouth, Nina stared out the window, sullen-faced.

"Ah," Prunella successfully released the miniscule bit of meat wedged between her front teeth, and held it up for a better view. A wedge in the tooth would have presented a bother that would surely have impeded successful conversation with the obscure, but wealthy Lord Dromedary. The physical distraction successfully eliminated, a thought occured to her. Perhaps this maid knew more of the man than she or her sisters or even Mrs. Brimley had shared. She tapped Nina on the shoulder. "Tell me more of this man."

Nina swallowed her objections, though the taste of it must have been bitter by the sour expression she wore. "Little is known of him, but that he is the eldest of four brothers, the only one of which is not wed. The others were successfully matched to women of appropriate standing years ago. But as he is the eldest and their father, the elder Lord Dromedary has gone to his reward, this brother has hold of the estate and all its keep."

Her curiousity piqued, Prunella met her gaze. "He is wealthy. He welds great power." She raised her hands. "These are the strongest of attractions, but this fellow remains unwed and his brothers, with no true promise of such reward, are. What, pray tell is wrong with this fellow?"

"Wrong?" she smiled.

"He is not wed. Is there some disfigurement I should be made aware of? Is the gentleman of sound mind?" She sent the feather to the floor of the carriage, aiming the quill like a spear.

Nina examined her nailbeds, as if hoping a stray cuticle would hoist itself to attention. "No to the first inquiry and as to the second..." She shrugged. "I know not."

The carriage began to slow. Both woman leaned forth from the window for a clear sight of the estate. Instead of windows cheerily lit from the inside, Prunella grew alarmed by darkened aspect of the palatial home. Only two torches burned at the entrance and the emanance of a dim light glowed from somewhere within the home. Were they two women not expected? Why then was so little preparation or care given to a secure and comfortable arrival?

One of the carriage horses, snorted and stomped, as if uneasy. An aged footman emerged from the darkness  of the grand entryway and approached as the carriage driver lowered a step for her and assisted her descent. Nina followed in silence.

Prunella sensed the woman's fear, yet wondered at her lack of it. By all appearances, the aspect of the property, surrounded by the bare skeletons of trees ravaged by winter, the spare greetings at the door--these alone would have been warnings of an ill-concieved rendevous.

The footman led them through the front door where a tall, stately figure stood as a shadow lit by light beyond.  He stepped forward. A butler, tall as a cedar motioned for them to follow. He turned with the expectation that the two women would. Prunella stole a glance back at Nina, whose lower lip vibrated like a stringed instrument. The woman did not carry herself with the confidance she portrayed.

They followed the timbrous man, his gait always a breadth ahead of them, through foyer and cavernous receiving room, then down a hall of honor fitted with medieval armor, weapons and tapestries and banners of heraldry. Lit by torchieres, the elements displayed toward the heightened ceilings were shrouded in darkness. Prunella wondered at the sight of such a hall in the daylight hours.

Finally, they entered a grandiose dining hall, the walls panelled in rich woods, a long table set for two and laden with sumptuous delights. Candleabra, towered above the domed trays of food, radiating light. She detected a variety of scents--the fragance of saffroned meats, sizzled to perfection, of rich sauces and buttered glazes. Trays of fruits cascaded from raised stands, their delicate scents tantalizing.

A fire blazed brightly in a fireplace that, for its length and breadth, might serve as the gateway to Hades. A butler approached and showed her to the opposite end of the table. He removed her cloak and pulled to chair away to seat her.

The figure of a man, seated at the head of the table acknowledged her approach. Nina remained standing and maintained a respectful, but watchful distance from the table.

Prunella made scrutiny of the man at the other end of the table. Coils of honeyed hair surrounded a face as pleasing and glib as any knight or knave. Though the color of his eyes would remain a mystery for now due to the distance between them, she guessed them to be light. Perhaps blue? Perhaps green? But oh how the light of the fire danced in them.

"Greetings Miss Busby."

She bowed her head. "Lord Dromedary."

"May I--may I converse with you by your first name? Are you comfortable doing so?"

"Only if I may call you by your first name as well."

"That would be most agreeable."

"Then I must ask you a question."

"What is it, Miss Prunella?"

"You must make known to me your first name."

A peal of laughter rose, echoing through the room and down the great hall. "You are as direct as I was told." He raised a hand to clasp his clean-shaven chin. "Very well. My full name is Lord Rasmussen, Bevere, Raison d'etre, Trevor Dromedary the Sixth. But you may call me 'Trevor.'"

She nodded. "As you like it Lord, Trevor."

