MURKY BAYOU

Mama Mulate's Blackberry Dumplings - a weekend recipe

2011-10-01T22:58:00.000-05:00

Mama has a potion or spell for just about anything, and also has an enormous sweet tooth. She grows many of the ingredients for her potions in her lush backyard. Even though her blackberry bush requires little attention, she watches it like a hawk until the delicious berries are harvested. Once they are, her friends are usually the lucky recipients of this delicious dessert. Try it and enjoy.

Ingredients

• 3 pts blackberries
• ¼ c water
• 1 c sugar
• 1 ½ t butter
• 2 c flour
• 3 t sugar
• 1 t salt
• 1 egg
• 3 ½ t baking powder
• Milk

Directions

Combine blackberries, water, sugar and butter. Let mixture sit. Sift flour, sugar, salt and baking powder into bowl. Add egg and mix well. Add enough milk to make batter stiff. Bring blackberry mixture to a boil. Drop batter, a spoonful at a time, into boiling mixture. Reduce heat, cover and cook for 15 to 20 minutes. Mama serves her dumplings with whipped cream, but vanilla ice cream is also good.

Eric'sWeb

Mama's Green Gumbo - a weekend recipe

2011-09-05T00:14:00.000-05:00

There are as many varieties of gumbo in New Orleans as there are streets with French names. One variety, Green Gumbo, or Gumbo Z’herbs, is little-known and generally found only in New Orleans. Catholic’s often serve this meatless gumbo (although meat may be added) on Good Friday. Superstition has it that a new friend will be made for every different green leafy vegetable used in the gumbo. Mama, a naturally suspicious person, always uses seven different types of greens. Here is her special recipe for Green Gumbo.

Ingredients

• 3 pounds leaves of (pick your own seven greens) collard, cabbage, radish, turnips, mustard, spinach, watercress, parsley and green onion, equal portions, chopped very fine
• 1 onion, white, large, chopped
• ½ red pepper pod
• ½ tsp. black pepper
• 1 bay leaf, finely chopped
• 1 sprig thyme, finely chopped
• 1 sprig parsley, finely chopped
• 1 sprig sweet marjoram, finely chopped
• 1 clove of garlic
• ¼ tsp. allspice, ground fine
• ½ tsp. cayenne
• ½ cup vegetable oil
• ½ cup flour, all-purpose
• boiled rice

Directions

Wash the leaves thoroughly then remove coarse midribs. Pat dry. Put greens in a large pot with enough water to cover. Add black pepper. Boil for about 2 hours, strain and then chop very fine. Save the water in which they were boiled. Combine cooking oil and flour over medium heat in a heavy pot or Dutch oven.

When hot, add chopped onion and chopped sprig of parsley. Stir until roux reaches a rich peanut brown, and then add the chopped greens. When the leaves become brown, pour contents into the water in which the leaves were boiled. Throw in the bay leaf, thyme, sweet marjoram, red pepper pod, clove of garlic and allspice. Stir slowly. Place pot over low flame and simmer, partially covered for about 2 more hours, adding cayenne during the process. Serve with rice and French bread. Enjoy.

Eric'sWeb

New Orleans Voodoo Shop

2011-08-30T23:15:00.000-05:00

Eric'sWeb

Mama's Steamed Oysters - a weekend recipe

2011-08-28T19:40:00.000-05:00

Mama has a PhD in English literature, but when it comes to sports, she isn’t a typical academic. A track star at the University of South Carolina, she participated in world-class sprints and relays. Her sleek body still attests to her former athletic prowess.

Another dirty little secret, Mama likes professional football and loves the New Orleans Saints. She attends every home game, at least when someone else is treating, that is. A recalcitrant cheapskate, she refuses to pay what she considers an exorbitant price for tickets. When she can’t see her beloved Saints playing in person, she often hosts a game party, serving steamed oysters, a New Orleans favorite.

Ingredients

• 4 dozen oysters, shucked
• Salt and pepper to taste
• A dash of cayenne

Directions

In a steamer, steam the oysters in a mixture of water and beer for about 5 minutes. Combine with salt, pepper and a dash of cayenne. Serve on crackers with drawn butter and, or Tabasco sauce.

Eric'sWeb

Mama Mulate's Chilled Mango-Melon Soup - a weekend recipe

2011-08-06T15:27:00.000-05:00

Mama Mulate’s backyard is a tropical maze of garden pathways, stone masonry, fountains and birdbaths. Flowering vines grow up trellises and the back fence. Ferns, flower baskets and wind chimes hang from the eaves of her large covered deck where tropical ceiling fans provide a steady flow of air when you’re lounging in her porch swing, or comfortable rattan furniture.

Mama also has a garden where she grows peppers, okra, melons, and many other vegetables. What she doesn’t grow in her own backyard, she buys fresh at the French Market, a destination she likes to visit early in the morning.

Summers are always hot and humid in the Big Easy. The City’s residents—at least those that don’t have a mountain retreat—have found ways to stay cool and healthy. Mama loves making chilled soups and then serving them on her covered deck to the slow whirring of overhead fans, dripping of water in the fountains, and sounds of crickets and tree frogs. For a wonderful summer respite, try Mama’s chilled mango-melon soup.

Ingredients
• 1 large cantaloupe, peeled, seeded and chopped
• 2 large mangoes, peeled, pitted and chopped
• 2 limes, juiced
• ½ Tbsp. cinnamon, ground

Directions
Puree melon and mango chunks in a blender, until smooth, with lime juice and cinnamon. Pour into a large bowl, stirring well. Chill for at least 3 hours. Pour into glass bowls, garnish with strawberry slices and sliced almonds. Serve and enjoy.

Eric'sWeb

Eric's Magic Moonflowers Reemerge

2011-07-23T01:52:00.000-05:00

Eric's Magic Moonflowers

As is much of the rest of the country, Oklahoma is in the throes of a major drought and heat wave. I wouldn’t complain, except I read somewhere that, as Americans, we have the absolute right, nay, the duty to carp about the weather. Not that difficult when you’re trying to fit in your daily walk and it’s still ninety degrees at midnight.

My new motto is “embrace the discomfort.” Not that it provides much protection from the heat, but at least it’s a strategy. Not everything is going badly. My magic moonflowers are blooming again for the first time since 2007.

My mom died in 2007 and Marilyn insists that she hexed the moonflowers. When my parents lived here with us, starting in 2005, the vines behind my swimming pool teemed nightly with fragrant and beautiful moonflowers. Moonflowers only bloom at night, and only for one night. Still, we’d have seventy to ninety blossoms every night. This year’s moonflower crop began blooming on the 14th, the day before July’s full moon.

I don’t know if Mom hexed the moonflowers or why she would have hexed them. I suspect other causes. Whatever hexed them apparently expired because I counted seven blossoms tonight. The blossoms aren’t as full and fragrant as in years past. With this weather, how could they be? I’m just glad they’re back.

Eric'sWeb

Oklahoma Author Inks Publishing Deal with Turkish Publisher

2011-07-18T23:38:00.001-05:00

Edmond, OK, July 18, 2011

Turkish publisher ARVO BASIM YAYIN has reached an agreement with Edmond, Oklahoma author Eric Wilder to republish four of his novels, beginning in September 2011.

ABY will translate the books into Turkish, a language spoken by eighty-three million people, worldwide. The first translation will be A Gathering of Diamonds. ABY will print one-thousand initial copies and also release the the ebook version in Turkey. Diamonds will be followed by Ghost of a Chance, Big Easy and Morning Mist of Blood.

Eric'sWeb

Mama Mulate's Creole Catfish Bites - a weekend recipe

2011-07-09T14:22:00.000-05:00

Mama Mulate has a natural connection with her Tulane English students, often hosting poetry readings and literary events at her home in urban New Orleans. When she does, she always provides home cooked delicacies such as her famous Creole catfish bites. Bite into one yourself and you’ll see (and taste) why they’re famous.

Ingredients
• 1 pound catfish fillets, poached
• 6 Tbsp. butter
• ¾ cup flour
• 2 cups milk
• ½ tsp. salt
• ½ tsp. black pepper
• ½ tsp. dry mustard
• ½ tsp. Jamaican allspice, ground
• 1 ½ cups bell pepper, finely chopped
• ½ cup green onions, finely chopped
• ½ tsp. Tabasco
• 1 ½ cups bread crumbs, fresh, plus more for coating Bites
• Vegetable oil for sautéing

Directions
Melt the butter in a heavy saucepan. Add the flour, stirring constantly (2 to 3 minutes). Add the milk slowly, continuing to stir until the cream sauce is thick (10 to 12 minutes). Add salt, pepper, mustard, and allspice, mixing well. Flake the catfish fillets into a bowl. Add the cream sauce and the remaining ingredients, mixing thoroughly. Form bite-sized balls with the fish mixture, coating them with more bread crumbs. In about ½ inch of vegetable oil, gently sauté the bites in a heavy skillet, until they are browned.

Eric'sWeb

My Favorite 4th of July

2011-07-03T22:57:00.000-05:00

My Brother Jack was born on July 3rd and he and I loved fireworks. We both wanted to be soldiers, and practiced war our entire childhood. Because of our obsession, my favorite holiday, and Brother Jack’s, was and is the Fourth of July. The one I remember best is the first one that I can remember.

While growing up in small town Vivian, there were no City ordinances barring the use of fireworks. Every manner of explosives was sold including M-80s and Two-Inchers. Jack and I are both lucky to have all our digits as we later experimented with everything we could strike a match too.

My friend Timmy Jon and I even mixed our own batch of gunpowder and almost burned up the house with it. The first Fourth that I can remember, however, we made do with firecrackers, bottle rockets, sparklers and Roman candles.

On July 4, my mom and dad would buy us about ten dollars worth of fireworks. Ten bucks doesn’t sound like much but you could pop lots of firecrackers for that amount in the sixties. We always began the fireworks as soon as it was dark enough.

I don’t remember my age but I was old enough to feel the excitement of impending danger. With our dad’s help, we began lighting sparklers, popping firecrackers and launching one bottle rocket after another. We soon got down to the good stuff.

‘Hold it in the air and shake it,” My dad directed as he lit my first-ever Roman candle.

I can still remember the percussion and slight recoil as incandescent flame burst from the coiled-paper barrel of the explosive device. I could not count at the time but I had a seat-of-the-pants feel for how many fiery rounds the candle contained. When it was over, I held the warm rod in my hand, inhaling acrid smoke and burned powder - an odor I will never forget.

My redheaded Brother Jack was next at bat and he had mischief in mind before my dad ever lit the candle’s fuse. My mother was standing behind us in the open door of our house. Soon as the candle started spitting fire, Jack began pointing it at anything that caught his fancy - a tree, the family car, me, and finally toward the open door of the house.

Dodging the oncoming fireball, my mom screamed and jumped off the porch. Jack put at least three fireballs through the house, luckily catching nothing on fire. When he finally threw down the spent Roman candle my dad just shook his head, grabbed the remaining fireworks and walked into the house. Mom followed him, but not before unloading verbally on Jack.

Mom and Dad did not say much about the incident, giving Brother Jack the benefit of the doubt in believing that inexperience and lack of good sense caused the accident. After living in close proximity to him until I was fifteen, I know better. He went to sleep that night giggling about scaring my parents and getting away with it.

The 4th of July means a lot more to me than just fireworks and hot dogs and we should all reflect on the sacrifices this wonderful holiday immortalizes. Still, my favorite holiday remains July 4 and the one I remember best is the first one that I can remember.

Mama Mulate’s Salade de Crevettes d'Orange - a weekend recipe

2011-06-26T01:36:00.000-05:00

Mama Mulate is a character from my French Quarter murder mystery Big Easy. Being a voodoo mambo, she is deft at preparing magical potions and enchanted concoctions. She’s also a great cook and here’s her recipe for a wonderful summer salad.

Ingredients

• 1 lb. large shrimp, peeled and deveined
• 1 Tbsp. orange peel, dried and ground
• 1 Tbsp. paprika
• ½ cup brown sugar
• 1 oz. lime juice, fresh
• 2/3 cup olive oil
• 4 plum tomatoes, diced
• 1 cucumber, diced
• 1 small red onion, chopped
• 1 red bell pepper, diced
• 1 green bell pepper, diced
• 1 Tbsp. cilantro, chopped
• 1 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
• 1 Tbsp. Triple Sec

Preparation

In a large bowl, combine orange peel, paprika and brown sugar. Toss the shrimp in the mixture, shaking until evenly coated. Sauté shrimp in olive oil. Toss plum tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, bell peppers, and cilantro in a large salad bowl. Whisk together red wine vinegar, remaining olive oil, lime juice and Triple Sec. Top individual salads with shrimp and serve.

Eric'sWeb

Sunset at Lake Hefner - a pic

2011-06-02T22:20:00.000-05:00

Sunset at Lake Hefner

Here is a pic of the Lake Hefner (Oklahoma City) lighthouse at sunset.

Eric'sWeb

Vieux Carre Cocktail - a recipe

2011-05-31T23:59:00.000-05:00

Vieux Carré Cocktail

If you’re a writer, don’t move to New Orleans and expect to pen the “Great American Novel.” You’ll probably wind up spending much of your time visiting the hundreds of bars, drinking wonderful cocktails, schmoozing with interesting locals and passing out in all your clothes before you ever keyboard a single word. A scene from my new book-in-progress, City of Spirits, takes place in the Carousel Lounge, located in the Monteleone Hotel on Royal Street, in the French Quarter. Here is a recipe for a drink supposedly invented there. Hey, I don’t write in New Orleans, but I’ve lost a few brain cells sitting at the revolving bar in the Carousel Lounge. And I loved every minute of it.

Ingredients

· ¾ oz Cognac
· ¾ oz rye whiskey
· ¾ oz sweet vermouth
· ¼ oz Benedictine
· dash Peychaud's Bitters
· dash Angostura Bitters

Directions

Stir and strain over rocks, lemon twist garnish

Eric’sWeb

Big Billy's Grilled Catfish with Pineapple Salsa - a weekend recipe

2011-05-07T12:31:00.002-05:00

Originally from Arkansas, Texas oil man Big Billy loved catfish and had a hundred different ways of preparing and cooking it. He also liked to grill outdoors, drinking beer and telling oil stories (all true, by the way) while he cooked. Here is one of his favorite—and simple—ways to grill and serve catfish. For some of his stories, you’ll have to check out his Little Texas Cookbook.

Ingredients (Catfish)

• 4 catfish fillets

• 2 tsp olive oil

• 1 tsp garlic salt

• ½ tsp black pepper, cracked

• ¼ tsp red pepper, ground

Ingredients (Pineapple Salsa)

• 1 c pineapple, fresh, peeled and diced

• ¼ cup red onion, diced

• 1 c red bell pepper, diced

• 2 Tbsp cilantro leaves, fresh, chopped

• 2 tsp jalapeno pepper, fresh, minced

• 2 Tbsp lime juice, fresh

• ½ tsp salt

• Black pepper, freshly ground, to taste

Directions

(Catfish) Rinse fillets and pat dry. Brush with olive oil, combine ingredients and sprinkle on rounded side. On a pre-heated grill, cook on high heat, rounded side down for 3 to 4 minutes, flip the fillets and continue cooking for another 3 to 4 minutes or until fish flakes easily with a fork.

(Pineapple Salsa) Combine all ingredients and set aside until catfish is grilled, then spoon the salsa on the fillets and serve.

Eric'sWeb

Arkansas Mystery

2011-05-06T23:14:00.001-05:00

I learned to read at an early age, and soon began enjoying books. We had a tiny, one-room town library in Vivian and Mrs. Files—I kid you not—was the librarian. The library had little or no budget but Mrs. Files always found an inexpensive way to keep our interest in reading high.

