Very short blog today, my wonderful friends, because I am in the midst of an experience of pure joy!

My son and his wife are the proud parents of a healthy baby boy, born just two days ago, but, let me tell you, the grandparents are even prouder! I’m in raptures!!! I held him for two hours the first day!

I don’t believe in posting photos of children in public places so this print will have to do. It is called “Lord of the Manor” by Edmund Blair Leighton (1853-1922), because this first grandchild is one very special little guy, the lord of my world, at the moment.

If you meet me in person – at the Romance Writers of America annual conference in Atlanta, for instance – I will be MORE than happy to show baby pictures!

P.S. I’m over the moon!!!

Last weekend I got to take a fun trip to the hospital again and explore the world of kidney stones!!!  At least I had a clean ER, and a nice morphine drip to get me through (and now that I’m home, lots of cranberry juice and a pile of Jane Austen DVDs to take my mind off it all!).  I decided to take a look at what it was like to pass a kidney stone in the olden days.  Much as I suspected, it was not much fun, but I have a lot of company, going back to ancient Egyptian mummies….

Sir Arthur Sullivan of Gilbert-and-Sullivan fame suffered from stones for years, which I am sure explains the scene in one of my favorite movies Topsy Turvy where he is screaming, falling down, injecting himself with morphine, and still insisting on climbing up on the podium to conduct.  Michelangelo suffered from stones, and may have died from the obstruction.  Composer Giovanni Gabrieli also died from the ailment in 1612.  Napoleon III of France was distracted from the Franco-Prussian War by stones, and Napoleon I was at the Battle of Borodino in September of 1812 (one source says “This condition may help explain his unoriginal tactics during this battle”).

Michel de Montaigne wrote “I am at grips with the worst of all maladies, the most sudden, the most painful, the most mortal, and the most irremidiable.”  James I was found to have stones in his bladder and kidneys after death, as did Samuel Pepys, who famously underwent pre-anaesthesia surgery and then carried around the stone with him to show anyone who would look (his post-mortem found “a nest of no less than seven stones” in one kidney).  Peter the Great suffered from them in 1725, and Empress Anna of Russia in 1740.  George IV had them (which is no surprise–what illness did the guy not have??), and probably Henry VIII.  So did George Eliot.

Oliver Cromwell, his doctor wrote, “being much troubled with the stone, he used sometimes to swill down several sorts of liquor, and then stir his body by some violent motion…that by such agitation he might disburden his bladder.”  (Drinking copious amounts of alcohol seems to have been the number one treatment, along with “blistering with cantharides”.  I was tempted to down some vodka to make it feel better, but blasting the stones into sand-like bits then washing them out with a saline drip seemed to work better…)

Erasmus, Caesar, and Pilgrim Myles Standish (who died “in dolorous pain”) also had stones.  And, famously, there was a Dutch blacksmith named Jan de Doot who had his portrait painted in 1651 with a stone he removed from his own perineum with a kitchen knife.  Ugh.

Now that I have made myself feel so much better with this research (not!) I am going to watch some more Pride and Prejudice and drink my lemon water.  RWA is coming up in just a couple of weeks, after all, and I need to feel 100%!  What is your favorite historical surgery story?  Any kidney stone prevention tips I can use in the future?

First off, thanks to Carolyn for ceding her day so I could talk about a remarkable author whose book is just out.

A Woman Entangled, Cecilia Grant’s third book, was released this week, and I got a chance to read it prior to publication, so I can wax eloquently about it. Or as eloquently as I can wax.

The book’s premise is a familiar one–the beauty of a family wishes to elevate her family’s standing through marriage, and has a plan to make that happen. Her immediate family has been disowned by her extended family because her mother was an actress who married her father. The two are in love, and have had children, and seem content with their lives. But the heroine, Kate, wants more. She thinks she deserves more, also, because she is so beautiful, and she is practical enough to know she should utilize her beauty to do things for the people she loves.

Pride and Prejudice is frequently referenced in the book, and acts as a sort of leit motif, but looking at the two heroines–Kate Westbrook and Elizabeth Bennet–they are opposites of each other, at least in the most crucial way to women of that time; Kate is absolutely determined to barter herself in a marriage to help her family, while Elizabeth will not, even though her family’s circumstances are more dire than the Westbrooks.

Which heroine is more honorable? Is it better to be true to yourself, or to be true to your family? Kate can be, frankly, unlikeable during the course of the book because she is so set on her course. But her unlikeability–told in Cecilia Grant’s amazingly layered and elegant prose–makes her real, someone who is more than just a pretty face (even if that is all she sees!).

While the hero has an equally compelling storyline, A Woman Entangled is truly Kate’s story, since she is the one with the power to make decisions that will affect her family, the object of her affections, and herself. It’s a remarkable position for a woman to be in at any time, much less this time, and A Woman Entangled is a remarkable book.

Given what I’ve described of Kate, would you take the Kate path of sacrificing yourself for your family, or take the Elizabeth path of staying true to yourself? A random commenter will win a copy of A Woman Entangled!

Megan

Last weekend, I had a great time attending the Netherfield Ball hosted by the JASNA North Texas chapter!  Over 200 people, plus real, live musicians, celebrated the 200th anniversary of Pride and Prejudice with tea sandwiches, cakes, beautiful gowns, and dancing….

(Here is their website for more info on the event…)

I seldom make it to dance practice here (they have classes two days a month, and I always seem to miss them!), but I was able to dance some of the easier sets and enjoyed watching the rest, fanning myself from a chair on the sidelines and pretending I had just been snubbed by Mr. Darcy.  I knew I had watched many of the movie adaptations too often, since I recognized the steps from several of the dance scenes.  Like Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot, from Emma and P&P:

Some more Emma:

Some Becoming Jane (I had forgotten DS Hathaway from the Inspector Lewis mysteries was in this one!  Poor guy…)

Some waltzing from Young Victoria (wrong period, I know!  I just love this gown so much):

I had a wonderful time, and hope they will hold another ball next year!  (I had to keep resisting pulling a Lydia and running around squealing “I long for a ball!!”).  Wearing the gowns, doing the dance steps, and talking to other people who love the period is always a great inspiration for writing.  Plus a ton of fun!

Do you dance?  What is your favorite style??  What would you wear to the Netherfield Ball?