He held a goblet to the air. A butler on his end of the table filled it immediately as did a butler on Prunella's. Let us begin with a toast.

She lowered her goblet. "I am accustomed to commencing a meal with a grace."

He lowered his goblet as well. "Then by all means. It pleases me to accomodate you Miss Prunella. I am aware that it falls to the Adam and not to the Eve to offer such words to the heavenlies, but would you consider doing me the honor?"

She bowed her head. "Most heavenly Father. I offer thanks for the hospitality of this house and master thereof and pray your blessings upon it and him. Please bless this food we are to soon receive and accept our wholehearted thankfulness for it. Amen."

"Well done. Well done." He clapped. "Indeed."

With that, the two began to eat. Try though she might however, Prunella could not seem to eat much of the banquet set before them. She piddled with each forkfull, barely swallowing a third of what was on her plate.

"My lady," he shuffled in his seat, "might I inquire of you?"

"Yes?"

"Is the food not to your liking? If not, I will call my kitchen staff to account. Whatever delicacy you wish will be yours. I promise."

She shook her head. "Oh no Lord Trevor. What an extraordinary feast you have arranged to be prepared in honor of my visit."

"Then what, pray tell bothers thee?"

Prunella met his eyes. "This meeting."

"Ah yes," he pushed his chair back slightly from the edge of the table. "Your directness."

"I am."

He smiled. "But you make no apologies for it. I do like that." Leaning back in his chair, he slid to one elbow and scrutinized her. "Let us be direct. You are not a delicate woman, are you?"

She shook her head.

"And in fact, you stand quite tall, taller than most of the opposite gender. Unappealing to most, I would imagine."

"Yes, quite."

He threw back his head in laughter. "You make no bones about anything, do you?"

"I prefer truth."

Lord Trevor leaned on one elbow. "Then let us speak it. You're wondering why a man of my influence is not wed. In all truth, you are wondering why a man of my position would even consider a woman like you to take as wife. Is this not true?"

She blinked. "Yes, it is."

"And I will give answer to your question quite soon. However, there is one thing I must say to you."

"Go on." Prunella braced herself for the dismissal she felt certain was to come.

He moved his head from side to side. "Though I was told you were quite plain, I was unprepared for your true appearance."

Her heart sank at his words.

"You're really quite lovely."

"Lovely?" She felt the heat of blood rush to her face.

"Lovely, love-lovely is not a word usually ascribed to my appearance."

He squinted. "I find that surprising."

She smiled. "I-I am surprised as well." Prunella heard Nina gasp and guessed that the woman was trying hard not to fall in a heap on the cold stone floor. What a shock it must be to hear that a man actually considered her attractive.

"In truth, I am taken aback by your candor--and your assessment of me. But do not think I have forgotten your offer of an explanation. I must know. I inquired about you aforehand as well, wondering as to the possibility of a disfigurement or. . ."

He paused. "You ask a valid question. Anyone would ask such a question, as would I." He motioned to the butler.

Prunella thought she detected the shine of tears in his eyes.

The butler pulled the chair back. At the same time, her butler pulled her chair back. She slid from her chair and stood. The butler motioned for her to stand beside the table.

Lord Trevor slid from his chair and--and disappeared. Or seemed to.

A moment later he stood opposite her. A man barely four feet in height, the size of a child, yet fully formed with the features of a man. Prunella ceased breathing for a time. She'd seen people of this sort before. The ones she'd witnessed however, had the features of children, not of mature adults. Yet she was not repulsed by him, nor by his height. The gold of his hair, the glint of his eyes, the manly chisel of his cheeks somehow endeared her.

She made  a decision. Prunella took three steps in his direction.

The breath rose and fell in him. She witnessed his shock. Amazement. And he took three steps toward her. The two stood before each other. The room, utterly silent save for the crackling of the fire, his hand reached for hers.

"Miss Prunella."

"Yes?"

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She curtsied, lower than usual, until eye-to-eye, her face almost touched his. "Yes Lord Trevor. I would be honored to marry you and become Lady Prunella Dromedary."

And so the two married. Prunella a towering Amazon of a woman and Lord Trevor, a mere mouse of a man, yet the two lived happily ever after and life at the House of Dromedary was never sweeter.

Prunella's Quest: A Tongue-in-Cheek Valentine Saga (Part 2)

Mrs. Brimley drew the lorgnette to her right eye and surveyed the result of the maid's ministrations. A disdainful expression seemed to spread like a malady across the woman's face.