During the summer, she would mimeograph diagrams of the United States, or some such imaginative illustration. Whenever we read a book, she would give us a gold star for one of the states. The person with the most gold stars at the end of the summer got a five-dollar bill, which, I now feel sure, Mrs. Files contributed herself.

I liked mysteries from the time I was very young, books with heroes like Freddy the Pig and Miss Pickerel. As I grew older, I found I also liked a little adventure tossed in. I read everything I could find by Jules Verne, H. Rider Haggard and Edgar Rice Burroughs, so it was natural that when I began writing, I wrote stories that combined the two genres. If you have the need to label everything, I guess you could call them mys-ventures.

Growing up, I also loved history and have always wondered what happened to the ill-fated colony of Roanoke. It would seem with all our technology that we should be able to find the answer. Alas, this is not the case.

I have visited many wild and wooly places in my life but few as wild and remote as the deepest forests hidden in the ancient Ouachita Mountains of central Arkansas. I realized as much while working on my geological master’s thesis in Sevier County.

I remain entranced by the geologic mystery of the area and feel that central Arkansas is one of the top ten geologic wonders of the world. To me, it bears the same mystery and intrigue as Haggard’s vision of darkest Africa, or Burrough’s Pellucidar. Arkansas is also the only place in the United States with diamonds found at their source.

Not only are the Ouachita Mountains lush with mystery, intrigue and danger, their deep valleys and sharp peaks conceal limitless wealth in diamonds and many other valuable minerals. It seemed a perfect place for a mystery/adventure tale, and became the location for my novel A Gathering of Diamonds.

When I wrote A Gathering of Diamonds, I stole many ideas from masters such as Haggard, Burroughs, and yes-even Cussler. I also managed to solve the mystery of the disappearance of the Roanoke Colony, at least in my own fictional mind.

Many moons have passed since those days in Vivian’s little library. Mrs. Files is no longer around to read any of my books. If she were, I am sure that she would smile, pat me on the shoulder, and give me a gold star. That thought makes me very happy.

Eric'sWeb

Odors, Shadows and Mist

2011-04-29T23:04:00.000-05:00

The weather in central Oklahoma has been stormy lately, one series thunderous tempests after the other racing through and leaving paths of destruction. I awoke to a rainstorm this morning. By three, the weather was hot, muggy and sunny.

The combination didn’t last for long. Yet another storm front moved through the area, bringing with it high winds and golf ball-sized hail. It quickly passed, doing no damage in my neighborhood, but it postponed my afternoon walk.

A fragile mist hung in the air as I finally started up the road. Elevated humidity carried lingering odors with it, mostly in moist pockets settling in low spots. They reminded me of the months I had spent in the boonies of Vietnam, shielded from the elements by only a poncho liner and sheet of plastic. After living outdoors for so long, my senses became more acute. They stayed that way long after I returned to the States.

Once, Anne, Ray, Kathy and I were sitting outside by their pool. “It’s going to rain,” I said.

“I don’t know what you’re smoking, Pard, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky,” Ray said.

Within five minutes, gentle rain began soaking the cement around the pool causing Ray, Anne and Kathy to stare at me, wide-eyed.

“I could smell it coming,” I explained.

I wasn’t lying. My sense of smell was more acute than others. After living many years now in heated and air conditioned houses, that particular talent has disappeared. Still, as I plodded up the blacktop through my neighborhood, the odors carried by the mist—someone’s septic tank, the fetid smell of damp earth and grass, a dead animal—brought back memories.

It was almost dark as I rounded the last bend and started up the gentle hill to my house. Shadows cast by a darkened sky and surrounding trees formed eerie patterns on the damp and broken asphalt road. A tiny crescent moon and one bright star shined dimly through an open spot in the thick layer of clouds. It was a night perfect for wispy ghosts playing in shadowy mists. The thought crossed my mind as I shut the front door behind me.

Eric'sWeb

Something Terrible

2011-04-23T13:46:00.001-05:00

Years ago, I wrote a short story called Prairie Justice. I had almost forgotten the story and found it again, recently, while deleting unnecessary files from my computer. As I reread and reedited the story, details of why I wrote it in the first place flooded my brain.

The year was 1995. During April of that year, a madman blew up the Alfred P. Murrah Building, killing 168 innocent victims, including many children in daycare there. Anne, my wife then, was a fledgling lawyer, having gone to law school late in life (mid-forties). She partnered with Becky S., and we were about to move into our new offices when the bomb exploded.

I had returned home from an early-morning dentist’s appointment. I found Anne sobbing uncontrollably.

I was puzzled because Anne was a trooper. Despite all the bad things that had happened to us, I don’t recall having ever seen her cry. When I saw her that morning, she was crying like a baby.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Something terrible has happened.”

We turned on the TV to a local news station. Their helicopter was heading downtown to check out an explosion that had rocked the City.

“There’s lots of smoke coming from one of the buildings. I think it’s the Federal Building,” the chopper pilot said.

A camera man was taking pictures. Except for the smoke, the front of the building looked normal. We watched as the chopper circled around the building. When the camera focused on what remained of the north side of the building, Anne and I gasped in disbelief.

“Oh my God!” the pilot said. “Oh my God!”

Days passed, and then weeks. The bombing was like a blow to the head for the entire City. It became all to common to be talking to someone, and suddenly have them dissolve into tears, blurting out some heart-wrenching story they’d kept bottled inside for far too long. Everyone had a story. Everyone was affected.

Shortly after the bombing, Becky sent Anne to interview a deadbeat, druggie client that had been put in jail for beating his wife.

“You may think he’s scum, but he deserves his day in court. He’s your client so treat him with respect, no matter how you feel about him in your heart,” Becky counseled.

Anne and I left Oklahoma City early one morning, heading west to El Reno, the Canadian County seat. I can’t even remember why we stopped there, but Iremember the courthouse facilities and the historic town well. Leaving El Reno, we passed a Las Vegas-style bingo hall in nearby Concho. Gambling was in its infancy in Oklahoma. Sixteen years later, it’s rampant.

We drove through the tiny town of Okarche, to Eischen’s Bar. The longest continuously operating bar in Oklahoma was shut down at the time because of a flash fire. We made it to Enid shortly before lunch, finding the correction’s facility ensconsced in an old neighborhood.

The jailers brought Doug (that was his first name) into a visitor’s room, wearing an orange jump suit, shackled in leg irons, hand cuffs and a belly chain. I watched from a distance as Anne talked with him for about half an hour. Wearing her own shackles of lawyer/client privilege, she never told me what they talked about.

Later that night, I wrote Prairie Justice, a short story featuring Buck McDivit, a character that had suddenly invaded my mind. The story is about a crooked oil man and mirrors a real oil man responsible for the bankruptcy of the oil company Anne and I started from scratch. Most of the description in the story actually occurred.

Years have passed since I wrote Prairie Justice, but I published it as an ebook this week. Anne died three years after the Murrah bombing. I wrote Ghost of a Chance, my first Buck McDivit novel, some years later. It was published in 2005. The scar of the 1995 Oklahoma City Bombing has faded. As I wrote this story, tears streamed down my face. Buck McDivit is now a real person to me.The Murrah Building scar has faded, and people no longer sob during normal conversation. Maybe, but the bombing still rests like a red blotch on my soul, as I’m sure it does for everyone that experienced that sad day.

Eric'sWeb

New Ebook by Eric Wilder Released

2011-04-22T11:49:00.002-05:00

Gondwana Press has released Eric Wilder's Ghost of a Chance in eBook format. The novel features cowboy detective Buck McDivit in a mystery set on a lonely island in Caddo Lake, the largest natural lake in Texas. The full-length mystery is available in all eBook formats for $5.99. Read Ghost of a Chance and check out all the adventure, romance and mystery in Book 1 of the Buck McDivit Mystery Series.

Amazon-Kindle

Barnes & Noble-Nook

Smashwords-All formats
Eric'sWeb

Buck McDivit Mystery - Ghost of a Chance

2011-04-21T17:02:00.000-05:00

My contract with PublishAmerica finally expired and they released Ghost of a Chance back to me. I took a while, reedited the book and made a new cover before releasing it as an ebook. I grew up in northwest Louisiana, near Caddo, a large natural lake that occupies parts of Texas and Louisiana. The lake is beautiful and mysterious, unlike any place on earth. I used it as the location of my first mystery, Ghost of a Chance. If you like ghost stories (and who doesn't?) please give it a read. I think you'll like it, but then again I'm a little biased. - Eric

Edmond Crow Pics

2011-04-21T16:51:00.000-05:00

Crows are intriguing birds and thousands live in Edmond, Oklahoma. I see them everyday and often take their pictures. Getting a great pic is tough because the birds are so cautious, they never let you get too close. Their color also makes proper exposure almost impossible. Still, here are two crow pics.

Crow in flight

Crow in tree

Eric'sWeb

Great Gatsby Mansion Razed

2011-04-21T14:42:00.000-05:00

httThe mansion that supposedly inspired the novel The Great Gatsby was recently demolished to make room for new development.

Mansion slideshow.

Eric'sWeb

Marilyn's Jalapeno Cornbread - a weekend recipe

2011-04-17T21:32:00.000-05:00

Cornbread is a staple for every good southern cook. When it comes to making cornbread, few can compete with my own wife, and wonderful southern cook, Marilyn. Here is her cornbread recipe using jalapenos, her daughter Shannon’s favorite.

Ingredients

• 2 ½ c cornmeal

• 1 c flour

• 2 Tbsp. sugar

• 1 Tbsp. salt

• 4 tsp. baking powder

• 3 eggs, lightly beaten

• 1 ½ c milk

• ½ c cooking oil

• 16 oz. can cream corn

• 2 jalapeno chili peppers, chopped and seeded

• 2 c sharp cheddar cheese, grated

• 1 onion, large, grated

Directions

Combine first five ingredients in a bowl. In another bowl, mix milk, eggs and cooking oil, and then combine with cornmeal mixture. Stir in remaining ingredients, and then pour into two well greased baking pans. Bake at 425° for 25 minutes, or until done.

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy's Texas Pintos withTomatillo Salsa Verde - a weekend recipe

2011-04-09T23:03:00.000-05:00

Big Billy loved his beans. Once when he was staying with me and Anne, he cooked up pinto beans, complete with his special tomatillo salsa Verde. He also whipped up a pan of cornbread using ingredients he found in our pantry. To say the meal was wonderful is an understatement. It was sublime!

Ingredients

• 1 lb dry pinto beans

• 29 oz chicken broth

• 1 onion, large, chopped

• 1 jalapeno pepper, chopped

• 3 cloves garlic, minced

• ½ c tomatillo salsa Verde

• 1 tsp cumin

• ½ tsp black pepper, ground

• 1 c water

Directions

Soak beans overnight in a large pot with ample cold water. Drain and place the pinto beans in a crock pot. Pour in the chicken broth and water. Stir in onion, jalapeno, garlic, tomatillo salsa Verde, cumin, and black pepper. Cook for 8 hours.

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy’s Tomatillo Salsa Verde - a weekend recipe

2011-04-02T16:40:00.000-05:00

Big Billy’s green sauce was to die for, and goes well with many dishes. Here is his special recipe with tomatillos.
Ingredients

• 1 lb tomatillos, husked

• ½ c onion, finely chopped

• 1 tsp garlic, minced

• 2 Poblano peppers, minced

• 2 Tbsp cilantro, chopped

• 1 Tbsp oregano, chopped, fresh

• ½ tsp cumin, ground

• 1 ½ tsp salt, or to taste

• 1 Lime, juiced

Directions

Place all ingredients in a blender. Puree until smooth. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer about 15 minutes.

Eric'sWeb

Grunt

2011-03-28T21:29:00.001-05:00

I was at the barber’s the other day. The barber shop, located in a strip shopping center near my office, is part of a national chain. The barbers don’t seem to stay around long. They always do a credible job, although I’ve only had the same hair cutter on one or two occasions. This time, my hair cutter was an older man of Vietnamese heritage.

After inquiring how I wanted my hair cut, he asked if I had been in the armed services. I told him that I had.

“Navy or Air Force?”

“No, I was in the Army.”
He asked if I served in Vietnam and smiled when I told him I had.
“What did you do there?”

Tiny hairs on back of my neck abruptly rose at his question. The last time I was in a barber’s chair with a Vietnamese barber was on the Army base in Bien Hoa, South Vietnam. Even though I knew the man was friendly, I had a difficult time not reacting when he shaved me with a straight razor. After all, the Vietnamese were our enemy, and I couldn’t help but fret that the man so close to my jugular vein with a straight razor might be a barber by day and Viet Cong by night.

“Infantry,” I answered.
“Oh, what weapon did you carry?”

“M60 machinegun,” I said.

“Then you weren’t an officer.”
“No, a private.”

"When were you there?” he asked.

I had to think a minute before answering, “Parts of 1970 and 1971.”

“I was an officer from 1971 to 1975,” he said, still not offering if it was for the North or the South. “Where were you in Vietnam?”

“We operated in triple canopy jungle off of Firebase Betty, not far from the Cambodian border. At least during the six months or so I spent as a grunt patrolling the Jolly Trail System. Later, I got a job as a company clerk on Firebase Buttons, near Song Be. Did you lose friends or family in the war?”

“My family survived. I lost a few close friends. I was drafted into the Army after two years of college. Following the war, I was imprisoned for three years. When I got out, I escaped the country on a boat. The journey took fourteen days and there were many of us on board.”

“I’m glad you made it,” I said. “Sounds like you should write a book.”

“A book, yes,” he said, smiling, his accent making his words hard to understand. “America lost many men—58,000.”

“Vietnam lost 1,500,000 people,” I said.
“Yes, from both the North and South.”
The half-grin on his face looked contrived, almost as if he were trying to keep from crying.

“No one even remembers the war anymore,” I added. “It was a senseless conflict. I didn’t believe in it, even then, and that’s why I refused to be an officer.”

“I hate war,” he said. “I worry about our involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan.”

After dusting loose hair off my shoulders, he led me to the cash register, nodding when I said, “Nice talking to you.”

As I walked out the door, I realized we’d never exchanged names.

I was shaking when I reached my car. More than forty years have passed since boarding a jet plane leaving Vietnam. I’d almost forgotten. Funny how old memories come flooding back when you least expect them.
Eric'sWeb

The story above really happened. Some of my Vietnam stories were fictionalized in my novel A Gathering of Diamonds. Tom Logan, a Vietnam vet suffering from PTSD, battles his demons as he participates in an epic adventure and the romance of his life, high in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas.

Ghost of a Chance Revisited - a trip to Caddo Lake

2011-03-22T13:46:00.001-05:00

I grew up in the sleepy little northwest Louisiana town of Vivian, a few miles from Caddo Lake. Caddo, as many of you may know, is the largest natural lake in Texas. It also crosses the state line into Louisiana. The lake is, quite simply, one of the most mysterious spots on Earth. Giant cypress trees with bloated trunks and branches draped with Spanish moss, grow in dark water, and the place is alive with garfish, gators and colorful waterfowl. Caddo stretches for miles, through endless canebrakes and hidden pools, so large and winding that even the United States doesn't have an accurate map.
The first offshore oil well was drilled from a wooden platform in Caddo Lake. These tiny structures still dot the water, some converted to duck blinds, while slow moving pumping units occupy others, sipping oil from a subsurface anticline called the Sabine Uplift.

