SquawkRadio

Good morning, Squawkers!

I do so enjoy visiting with y’all. Many thanks to Christina, Teresa, Eloisa, Connie, Liz, and Lisa for inviting me back. You are definitely the hostesses with the mostesses.

Readers, I’m giving away a copy of GIVE HIM THE SLIP tonight at 7 central to two people on the Squawk mailing list. Make sure you’re registered! And if you’ll forgive a brief commercial, I hope you’ll stop by my website at http://www.geralyndawson.com and register to win more goodies, too. We do need to sell those books, after all.

For today’s blog, I’m torn. Yesterday’s dog talk was so helpful, I’m tempted to continue. See, in the sequel to GIVE HIM THE SLIP the heroine has a Peke-a-tese, the hero’s father has a new Pomeranian, and the hero only respects “real” dogs like retrievers, etc. I’d love some Squawk Radio input on how my dogs should interact.

However, I’m also of a mind to talk about a tradition gone wild--homecoming mums–mainly because of a recent email exchange between friends of mine from different parts of the country. It went something like this.

(From Houston) “I’ve finally finished assembling the homecoming mum for my son’s girlfriend, so I can relax. If I’d know how much time and effort this would take, I’d have ordered from the florist after all, never mind the $150 price tag for the basic mum.”

(From Los Angeles) “Excuse me? $150 for a chrysanthemum? What are you talking about? No legal, non-exotic, non-endangered flower costs that.”

(From Boston) “I am sooooo not Texan. If this phenomenon moves north, I’ll yak up my breakfast.

(From Nashville) “$150? And I thought the $50 for my son’s prom lay was a lot.”

(From Tuscaloosa) “In my high school, a ‘prom lay’ was [*girl’s name deleted*.]”

Until I participated in this exchange, I never realized that this fall ritual so much a part of high school life where I live wasn’t practiced all around the country. It never occurred to me that a Minnesotan Squawker like Connie or Christina who grew up in Idaho might never have had the joy of walking the high school halls wearing total floral insanity –the homecoming mum.

For those of you unfamiliar with it, let me explain. Picture a silk flower–a mum--and multiply it at least times three. Add a small teddy bear or other plush animal, trinkets like plastic footballs, megaphones, other symbols of school activities. Next come miniature cowbells, flashing lights powered by a miniature power pack, and ribbons. Lots and lots and lots of ribbons, in school colors that stretch from shoulder height to floor. The rule to remember here is that you cannot have too many ribbons. Finish it off with a feather boa or two and a couple ribbon chains and if it’s too heavy for pinning, fashion a beauty pageant sash to hold it on, or a loop to wear around the neck.

All right, I know. You are recoiling in horror or yaking up your breakfast like my friend from Boston. You would NEVER wear something so garish, so outlandish, something more befitting the Kentucky Derby than the halls of a high school. They’re ridiculous. They’re absurd.

They’re what–in my part of the world--every high school girl wants on that particular fall Friday.

My senior year in high school, my steady sent me a mum–back in the day, they were real flowers. Ten–okay, twenty, but I’m not going any farther–years later, I still have it tucked away in a box of keepsakes.

My husband has a mum hanging in his closet. We had a huge Texas Aggie football watching party when he turned 30, and a friend brought him one as a joke–it was orange and white, the colors of the University of Texas, our arch rivals. Don’t ask my why he still has it other than he’s a packrat and it represents a special occasion and friendship.

My daughter received her first mum last year. It’s hanging in her room. It plays her high school fight song, has trinkets that represent every club, organization, and special friendship she enjoyed, and is the symbol of a time in her life that will always hold a special place in her heart.

I’m such a sap for traditions, even silly, ostentatious ones like homecoming mums. Now, when it comes to prom lays...that’s another story.

(Apparently in some parts of the country, a prom lay refers to a floral bouquet that a girl cradles in her arms like a baby. I’d expound, but I’m having too much trouble holding back the jokes.)

Here’s my question for today, people of Squawk Radio. Please, help further my education. Do you know of any traditions that might be limited to your part of the world? Or, do you have any good dog tips I can write into my current manuscript? I’m so easy...

Warmly, Geralyn Dawson

Visit Geralyn’s Website

It’s a question asked all over America...or not. However, it’s asked in my house every day.

Ten years ago, a two-year-old dachshund named Lucy joined the family. Eight years ago, she jumped down from a chair and injured her spine, leaving her paralyzed from mid-back down. We rushed her to the vet and he suggested we put her down. My grade-school daughter cried, my middle-school son cried. Even the vet cried. My husband and I looked at each other and asked if we had any alternatives.

We ordered a wheelchair for Lucy and the rest is Dawson family history.

The situation has its downside. Lucy is a high-maintenance dog. It’s not fun squeezing her bladder three times a day–she has no bowel or bladder control and she needs to be emptied to prevent infection–and I get tired of washing the towels she’s slept with each morning. Our vet bills are ridiculous. Yet the rewards of being Lucy’s owners are truly priceless.

I’ve watched this dog pull herself out of a short depression following her accident and go back to being her old happy self chasing birds and squirrels around the backyard.(Since being injured, she’s managed to catch five birds. How stupid are birds to let a dog in a wheelchair sneak up on them?) What a lesson for me about making lemonade out of life’s lemons. I watch the joy she brings to the residents at the retirement home when I walk her over to visit my parents. We live on a golf course and our backyard is surrounded by an iron fence. Play backs up at our hole because golfers always stop to marvel over Lucy, and we’ve made new friendships we treasure because of it.

As my son entered high school, he discovered that being the owner of a disabled animal had a unexpected benefit. Always an enterprising young man, John used Lucy to meet girls. She was, he told us, a chick magnet. He’d take her to the park, to ball games, street festivals, and the females swarmed. Because he couldn’t take her with him everywhere, he carried a picture of her in his wallet. John will graduate from college in December and while his pick-up techniques are more sophisticated now--he’s been through more girlfriends than a romance novel rake--he still carries a picture of Lucy. I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or proud…

I’m blogging about Lucy because I’m looking for advice. John came home from college last summer with a boxer puppy--have you figured out that John’s my problem child?--and Lucy and Sly became friends. When Sly went back to school, she missed him. I missed him. It was fun having a four-legged dog around the house, and because my youngest left for college, too, my nest truly feels empty these days.

So, we’re thinking about getting another dog. We’ve always owned dachshunds, but I’m open to other breeds. What do y’all think? Are we fools? What sort of dog would you recommend for a household of two empty-nesters and an aging, wheelchair-bound wonder dachshund?

Warmly, Geralyn Dawson Visit Geralyn’s website!

Join us at Squawk Radio on Tuesday the 12th and Wednesday the 13th when New York Times bestseller Susan Elizabeth Phillips pops by the henhouse!

Susan has been topping nearly every bestseller list and every "Best of..." list since her very first novel was published. She was recently honored with the Romance Writers of America "Lifetime Achievement" Award.

I first fell head over heels in love with her work when I read FANCY PANTS lo those many years ago and I'm delighted to say that her most recent release MATCH ME IF YOU CAN (now out in paperback!) is every bit as wonderful. She sets a standard for excellence that every writer should aspire to. I literally do not read her books unless I'm on vacation because she's the only writer I know who can make me care more about the book I'm reading than the book I'm writing.

Please join us in extending a hearty Squawk welcome to the legendary SEP!