I Am a Pistachio

A Book Review About Grandmotherly Detectives and Cabana Boys

2012-02-23T22:31:00.002-06:00

Okay. Not all of the grandmotherly detectives like cabana boys, and Tansy and Ida Mae are both a little surprised that straitlaced Arlette does--after all, at home, she's the one who keeps people whipped into shape.

However, this is not home. It's Mexico, where the three friends have come to bring Ida Mae's nephew, Ren, home from his mission. They go a few days early to have a dream vacation before meeting Ren, who is doing his best to end his mission quietly (except for his movie quotes) and with honor. Little does he know what lies in store. When Aunt Ida Mae is around, things are never ordinary.

Sun, sand, surf, jewel thieves, who needs anything more, right? You're probably thinking, "Wait, jewel thieves?" Yep. Trouble finds the silver-haired sleuths running straight into the clutches of not one, but two international jewel/artifact thieves. Or is it really one legitimate thief and one not-so-legitimate thief? Who knows? What we do know is that one way or another, Ida Mae and her friends will find a way to solve the mystery, or else they might not come back from their tropical vacation.

Targets and Ties by Tristi Pinkston is a clean, mild-mannered mystery with a little extra fun, a whole lotta spunk, and a touch of religion. One of my favorite things about this book is how Tristi has developed all her characters. Each one has a very defined personality. I'd love to be on an adventure with these gals. The humor is clever, which I love. An easy, quick read, Targets in Ties is great for an entertaining getaway that doesn't get your heart pounding so hard you can't settle down at night, but keeps you turning pages wondering what Ida Mae and her ~~cohorts~~ friends are going to do next.

I am so looking forward to the next one in this series!

Tristi is celebrating the release of Targets and Ties by giving away a prize! (I'm a poet and I know it! Well . . . kind of. Maybe.)

The goods:

Leave a comment on this blog post, and go visit Tristi's blog at http://www.tristipinkston.blogspot.com and become a follower. You will then be entered to win this fun scrapbooking pack, including paper, tags, two decals, and metal tag frames. You have until midnight Mountain time on March 3rd to enter to win.

The lovely author herself!

Buy Targets in Ties online at Amazon!

Visit Tristi's website for info about all of her books. I highly recommend it. I mean them. The website and the books.

*I was not bribed in any way for my review, though if someone offered me Cadbury caramel eggs or Reese's pb eggs, I might cave. Or eat them in a cave. With some of Tristi's books for company. Give me a fuzzy blanket and a warm fire to keep away wild animals, and I'm in 100%.*

Book Review: Family by Design

2012-02-03T07:59:00.000-06:00

Rena Jorgensen has everything a thirty-something single woman could want: a career as an interior decorator that is growing by leaps and bounds; a steady, pleasant boyfriend; loving parents and siblings, and a best friend.

The problem?

While Rena is in love and has a boyfriend, the two do not go hand-in-hand. Rena finds herself trying to tamp down feelings for her longtime best friend, Tucker. Dashing and handsome, no man Rena dates comes close to measuring up to Tucker. But Rena's been friends with him long enough that she knows he'll never see her as anything but a buddy.

When Tucker's brother and sister-in-law perish as the result of an accident, he is faced with a dilemma-- in the form of his small niece and nephew. Tucker has promised his brother he'll take care of the children, but being in the military means he could be called in from the reserves at any time, and Social Services has reservations about him being a single father in that situation.

Tucker can only come up with one plan to keep his brother's children: marriage. And he only knows one woman well enough to consider asking. The question is, as much as Rena wants love, children, and a family, will accepting a ready-made one--with the possibility of no deep, romantic love--be the best decision she'll ever make, or the worst disaster ever?

My Review

For me, the test of enjoying a book is whether it draws me. If I'm interested in a story and what happens, I keep thinking about it until I reach the end.

Family by Design drew me in, and I couldn't wait to finish it. A couple of nights ago, after my kids and husband went to bed, I got my chance. I curled up with some butter pecan ice cream, a warm, fleece blanket, and Family by Design.

One of the things I enjoy most about Heather Justesen's writing is the attention she gives her female leads. They are strong without being obnoxious, and very smart, yet have a tender, vulnerable side to them. I am always interested in their careers. Heather obviously does her research, and that helps the characters' jobs to be entertaining, which sets her books apart in this area. I always feel like I'm learning from an insider's perspective on an industry.

The romance in this book is very nicely done. The kisses were sweet and very romantic while staying clean. I was agonizing through much of this book, which to me is the hallmark of a good romance. I did yearn for Rena to ask Tucker point-blank what his problem was with an emotional issue. But that's another reason I kept going back to the story, because I couldn't reach in there and shake the characters, so I had to find out what happened!