Caddo Indians once occupied the area. Legend has it the lake was formed by a monster earthquake. When the Tribe's powerful chief had a dream, he awoke his people up in the middle of the night, moving them to safety. Next morning, as the story goes, Caddo Lake had formed following the earthquake, possibly the New Madrid Earthquake, the most powerful ever felt in the United States - so powerful, the Mississippi River flowed backwards for two days. I don't know if the old Chief's prophesy was true, but it's a fact that the area is littered with shards of broken pottery, arrowheads and other artifacts.

Caddo Indian's aren't the only history makers at Caddo Lake. Potter's Point was the home of Robert Potter, a Texas hero, along with Sam Houston, and the primary influence for the historical novel Love is a Wild Assault (wonderful! Out of print. Grab a copy if you can find one). Nearby Uncertain, Texas is a great place to visit. The model for my fictional town Deception, Uncertain was an overnight stop for riverboats on their way up from New Orleans.

One of the riverboats that plied the waterways from New Orleans to Jefferson, Texas was the Mittie Stephens. It caught fire and sank one night, reportedly loaded with a fortune in gold to pay Confederate troops stationed in Jefferson. Neither the boat nor the gold has ever been found.

Buck McDivit, my cowboy gumshoe from Oklahoma, comes to east Texas to meet his only known relative. His Aunt Emma is murdered before he gets there. He soon learns he has inherited an island in Caddo Lake, along with a marina and fishing lodge. This is when his troubles begin.

Many things haven't changed in the Old South. Racism still abounds in Deception, led by racist judge Jefferson Travis, and his two skinhead reprobates Humpback and Deacon John. Buck also meets beautiful Lila Richardson and is instantly enamored. Oh, and he gets drunk and sees a ghost his first night in town.

Ghost of a Chance is now available for the first time in ebook form. It's available, complete with new cover and newly edited 71,000 words, at Amazon.com (Kindle version) and Smashwords.com (Nook, Sony Reader, Kindle, etc.) for the ridiculously low price of $1.29.

If you have an e-reader, please check out Ghost of a Chance. If you don't, loosen up and buy one. If you're an avid reader, you'll be glad you did.
Eric'sWeb

Mama Mulate's Creole Zucchini Casserole - a weekend recipe

2011-03-20T14:08:00.000-05:00

Mama Mulate is a character in my French Quarter murder mystery Big Easy. When she’s not mixing voodoo potions, or teaching English at Tulane University, she’s likely in her kitchen, whipping up a meal fit for a Mardi Gras king. She has a garden behind her house near the river in New Orleans, where she grows her own herbs and vegetables. Check out her recipe for Creole zucchini.

Ingredients

• 2 zucchini squashes, ¼ inch slices

• 1 onion, chopped

• 2 cloves garlic

• 3 tomatoes, chopped

• 1 green bell pepper, seeded and chopped

• 3 Tbsp butter

• 2 Tbsps flour

• 1 Tbsp brown sugar

• ¼ tsp oregano

• ¼ tsp basil

• 1 bay leaf

• ¼ tsp salt

• ½ cup Parmesan cheese, freshly grated

• ½ cup bread crumbs

Directions

Cook zucchini (about 5 minutes) until tender, but firm. Drain and arrange in greased 2 quart casserole dish. Melt butter over medium heat in medium saucepan, and add flour. Stir until smooth and bubbly.

Add tomatoes, onion, and cloves of garlic, green bell pepper, brown sugar, salt, bay leaf, oregano and basil. Cook for 5 or 6 minutes. Remove bay leaf and cloves of garlic. Pour mixture over zucchini. Top with bread crumbs and cheese. Bake, uncovered, at 350° for 30 minutes.

Eric'sWeb

It's Read an Ebook Week

2011-03-07T22:39:00.000-06:00

This is Read an Ebook Week, and all my ebooks are steeply discounted on Smashwords.com. That's not all! Many of the ebooks on the site are also steeply discounted. All ebook formats are supported, including Sony, Kindle and Nook. So much traffic today that it briefly crashed the site. If you are a reader, and you like ebooks, check it out for a once-a-year bargain hunt.

Eric'sWeb

Mama Mulate's Voodoo Dipping Sauce - a Mardi Gras, weekend recipe

2011-03-05T00:43:00.000-06:00

Mardi Gras Day, or Fat Tuesday, is this coming Tuesday. Six Carnivals since Katrina, the Crescent City will be rocking. Voodoo mambo Mama Mulate can mix a potion for anything from growing hair to casting an undying spell of love. She’s also a great cook.

One of Mama’s favorite Mardi Gras finger foods is Cajun Chicken Fingers, a lightly-breaded delicacy you can’t eat just one of. Along with her chicken fingers, she makes the meanest dipping sauce in the universe. Here is the secret recipe for her famous Voodoo Dipping Sauce. Don’t tell her I gave it to you, or she’s liable to make a certain bodily part of mine shrivel up and fall off. P.S.- read more about Mama Mulate in my new ebook Voodoo Nights.

Mama Mulate’s Voodoo Dipping Sauce

Ingredients

• ½ cup cold water
• 1 t cornstarch
• ¼ cup honey
• 2 T green onions, thinly sliced
• ½ green pepper, small, thinly sliced
• 1 T lemon juice
• 4 t prepared Dijon-style mustard
• ¼ t onion powder

Directions

Place water in a medium saucepan, and mix in cornstarch to dissolve. Stir in honey. Heat to boiling, stirring constantly. Reduce heat and simmer until sauce thickens, about 15 minutes. Remove sauce from heat. Stir in green onions, lemon juice, prepared Dijon-style mustard, onion powder and green pepper. Serve warm or chill in the refrigerator. Happy Mardi Gras, and laissez les bons temps rouler!!

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy's Italiano Baked Shrimp

2011-02-18T21:22:00.000-06:00

Here is one of Big Billy’s favorite dishes. No, he wasn’t of Italian ancestry, but he sure knew how to cook their signature delicacies. This is one he made his own.

Ingredients

• 2 lbs shrimp, cooked and deveined

• 3 Tbsp olive oil

• 4 green onions, chopped

• 4 stalks celery, chopped

• 1 green pepper, chopped

• 3 garlic cloves, crushed

• 1 Tbsp parsley, fresh, finely minced

• 1 Tbsp cornstarch

• 1 8 oz can tomato sauce

• ½ tsp oregano

• ½ tsp sweet basil

• Salt and pepper to taste

• 1 c Mozzarella cheese, grated

• ½ c bread crumbs, seasoned

Directions

In a saucepan, sauté onions, celery, green pepper, garlic and parsley in olive oil until soft. Add cornstarch and stir until well blended. Add tomato sauce, oregano and sweet basil and simmer for fifteen minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Layer the shrimp, and the tomato mixture in a greased casserole dish. Top with Mozzarella and bread crumbs and cook at 350 degrees until bubbly, about thirty minutes.

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy's Sour Cream Enchiladas - a weekend recipe

2011-02-06T00:50:00.000-06:00

Big Billy loved to entertain and he loved football. He almost always hosted rowdy guests for the Super bowl, oftentimes cooking up a one-dish meal. This is one that always pleased, and always will.

Ingredients

• 2 lbs shrimp, cooked, deveined and diced

• 2 Tbsp butter

• 1 onion, chopped

• 1 garlic clove, finely minced

• 16 oz tomatoes, chopped and drained

• 8 oz can tomato sauce

• ¼ c chilies, chopped

• 1 tsp cumin

• ½ tsp oregano

• ½ tsp basil

• ½ tsp salt

• 1 pkg tortillas

• 2 ½ c Monterrey Jack cheese

• ¾ c sour cream

Directions

In a saucepan, sauté onion and garlic, in butter, until soft. Add tomatoes, tomato sauce, chilies, spices and salt and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes. Remove from heat.

Dip tortillas in tomato mixture. Put about 2 Tbsp shrimp and 2 Tbsp cheese on each tortilla. Roll and place seam down in a large baking dish.

Blend sour cream with remaining sauce mixture and pour over tortillas. Sprinkle with remaining cheese and bake, covered at 350 degrees until thoroughly heated, about 30 minutes. Serves 6 hungry football fans.

Eric'sWeb

Too hot for Young Adults!

2011-02-04T23:54:00.001-06:00

Check out Eric Wilder's new erotic thriller Morning Mist of Blood. Too hot for young adults and Sunday school teachers. Watch out for the flames, you might just get burned. CAUTION: Don't read this book unless you're ready for the ride of your life.
Eric'sWilder

Best Buds - Pics

2011-02-04T20:46:00.000-06:00

Here are some pics of my cat Buster and stepson Shane's dog Oscar. I took these a few months ago. Today, there's snow all over the ground courtesy of the Blizzard of 2011. I'm not complaining. I know everyone is in the same boat. Still, I hope the groundhog's latest prediction proves correct.

Eric'sWeb

Lily's Stuffed Mirlitons

2011-01-30T00:21:00.000-06:00

Lily was a religious woman and never missed a Sunday service. Gail and I were spiritual, but not so religious. Still, whenever we visited Chalmette, we somehow managed to make it to church. It all seemed worth it when we returned home, enjoying the feast Lily always prepared on Sundays. Here is just one of the wonderful side dishes we often enjoyed.

Lily’s Stuffed Mirlitons

Ingredients

• 6 mirlitons

• 1 onion, large, finely chopped

• 3 shallots, finely chopped

• 4 cloves garlic, minced

• ½ green pepper, chopped

• 1 tbsp parsley, chopped

• 2 c bread crumbs, or as needed

• 1 egg, beaten

• 1 tsp Creole seasoning

• 1 lb beef, ground, lean

Directions

Cut mirlitons in halves and cover with cold water. Bring to aboil and continue until tender. Remove from water. Let cool and scoop out pulp, discarding seed and fibrous pulp around seed. Place pulp in colander over bowl, and chop, reserving water. Place shells on a coated pizza pan.

Fry beef in cast iron skillet until all lumps are broken but not brown. Add vegetables and continue cooking for about 5 minutes. Add merliton pulp, bread crumbs, and a little merliton water if needed. Add beaten egg. Mix all ingredients thoroughly. Fill each mirliton half shell. Top with bread crumbs and ½ slice bacon. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Enjoy.

Eric'sWeb

Just Keep Drilling

2011-01-16T02:13:00.001-06:00

My first wife, Gail, was the youngest of a very large south Louisiana family, two brothers and five sisters. This meant I had many brothers and sister-in-laws. Bobby, one of my brother-in-laws, was a drilling contractor at the time, and owned drilling rigs. I’ve known many drilling contractors since then, many whom I count as best friends. They all have several things in common: intelligence, strong opinions, and egos the size of Dallas.

Bobby was the only drilling contractor I knew in those days and seemed very stand-offish to me. I took this to mean that he disliked me, but found out later this wasn’t true. I learned as much as a young geologist working for the now defunct Cities Service Oil Company.

I was an exploration geologist, looking for wildcat deposits of oil and gas in Kansas. The company had just drilled my first well, a dry hole, and I was devastated. I barely talked as Gail and I drove to New Orleans to celebrate some holiday or other, but it was apparent she knew something was wrong. Knowing me pretty well, she also had a good idea what was eating at my gut.

Our first night in Chalmette, Bobby and Mertye asked us to their house for a crawfish boil. Mertye, like her mother Lily, was a wonderful cook, and she and Bobby loved to entertain. They were building a swimming pool in their backyard. Everyone apparently feeling my pain, they somehow contrived to leave me alone, outside by the pool. As stars and a gorgeous moon lighted the south Louisiana sky, Bobby wandered outside and joined me.

“How’s work going?” he asked.

“Okay,” I answered.

“Gail told Mertye you just got your first well drilled.”

“Yeah, well it didn’t turn out too well.”

It was dark in the backyard, Bobby illuminated only by the light of moon and stars. Still, I could see he had a somber expression on his face.

“You know,” he said. “I been in the oil business a long time. Let me tell you a little story. Not long ago, we staked a well for an oil company. When we went to move in the rig, the stake was out in the middle of a bayou. We had orders from the oil company to drill that exact location because that’s where the company geologist said the oil was. Know what I did?”

I shook my head.

“I told the boys to close their eyes, and waded into shallow water, pulled up that stake and moved it to high ground, not more than a hundred feet or so from the original location. Know why?”

I shook my head again.

“Because, if a hundred feet makes that much difference, the prospect ain’t worth drilling in the first place. Hell, Eric, we barely know what to expect a hundred feet below the earth’s surface. There damn sure ain’t a road map 10,000 feet down. What I’m trying to tell you is there’s not a geologist alive, at least one that’s drilled an oil well, that hasn’t drilled a dry hole. If they tell you different, they’re lying.”

Bobby was silent for a moment, and then touched my shoulder. He said, “The world can’t survive without people like you. You’re just a kid and are gonna find lots of oil and gas before you die. Keep your head up and go drill another well.”

We wandered back into the house, back to the party, my spirits uplifted by sage advice from a person I admired and respected. When Gail and I returned to Oklahoma, I took his advice, working up a new prospect and drilling yet a second dry hole. This time, I took a deep breath, remembered his words, and just kept drilling.

Years have passed and I’ve drilled hundreds of wells, far more producers than dry holes. We all have angels in our lives from time to time. That night, so long ago in south Louisiana, Bobby taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. And yes, that night, he was an angel—my angel.

Eric'sWeb

Pedernales River Chili

2011-01-15T12:04:00.000-06:00

I found this recipe in an old cookbook. It was submitted by Lady Bird Johnson, former First Lady and wife of President Lyndon B. Johnson. In case you haven’t read about her, Lady Bird was a most interesting person. She was the first, First Lady to become a millionaire in her own right, but her biggest claim to fame was the beautification of our Nation’s highways, ridding them of billboards and planting Texas wildflowers along the way. Don’t know if this will win any chili cookoff contests, but it is quick to prepare and mighty tasty.

Pedernales River Chili

Ingredients

• 4 lbs chili meat

• 1 onion, large, chopped

• 2 cloves garlic, chopped

• 1 tsp oregano, ground

• 1 tsp comino seed

• 2 tbsp chili powder

• 2 cans Ro-tel tomatoes

• Salt to taste

• 2 c hot water

Directions

Put chili meat, onions, and garlic in large heavy boiler or skillet. Sear until light colored. Add oregano, comino, chili powder, tomatoes and hot water. Bring to a boil, lower heat and simmer about 1 hour. Skim away fat as it cooks off.

Eric'sWeb

Shannon's Logan County Venison Chili - a weekend recipe

2011-01-08T01:14:00.000-06:00

My stepdaughter Shannon lives on a ten-acre farm west of Guthrie in Logan County, Oklahoma. She has nine horses and far too many cats, dogs, chickens, peacocks and other assorted animals. Like her Grandmother Joy and Mother Marilyn, she is a wonderful cook. When Scotty, her significant other, returns from a hunt during deer season, she often prepares her own version of venison chili. Take it from me, it’s wonderful!

Ingredients
• 2 T vegetable oil

• 1 onion, large, chopped

• 1 green pepper, chopped

• 2 garlic cloves, large, minced

• 2 ½ T chili powder

• 1 ½ lbs venison, well trimmed, cubed

• ¾ lbs venison, well trimmed, ground

• 1 28 oz can tomatoes, crushed

• 1 c red wine

• 2 T cumin, ground

• 2 T Worcestershire Sauce

• ½ t red pepper

• ½ t salt

• 1 t black pepper

• 2 t Massa powder

Directions
Heat oil in large skillet. Stir in onion, green pepper, garlic and chili powder. Sauté until tender. Add venison and stir with a wooden spoon until brown. Drain off fat. Add remaining ingredients and bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer 30 minutes or long enough for chili to thicken. Serve in festive bowls topped with shredded cheddar cheese.