From the degree of the woman's repose, Prunella could only surmise that all beautification attempts had been less than successful. Yet, in spite of the woman's disdain, Prunella's thoughts turned to more pressing matters, namely the pain emmanating from her feet. She shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable in the stiff leather shoes Santa Maria had insisted she wear.

"Dear me. Dear me." Mrs. Brimley lowered her arm. The lorgnette at rest on her lap, she took in a deep breath.  "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."

Prunella stood as stalwart as an oak, allowing only her eyes to follow the events of the day unfold.

The maids shared worried glances, their failure, a fait accompli. Word of this shortcoming would soon spread, rendering a fatal blow to opportunities for future employment.

"Madame, we--we've done all that could be done." Nina explained. "With great vigor and enthusiasm did we follow your instructions. Yet. . ."

Santa Maria added her sister's complaint drawing from her own absolute conviction of a battle lost. "It's no use Madame." Hands on her hips, she even dared to glance backward, offering an espression of repugnant disapproval at her charge.

"Ye cannot make bricks without straw, and Heaven's our witness, this young miss is but a sow's ear. No, this be the realm, the will of God. Our attempts to change her reflection could only come to naught."

Prunella took note of the woman's insulence. Be she endowed with beauty or not, Prunella's very rank in society was deserving the maid's humble deference. And Mrs. Brimley did not come to her defense.

Mrs. Brimley expression descended "Is there no hope?"

Pinta took a step forward, swishing her skirts as she did.

A bemused smile flushed across Prunella's face.

"Madame, if you would indulge me for but a moment?" She shared a disapproving glance at her siblings. "I am afraid I must disagree with the assessment offered by my sisters as to the likelihood of improving Mistress Busby's appearance."

"What's this?" Nina's eyes grew wide as tea cakes.

"Oh?" Her interest clearly piqued, she raised the lorgnette to her eye once again.

"Unlike my sisters, I do not view our ministrations to Mistrees Prunella as without merit. Nay! Do linger in your survey of her appearance. Why, she has improved tenfold. Her complexion is smoother. Her eyes brighter. Nails trim and dainty."

The maid drew near to Prunella, offering a a clever wink, concealed from the viewpoint of the other women.  She curtseyed before her. "Mistress."

"Mrs. Brimley, have you considered the sheen of Mistress Busby's hair? Well-oiled, it is. And perfumed as well. She pointed to Prunella's chin. "And have you taken note of what is absent?"

The older woman squinted. "Missing?"

"The hairs on her face are no longer present. Have you not noticed? This is a significant improvement. Is her appearance not more agreeable?"

She approached Mrs. Brimley. "Do you not see that the woman now before your eyes is a clear improvement to the woman you sent to us some time past?"

"My, my, I do believe there is a ring of truth to what you say, my dear." Black feathers on Mrs. Brimley's hair blew straight up with every breath of her words, wafting back into place at a more sedate pace. "Of course, she's still quite the Amazon. I've never before seen a young woman of such height."

Pinta dared touch the older woman's shoulder. "Ah, but imagine for a moment, a man who might view such a woman as a prize. Nay, more than a prize. A treasure."

"Would such a man exist? I do not know of such a man and I know of all the eligible men in our realm. Truth be told, most men would consider her mortal coil, her framework to be indelicate and undesirable."

"Ah, but there is such a man."

"Then speak. Without delay, I pray thee!" Mrs. Brimley straightened, then planted her feet to the ground.

Pinta flounced her skirts and walked a few steps away. "What, pray tell, would such knowledge be worth?"

Understanding clouded the older woman's already clouded eyes. She reached into her bosom and pulled forth a small pouch of coins. "Perhaps these coins will afford an answer to your query." With a deft movement, she flicked the purse through the air.

Pinta caught the purse with her left hand and dropped it into a seamed pocket in her skirt. "There is a young man of comparable age who arrived last night.

"Pinta!" Santa Maria shook her head.

Undaunted, Mrs. Brimley asked, "Of what house is he associated?"

A silence fell over the room but for two gasps from Nina and Santa Maria.

"The House of Dromedary."

Prunella's Quest: A Tongue-in-Cheek Valentine Saga (Part One of Three)

No woman asks to fall in love with the wrong man. And Master David Cunningham Leff would never be Mr. Right.

He'd taken her down the garden path and left her among the rutabagas, so to speak. Well, no more. . .

Prunella Busby stared at her reflection in the duck pond. Comely was not one of the words society ascribed to her appearance Sallow-skinned old maid, yes. But not comely. Perhaps another visit to the matchmaker her father had sent her to seek the previous year. On that occasion, Mrs. Brimley had taken her on as a challenge.