I particularly liked how realistically the children were depicted, with all their trials. The children were treated like the real characters (And in the case of the nephew, I do mean character!) they were, which added to the tenderness and sweetness of the story. I really enjoyed reading how Rena dealt with her hardships, and appreciated the fact that they weren't glossed over. Being an LDS-themed book, I did wonder where her church family was, especially after certain plot points, but I was so interested in the story that I soon forgot about that. Rena is a down-to-earth heroine who is easy to relate to, and I couldn't help but agonize and root for her. I'm looking forward to Heather Justesen's next book!

Also, as a special promotion for anyone who buys a book ( Amazon Barnes and Noble )before February 5th, you can get a free ebook for her companion novella, “Shear Luck.” Once you buy a copy of her book go here Shear Luck to get your free copy!

As if that weren’t enough, Heather’s holding a host of giveaways! There are still prizes left, so hurry to her blog to find the rules of entering!

*I wasn't compensated in any way for this review.*

Confession Time--There is One Thing I Miss About Those Pounds . . .

2012-01-14T20:22:00.002-06:00

I could go on about all the emotional, physical, and mental changes that go along with tossing off the equivalent weight of a food service-sized bag of flour, but as much of an adjustment as that is, I wouldn't ever want those pounds back. I haven't let myself forget how hard it was to begin Zumba at that size. I'd been doing Dance Dance Revolution on the Wii, and thought I was ready.

I thought I was ready.

That first time, around a year and a half ago, I didn't know how I'd make it. We did the warm-up, and all that was running through my head was if this is only the warm-up, I'm going to die. And it felt like I was. I got nauseated, had to gulp water like I was at an oasis in the Sahara, and felt so frustrated with the state I'd gotten myself in. My brain knew the way my body should go, but it felt like I was in a dream running in slow motion. (At least in real life no bears were chasing me.) Not to mention that when I did get my feet in the right direction, a half second off the beat, my stomach was still swinging the other way. You know those hula hoop performers who use the momentum of their bodies to keep the hoops in play? Well, I was fighting to keep my hoops all in the air.

But I stuck with it, and even with some ups and downs in the summer, continued to lose weight. I rededicated myself to my health in the fall, and actually met two goals I set for myself to reach by Christmas and New Year's, which was AMAZING. I can't even begin to tell you how good that felt--me, who would make goals and not reach them over and over, actually made a couple of goals, and worked hard, not thinking I'd get there, but I did. Even with injuries and illness, I didn't give up (just waited until I could work out safely again), and most of the time I can actually do the jumps in class now, even though I need better--ahem--support so certain appendages won't threaten to hit me in the face.

For the first time in many years, I can actually find clothes that fit me, and I don't mind looking at them in the mirror when they're on me. As I've said to my husband, "You can drape a sack of potatoes in silk and it will still look like a sack of potatoes." Or in other words, lumpy. I still have plenty of lumps, but they're easier to work with than they used to be.

The only, and I mean only thing I've ever thought was a plus (pardon the pun) about being heavier was how well fat insulates. I'd forgotten that little tidbit until our weather plummeted to the teens overnight, and I ran out to the grocery store Thursday evening. I'm much colder this year, but I'd rather be freezing than have more insulation! Since I have the last half of the weight to lose, here's to attaining icicle status by next winter! For now I'll stick with my current warming strategies--Zumba, sweaters and socks, and swiping the soft, snuggly, fleece BYU blanket I made James for Christmas.

Sorry, honey.

The difference this time is that I want this. I thought I wanted it before, but I didn't want it enough to do what I needed to do until one day in particular, which I will post about at some time in the future.

The difference now is that I made a commitment to myself, a plan, and I made my smaller goals small enough that I could reach them and build on them with more. The more successes I have, the better I feel about myself, and the results are extremely satisfying.

The difference is not only do I know I can do this, I am doing this. I'm finding the me who has been trying to get back out for years. And not only get back out, but emerge stronger than ever before--even though I gave in and feasted on chocolate today (and Thursday too, though it's funny that I lost weight Friday morning). The old me would have thrown her hands up in the air and quit. The new me?

She keeps going. And she'll have a lot of greens tomorrow to balance out that chocolate.

The Love of a Two-Year-Old's Life Should be His Mother

2011-12-28T12:23:00.000-06:00

Bean woke up grumpy, even more so because he's been sick. He ran to me and we snuggled. I kissed his newly shorn head, softly brushing the stray hairs the clippers missed last night. My little guy's face seemed more angular and grown up--that's why I put off cutting his hair. Every time I do it's as if he goes through another phase of babyhood, never to return. I cherish these times with my baby, because I can't call him one much longer.

As we snuggled, I reveled in the sweetness of the moment (and tried to ignore his morning breath). I gazed into his beautiful blue eyes and asked him, "Do you love Mommy?" (I tell him all the time, but it's so sweet to hear him say it.)

"No," he said. Everything has pretty much been "no" lately, even when he means "yes."

My eldest sat on the couch across from us, so I inclined my head his direction and asked Bean, "Do you love Professor?"

"No." Not even a moment's hesitation.

I decided to try a different tactic. "Do you love ice cream?"