Eric'sWeb

Happy New Year 2011

2010-12-31T23:22:00.000-06:00

Here's hoping 2011 will be our best year ever.

Happy New Year!!

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy's Catfish Gumbo - a weekend recipe

2010-12-26T01:28:00.002-06:00

Here is a quick and easy dish Big Billy used to whip up when he entertained, which was often. Big Billy was so big and athletic that he could have made a career in pro football. Ironically, he was more into talking politics than watching sports on television. Still, his catfish gumbo is a perfect winter dish for watching college bowl games and the Super Bowl. This recipe serves eight.

Ingredients

• 2 lbs catfish filets, bite-sized

• 10 oz okra, sliced

• 1 c celery, chopped

• 1 c onion, chopped

• 1 c green pepper, chopped

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 3 T cooking oil

• 4 c beef broth

• 16 oz tomatoes, diced

• 1 bay leaf

• 1 t salt

• ½ t thyme, dried

• ½ t red pepper, ground

• ½ t oregano, dried, crushed

• 4 c rice, cooked, hot

Directions

In a large Dutch oven, cook celery, onion, green pepper and garlic in hot oil until tender. Stir in beef broth, tomatoes, bay leaf, salt, thyme, red pepper and oregano and bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat and simmer for 15 minutes.

Add catfish bites and okra, uncover and return to a boil. Cover and simmer for about 15 minutes or until fish flakes easily. Remove and discard bay leaf. Serve in bowls over rice.

Eric'sWeb

A Chinook Christmas

2010-12-24T22:21:00.001-06:00

Merry Christmas, Everyone!

The approach of every holiday seems to evoke memories for me, more so now than before. This approaching Christmas caused me to remember an event that happened many years ago when I was a grunt in Vietnam.

My MOS, or Military Occupational Specialty (at least I think this is what it stands for) was 11-C - infantry mortar man. When we changed areas of operation from the highlands to the flat plains, we got rid of our 81 mm mortar because it was too heavy to hump. Since I was already used to carrying a twenty-three pound base plate our platoon sergeant chose me to carry the twenty-six pound M-60 machinegun. The gun was a weapon that I had never even held in my hands, much less shot.

We were in a hot AO (area of operation) and everyone expected contact. In a clearing, waiting for resupply, I extended the bipod of the gun and pointed it toward the tree line. I was admiring my handiwork when a voice from behind disturbed my thoughts.

“Better lower the bipod. If bullets start flying, you want to be as low to the ground as you can get.”

I turned to see a trooper named Denny. He was white, but had dark black hair and a drooping handlebar moustache. He was from Michigan, as were many of my fellow boonie rats. Denny was a veteran of the recent Cambodian campaign and had participated in many firefights with the elusive enemy.

I lowered the bipod and thanked Denny for his sage advice. Later that night, I could hear the moans of someone suffering horribly. It was Denny.

“He has malaria,” the First Sergeant told me. “The Medevac choppers won’t come get him till his temperature reaches a sustained one-oh-four.”

One-oh-four was a number someone in the rear had come up with to prevent troopers from faking illnesses. The problem was, when a sky trooper’s temperature reached a sustained one-oh-four, he was already almost dead.

The night chopper carried Denny away, and everyone tried to forget that we had ever known him. It was November, although it seemed more like summer in tropical Vietnam. Latter that month I left the jungle for good. I was a college graduate and got a job as a clerk-typist on Firebase Buttons in the rear. Seems they needed someone that could type more than they needed a soldier that could pull a trigger.

When Christmas neared, the Company Sergeant asked me if I wanted to see the Bob Hope Christmas show. The gig required spending a night on a forward firebase and none of my fellow clerks wanted to chance being that close to potential combat. Fresh out of the jungle anyway, I of course said yes.

The night on the forward firebase went without incident, except that a reporter for Newsweek reported that we violated the Christmas truce when everyone on the firebase opened fire for what we called the “mad minute.”

Next day we took a Chinook helicopter to the hospital in Bien Hoa where we would see Bob Hope. It was there that I saw Denny again. He was wandering around the grounds in pajamas and a robe. He did not recognize me.

Denny reminded me of Jack Nicholson in One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest – after his full frontal lobotomy, that is.

I didn’t have a good seat and could not see much of the Bob Hope Christmas Show. It did not matter much because I was thinking of Denny and the masses of other brain and soul-damaged soldiers wandering like wraiths across the grounds of the sprawling hospital.

That Christmas night, I watched the sunset from the back of a departing Chinook, and considered my own mortality.

Eric'sWeb

Total Eclipse of the Moon

2010-12-21T23:58:00.001-06:00

Thanksgiving circa 1980s,
from left to right: Mavis,
Anne, Jack, Grandma Dale, Isey

When I went outside very early this morning to watch the lunar eclipse, I realized I was in for a mystical treat. A golden moon brightened hazy sky, back dropped by luminous Christmas lights decorating neighbors’ houses. My big tomcat Goldie joined me as I watched the unfolding event.

I had no telescope and only gazed up at the lunar phenomenon with my naked eyes. The realization that I was witnessing a total lunar eclipse the same day as the Winter Solstice, two events that occur on the same day only once every four hundred years, or so, caused me to recall another story recounted many years ago by my Grandmother Dale O’Rear Rood. Grandmother Dale was born October 27, 1891. She was nineteen when she witnessed Halley’s Comet in 1910.

“Halley’s is the only naked-eye comet that a human can witness twice in a lifetime. Mark Twain saw it twice and so did Papa Pink. I’m going to live until it passes one more time.”

Grandmother Dale didn’t quite make it, dying February 27, 1985 at the age of 93, less than a year from the date (February 9, 1986) Halley’s Comet last passed close enough to Earth to be seen with the naked eye. She actually came closer than Papa Pink; despite his boasts to the contrary, John Pickney O’Rear was born September 9, 1837, almost two years after the comet’s passing November 16, 1835.

I thought about Grandma Rood’s story as I watched the moon disappear into darkness, and then reappear the color of burnished bronze. Goldie didn’t seem to care, but shared my moment like a spiritual being that somehow understood the importance of the celestial event.

Marilyn usually leaves the radio in our living room on all the time. I’m not a religious person, but I couldn’t help but reflect on the Christmas song, Oh Little Town of Bethlehem, playing as I opened the front door and cast one last glance at the sky. It caused me to reflect on my own existence. I won’t be around in 2061 when Halley’s Comet appears again, much less in four hundred years.

Giving Goldie, my big tom a last scratch behind the ears, I grinned, deciding not to ponder the thought further as I plodded off to bed.

Eric'sWeb

Morning Mist of Blood and the Supernatural

2010-12-20T16:50:00.000-06:00

The rattlesnake tattoo on the cover of my new mystery novel Morning Mist of Blood is from a shell gorget found in a Mississippian mound that dates back to around 1,300 BC. There are many similar gorgets that feature supernatural beasts like strange-headed rattlesnakes, spiders and the underwater panther.

Beaks, talons, claws and fangs were favorite "metaphorical expressions" of power, hunting skill, etc. I'm not an archaeologist but it seems like there are many similarities with symbols from Mexico, Central America and other parts of the world, especially the all-seeing eye in the center of the human palm.

Tomorrow is the Winter Solstice and the park at Spiro, Oklahoma conducts a winter's solstice walk. The last guided tour (hike) starts at around 2pm and ends at the main Spiro Mound at sunset of the year's longest day. I was hoping to make it but it doesn't look like I will. So many interesting things to do and see and so little time. Oh well, maybe next year.

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy's Catfish Fajitas - a weekend recipe

2010-12-11T23:45:00.001-06:00

It’s no secret that Big Billy, a Dallas restauranteur and Oklahoma oil man, loved to cook, and he loved Southern comfort food. Here is one of his favorite and simplest recipes.

Ingredients

• 2 lbs. catfish, filets

• 1 cup lime juice

• 3 cups mesquite wood chips

• 1 onion, large, chopped

• 1 red pepper, large, chopped

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 2 Tbsp. butter

• 1/2 tsp salt

• 1/4 tsp pepper

• 8 tortillas, flour or corn, warmed

• Sour cream, salsa, avocado and lime slices

Directions

Place fish filets in large zip top bag. Pour in lime juice, seal and marinate in refrigerator for one hour. Soak wood chips in water for one hour. Drain wood chips. Sprinkle wood chips over pre-heated coals in a covered grill. Brush grill rack lightly with cooking oil and place catfish filets on rack. Close grill and cook for about five minutes on either side, or until fish is flaky.

In a large cast iron skillet, cook onion, red pepper and garlic in the butter until tender. Stir in salt and pepper. Cut filets into chunks, toss into skillet and mix well. Fill warmed tortillas with catfish mixture and serve with sour cream, salsa, avocado and lime slices.

Eric'sWeb

What the Readers are Saying About Morning Mist of Blood

2010-12-07T21:41:00.001-06:00

Here's what some of the readers have said about Morning Mist of Blood:

“A riveting read that blends mystery, suspense, and just the right amount of supernatural occurrences to keep pages turning.”

“Not like I thought it was going to be, it was better.”

“A quick, quirky, interesting read . . . Really enjoyed it.

“A fast-paced, action-filled mystery.”

“A mix of mystery and romance.”

“I just loved this one. what a true and gritty mystery/suspense/thriller/who done it/kinda sexy book! I could not put it down.”

“Great detail and I loved how the story had min stories inside of it.”

“Enjoyed this book very much.”

Eric'sWeb

Marilyn's Chicken-Fried Catfish with Pan Gravy - a weekend recipe

2010-12-05T00:36:00.000-06:00

Do you crave southern comfort food? Who doesn’t? Here is a recipe that embodies the spirit of food for the soul. Serve it with mashed potatoes and pan gravy. Heck, I even like pan gravy over my green beans. Enjoy.

Marilyn’s Chicken-Fried Catfish with Pan Gravy

Ingredients

• 4 catfish filets

• 1 cup vegetable shortening

• Salt and pepper to taste

• 1 cup all purpose flour

• 1 cup whole milk

Directions

Combine salt, pepper and flour in a large zip-top plastic bag. Mix well. Pour milk into a large bowl. Dip filets in milk and shake off excess. Enclose in bag and shake to coat. Shake off excess. Set a cast-iron skillet over medium flame and add shortening. Lay each filet in hot fat. Repeat until skillet is full, but not crowded. The shortening should be no deeper than ¼ inch. Heat only until it's hot enough to set the breading on the catfish after it's dropped into the skillet. When the bottom crust starts sizzling, turn filets and set the other side.

Pan Gravy

Ingredients

• 3 cups milk

• Catfish drippings

• 3 Tbsp. flour

• 1 1/2 tsp. salt

• 1 tsp. pepper

Directions

In a heavy, 2-quart saucepan, heat 3 cups milk but don't let it boil. Using the skillet in which you cooked the catfish, pour off excess grease, leaving about 4 or 5 tablespoons in the pan. Over medium flame, heat the drippings and add 3 tablespoons flour, 1 tablespoon at a time. Continue stirring to brown flour. When brown, hot and bubbling, add hot milk. Stir constantly until thick and creamy. Add 1 ½ teaspoons salt and 1 teaspoon pepper.

Eric'sWeb

Amazon Publishes Kindle Version of Hound of Christmas

2010-12-05T00:34:00.000-06:00

Please check out my new ebook, Hound of Christmas, on Amazon.

Zweibelkuchen ala Choctaw - a weekend recipe

2010-11-28T00:52:00.001-06:00

Central Oklahoma has many citizens of German extraction, the language still spoken in Oklahoma households where German cuisine is still proudly served. Choctaw, Oklahoma, and the Old Germany Restaurant have hosted an Oklahoma version of Oktoberfest every September for the last twenty years.

Here is a Germanic recipe with a slight Okie modification. P.S. – this recipe originated in German wine country and, yes, grapes are now grown and wine being produced right here in central Oklahoma. Although great with wine, I can personally attest to the fact that this dish is also great with a cold Beck’s. Yes, southern comfort food sometimes has European origins.

Ingredients

• 16 strips bacon

• 4 large yellow onions, chopped

• 2 jalapeno peppers, roasted, deseeded, finely chopped

• 2 eggs plus 1 yolk

• ¾ cups sour cream

• Salt and pepper to taste

• Caraway seeds

• 2 -8 inch pastry shells half baked at 400 degrees

Directions

Fry bacon until crisp. Drain, crumble and set aside. Fry onions in oil until soft and yellow. Add beaten eggs, and yolk, chopped jalapeno pepper, sour cream, salt and pepper. Add crumbled bacon. Pour mixture into pie shells and sprinkle with caraway seeds. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 to 30 minutes, or until centers are firm. Enjoy.

Eric'sWeb

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

2010-11-25T12:45:00.000-06:00

Eric'sWeb

Old Bones

2010-11-21T20:20:00.001-06:00

It’s a gray day here in Central Oklahoma, my two kitties, Buster and Buttercup, searching for even a scant patch of sunlight in which to bask. The gloom reminds me of a search I made many years ago that resulted in an eerie discovery.

A chill weekend in November found Gail, my ex, and I deep in a piney forest in southwest Arkansas. A graduate student in geology, my thesis concerned long forgotten mineral deposits in a sparsely populated corner of the universe. Years before the invention of GPS tracking devices, we relied on a very old Brunton compass to navigate through the stark loneliness of the southern Ouachita Mountains.

Tall trees, mostly pines, grew everywhere, covering the rolling terrain. While the Ouachitas aren’t high, rapid elevation changes of several hundred feet or more are common. We were moving slowly, picking our way through undergrowth as we traversed an east-west trending ridgeline, looking for an old lead mine hidden deep in the forest.

Prospectors searching for silver in the 1830’s had found lead and antimony instead. Last mined during the Civil War, the Davis Mine used horses and slave labor to mine lead for the Confederacy.

The mine is mostly forgotten and few accounts of its operation remain. Those that do, obliquely refer to abuse, torture and even murder of Union prisoners of war conscripted to work there. Some say ghosts still haunt it. When we crested a ridge and saw the barren pile of disturbed earth that was all that remained of the mine, we could feel their presence.

A scar, roughly a half-acre in size, was all that was left of the old mining operation. Vertical shafts had collapsed, or were filled with standing water. We soon began digging beautiful ore specimens out of the talus pile strewn with old bottles and broken timbers.

It was already past noon when we found the old mine, days short and our time there limited. We took photos and collected specimens, all the while feeling as if there was someone present other than ourselves. Rapt with discovery, I felt as if eyes were on my back. When I turned, I saw only fleeting shadows. The distinct sensation that we were disturbing a place where something terrible had happened was unmistakable. I felt it and so did Gail. When she dug up the remnants of a human skull, I knew we were disturbing a haunted place.

It was almost dark when we exited the forest to our old faded green Ford truck, waiting for us on a muddy dirt road. The portion of the skull we found was weathered from decades of lying at ground level. Not wishing to disturb it further, we buried it, voicing a few words, hoping they would somehow relieve the endless torment of some forgotten Union soldier’s soul.

When we returned to Fayetteville, I sent some of the ore samples to the U.S. Geological Survey in Denver for analysis. The results surprised me as I’m sure they would have the prospectors that discovered the Davis Mine. The ore wasn’t just lead and antimony; there was silver present and it was richer even than ore from the Comstock Lode.

Many years have passed since Gail and I felt the presence of ghosts at the remote Davis Mine, hidden deep in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas. As an overhead cloud cast a shadow on my kittens, sleeping on the hood of my car, I remembered in vivid detail.

