Hide your mantitty, or bring it out and paint it magenta, because it's giveaway time! Today I have copies of Cecilia Grant's A Woman Entangled – ( A | BN | K | S | iB ) plus a grand prize:
Embroider your own Darcy!
No, really. You can entangle yourself with the silken threads of cross stitch Darcy:
Well, the kit, anyway, with the cloth, thread, pattern, needles, and all the other tangly things you need to stitch your own Darcy.
The tangled Darcy was provided by Anna Cowan, who with a bunch of other awesome people are gathering online to promote the book's release this week. The grand prize is tangled Darcy embroidery kit (it won't arrived tangled – I promise not to let my cats anywhere near it) and a copy of A Woman Entangled in your choice of formats. Four runners up will also receive a copy of A Woman Entangled, also in their choice of formats. Mr. Darcy will receive cross stitching.
Would you like to enter? I hope so! To enter, please leave a comment telling us about item that to anyone else might seem insignificant, but is very meaningful for you. Like, say, embroidery of cravat-wearing fictional characters.
The comments will close Sunday 30 June 2013 at 12noon ET, and I'll pick the winners that day. Standard disclaimers apply: void where prohibited. I am not being compensated for this giveaway. Open to interational residents to the extent permitted by applicable law. Must be over 18 years of age and wearing a cravat or diving in a lake to win. Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear. Depth perception is important. Close cover before striking. Do not remove tag under penalty of law. The penalty mentioned heretofore is probably one righteous lecture from a romance hero named Law.
A Woman Entangled is about second chances – both socially and emotionally – and wanting to do the right thing for someone , even if that means setting aside how one feels. And because it's written by Cecilia Grant, it's also about moments that would seem insignificant to anyone else, but are layered and wealthy with meaning and importance for the characters within them.
I hope, if you win a copy, you enjoy the book! Good luck!
My seemingly insignificant item is a book. It’s old, published nearly 150 years ago, with a stained, wrinkled and hardened leather cover. It’s bent and has clearly been kept in a back pocket for long periods of time. Inside, on yellowed and foxed pages is a satirical novel telling the story of the Battle of Solferino in the style of an Icelandic Saga. It has no commercial value, being so damaged and a second edition at that, but I love it.
It is the only memento I have of a man who was very good to me when I was a child and whom I loved like a grandfather. He was my grandmother’s “special friend” for a while and they remained friends after the “special” part of the relationship ended, but he died when I was just into my teens. I found the book in a box of books my gran gave me a few years ago and since he had no surviving relatives I kept book.
Mine is something that many people overlook – an embroidered doiley. It’s not particularly beautiful, or an intricate design, but….
It’s the first piece of embroidery I did (I was 10) that my grandmother considered was up to her standards. Before then, she had me stitching on scrap (a true sampler) until not only my stitches, but the back of the embroidery was what she considered acceptable.
I treasure that doiley – not onlly did I embroider it, but I also crocheted the edging.
My grandmother instilled in my my love of embroidery, and I still strive to reach the high quality of her work (her pieces are almost reversable – you have to look very very closely to see the front and back of her work) even after 35 years of stitching.
I treasure what she has stitched, and what my mother has stitched, but I treasure that first “real” pice of mine even more – it’s where my embroidery obsession started.
The answer for me is a pair of snowflake earrings my mom use to wear when she taught second grade. Recently, she was going to throw them in the trash, but I rescued them. Whenever she’d where them, it meant that the holidays were near, and we’d get winter break. She’d be home with me the entire two weeks with me.
I rarely get attached to things. But I have Christmas ornaments that are special and have stories behind them that make them meaningful.
Dish towels, I know it seems random, but my Mom embroidered them. She even put dogs on them and matched them to my pups. They are pretty special to me.
When I was a child, my mother made biscuits (from scratch) and she would cut them with a Caumet Baking Powder can (clean, with the bottom removed). When I married (1975), she bought me a can of Calumet and told me how to make a biscuit cutter. I have used that ever since for biscuits, rolls and cookies. Most of the red has rubbed off, and Calumet doesn’t use tins anymore, just cardboard. Everytime I use it, I think of my mom.
I have a small pair of opal earrings that my grandfather gave my grandmother. They aren’t worth much but they are all I have left of her. She died when I was a teen. It’s extra special to me b/c my mother “stole” them from my aunt and cousins. While they love me in their own way, b/c I’m adopted, they felt they had more of a “right” to her stuff than me and so wasn’t going to let me have any thing of my grandmothers. My mom is the most “christian” woman you’ll ever meet so the fact that she intentionally and deliberately stole them makes them a treasure to me!
A cookie press that used to be my grandmothers. I have such fond memories of her baking, and I always remember the tupperware containers she kept upstairs. I used to sneak cookies when I was upstairs alone! Because of her I love baking!
Smurfette figurine my hubby found on a street in London the first time we met. He tossed it to me and said “here, now you can say I bought you something on our first date so you’ve got an excuse for a second one.” (Like I needed one by that point).
