Guest blogger: Elsa Winckler
Our baby girl is getting married.
On the night that she was born, her dad went home, poured himself a cup of coffee, decided that was way too tame for what he was feeling, and added a shot or two of whiskey. And then he started phoning everyone we know. Did I mention this was after midnight?
At that point we were the proud and exhausted parents of two busy little boys and thought number three would be another one. And there was our little girl. From the moment she was born, life took on a lovely hue of pink.
She was a sweet baby, a shy school girl, she blossomed at university, made new friends, had a boyfriend and enjoyed her studies.
After three years, she said goodbye to her friends, to student life, to the boyfriend and began working in a wine laboratory. She adapted quickly to the new life and loved the small town friendships and lifestyle.
And then life threw her a curve ball none of us expected. But she found the strength to step away from a situation where she wasn’t safe, picked up the pieces of her life and started again.
Earlier this year she went to France to fulfil a dream—she did a course in perfume making. And it was around then that this romance-writing mother noticed the extra sparkle in her blue eyes. Yes, mom, there is man, she giggled.
And she’s getting married! On 26 December!
After all the excitement, it slowly started to dawn on me what this means: it’s the day after Christmas, I only have November to finish my current WIP.
She asked me to bake the cake. I can bake a cake, but a wedding cake? After searching on the internet, trying to figure out the deft movements of hands, I knew there was only one way to do this—do a course. So I phoned a number I found, asking whether I could learn the necessary skills in the course of a morning. That was all the time I had. It usually takes three days, she said, but she’d show me.
So for the past month I’ve been practising making roses from fondant, covering dummy cakes with fondant, making other smaller leaves and flowers from fondant. And I can finally say, at least I’m not afraid of it any more. 🙂
The tables should have a shabby-chic look, Mom. Shabby-chic? Back to the internet. I discovered Pinterest, found out what shabby-chic means (also discovered lovely pictures I could use for inspiration for the heroes in my stories … where was I?)
We collected tins and bottles of all shapes and sizes and yesterday three friends and I covered about 117 jars and bottles with lace and ribbon in all the possible shades of pink and cream. (I have a sore throat this morning, wonder why 🙂 )
Making the runners for the tables is another challenge. Lace on hessian. Sounds easy, right? Not so easy, I’ve discovered! If anyone has any suggestions on what to do so that the hessian doesn’t make wobbles, please let me know?
The engaged couple visit over weekends and I look on misty-eyed. My romance-loving heart is full—he stands tall, is caring and kind, she blossoms under his adoring look. A real-life beautiful love story with a happy ending!
Thanks for letting me share this with you!
My latest fictional love-story is Touched to the Heart (Escape Publishing). Here’s the blurb:
Discover beautiful South Africa in this sweet, heart-warming Cinderella story about a blogger, a billionaire, and one chance meeting. When it comes to men, if physiotherapist Caitlin Sutherland didn’t have bad luck, she would have no luck at all. To help cope, Caitlin starts blogging in her spare time, about the types of men she meets and the bad dates she goes on. While on duty during the annual Wines to Whales bicycle race, a gorgeous, sweaty cyclist walks in and sets her hormones dancing. But he is Don Cavallo; one of the four Cavallo brothers — hotel tycoons, famous as much for their business skills as for the number of beauties regularly seen on their arms. Don Cavallo has his own issues with the other sex. He has yet to find one who is interested in him and not in his money or hotels. But when this sexy physio puts her hands on his back she not only touches his body, but also his heart. They’ve both been burned before, but neither of them can stop themselves from playing with fire.