Eric'sWeb

The Man Who Launched a Blockbuster

2010-11-20T12:23:00.000-06:00

A very interesting article about Stieg Larsson, author of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704312504575618743115014852.html

Eric'sWeb

A Day at the Beach

2010-11-13T14:18:00.000-06:00

htt While mudlogging for CORE Labs after graduating college with my degree in geology, I sat a well in south Texas that took about six weeks to drill. It was not that the well was that deep or the drilling that slow, but it was quite simply the well from hell.

Everything that could possibly go wrong did go wrong. The sand-shale sequence through which we were drilling was unconsolidated, the drilling fast and the hole soon crooked. Well bores are never truly vertical because the drill bit rotates causing the pipe to corkscrew. A dogleg sometimes occurs that results in the borehole changing direction abruptly. This was the case in our well and it created worlds of problems every time the crews made a bit trip.

My fellow mudloggers and I only worked when the well was actually turning to the right. Two drilling superintendents had already been relieved of duty because of problems on the well. The new superintendent decided to try to fix the drilling problem before he became number three.

When dealing with problems encountered miles below the earth’s surface, it is impossible to estimate the time it might take to correct the problem. Because of this, the company placed Jack, Art and me on stand-by. This was okay with us because the company paid us and we did not have to work for it.

The quick fix to the drilling problem did not occur and by the third day, the three of us were tired of hanging around Weslaco. We decided to take a field trip to South Padre Island for a little fun in the sun. After icing down several six packs of beer, we headed for the beach. By the time we reached sun and sand, we were all “two sheets to the wind,” as they say.

Jack was the senior man but he was only about thirty. What bad habits that Art and I did not already possess, we learned from Jack. Art and I worked on the beer while Jack had a bottle of Jack Daniel’s that he tippled straight from the bottle. Jack was smart enough to let Art drive while he sat in the front seat giving us directions from a tattered Texas road map.

South Padre Island is a barrier bar that parallels the Texas Gulf coast and stretches for miles and miles. We were looking for a beach with lots of gorgeous and scantily clad females but after miles of driving, we continued to see only bare sand. Art finally spotted some people sunning on the beach and frolicking in the surf.

“I don’t see a road,” he said.

“There are no trees or ditches,” Jack said. “Just cut cross country.”

This seemed like a perfectly good idea to both Art and me. It was not. Within fifty feet, we were stuck up to the hubs in sand and thirty minutes of effort beneath hot Texas sun failed to extricate us.

“Leave it here,” Jack said. “I’m hot as hell. Let’s take a swim.”

This also seemed like a good idea to Art and me. Following Jack to the beach, we proceeded to strip down to our boxer shorts and dive into the surf. In the manner of all good Texas oilmen, we were loud, boisterous, brazen and very drunk. Within minutes, the crowded beach cleared leaving only the three of us to frolic in the surf.

We had no towels, no umbrella and no swim trunks. Our cold beer in the trunk was a hundred yards away through ankle deep hot sand. After an hour in the humidity and beneath the south Texas sun, we had all begun sobering up. A good thing as we were able to free the car when we finally returned to it.

Down the road, we found a recreation area with a hotdog stand and many souvenir shops. Even though we had our clothes back on, the crowd reaction was pretty much the same. They all apparently saw us for what we were – “oil field trash.” We ate a few hotdogs, ogled ever girl in sight and then headed back to Weslaco.

I awoke the next morning with a pounding head, queasy stomach and painful sunburn. Worse, we learned the well was drilling again.

I wish I could say that I learned a valuable lesson from this experience. Well maybe I did. I realized that it is a bad idea to leave behind an ice chest loaded with beer even though you intend to go little more than a hundred yards away.

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy's Tipsy Sweet Potatoes - a weekend recipe

2010-10-30T01:33:00.000-05:00

Big Billy loved his beer but wasn’t much of a hard liquor drinker. He still liked to use it to liven up certain dishes. “Yams and bourbon was a match made in heaven,” he used to say. With Halloween upon us and Thanksgiving not far behind, here is a perfect holiday recipe. Try it and enjoy a little bit of heaven.

Ingredients

• 8 sweet potatoes, cooked, peeled, and mashed

• ¼ lb butter, softened

• 2 cups brown sugar

• 1 tsp allspice

• 1 tsp nutmeg

• 1 tsp cinnamon

• ½ cup bourbon

• ½ cup flour

• 2 tsps butter

• 1 cup pecans, chopped

Directions

Combine sweet potatoes with softened butter. 1 cup brown sugar, spices and bourbon; mix well. Pour into a buttered 2 quart casserole. Cut the 2 tablespoons butter into flour with a pastry blender until crumbly. Add remaining cup of brown sugar and pecans and blend well. Sprinkle on top of potatoes and bake at 350 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes. Enjoy.

Eric'sWeb

Another Morning Mist of Blood Book Review

2010-10-26T21:40:00.000-05:00

Here's another book review for Morning Mist of Blood, my Oklahoma murder mystery.

http://www.featheredquill.com/index.shtml

Fiery Oklahoma Sky

2010-10-23T21:43:00.000-05:00

Central Oklahoma finally got a respite from dry weather that has persisted since August. Two days of rain has dampened central Oklahoma, but not my spirits. A glorious sunset highlighted my walk, although I had to risk my neck, standing amid zooming traffic near the center line of 33rd Street to get the most optimum pic. The sky was just as red as the picture shows, but I had to adjust the camera's exposure compensation to make it read true.

Eric'sWeb

Book Review: Morning Mist of Blood

2010-10-22T14:04:00.000-05:00

Please check out a review of my new book, Morning Mist of Blood at Bookideas.com.

BookIdeas

Vi's Overnight Vegetable Salad

2010-10-16T02:13:00.000-05:00

Dot, my wonderful aunt from Katy, Texas was kind enough to share this recipe with me. It was given to her by her neighbor, Vi Tarpley. Thanks Dot, and thanks Vi. I can hardly wait to try it.

Vi's Overnight Vegetable Salad

Ingredients

• 1 16 oz. can LeSuer Peas, drained

• 1 16 oz. can French-Style green beans, drained

• 1 11 oz. can shoe peg white corn, drained

• 1 medium onion, finely chopped

• 3/4 cup celery, chopped

• 1 small jar pimento

• 3/4 cup sugar

• 1/2 cup vegetable oil

• 1/2 cup white wine vinegar

• 1/2 teaspoon salt

• 1/2 teaspoon pepper

Directions

In a large bowl combine peas, beans, corn, onion, celery and pimento. In a saucepan combine remaining ingredients. Heat and stir until sugar dissolves. Pour over the vegetables. Cover and refrigerate overnight. Yield: 10-12 Servings

Vi’s Hints: You may substitute small cherry tomatoes (cut in half), yellow or orange bell peppers, chopped, canned baby carrots, zucchini, sliced or most any kind of vegetable you like. Salad will keep for several days stored in a covered container in the refrigerator.

More hints: You may use small cans of peas, beans, corn and 1/2 of onion, celery and pimento. You may also substitute other vegetables in same amount, using one-half spices, sugar, vinegar, etc. Follow directions for rest of recipe making about 5 to 6 servings.

Eric'sWeb

Earthquake in Edmond

2010-10-13T23:24:00.001-05:00

My business partner Ray called me around 9:30 am today. "Did you feel the earthquake?" he asked.
"Nope, didn't feel a thing," I told him.
"Our office shook like there was no tomorrow. You sure you didn't feel anything?"
"No, but I believe you," I said.
"I was in Los Angeles during a 4.5 earthquake and it wasn't nearly as intense as the one I just experienced."
"I said I believe you," I responded.
I'm a writer, but I'm also a geologist. Oil companies, for years now, have been "dewatering" a deep-seated formation called the Hunton just east of here. Once sporadic earthquakes have grown from five a year to five a month.
"Dewatering simply means the oil companies are extracting large quantities of oil and water, mostly water, from a zone about a mile deep in the earth in central Oklahoma. They sell the oil and inject the water back into another zone called the Arbuckle. this ancient formation is rife with faults and structural movement. The injected water acts as a lubricant, causing movement, and resultant earthquakes. There hasn't been much, if any, property damage - at least as yet, so no one is casting any blame. The cause of the earthquakes is subsidence due to removal, and or injection of saltwater from, or into, zones deep beneath the surface of the earth.

Eric'sWeb

2010-10-09T11:32:00.000-05:00

My new book Morning Mist of Blood is finally out, including a paperback original version available across the web. Here is the first chapter that reintroduces Buck McDivit after a five year absense.

Morning Mist of Blood

Chapter 1

Buck McDivit exited the heavy glass doors of the Second Bank of Edmond, trying without success not to feel like someone had just kicked him in the gut. His banker, a man he had known all his life, had just rejected his request for a new truck loan.

“You got no steady job and not much in the way of assets. I can’t risk the bank’s money on this one,” he had told Buck.

Buck had stared at the little man with a voice much deeper than his size indicated and tried to reason with him. “I’ve never had a loan go south. You know as much, Jeb.”

“Things change,” Jeb Stuart Johnson had said, peering over his reading glasses. “The auditors would have my ass in a sling if I made this loan. Unless you put twenty percent down, that is.”

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Then maybe you don’t need a new forty thousand dollar pickup. You know what the monthly payments are on a loan that big? Hell, Buck, what’s the matter with the truck you got?”

“Two hundred thousand miles,” he had replied. “Maintenance is eating me up.”

“Then lower your standards because you can’t afford a truck costing forty-two grand.” The little man whisked his hand through his thinning hair before glancing at his watch. “Now I got another appointment coming in right after lunch so I’m leaving a little early. Anything else I can help you with?”

Buck didn’t bother answering because Jeb Johnson had already grabbed his overcoat and headed out of the office. He pulled the collar of his jean jacket up around his neck and followed him through the front door to Broadway, Edmond’s main street.

Buck’s boots were old but always polished and well maintained. He had long legs and his jeans and Western shirt made him seem taller than he really was. Two women passing on the sidewalk turned to give the handsome young cowboy with expressive brown eyes and dark wavy hair a second glance. Still upset about his meeting with Jeb Johnson, he failed to notice.

Edmond, a former train stop had grown into a north suburb of sprawling Oklahoma City. No longer a bedroom community for the wealthy, it was now the home of the third largest university in the state. It was also the third largest city in Oklahoma.

The thriving little metropolis had traffic that didn’t quite rival Dallas but was on its way to doing so. It also had a hundred fifty churches and at least ten Starbucks. Cold gusty wind whistled down the street, chilling the back of his neck, as someone tapped his shoulder.

“Sorry to bother you, Mister but I ain’t ate in two days. Can you spare a dollar?”

The economy, as in other parts of the country, had begun collapsing in Oklahoma. It seemed beggars populated every major cross street in the City but this was the first one Buck had seen in downtown Edmond. The man was scruffy, his clothes dirty and torn, but it was his dog that caught his attention. The man held on to it with a short strand of rope tied around its neck.

The young black and white Border collie wagged its tail and licked Buck’s hand when he reached down to pet it. He fished out his wallet and glanced at his last twenty.

“What’s your dog’s name?” Buck asked.

“Ain’t got no name.”

Buck handed him the twenty. “I don’t have anything smaller so I guess it’s your lucky day.” He pulled the bill back when the man reached for it. “You have to promise me part of this will go to feed your dog.”

The little man snatched the bill from Buck’s hand and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

“He ain’t my dog. I was gonna tie him to a park bench and be rid of the little pest. If you want him, you better take him cause he ain’t staying with me.”

Buck frowned, thinking for a moment he should take back his twenty. He took the rope instead and watched the ratty little man hurry away, probably to the nearest liquor store.

He squatted and rubbed the little dog’s ears. The dog with no name wagged its tail and licked Buck’s hand.

“Maybe I can put an ad in the paper and find a good home for you.”

Feeling suddenly depressed because of his loan rejection, he wondered if he should move north to Logan County and the less pretentious town of Guthrie. Someone he recognized exited the coffee shop across the street, interrupting his malaise. Waving, he crossed the narrow street, the dog wagging his tail as he followed him.

Unlike sprawling Oklahoma City, no skyscrapers jutted into the clouds in downtown Edmond. Few structures, if any, exceeded more than two stories in height, those mostly squat brick and native rock buildings. The people walking along the sidewalks moved at the slow pace of what was once a small town.

Clayton O’Meara, his ex-employer and the former husband of Virginia, the woman for who he now worked, had apparently not seen him and was heading in the opposite direction. He stopped when Buck called his name.

“Trying to avoid me, Clayton?”

Clayton grinned, showing a set of teeth a little too perfect for someone his age. He stood several inches taller than Buck, probably six foot four, and he sported a full head of silver hair, complete with expensive salon highlights.

“Hey, Buck. Nice leash you got. What are you doing up so early?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing?” he said, ignoring Clayton’s comment about the dog’s makeshift leash.

Clayton answered Buck’s question with little more than a wry grin and the word, “Business. Don’t you ever feed that dog?”

“He’s not really my dog.”

“From the way he’s wagging his tail, I’d say he thinks he is.”

A wealthy oilman, Clayton O’Meara owned a large cattle spread in southern Logan County. He rarely left the showplace ranch and Buck couldn’t recall ever seeing him in downtown Edmond. Despite the chilling temperature, the older man wore no hat, probably so as not to distract from his full head of hair. Only an unzipped orange goose down parka emblazoned with the letters OSU covered his designer sports shirt.

Clayton was at least thirty years older than Buck but the sparkle in his hazy eyes made him seem little more than a teenager. Glancing at his Rolex Commander, as if the expensive watch somehow held the answer to some unasked question, he pointed to his car down the street.

“I’m sort of in a hurry.”

Buck recognized a brush-off when confronted with one and said, “Didn’t mean to hold you up.”

Clayton grinned and slapped Buck’s shoulder. “Sorry to rush, but I got an appointment and I gotta get. We can catch up on things later.”

Instead of hurrying away, he turned toward the door of the coffee shop he had just exited. Reaching for the handle as if he had forgotten something inside, he thought better of it. Pivoting on the heels of his polished snakeskin boots, he headed down the street to his awaiting vehicle. Buck watched as Clayton’s chauffeur opened the back door of a big white Mercedes for him. With tires squealing, the car hurried away, around the corner.

Buck glanced at the door of Café Oklahoma, the coffee shop a fixture in downtown Edmond for almost as long as he could remember. He knew Clayton well enough to know he wasn’t a coffee drinker. Curious, he opened the door and glanced inside.

Seeing a familiar face alone at a table, he completely forgot about Clayton as memories of a recent romance, ended too soon for his liking flooded his psyche. It was his former girlfriend, Kay Karson. Everyone called her KK. She turned around, as if expecting someone else. Seeing him, she folded her arms, frowned and glanced away.

“No greeting for an old friend?” Buck asked as he approached her table.

KK crossed her shapely legs, black lace hose and ankle-length boots the only concessions to the outside chill, considering the short leather skirt she wore.

“You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Before Buck could answer, an employee said, “Sir, you can’t bring your dog in here.”

“I’ll only be a minute,” he said.

Buck and KK had been an item for almost a year. She liked line dancing, prancing horses and ice-cold Coors beer. Her slender legs looked great in tight blue jeans and cowboy boots. Honey blonde hair draped her shoulders, framing her slightly less than perfect but unforgettable face. She was, in fact, a beauty queen, having amassed three titles before the tender age of eighteen. Buck soon learned she thoroughly realized the effect she had on men. Now, at twenty-nine, she could focus her power on the opposite sex like an ICBM, with the same explosive result. Buck had found his dream woman. At least he’d thought.