In 2005 I was in a 3 week medical coma due to a respiratory illness and when I woke, I couldn’t speak (ventilator) I couldn’t stand, my muscles had atrophied so much I couldn’t even write my name. As you can imagine the mountains ahead of me seemed crazy high.
Committed to moving forward, I had my Mom bring me my Blue Bag. It is a large zippered denim tote bag and I realized when I opened it, that it contained all the things that make me, Me! Paper and a multitude of pens and pencils in a rainbow of colors, a book on Chess, a puzzle magazine, a romance novel, and a craft project. The only thing missing was my Bible because it was in my purse.
It was a magic reminder of who I am, sick or well. It was all the tools I needed to move forward.
I am fine now, but I still have my Blue Bag, it still has everything I need for my Life Adventure (including my Bible now).
I have an index card that my late mother-in-law wrote out with her Scottish mother’s recipe for shortbread. The handwriting is beautiful – she was born in the 1920’s, and you can tell that cursive writing was taught almost as an art back then. This card is almost 30 years old, and a little yellow, but I look at every Christmas when I make shortbread and remember a wonderful woman. She didn’t really understand me, but I had a better relationship with her than I did with my own mother, even though I only knew her for a few years before she died.
I have a converted decanter-music-box which my dad gave my mum on their engagement in 1960. I’m sure it isn’t something The Antiques Roadshow people would get very excited about, but it is special to me.
My father’s check register. Every entry in his handwriting and scratches of his quick addition.
I’ve got a rusted, bent railroad spike I use as a paperweight. I was part of the initial volunteer clean up crew to get one of those abandoned railway to beautiful bike path projects going. We cleaned up some pretty horrific things that first outing and that’s when I picked it up. Now years later we have this great trail that makes people happier and healthier and connects neighborhoods and I’m always reminded of the rough beginnings of that dream become reality by the spike.
I have two crewel embroidery frogs that I did when I was a kid. A sister found it and framed it for me and I have kept it for decades. It was on my daughter’s wall when she was young.
Oh my God, that’s the best giveaway ever! I’ve been watching Anna tweet about A Woman Entangled all week, and I need to get back into cross-stitch.
Random meaningful item, hmm. For years after it had gotten all frayed and I’d grown out of it, I kept the bright pink silk shirt I bought on my first trip to Paris. But I don’t have it any more.
I do still have all my exam papers from year twelve, 20 years after leaving school. I keep them as proof that I did once know how to do physics, and that my French really was good enough to pass that fiendish multiple choice test on prepositions (you’d get a sentence with the preposition missing, and then you’d get two prepositions and the option of choosing one, both, or neither. This takes *all* the ease out of a multiple choice exam very fast).
silver knotwork pendant, bought as a treat to myself in italy after completing my degree and realising no more exams.
I have an old Christmas puzzle that my family out together every year when I was growing up. It’s beat up, but I love it.
An Eyore mug that my now husband gave me during the first year we dated, 13 years ago.
My seemingly insignificant item is an old pyrex mixing bowl. It is one of the items I kept when cleaning out my great grandmother’s house. Not only does it remind me of her every time I use it, but it is also a great bowl.
My dad’s cutting board. I grew up hanging out in the kitchen with my dad, and to me the cutting board is a symbol of how much he loved all 6 of his kids. He did all the cooking for the family, and preparing food was one way he showed his love for us. I don’t remember when that little wood board wasn’t out on the counter. I ended up becoming a professional chef, and when dad passed away two years ago, I had his cutting board framed in a shadow box. Now it hangs in my kitchen.
I have a brownie recipe from My husbands dad. He wrote it out and it makes the best brownies. He swore me to secrecy before he gave it too me. It has misspellings, but I treasure it because it’s from family.
I have a green 16 oz tupperware cup. My mom got it from her mom, and I filled it with water to take in my car when I moved 1000 miles away from home. It’s been with me ever since, and I think about where it came from, and the road my life has taken everytime I use it.
I have a gold pendant and chain of the Virgin Mary that was my grandmothers. It’s very special to me because we live in different countries and she used to have a huge collection of beautiful jewelry she’d been saving. Unfortunately, one of my cousins stole and sold almost everything and this pendant was the only piece left because she’d been wearing it. She gave it to me because she knew I’d always wears it and never sell it. I miss my family there very much and wearing this pendant is like carrying a little bit of Mexico with me.
I have a small Pyrex measuring cup with the handle broken off. It’s from my grandmother’s house. She was a lady who showed her love by cooking for us. I actually got it with the handle on—can’t remember how we broke it off—but I couldn’t bear to throw it out. I wish I had half of her energy and grace in the kitchen.
When we cleaned out my grandma’s house, one of my cousins laid claim to almost everything good by virtue of the fact that he’d just gotten married and was poor, but I managed to walk away with some big things—my great-grandparents’ wedding china, which is gorgeous—and some small things: a spatula and some wooden spoons and some cookie cutters. Definitely insignificant (I’m betting the spatula cost, like, $2) but I always think of Grandma when I do any baking. (She was a champion pie and cobbler maker; I’ve got her rhubarb pie recipe, too.)