"I'll find you a husband, dear." She held a finger to the air. Glorietta Brimley will prevail in this Herculean task. Mark my words, child." Her wig, a tad too tight for the woman's porcine head in Prunella's humble opinion, launched sprigs of tight blonde curls in various directions under her elaborate bonnet. An odd contrast to the crumpled texture of her skin. Eyebrows painted in thin black arches above her eyes, gave the impression of great surprise. Though Mrs. Brimley boasted of her experience and prowess as a titled matchmaker, her facial expression seemed to contradict, to betray her as a woman of ineptitude and inexperience.

No matter. Prunella had few options left to her.

"I will not help you. I can not help you. Please go. You, madamoisselle, are a cause perdue!"

These were Mrs. Brimley's first words in response to the new proposal. However, Prunella's father had advised her of the likelihood of this response from the matchmaker, and given her instructions as to how to proceed. She dropped a small pouch of gold coins on the secretariat beside which the matchmaker reclined. Her father urged her to drop the pouch from a height in order to provide the woman's ears with the sound of prosperity.

And as her father had predicted, the sound of prosperity was music to Mrs. Brimley's ears.

With renewed resolve, Mrs. Brimley had assigned no less than three servant girls to the goal of beautification. "Miss Busby must be made to appear presentable in no less than three months time. Three months time."

The servant girls, named after the famous ships assigned to Christopher Columbus, went about their assigned tasks with nary a hint of enthusiasm.

Nina, the eldest of the girls, though no beauty of her own accord, had the dolesome task of bathing Prunella in fresh goats milk three times daily to soften and make supple, the texture of her skin. The servant girl spit, quite accurately at a fly on the windowsill. "No man will have a woman with skin like your'm Miss. Bumpy as a plucked chicken and dry as starch." The buxom servant raised a damp hand from the bathwater to itch at the large black mole above her lip.

Prunella noted the presence of a black hair as firm as a flag pole that had asserted itself in the center of the blotch.

"Miss, I don't see how this is gonna help you none. Thar isn't a man in this town who'd have you, money or no money."

Pinta offered more than her sister's scant quantity of hope in the matter, though her level of sincerity might have been called into question were she asked to swear on the most holy word. Pinta bore an uncanny resemblance to a field mouse, mostly for the unfortunate fact that her ears protrouded outward from her head at a most unflattering angle. In the light of  day, her ears transmuted a prism of pink much like chapel windows, the blue of tiny veins serving as the lead in betwix'd.

She surveyed Prunella, pulling down her gums to examine her teeth, as if examining a sheep on the auction block.

"Well, what do you think of me?"

Furrows rose on the woman's forehead. "Your nose is crooked."

"I fell on a cobblestone when I was but five."

"Lips are thin and cracked. Hair without lustre. Skin sallow as old butter."

"Is that your final assessment?"

The servant squinted her small eyes causing them to recede into her face. "You'll never be a beauty, Miss, but you have one good quality."

"What quality is that?"

"Good teeth, Miss."

"Oh. . ."

"Miss, that's a compliment. Good teeth means you'll live long. Well, I believe they be good teeth anyway. We'll see when we clean them up."

She offered a sly wink. "My task is to beautify your hair and smile. Tell me, how often you wash your body and your teeth."

Prunella shrugged, noting the circles of perspiration fanning from under Pinta's arms. "When I choose to bathe, once or twice per year, my servant bathes me with lye soap. I don't wash my teeth."

She shook a finger at her mistress. "Twice a year, you say? That's too often. Drying to the skin. Once per year is more than enough."

"Very well then." Prunella agreed.

"I will rinse your hair with cold spring water and a tincture of elderberry bark and a mash of garden snails to provide it with lustre and shine. And we'll use a willow tree twig to clean your teeth each day. With a great deal of effort, I believe my sisters and I will be able to help you look ah the least objectionable and perhaps even presentable enough to lay hold of a gentleman in need of a boost to his inheritance."

Prunella smiled. Truth at last. "Thank you."

The third sister, Santa Maria, had less enthusiasm than either two. Her disdain for Prunella had no mask. 

Her duty? To sand the deep calluses on Prunella's feet and elbows, to trim her twisted toenails, treat them with warmed paraffin--and to pluck all the hair from the tops of her feet.

At work on her mistress's feet, Santa Maria's wrang her mouth into an odd contortion and remarked, "Your toenails resemble sea shells, Miss."

"Thank you," Prunella beamed a bright smile her way thanks to a daily tooth cleansing with a willow twig. "I'm fond of the sea."