KK’s father was a medical doctor in Tulsa, her mother a college professor at Tulsa University. She had never wanted for anything. Looking at her now, Buck could see she had acquired a few very expensive trinkets he doubted even her doting dad could afford. A diamond pendant graced her slender neck. The large diamond in an expensive setting had good color and was no fake. It was a companion piece to the diamond ring on her finger sporting an even larger and more ostentatious stone. Mink lined her gloves and the expensive jacket draped across the back of the booth.

“Just saying hi to an old friend,” he countered.

KK tipped over a half-empty coffee cup with her elbow. Dabbing at the spot with a napkin, she continued frowning.

“You call yourself an investigator. You don’t have a clue. I imagine you must have thought all you had to do was smile at me and I would jump back into your bed like a horny teenager. Well, we’re not in college, and you are not the star quarterback and campus heartthrob anymore. You don’t even have a real job. You may have a nice ass but it doesn’t compliment your lousy future.”

KK didn’t wait for his reply, brushing past him and appearing not to hear when he said, “Guess tamales and dancing Saturday night are out of the question.”

As she disappeared out the door without looking back, he wondered what he could have done to provoke such a display of anger. With a shrug to the employee still looking at him and the dog, he followed her outside, watching as she entered a brand new white Mercedes sports car, pulled out of her parking place and gunned away down the street.

“No problem,” he called out at the disappearing vehicle. “I can’t afford a date Saturday night anyway.”

Two rejections and a brush-off before noon, he thought as he considered where she had acquired the Mercedes and her expensive mink jacket. Their relationship had not ended badly. It had simply flickered out and died.

Buck had attended college for a time at OSU. He had dropped out to sign on with the OCPD. One of his friends there had left to become an oil and gas lease broker during one of the many oil booms, and he soon followed him. His lucrative job ended during an unexpected, at least to him, reduction in oil prices. Since then, he had supported himself in many different jobs such as club bouncer, skip tracer, process server, and private detective. His opportunities for gainful employment had recently narrowed and he found himself using his meager savings to pay his bills. It didn’t help that his aging Dodge pickup needed repair almost weekly.

“Come on, Buddy. Let’s get you something to eat.”

When Buck reached his truck and unlocked the door, his cheeks burned hot. He’d never had an ego problem, even though gorgeous women often became speechless when meeting him. It didn’t matter because now he needed a drink, preferably something with whiskey in it. Shaking his head, he remembered he couldn’t afford one.

It was past lunchtime, his stomach growling. After stopping at a convenience store, he began searching for change in the truck’s console.

“You wait here. I’ll be right back.”

He returned a few minutes later with a hot dog. Giving the meat to the young dog, he ate the bun. The little border collie gobbled down the wiener then curled up and went to sleep in the passenger seat.

Buck had not reached the horse ranch where he lived and worked part time when he received a call from the Logan County death investigator. One of his many jobs included assisting the investigator whenever a suspicious death occurred. He did not care for the often-gory work. It didn’t matter now. Because of his current financial situation, he could ill afford to turn down a job, no matter how distasteful.

A cowboy had discovered a body at a nearby ranch. Clayton O’Meara’s ranch. Buck pondered the coincidence as he turned his truck around and headed north, along with his sleepy passenger.

Eric'sWeb Gondwana

Natchitoches Meat Pie - a weekend recipe

2010-10-03T14:48:00.000-05:00

Natchitoches is the oldest continuous settlement in Louisiana, and that includes New Orleans. Located on the Cane River, this scenic and interesting town was the location for the movie Steel Magnolias. With a diverse cultural history, that includes French, Spanish, English, African and American Indian heritage, this sleepy community is like no other. Here is the original recipe for the world famous Natchitoches meat pie. Don’t change it or it will no longer be a Natchitoches Meat Pie.

Ingredients: Meat Filling

• ½ lb. ground chuck

• 1 ½ lb. ground pork (not sausage)

• 2 tsp. flour

• 1 tsp. shortening

• 2 onions, large

• 6 scallions, small

• 3 tbsp. parsley (chopped, very fine)

• salt and pepper, to taste

• 1 dash cayenne pepper

Ingredients: Pie Crust

• 4 cups flour

• 2 eggs, large

• ½ cup melted shortening, preferably lard

• 1 tsp. salt

• 2 tbsp. baking soda

• small amount of milk

Directions

Make the meat filling first. Meat should be ground twice and then run through a sieve. The idea is for the meat to be as smooth and uniform as possible. Brown the meat in a heavy iron skillet, pouring off any fat that accumulates.

Make a roux of the flour, shortening, onions, parsley, salt, pepper and cayenne pepper. Combine meat and roux thoroughly. Set aside for cooling.

Begin the pastry and DO NOT use cooking oil instead of lard. Sift flour. Add baking powder, lard, eggs and enough milk to make a stiff dough. Roll until very thin. Cut circles about the size of a coffee cup saucer from the dough. Fill with meat mixture and fold over. Moisten with water around edges and crimp with a fork. Poke a couple of holes in each pie (so they don’t explode!) and then deep fry until golden brown. You are in for a treat, so enjoy.

Eric'sWeb

Optical Illusion

2010-10-01T23:49:00.000-05:00

Hey, check out this optical illusion. Pretty neat!

http://videogames.yahoo.com/events/brain-teasers/optical-illusion-13/1408012

Eric'sWeb

2010-09-27T11:33:00.000-05:00

Here are three pics of Shane's (Marilyn's son) new dog Oscar.

Oscar

Marilyn and the Captain

Bad Boy

Buck is Back!

2010-09-25T11:25:00.000-05:00

I published my first novel, Ghost of a Chance in 2005. The protagonist, Buck McDivit, is an Oklahoma cowboy raised in foster homes. Buck inherits an island and boat marina on mysterious Caddo Lake in east Texas from an unknown aunt. Once in Texas, he confronts racism, lost gold and the ghost of a girl that haunts the lake.

Five years later, Buck reemerges in Oklahoma when a wealthy rancher hires him to investigate murder, oil and cattle theft, and a group of mysterious women that live on a commune near the center of his large ranch. Buck soon learns the commune is populated by more than just a bunch of female crazies. They are doctors, scientists, architects and artists that have pooled their resources and have created a virtual Eden smack in the middle of central Logan County.

The women practice conservation, burning no fossil fuels. Their domal houses are partially buried, connected to shops, businesses and exotic restaurants by an elaborate system of tunnels. They also practice other things; they are members of the Southern Death Cult, an ancient Pre-Colombian religion. Their spiritual leader is Esme, a beautiful woman with a mysterious past, and a rattlesnake tattoo on her shoulder.

If you missed Buck, he is finally back. The paperback original will be out shortly but the Kindle Edition is already available on Amazon. Please check it out. I think you will like it.

Eric'sWeb

Weekend Pics

2010-09-24T07:42:00.000-05:00

Princess, Patch and Scooter

Looking for the Sun

Toadstool Kingdom

Brightest Autumnal Equinox in More Than a Decade

2010-09-23T14:36:00.000-05:00

http://www.mnn.com/food/organic-farming/stories/world-celebrates-autumnal-equinox-2010-brightest-in-over-a-decade

Eric'sWeb

Before (During) After: Louisiana Photographers' Visual Reactions to Hurricane Katrina, Edited by Elizabeth Kleinveld-a book review

2010-09-17T08:48:00.000-05:00

This is a great book. Check it out.

http://www.seattlepi.com/books/426880_144049-blogcritics.org.html?source=rss

Eric'sWeb

Rain and Remembrance

2010-09-08T22:54:00.001-05:00

Rain, blown up from the Gulf of Mexico by Tropical Storm Hermine continues as I keyboard this posting. Happily, it's ending the driest August in central Oklahoma I can remember. Being from Louisiana, rain on the roof always makes me melancholy and causes me to reflect on events from the past. Here are a few pics from a 2001 4th of July party.

Lee, Lanny and Betsy

Angela, Kathy and Diana

Helen and Kate

Eric'sWeb

Some Old B&W Family Pics

2010-09-07T22:37:00.000-05:00

Cousin Angela & Brother Jack

Aunt Carmol

Eric's Dad Jack

Unknown girl, Cousin Carolyn Sue, Brother Jack, Cousin Angela

Big Billy's Mexican Stew - a weekend recipe

2010-08-27T23:48:00.000-05:00

Big Billy liked to cook and he also liked to eat, apparent by his weight of three-hundred pounds. A connoisseur of many cuisines, his favorite was Mexican, and not necessarily the Tex-Mex variety served almost everywhere in the southwest United States.

Here is a recipe for a very hearty beef stew derived from the highlands of southern Mexico and brought to the States by immigrants.

Ingredients

• 1 ½ lb. beef, cubed

• ¼ c. all-purpose flour

• 1 ½ teaspoon garlic powder

• 2 tablespoons vegetable oil

• ¼ c. soy sauce, naturally brewed

• 3 carrots, medium, 1” pieces

• 2 tomatoes, medium, chopped coarsely

• 2 onions, medium, chunked

• 1 can whole kernel corn (8 oz.) drained

• 1 ½ teaspoon oregano, crushed

• ½ teaspoon cumin, ground

Directions

Coat beef cubes with mixture of flour and garlic powder, reserving excess. With hot oil, .brown beef in large pan. Stir in soy sauce and 1 ¼ c. water. Cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 1 ½ hours, stirring occasionally.

Add carrots; simmer covered for 15 minutes. Stir in tomatoes, onions and pepper; simmer 25 minutes, or until vegetables are tender. Stir in corn, oregano and cumin; simmer 5 minutes. Combine reserved flour mixture with ¾ c. water. Stir into meat mixture, bring to boil and cook until slightly thickened. Enjoy.

Eric'sWeb

Murder, Cattle Rustling and Pagan Revelry in Central Oklahoma

2010-08-16T22:36:00.002-05:00

My first novel, Ghost of a Chance was published in 2005 and introduced cowboy private investigator Buck McDivit. Buck is finally back in his first full-length novel in five years.This modern-day western takes place in central Oklahoma when a wealthy rancher hires him to investigate a murder, cattle and oil theft and a pagan compound populated only by women. He must also contend with a shape-shifting black panther, a giant wolf dog and a beautiful woman with a rattlesnake tattoo.

Morning Mist of Blood is presently available only as an ebook. Yes, I prefer the heft of a hardback you can take to bed with you and read late into the night by lamp light. Still, the ebook generation is here and now, Amazon reporting that it made more money selling ebooks last quarter than it did paper versions. Morning Mist of Blood is available for the Kindle, Nook, Sony, Apple and most other ebook readers, including PDF which you can read on your computer. Best of all, you can download half the book for free to see if you like it before you ever spend a penny.

Morning Mist of Blood debuted today at Smashwords.com but will soon be available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, KoboBooks, Diesel Ebooks, Sony and Apple. If you get a chance, please check it out at the Morning Mist of Blood page on Smashwords. Hey, and thanks for reading my blog.

Eric'sWeb

Big Easy Book Trailer

2010-08-08T22:47:00.000-05:00

Big Billy's South Padre Meat Loaf - a weekend recipe

2010-08-07T01:24:00.000-05:00

Although born in Arkansas, Big Billy lived in Texas most of his life. The State is so big, it can easily be divided into many regions, any one of which is bigger than most other states. The people populating these regions have their own ethnicity, cuisine and culture. Big Billy was an expert on each of these regions and adept at cooking their many dishes.

South Padre Island is an area all to itself, unlike any other part of Texas—or the world for that matter. The inhabitants of South Padre Island come from all over, its culture and cuisine just as varied. Here is a dish Big Billy discovered, and made his own, while on a trip to the island.

Big Billy’s South Padre Meat Loaf

Ingredients

• 2 lbs. beef, chopped
• 1/4 lb. salt pork, chopped
• 1 onion, chopped
• 1 green pepper, finely chopped
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1/4 tsp. pepper
• Dash paprika
• Pimento, strips

Directions

Mix all ingredients except pimento strips and then sprinkle with paprika. Grease a bread pan and put in half the mixture. Place strips of pimento over the top. Add the rest of the meat and bake in moderate oven for 45 minutes. Serve with hot boiled rice and tomato sauce.

Connecticut AG Mulls Apple and Amazon Ebook Dealings

2010-08-03T14:04:00.000-05:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/03/technology/03ebook.html?_r=1&partner=rss&emc=rss

Eric'sWeb

Whirlwind to Louisiana

2010-07-31T13:10:00.000-05:00

Marilyn and I drove to Vivian last weekend for my Dad’s funeral. The gravesite ceremony was wonderful. Two young soldiers came up from Fort Polk. One of them blew Taps on his bugle. They performed the flag ceremony, presenting me with the flag.

I was surprised by the number of people that attended, considering my Dad’s age and the short notice. My two cousins, Skip from Austin and Sonny from Georgia were there, along with their wives, my Aunt Marguerite, Brother Jack, his wife and four kids.

Leaving town, Marilyn and I stopped at the drive-in bar on the Louisiana/Texas border. Marilyn took pictures because it is hard to believe there are still places in this country where you can buy a bourbon and swamp water from the window of your car.

My Dad is finally home in Vivian, at rest beside my Mother. As Marilyn and I plopped down on our couch soon after making it to Edmond, I knew how he must feel.

Eric'sWeb

My Dad Died Yesterday - Jack Pittenger's Obit

2010-07-22T21:57:00.000-05:00

My Dad died yesterday after a long battle with Alzheimer's. We are burying him Monday in Vivian. Below is his obit. Like all obits, it is no more than a book blurb for a novel that took a lifetime to write.

Jack Howard Pittenger, a true American hero, passed from this earth on July 21 at the Norman Regional Veteran's Center in Norman, Oklahoma, three days shy of his ninety-first birthday. Jack was born in Trees City, Louisiana on July 24, 1919. He served in the U.S. Army from 1941 through 1945 where he took part in the campaigns of Normandy, Dinard, Brest, the Crozon Peninsula, and Luxembourg. In Germany, he saw action at Haertgen, from the Roer to the Rhine, and in the Ruhr Pocket, and was in the Elbe River area on V-E Day. He earned the Combat Infantryman's Badge, the Good Conduct Medal, and the European Theatre of Operations Ribbon with four battle stars.

He married Mavis Lela Pittman in 1943. They settled in Vivian and were married sixty-three years at the time of Mavis' death in 2006. Jack was a talented builder and built many homes in Vivian before becoming a pipefitter. He was a lifetime member of the Plumber's and Pipefitter's Union and retired in 1982.

Jack is preceded in death by wife Mavis, Mother Dale O'Rear Rood, step-father Oscar Rood and sister Carmol. He had two sons Jack Jr. and Gary (Eric), and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Eric'sWeb

Struck by Lightning

2010-07-20T09:36:00.001-05:00

Big Billy had an Oklahoma oil company during the late 70s, early 80s oil boom. Like many others during that era, his went belly up when the economy flopped and oil prices collapsed. He moved to Texas and started a restaurant, visiting me years later in Oklahoma City after I ran into him in a dark Dallas bar. I had some leases in Noble County along with a geologic idea. I showed it to him and he bought it from me, intent on drilling a well.

The prospect was a reentry of a previously drilled well that had “shows” that were never tested. Big Billy had money but to say that he was cheap would be an understatement. Even though he could easily have afforded a Jaguar, he drove an old Chevy until the wheels practically fell off. Sometimes, when you are drilling, it doesn’t pay to go with the cheapest bid.

Big Billy somehow dug up an old drilling contractor with a cut-rate price and very old rig to drill our well. The wash-down that should have taken three days was only 250 feet deep after a week.