When I was in junior high I made a cutting board for my mother in industrial arts—it is slightly lopsided but otherwise very serviceable and my Mom used it for many years. When I got my own house—she gave it to me. I don’t know if it was because she was sick of looking at a lopsided cutting board or what, but I love using it.
I have an ID bracelet my granddaddy gave my grandmother when he went to war in WWI
I. It’s not worth a thing, but the engraving of his name is worn with time and love. It’s the most precious piec of jewelry I have.
I have my mom’s old typewriter. She bought it with her high school graduation money, and growing up I always wanted to play with it. Last year she actually gave it to me and the old ribbons still have ink!
I probably have a lot of small, but very significant to me things around the house, but one that comes to mind is my mother’s jewlery box. It’s not fancy or expensive, it was probably 15 bucks at WalMart years ago, and it’s not in the best condition. The jewlery left inside is much the same—nothing rare or precious, doubt there’s even one piece in there that’s real..anything, but it was hers, and as she passed away when I was young, it means a lot to me to this day.
Enjoy,
TBQ
I have a stuffed animal – Littlefoot from the Land Before Time. I got him when I was 8 and right around when I read The Scarlet Rabbit. I walked away from that book shaken and determined that Littlefoot would fair better than the rabbit. I made sure that nothing was ever spilled on Littlefoot, that I never stepped on him, or rearranged his stuffing. He is still with me after more than 20 years and looks almost new.
He is a reminder of many things – second grade, my mother who would provide his voice from time to time, and that feeling when I first saw him on Christmas morning.
I’m a craftsy type person, as well as a mid-grade packrat, and have all kinds of oddities and now-useless dust collectors on hand, but the odd item I treasure isn’t a craft one.
My father was a ham radio operator, and some of my earliest memories are sitting with him while he talked with people around the world, and then getting excited when QSL cards (essentially personal postcards to mark the connection) came in. While he didn’t really collect the cards as a hobby, as some hams do, he did keep the ones he received, and when he went into care last year and we were preparing to sell the house and his radio set, I found and kept the giant box of forty years of QSL cards.
Mine is a tiny figurine of a dachshund pup that I got shortly before my brother was born. It lives on my dresser and my daughter was threatened with instant death.if she lost or broke it (she’s 3).
I am so excited about this book. Fantastic giveaway.
I have my dad’s handkerchief. It’s not particularly fancy, but it smells like him. (Cologne, not boogers.)
Also, in my son’s drawers are a few t-shirts that my dad bought him, waaaay too big for his size at the time. Every time my son grows into one, it makes me smile. I’ll be sad when he outgrows the last one.
Mne is a stone arrowhead I found in our gravel driveway one day while going to get the mail. I just looked down and there it was – almost like a gift as it seemed like a miracle I could have spotted it amongst all the pebbles and stones. It is very old as it isn’t a thinner flint arrowhead but actual stone and rather thick and crudely made. It seems much too heavy and thick to be used on an arrow so I imagine it was made for a spear and the indentations of where it would be attached to the spear fit my thumb and forefinger perfectly when I hold it.
I asked about it once during a channeling session at a spirituality group I used to attend and the spirit guide said it was a gift to me from a chief that I’d known in a past life. Whether that is true or not is up for debate but I like to think so and explains why I treasure this simple gift so much.
I must have that cross-stitch Darcy.
Also the book would be nice 🙂
I have all sorts of sentimental-value-only stuff at home, but if I mist pick… my late grandfather was a high school language teacher. In the 1960s (I think) some of his graduating students gave him a tiny but very beautiful drawing of somewhat abstract figurine people (it’s hard to describe). It was displayed under the glass on his desk for as long as I can remember, and when he passed away a couple of years ago, it was among the very few things I took from his home. I think it’s lovely and when I have a proper desk, I’ll put it there, too.
That embroidery kit is just fantastic! Mr. Darcy needs to be on my wall! 🙂
I tend to get overly attached to “stuff”, one of my most meaningful insignificant items is a battered old wood box that sits on my dresser. It’s scratched and chipped and doesn’t stand out as a particularly decorative item, but it was my great-grandma’s jewelry box and one of the very few things I have of hers. She died before I was born, but she was an important person in my mom’s life.
Many years ago my grandmother gave me a little leaf.
It’s a very special leaf, mind you. In it, someone many years before carved a scene—a horse drawn carriage, with the driver and the reins, all clearly and cleverly carved out of the upper layer of leaf. The rest of the leaf, intact, is so thin you can see the tiniest of veins.
My grandfather had given it to her when they were courting, back in the 1920’s, and it always moves me to remember that she chose me to have it.
It still hangs in my daughter’s room, though she’s off in college now.
Little cheap magnets that I got on my trips…
I have a locket that belonged to my great grandmother.My aunt tried to argue that at my mother’s death it should belong to her ! But I did not budge and kept it. Its not perfect; it has little tooth marks in it from when my mother was babysitting my (at the time) baby cousin. Now I keep a picture of my sons when they were babies,
That’s my sentimental objects.
Please enter me in the giveaway. I would love the read a new Cecelia Grant.
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