Jodi Lea Stewart

Loving and Writing About the Southwest and the South

*All grammatical errors intentional* 1933. December 24, 7:30 p.m. If I wanted Doodles to sleep warm as buttered biscuits, I’d have to do some more quilt tucking. I pressed it in good and tight all along her side and under her chin. There. Now she wouldn’t shiver in her sleep or roll off to the…

3 cups all-purpose flour 2 cups sugar 2 tsp. baking powder 1 tsp. baking soda 3 tsp. cinnamon 1 tsp. ground ginger 1 tsp. ground nutmeg ½ tsp. salt 1 cup chopped pecans 1-1/4 cup cooking oil 2 tsp. vanilla 1 1-lb. crushed pineapple & juice. (I like the sweetened vs. packed-in-juice pineapple for this…

At times, my writing focus is about as clear as swamp water. Sometimes I inadvertently go on a writing sabbatical. Things get in the way. When the “match” goes out, it’s like getting a D.C. politician to tell the truth challenging to restart the flame. For example, recently: There I sat. Alone in my office. Staring. Staring some…

My childhood as the only girl on an Arizona ranch could get downright lonesome. Television and radio reception were nonexistent, and all the wonderful gadgets of today weren’t yet invented. Friends were far away, so play dates and overnighters were as scarce as green grass, which is plenty scarce in the high deserts of the…