I told him what I thought. “The bit is out of the old hole. You’re drilling a new hole and with this piece of junk you are drilling with, it’ll take forever.”

Big Billy was stubborn but he wasn’t stupid. Taking my advice, he released the dilapidated old drilling rig while we scratched our heads about what to do. We soon decided to perforate a shallow zone already cased behind surface casing. Big Billy’s good luck hadn’t gone far away and we completed the zone for lots of natural gas.

The well turned out to be a prolific producer and spurred the drilling of another ten shallow wells offsetting it. There were numerous, potentially productive sands in the area and I finally talked him into drilling a well to test this possibility. We called it the Big Boy.

We drilled the Big Boy to a depth of about three-thousand feet. Ed G., a friend of mine since Cities Service days, and also a cracker jack well-site geologist, watched the well as it was drilling. Before reaching total depth, we had recorded “shows” of natural gas in two zones. Ed and I both recommended that Big Billy set pipe.

“Do either of these zones produce in offset wells?” he asked us.

I shook my head but explained, “They calculate productive on the electric logs and we had positive shows while drilling through them.”

Big Billy wasn’t convinced.

“I can’t let my investors set pipe on a wildcat zone.”

Ed was irate. “With that kind of logic, there would have never been a productive well ever drilled. Someone has to be the first.”

Argue as we might, Big Billy decided to plug the well. He did so with a temporary plug, thinking someone might come along later in the area and find production in the two zones. He didn’t have to worry about lease expiration because shallow production held them. Everything would have been hunky-dory, except for Old Mother Nature.

A year or so later, Big Billy got a late-night call from the Corporation Commission, Oklahoma’s oil and gas regulatory agency. The temporary plug he had set on the Big Boy was leaking natural gas to the surface. During a spring thunderstorm, lightning had struck the surface plug and set it on fire.

“Plug it or produce it,” the Commission ordered.

Big Billy grumbled, but complied with the Commission’s order by reentering the well and completing in the same shallow zone as all of his offsets, still overlooking the two untested deeper zones.

Natural gas prices languished for several years, during which time Big Billy bought out all of his partners. He called and told me that he intended to sell the little natural gas field, buy a sailboat and retire to Washington with Kathy, his significant other.

“You’re too young to retire,” I said.

Unable to convince him, Ed and I found a buyer for the property.

Because of depressed natural gas prices, Big Billy sold the wells for $100,000. Ed, still enamored with the prospect, bought ten percent of the producing property for ten grand. He shortly had a pleasant surprise.

The price of natural gas, like all commodities, is controlled by supply and demand. When the supply is high, the price is low. When it stays low for a lengthy period, gas operators stop drilling. Since all wells decline, the supply always, sooner or later, drops below the demand. If no new wells are drilled to take their place, a shortage occurs. This is what finally happened the month after Big Billy sold his gas properties, bought his sailboat and moved to Washington. After realizing the imbalance between the supply of available natural gas and the demand for it, marketers began bidding in earnest. The price suddenly soared, returning Ed’s investment in a single month.

Big Billy either didn’t care or else decided not to let it bother him. He and Kathy lived on their boat, docked near Seattle, for several years until they both became bored with retirement. The oil and natural gas boom was still going strong so they sold the boat and moved back to Texas. His luck was still good and he and Kathy managed to amass yet another fortune during the ensuing Texas land boom.

Stubborn to the end, he never acknowledged being wrong about not testing the two deeper zones in Noble County.

Eric'sWeb

A Morning Mist of Blood - coming soon

2010-07-19T09:02:00.000-05:00

COMING SOON!

The long-awaited sequel to Ghost of a Chance. Cowboy gumshoe Buck McDivit returns to investigate cattle theft, paganism, murder and a shape-shifting black panther.

DON'T MISS IT!

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy's Crawfish Quesadillas

2010-07-17T09:57:00.000-05:00

Big Billy was a Texan, transplanted from Arkansas by way of Oklahoma. He had a big booming voice that somehow even overwhelmed his six foot four, four hundred pound body. Big Billy wasn’t ashamed of his weight and he had a razor tongue that could lacerate most mere mortals in seconds, if they ever dared not treating him like the super intelligent person that he was. Kathy was Big Billy’s better half. More intelligent than even Big Billy, she was the keel that kept his boat positioned on the straight-and-narrow.

Once, at a Superbowl party in Oklahoma City, Kathy fell in love with an abandoned blonde cocker spaniel with the regal name of Stacy’s Blueberry English Muffin. One of the young dog’s elderly owner’s had recently died, the other no longer capable of caring for the pedigreed cocker.

Muffin was on her way to the pound but Kathy begged Big Billy to let her adopt the friendly dog. He agreed, but only after obtaining her promise to “do anything he asked of her” for a month. Hmmmm! I have no clue what wild and depraved acts Kathy had to ultimately perform, but Muffin turned out to be one of the world’s best dogs, a real princess that even Big Billy eventually bowed down to

Muffin and Big Billy are both gone, but Kathy now lives in Austin along with her new husband Ross andtwo kitties Lefty and Blacky (named after some crazy country-western song, I think) that she and Big Billy had adopted. Since Kathy is allergic to cats, she built them their own air-conditioned palace behind her house on Lake Travis. Ah, the lives of the very rich!

Anyway, here is one of the many wonderful dishes Big Billy and Kathy used to cook up. It’s a Louisiana/Texas specialty that I think you will like.

Big Billy’s Crawfish Quesadillas

Ingredients

• 8 ten inch flour tortillas

• 1 lb. peeled crawfish tails, lightly rinsed and drained

• 1 medium onion, chopped

• 1 Tbsp. butter

• 1/2 cup green onions, chopped

• 1 cup Monterey Jack cheese

Directions

Butter a non-stick skillet and sauté onion on medium heat until tender. Add green onions and crawfish and sauté about 10 minutes. Spritz a large skillet with cooking spray and place on medium heat. Place tortilla in skillet and spread with 1/2 cup crawfish and cheese, and top with another tortilla. Cook 1 minute on each side and then cut into 8 wedges. Serve quesadillas as an appetizer along with Texas hot sauce and sour cream.

Eric'sWeb

Summer of Love

2010-07-13T08:50:00.000-05:00

We experienced the “Summer of Love” in 1969, along with Woodstock and the first man on the moon. There was also Vietnam. I had just graduated from college and planned to marry in August. Before the marriage occurred, I sat my first oil well.

It was early July and I waited in Houston, Texas for my first assignment as a mudlogger with a company called Core Lab. My new mentor was a degreed geologist named Ed M. and we were soon on our way to Mississippi. The 60s in Mississippi were still racially charged and we had to peel off the Core Lab sticker from our company car before driving into the state.

Many in Mississippi thought of CORE as the Congress of Racial Equality, not an oil and gas service company. Being from Louisiana, I was somewhat used to racism, but not even close to what I encountered in Mississippi.

My first well was a 17,500’ wildcat, just outside of Laurel, Mississippi. Ed and I found a room at a local boarding house. Ed liked boarding houses – he had married the owner of the last boarding house where he had stayed in Monroe, Louisiana. I liked them too because I did not have a lot of extra money for the local Hilton.

The drilling rig was big and noisy, but I was not destined to see the well through its total depth. Instead, I drove to Weslaco, Texas to finish logging a well drilling there. I never finished that well either because Core Lab sent me to log yet another deep wildcat, this one near Talco in east Texas.

While young hippies were smoking dope, cavorting around with no clothes, and listening to rock music, I spent the “Summer of Love” on an assortment of noisy drilling rigs from Mississippi to Texas. My boss begged me to sit a wildcat for him in Nicaragua and put off my marriage until later. I thought about it, and the extra money he offered, but my bride-to-be would have none of it.

Five months later, I was married, drafted into the Army and training for a traumatic trip to Southeast Asia as a hired gun for Richard Nixon. Yes, I missed the wild and decadent parts of the “Summer of Love” but I tried making up for it during the “Disco 70s.” Maybe it is a good thing because I don’t think I could have survived both.

Eric'sWeb

Lust, Deception and Murder - a new novel by author Eric Wilder

2010-07-10T12:59:00.000-05:00

My new book is almost ready for publication. After going through many gyrations, I finally decided to call it A Morning Mist of Blood. Buck McDivit, the hero of my mystery Ghost of a Chance returns. This time, the setting is central Oklahoma, home of the cowboy detective. A cattle theft near a large, present-day Oklahoma ranch sets the story into action and soon propels Buck into a quagmire of lust, deception and murder. Please consider giving it a read when it is available. Meantime, check out Lost on Route 66, the book I edited.

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy's Potato Puffs - a weekend recipe

2010-07-03T12:12:00.001-05:00

Big Billy had lots of success as an oilman and restaurant owner but never forgot his rural Arkansas roots. He lived by the mantra “waste not, want not” and the dishes he prepared often reflected this philosophy. Big Billy loved southern cooking, and that included potatoes. Instead of throwing away left-over potatoes, he would often turn them into this tasty dish.

Big Billy’s Potato Puffs

Ingredients

• 2 cups cold potatoes, mashed
• 2 eggs
• 1 Tbsp. cream
• 1 Tbsp. butter
• Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation

Mash potatoes well and put them in a frying pan with butter. Add the yolks of two well-beaten eggs, stir and add the cream. Continue stirring and cook until the mixture is very hot. Remove from fire and add the whites of the eggs that have been beaten into a thick froth. Fill a buttered baking dish with the mixture and bake in the oven until the crust turns golden brown. Enjoy.

Eric'sWeb

Eric Wilder Goes Digital

2010-07-01T23:04:00.000-05:00

Hoping to find new audiences for my writing, I have published many of my Wyatt Thomas short stories as ebooks and they are available at Smashwords.com. Please check out my homepage there and tell me what you think.

Eric'sWeb

Big Billy's Oyster Balls - a weekend recipe

2010-06-26T11:49:00.000-05:00

Big Billy was a Dallas restauranteur and oil man, but he loved Cajun food and knew how to prepare it. Big Billy liked people and he liked parties. When he hosted one of his famous parties, he often prepared this appetizer. It’s one of my favorites and I think you will like it too.

Big Billy’s Oyster Balls

Ingredients

• 2 pints oysters, chopped

• 2 pints sausage, chopped

• 1 egg

• 2 cups bread crumbs, grated

• Cajun hot sauce, to taste

Preparation

Combine oysters and sausage. Season liberally with Cajun hot sauce. Add egg. Shape into small balls. Coat with bread crumbs. Fry in hot oil until golden brown. Serve hot.

Eric'sWeb

Lily's Oyster Stew - a weekend recipe

2010-06-19T13:03:00.000-05:00

Oyster stew is a Louisiana staple, but is prepared and eaten everywhere the succulent sea creature is found. Like gumbo, there are many variations, some heartier than others. Here is one of Lily’s versions. This recipe is included in Lily's Little Cajun Cookbook, available in ebook format at Smashwords.com.

Lily’s Oyster Stew

Ingredients

1 stick butter

1 tablespoon minced garlic

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 medium carrot, finely diced

2 tablespoons Cajun seasoning, plus more to taste

2 pints oysters (with liquor), drained and liquor reserved

1 quart seafood stock

1 10-ounce can of tomatoes, pureed

1 quart half-and-half

¼ cup white wine or brandy

Garlic croutons

Directions

In a large 2-gallon stockpot, melt butter over medium-high heat. Add garlic, onion and carrot and cook, stirring constantly, until onions are translucent. Add 2 tablespoons Cajun seasoning and stir to combine. Add oyster liquor, seafood stock and tomatoes and bring to a simmer. Cook 10 minutes. Add half-and-half and bring back to a simmer. Add oysters and cook until their edges begin to curl. Add wine or brandy and adjust seasoning to taste. Serve immediately in hot soup bowls garnished with croutons, green onions, parsley and paprika.

Eric'sWeb

More Spring Pics

2010-06-15T20:23:00.000-05:00

Pics from earlier this year.

Eric'sWeb

Images of Spring

2010-06-13T12:09:00.000-05:00

Images from April, 2010, Edmond, Oklahoma.

Eric'sWeb

Lily's Cajun Butter

2010-06-12T00:56:00.000-05:00

We all like butter on our corn. My ex-mother-in-law Lily used to whip up a special concoction she called Cajun butter and often served it over carrots, cauliflower and even her mirlitons. It makes fresh vegetables taste even more wonderful and it’s easy to prepare. Whip up a batch and see if you don’t agree.

Lily’s Cajun Butter

Ingredients

• 1 Tbsp. olive oil

• 2 tsp. lemon juice

• 1/8 tsp. parsley

• 1/4 tsp. chili powder

• 1/4 tsp. ground black pepper

• 1/8 tsp. garlic powder

• 1/4 tsp. ground red pepper

• 2 Tbsp. butter

• 1 tsp. cornstarch

• 1/4 cup chicken broth

Preparation

Mix parsley, chili powder, black pepper, garlic powder and red pepper. Cook in hot butter and olive oil for 1 minute. Stir in cornstarch. Add chicken broth and lemon juice. Cook and stir over medium heat until thickened and bubbly. Cook and stir 2 minutes more. Serve warm over corn or vegetables.

Eric'sWeb

Velvet, 6-06-10, Rest in Peace

2010-06-06T11:02:00.000-05:00

It’s been a bad year for dogs in the Wilder household. My Lab, Lucky, died last September. Velvet, my shepherd mix, died today after a short illness. Velvet was a wonderful dog—the big girl pictured with me on the home page of my website, this blog, and on the bio page of so many of my books. Losing a pet—like every pet owner knows— is like losing a member of the family. Rest in peace, D-Day, 2010.

Eric'sWeb

Lily's Cajun Butter - a weekend recipe

2010-06-05T00:54:00.002-05:00

We all like butter on our corn. My ex-mother-in-law Lily used to whip up a special concoction she called Cajun butter and often served it over carrots, cauliflower and even her mirlitons. It makes fresh vegetables taste even more wonderful and it’s easy to prepare. Whip up a batch and see if you don’t agree.

Lily’s Cajun Butter

Ingredients

• 1 Tbsp. olive oil
• 2 tsp. lemon juice
• 1/8 tsp. parsley
• 1/4 tsp. chili powder
• 1/4 tsp. ground black pepper
• 1/8 tsp. garlic powder
• 1/4 tsp. ground red pepper
• 2 Tbsp. butter
• 1 tsp. cornstarch
• 1/4 cup chicken broth

Preparation

Mix parsley, chili powder, black pepper, garlic powder and red pepper. Cook in hot butter and olive oil for 1 minute. Stir in cornstarch. Add chicken broth and lemon juice. Cook and stir over medium heat until thickened and bubbly. Cook and stir 2 minutes more. Serve warm over corn or vegetables.

Eric'sWeb

Vanity Press Goes Digital

2010-06-03T23:59:00.000-05:00

A great article for all of you unagented writers out there.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704912004575253132121412028.html

Eric'sWeb

Hey, please check out my book Prairie Sunset. Yes, there is a message, but it is a fun read.

Polluted Oklahoma City

2010-06-02T22:44:00.001-05:00

My second wife Anne died of lung cancer. I always assumed it was caused by smoking because she was a heavy smoker. An incident that happened while she was taking a chemo treatment gives me pause to think maybe smoking wasn’t the only cause.

Anne grew up in a house near SW 42 street in south Oklahoma City. I can’t remember the exact address but this is close enough. Anne and I talked as the chemo treatment coursed into her veins. A man across the way, also receiving a chemo treatment, spoke to us.

“I couldn’t help hearing where you grew up. I lived across the street from you.”

