In just a few days, my newest book (co-authored with Dale Wolicki) will roll off the presses. Montgomery Ward’s Mail-Order Homes will be my 7th book. Writing is tough. This most recent work represents five years of steady effort. Kit homes are something about which I’m passionate. Good thing, because the financial benefits of writing aren’t that great.

In 2003, Illinois sponsored a gala event to honor the state’s authors. It was a black-tie affair with an elegant meal served on fine china edged with gold leaf. Only 50 authors were invited to attend and thanks to my book (The Houses That Sears Built), I was one of them. It was quite an honor.

There were three speakers at the formal dinner, all of whom (unlike me)  had hit the big time with their literary works. The first speaker spoke at length about the contributions of his beloved wife.

“Without her,” he told the audience as he gazed lovingly at his gorgeous wife, “I could never have accomplished this.”

I squirmed in my chair a bit. I’d already noticed that everyone had entered the spacious hall in pairs. And I thought about how the event organizer had pleaded with me to find someone to bring along. Now I understood.

The next speaker was a woman who followed the first author’s lead, and also waxed eloquent about her husband’s specific advice and honest encouragement and how she could never have done it without him.

Third speaker. Same talk, different body. And that’s when I excused myself and went into the bathroom. I don’t like crying in public. Leaning over the glistening white sink and staring into the oversized mirror, I told myself, “When I write the book that hits the big time, and someone asks me how I did it, I am never going to say that I could not have done this without a romantic partner in my life.”

I know the speakers’ comments were innocuous and well-intended, but to the lone unattached, one-partner-shy-of-a-full-pair woman in the audience, it was a neon-sign that flashed, “Writers are without hope unless they’re in love.” My dating life and my romantic life were already in the ash heap. Was it really necessary to throw my dreams of a magnificent career onto the smoldering ruins too?

That was seven years ago. Now, I’m re-married and yes, the new husband has been an incredible blessing in my writing career. But if my newest book on Wardway Homes hits the big time, I get invited to address a large audience, I don’t think I’ll say that I never could have done it without him.

I’m just not willing to believe that there’s always a romantic partner behind every successful woman.

Recently, I drove to Cape Charles to photograph some of the kit homes there. First off, let me say that I *LOVE* that community and if anyone would like to bequeath The Sears Lady (that’s me) a piece of property in Cape Charles, that’d be just dandy. It really is a beautiful place and I’m surprised it did not make Forbes’ “Best Places to Live” list.

Really and truly.

I’ll be expanding this post as the days go by (these picture-heavy posts take time), but here’s a few very interesting homes I found on the main drag into Cape Charles.

To read more about Sears Homes, click here:

The Aladdin Sheffield was a very popular house for Aladdin.

Here's an Aladdin Sheffield in Cape Charles, Virginia (on the Eastern Shore)

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This was one of Sears' biggest and nicest homes.

Right down the street from the Sheffield (see above) is the Sears Glenn Falls. Although it's partly obscured by the trees, you can see the familiar lines of the Glenn Falls.

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The Pheonix is one of Sears' most unusual kit homes. Interesting design and lots of fun details.

Sears Pheonix - in the flesh - in Cape Charles, Virginia

Side view of the Pheonix

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Sears Somerset

The porch has been altered, but I'd be willing to be money that this is indeed a Sears Somerset.

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Sears Walton

This "Walton" is one of two, side by side, in Cape Charles, Virginia

Our vocabulary has really undergone many changes in the last 100 years. Below is an advertisement that appeared in a 1904 Ladies’ Home Journal.  At first glance, the phrase “Receipts for Frozen Dainties” conjures up an image of someone leaving the receipt for their Fruit of the Looms outside overnight in a chilly car.

In fact, “receipt” is an old word for recipe, and a “dainty” is not an undergarment but a small pastry - suitable for high tea, I’d imagine.

But laying all that to the side, the clown pictured below looks more like a psychotic axe murderer than a gracious host.

Other than promoting emotional eating, I'm not sure how this image is supposed to help sell the advertised products.

Thanks to terrorist du jour Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab , airline passengers will now have to remain seated one hour before landing, and during that last hour, they’ll not be allowed to access to their own carry-on bags (or anyone else’s, I would hope). For those who have been avoiding the television for the last 48 hours, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab is the Nigerian charged with trying to blow up NWA Flight 253 as it descended into Detroit Metro Airport on December 25th.

Three years ago, I took a one hour and 45 minute flight from Denver to Quinter, Kansas. After I made the reservation (and paid for the tickets), I learned that my plane was a 12-seater puddle jumper with no bathroom. For many days before the plane’s departure, I had nightmares about being stuck on a tiny little plane with no access to any bathroom.

And then the day of my flight arrived. As soon as the pilot shut the wee door to the wee plane, I suddenly had to go wee wee. For one-hour and 45 minutes, I did everything within my power to not think about how badly I needed to go. It was horribly unpleasant. And it was also an experience that I will never ever repeat.

Think about the implications of this new law. Practically speaking, it means that on 90-minute flight, there will be no access to the lavatory, period!

Speaking as someone who’s flown on many planes to many places, it’s typically 20-25 minutes into the flight before you’re allowed to “move about the cabin.” And now that the final hour is shaved off the moving around time, that’s pretty much a “sit-down-and-shut-up” arrangement for anyone on a 90-minute flight.

Many years ago, airlines stopped serving olives on their salads - in the hopes of saving money and reducing weight. Next, they ditched in-flight telephones to reduce weight. More recently, in-flight magazines were removed from planes.  Now, with this new law, it’ll probably be the restroom that gets removed from these CRJs and Embraers and other commuter planes.

What’s the point of hauling around a lavatory that weighs a few hundred pounds if the passengers will never be allowed out of their seats?

It’s enough to scare the &#^% out of someone.

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