Strange as this probably sounds, another man, also receiving a chemo treatment said, “I lived right behind the two of you at the same time.”

Yes, I know it is quite a coincidence, but Anne and the two men all lived within a hundred yards of each other during the same time period and yes, all three had lung cancer.

What is the possible cause? 800,000 barrels of oil (probably much more counting all the spills and blowouts that occurred in the 1930’s) saturated into the earth and groundwater in southwest Oklahoma City. Oil clean-up ended long ago in Oklahoma City but perhaps the deadly toxins still exist. Only God knows for sure.

Eric'sWeb

Oklahoma Hailstorm Sky

2010-06-01T07:21:00.000-05:00

Cloud pics in the Edmond sky just before the recent Oklahoma hail storm that did so much damage.

Eric'sWeb

Still on the road

2010-05-31T23:00:00.000-05:00

Today is Memorial Day and I visited my Dad at the Norman Veteran’s Center. He will be ninety-one in July and the wrath of Alzheimer’s is beginning to take its toll on him. He is in a wheelchair and no longer very responsive, although occasionally he flashes a knowing smile.

When I left him and walked away down the hall, I paused to look at some of the pictures and read some of the plaques. One was the Alzheimer’s Prayer. It was basically a plea to visitors not to give up on the people they came to see just because they may be unresponsive and can’t remember your name. Somewhere deep, they know who you are and are greatful for your visit.

The final sentence was poignant. It said, “Celebrate the ones that have completed their journey, and honor those still on the road.” I will remember those words, and return for those occasional smiles.

Eric'sWeb

Conch Fritters - a weekend recipe

2010-05-28T23:12:00.000-05:00

Here is a recipe for Conch Fritters. Believe me; they taste great, but good luck finding any conch unless you live in Florida!

2 cups freshly bruised conch, cleaned and diced
3 teaspoons tomato paste
1-1/2 Tablespoons flour
2 onions, diced
1 Bahamian sweet pepper, diced
2 stalks of celery, chopped
3 Tablespoons baking powder
3-4 cups vegetable oil
Hot Peppers and salt to taste

Combine all ingredients (except oil) in a large bowl. Blend well. Heat oil in deep frying pan or pot until water dropped into oil sizzles. Drop batter by the tablespoonful into hot oil. Fry until brown. Drain on paper towels and serve.

Makes 40 fritters

Eric'sWeb

Truth and Fiction

2010-05-25T22:38:00.001-05:00

My Dad has Alzheimer’s and lives in a rest home in Norman. His short term memory has virtually vanished, but barely remembers my brother Jack and me, and at ninety his physical condition is beginning to fail.

Dad’s long-term memory is mostly gone and he no longer remembers about his tour of duty during World War II. Still, he was there and this is an excerpt about him from The Fighting Men of Louisiana:

He served as a code clerk in the message center in Ireland, France, Luxembourg and Germany. He took part in the campaigns of Normandy, Dinard, Brest, the Crozon Peninsula, and Luxembourg. In Germany he saw action at Haertgen, from the Roer to the Rhine, and in the Ruhr Pocket, and was in the Elbe River area on V.E. Day. He has the Combat Infantryman’s Badge, the Good Conduct Medal and the European Theatre of Operations Ribbon with four battle stars.

Dad was always reluctant to talk about his experiences in the War but he retold one particular story enough times that it remains ingrained in my mind. I told the story in my novel Prairie Sunset in the words of eighty-year old John Warren.

John and Attie have met a young married couple, Hulk and Lillie Mae at a campground in a remote valley deep in the Ouachita Mountains. All four people suffer from their own personal demons and during a particularly magical night, their inhibitions lessened by a magical dip in a mountainous pool heated by hydrothermal energy, John is encouraged to tell a story about the War. John’s story is my Dad’s story, exactly as he told me so many times.

John’s (and Dad’s) story from Prairie Sunset

Comforting darkness, piquant chili and pacifying effect of strong beer combined to loosen their tongues. Coaxed by Attie, Lillie Mae and especially Hulk, John told several amusing vignettes from his youth.

Hulk finally said, "Were you in the war, John?"

After hesitating a moment, he said, "Yes, I was."

"Well tell us a war story," Hulk goaded.

Poignant memories flooded John's mind and he smiled sadly, unconsciously grinding his toe against an empty cardboard carton in front of him.

Hulk prompted, "We're you in the Battle of the Bulge?"

Waves of nostalgia crested John's mental bow and he said, "Wasn't supposed to be, but I was."

"Please, John," Lillie Mae said. "Tell us."

John did, beginning slowly, and then warming to the tale. "The Bulge was Hitler's last attempt to turn back the advancing Allies," he said. "For a month and a half the Battle lasted, called the 'Bulge' because Germans failed to break through the line, only succeeding in bending it. I was a radioman in the signal corps, too young to serve but I had lied about my age and joined anyway. One night an old colonel appeared at the communications tent, needing to relay a message to Patton. Since we were out of direct radio communication with the main force he decided to deliver it in person. He conscripted me to drive the jeep for him.

"The night turned bitterly cold. Snow had fallen for days, piled high on both sides of the road. Continuing night and day, the line of battle had spread out many miles, constantly moving like an angry sidewinder. When sun came up the following morning, we realized we had somehow crossed the enemy line.

"Germans, besides many other things, were excellent soldiers. We found ourselves caught, along with an advancing column of American infantrymen, in a crossfire ambush. Fresh from the States, our boys were young, mostly teenagers, barely out of diapers, and none had ever seen a German, much less been under fire.

"Finding yourself caught in the middle of a fire fight is like walking a railroad track at night. Hearing the loud blast of a whistle behind you, you turn and stare into the lights of the monstrosity, twenty feet away, and bearing down on you - the remains of your best friend already chewed up beneath its wheels.

"When the attack began, the noise was frightening and extreme - beyond imagination for the uninitiated. Along with gunfire and violent explosions, steel, dirt and stone whistled randomly around our heads. When our inexperienced boys dropped their rifles and ran for cover, German marksmen began dropping them in their tracks. Blood was running in the ditches, staining the snow crimson, when we reached the center of the column. Unarmed, the old colonel jumped from the jeep and ran directly into the path of the retreating GI's.

"Thrusting rifle after rifle back into the hands of those child soldiers, he admonished them to hold their ground. Around us, the battlefield was alive with explosions, hot lead and the mortally wounded screaming for help. A mortar round exploded near the jeep, spraying me with dirt and shrapnel. When I wiped my face, the blood on my hand was not my own.

"Any one of a hundred Hun marksmen could have dropped the colonel. None did. Maybe they were awed by his bravery and coolness under fire. Maybe a higher force was protecting him. With confused soldiers dying all around him, he coursed the length of that bloody road, exhorting them to turn and fight. One-by-one their youth dissolved in a mire of smoke and torn flesh, and they became men in the hot cauldron of battle. They did turn and fight, hanging on until reinforcements arrived."

John grew silent and Attie squeezed his hand, feeling the intensity of his pain. Finally he chuckled and it drew into a hoarse laugh.

"Know what's funny?" John's rapt audience shook their head without answering. "I remember the Colonel as old, but he was probably no more than forty. Years younger than I am now and I still think of him as an old man. I can't remember his name and I don't suppose you'll ever read about him in any history book, but he did as much as anyone to defeat the Nazis."

Suddenly aware of frogs, crickets and distant owls, John realized no on had spoken for an interminable period. When she saw he had finished the story, Lillie Mae put her arms around his shoulder like a mother comforting a child. Hulk remained silent, torn by his own conflicting emotions.

Having nothing else to say, Hulk and Lillie Mae said goodnight, leaving John and Attie alone beneath a yellow moon and sparkling stars. John hugged Attie, drawing for a moment on her strength before speaking.

"In more than sixty years, I've never told that story to another soul."

Attie patted his shoulder and said, "Some of us hold painful memories inside us until the day we die. Its time you let this one go."

Eric'sWeb

Iceland, Jamaica, and the Afar Triangle

2010-05-24T23:49:00.001-05:00

I am a fiction writer but I am blessed, or perhaps cursed by also being a scientist of the Earth. Years ago I visited a road cut in Arkansas near the tiny town of Caddo Gap. What I witnessed that day truly blew me away, both metaphorically and metaphysically.

I stood on the side of the road, staring for what must have been many minutes, or perhaps hours, at what could only be described as a visual slice of the Earth’s core. It called to me with its siren’s song as I stared in lust at its naked earthen breasts.

As a geologist I may never again experience such a visceral feeling as I did that day, but three destinations beckon to me and I hope to visit each one before I die. They are: Iceland, a land created by sea-floor spreading, dominated by geysers and ice floes; the Afar Triangle, a place in southern Africa that is the site of a triple juncture, a spot where three plates intersect and truly one of the rarest geologic places; Jamaica, an island I believe is Atlantis reborn – perhaps the most exotic geologic location on earth.

I’ve never visited any of these places. The closest I have come is Nassau in the Bahamas. I was there years ago with my deceased wife Anne and friends Ray and Kathy. We hailed a cab and had our cabbie, an islander name King, drive us around and show us the sights. King was quite the character – loud, direct, friendly and informative. He took us to a little café beneath a bridge where only the locals ate.

“Mon, you have to try the conch fritters,” he told us.

We tried them and they were wonderful. I have no recipe for conch fritters for you tonight but I wish I did. I guess my mind was somewhere else. While the Bahamas isn’t Jamaica I was in the Caribbean and the bowels of the earth were calling to me. And yes, it was nothing short of visceral!

Eric'sWeb

Change in the Weather

2010-05-23T21:40:00.000-05:00

It’s still officially spring, not yet the end of May but it feels like summer here in central Oklahoma. Temperatures reached into the nineties today, humidity through the roof and my tee shirt soaked by the time I returned from my walk.

This change in the weather didn’t happen gradually. Just last week I was sticking my toe into the pool, wondering if would be warm enough to swim in by Memorial Day. After a long winter, complete with several snowstorms and a blizzard or two, my dogs seem ready for warm weather.

I took my computer outside by the pool. As I type this post, I am sitting outside with my two black pugs, Princess and Scooter. Scooter was intent at first on sitting on my lap. Now he and his big sister are lying by the pool, watching ripples in the water caused by a nice breeze.

It’s almost dark now, only citronella flames from my “Survivor” Tiki torches, a hazy moon partially cloaked by pregnant clouds and my computer screen providing illumination. I wore my flip flops tonight so I’ll soon test the pool water again, this time with more than my toe. It doesn’t really matter because I already know it’s going to be warm enough to swim in by Memorial Day.

Eric'sWeb

Dirty Little Secret

2010-05-22T23:14:00.003-05:00

A semi crashed recently on Turner Turnpike between Oklahoma City and Tulsa, its passengers thirty horses. Eleven of the stately animals died in the crash. According to The Oklahoman, they didn't have long to live anyway, bound for a feedlot in Morton, Texas. From there, they were destined for a slaughterhouse in Mexico.

There are no slaughterhouses for horses in the United States, the last closing three years ago. Breeders still raise horses for the purpose of slaughter, shipping 90,000 a year to Canada and Mexico, primarily—according to The Oklahoman—to European markets that apparently still have a big taste for equine meat.

The owner of the horses—from Jonesburg, Missouri—recovered the remaining animals, presumably to complete their trip to the feedlot in Morton, Texas—ultimately to their death in a slaughterhouse in Mexico, and then on to dinner tables in Europe.

Eric'sWeb

Pecan Crusted Buttermilk Chicken Fingers - a weekend recipe

2010-05-22T09:36:00.001-05:00

My mom and dad both lived in Vivian, Louisiana all their lives and were members of the Vivian Methodist Church. I found this recipe in a cookbook of recipes by the ladies at the church and this recipe caught my eye. Yum, I think I’ll try it!

Pecan Crusted Buttermilk Chicken Fingers

Ingredients
• 6 skinned and boned chicken breast halves
• 1 cup of all purpose flour
• 1 cup pecans, toasted and ground
• ¼ cup sesame seed
• 1 Tbsp. paprika
• ¾ tsp. salt
• 1/8 tsp. pepper
• 1 large egg, beaten lightly
• 1 cup buttermilk
• 1/3 cup butter, melted
• Garnishes: lettuce, lemon slices

Preparation
Cut each chicken breast half into four strips. Combine next six ingredients and set aside. Combine egg and buttermilk. Dip chicken into buttermilk mixture and dredge in flour mixture. Pour butter into a 15” x 10” x 1” jellyroll pan. Add chicken, turning to coat. Bake at 375° for thirty minutes, drain. Garnish with lettuce and lemon slices. Yields 24 appetizer servings.

Eric'sWeb

Edmond Sky and Edmond Pug

2010-05-21T22:00:00.000-05:00

Here is a slightly Photoshopped pic of an Edmond spring sky, and a humorous pic of my pup Princess sipping from a hummingbird feeder. Yes, I guess she has a serious sweet tooth.

Eric'sWeb

Ghost of Madam Marie Laveau

2010-05-19T09:09:00.001-05:00

I recently reconnected by email with my old Vivian friend Jay Denny. Finding out at a North Caddo High reunion that I had started writing novels he bought a copy of Big Easy and began reading. Like me, Jay Denny lived in New Orleans for a time and here is a ghost story he swears is true. He is allowing me to tell it but made me promise not to reveal the actual hotel and bar so as not to offend the ghost of Madam Marie Laveau.
* * *
When I was nineteen, I lived across the street from Madam Marie Laveau’s house on St. Anne’s. In the seventies, I worked in a hotel on Rampart. It was rumored that part of Madam Marie’s bed was on the wall above the bar. It was a side piece that had a sliding door. This is so she could close herself off totally while sleeping and no one could cast a spell on her.

In the nineties, after a long sojourn in California I was back in New Orleans for a visit and decided to stay at the hotel. I went in the bar to see if the bed side was still there. It was, but the bar had been remodeled, the bed side moved it to a new spot.

I didnt tell a soul thinking some disrespectful person might mark it up if they knew the story. After checking into my room, I went about the business of seeing old friends from my LSU days and having dinner with them. We ate at recently opened Baco on Rue Chartres.

After returning to my hotel room I retired for the evening and turned out all the lights but one in a little dressing area kept coming back on. Thinking it had a short, I unplugged it. It came on again! Then I realized my room was directly over the bar and the piece of Madam Marie’s bed. Now that I think of it, maybe she was trying to thank me for not giving away her secret.

Eric'sWeb

Both Sides of the River

2010-05-18T11:23:00.002-05:00

My friend Ray grew up in Shreveport. I’m a Vivian boy from down the road. He sent me this story tonight and I don’t know where it came from. It is so funny that I couldn’t help but post it on my blog.

* * *
A guy meets a beautiful girl and decided he wanted to marry her right away, she said, "But we don't know anything about each other.”

He said, "That's all right, we'll learn about each other as we go along."

So she consented and they were married and went on a honeymoon to a very nice resort. One morning they were lying by the pool when he got off his towel, climbed up to the 10 Meter board and did a two and a half tuck gainer, followed by three rotations in a jackknife position, where he straightened out and cut the water like a knife. After a few more demonstrations, he came back and lay down on the towel. She said, "That was incredible!"

He said, “I used to be an Olympic diving champion. You see, I told you we'd learn about each other as we went along."

So she got up, jumped in the pool, and started doing laps. After about thirty laps, she climbed back out and lay down on her towel hardly out of breath.

He said, "That was incredible! Were you an Olympic endurance swimmer?"

"No." she said, "I was a hooker in Shreveport/Bossier, Louisiana, and I worked both sides of the river!"

Eric'sWeb