His eyes lit up. "YES! I wuv ice cweam!"

We snuggled some more, then I decided it was time for breakfast. Strangely, he didn't want anything I offered. Usually he demands his red bowl, as he loves all things scarlet and vermilion. I was baffled as to why he was refusing everything, until he came out with two words: "ice cweam." I admit, had I any ice cream in the house, I would have been sorely tempted.

Bean had his short fit, then settled on a piece of whole grain rye bread for breakfast.

Thanks to him and my slightly sore throat, I want ice cream. Rocky Road, to be exact. This afternoon, I think a trip to the grocery store is in order . . . for the baby. Yep, ice cream for the baby.

Faithful, Fit and Fabulous--or Get Your Rear in Gear While Making it Nearly Painless

2011-12-22T11:43:00.002-06:00

Connie E. Sokol says it all with the book title: Faithful Fit & Fabulous--get Back to Basics and Transform Your Life in Just 8 Weeks! Naturally, I'm skeptical when I read a cover like this. After all, self-help books are a dime a dozen, right? I usually read them, feel inspired for about twenty seconds, then get on with my disorganized life.

Then I opened the book.

If you are a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, you'll appreciate how the author sprinkles in pertinent quotes and scriptures throughout the book that, like a dash of pumpkin pie spice, really adds to the flavor of the book. If you aren't, you can substitute the spiritual section for what works for you. This book is a wonderful tool if you are organizationally challenged.

Like me.

Basically, there is a chapter in the beginning that you use as your goal for the first week. Then you build on that by choosing something from the other chapters to work on in subsequent weeks. I love how Ms. Sokol takes off the pressure by encouraging and giving us tools to truly help change our lives, and I believe her methods will make for lasting change. Along with setting accomplishable goals, we are given advice on what to do when life happens to our goals (As it always does!), and we have to adjust in order to reach them. The author teaches us that being flexible is key to reaching our goals, which is something that I appreciate very much.

I loved most of the advice and suggestions, and found the recommendation easy to tweak for me and my family, where needed. I felt very uplifted and encouraged by Faithful Fit & Fabulous, and highly recommend it to anyone (especially women) who are having a difficult time finding balance in their lives.

I rarely gush over a book, but this one is truly gold. It spoke to me and the point where I am in my life. I tend to get overwhelmed very easily, and this book helped me feel like I could breathe and figure out and accomplish my goals at the same time. I'm so grateful I had the chance to review it, and plan on following the program myself beginning next week. If you are looking for a simple, no frills plan to help you get where you want to be in your life, this is it!

Buy Faithful Fit & Fabulous at Amazon in paper or for Kindle. (The Kindle version is a steal at $3.99, and if you don't have a Kindle, you can download the app for free and read it on your PC! The paper version is reasonably priced as well.)

The author's website is: 8basics.com. If you go to her FAQs, you will find a downloadable packet for those who have purchased the book. If you read it on an e-reader, this will be invaluable for following the program.

Thank you, Connie Sokol, for this wonderful tool!

*I have not been paid or compensated for this review. I received a copy of the book for review purposes only, and no, you can't have my copy. This baby is mine. Forever. Well, at least until I die. After all, I can't take it with me.*

This is Not Your Grandma's Book Review

2011-12-17T23:13:00.000-06:00

I don't do book reviews that often, and I'm such a picky reader that it's hard to really wow me with a book. I blame this on my mother, who took me to the library when I was a little tiny sprout, and allowed me to check out upwards of fifty books at a time. Then when we'd get home, I'd sit myself down and take book after book out of the scratchy woven satchel with the tan leather (or vinyl, I don't remember) handles, and read until I was done. It wasn't uncommon for me to read for hours and hours. Other kids' parents had to beg them to read. I got in trouble for not doing things I should have been doing because I had my nose in a book. My parents were justified. Sometimes I'd feel an eerie stillness around me, then look up to see my family watching me read.

Apparently I'm an expressive reader.

All my years of poring over and inhaling books taught me to recognize plot elements without thinking. The result of this is that I am rarely surprised at many plot "twists." I can usually see things happening from a mile away. Not much surprises me.

I love to be surprised.

So, I was very pleasantly surprised to find an author whose books made me feel, laugh (she has a great sense of humor), cry and feel like I was on a journey of discovery throughout the pages. When I read books by this author, I know I'm in a good storyteller's hands, and I can sit back and enjoy the ride. So, I'd like to introduce you to, instead of a single book, one of my favorite authors.

I met Karen Hoover at the 2010 LDS Storymakers Conference, a fantastic place to meet fellow writers with similar values. Karen taught one of the classes, and I loved her presentation. When I got the chance to read her first book, The Sapphire Flute, I was hooked and flew through those pages as fast as I could.

Once I'd read The Sapphire Flute, I couldn't wait for Karen to finish the next installment, The Armor of Light. Usually a second book isn't as good as the first in a series, but I think The Armor of Light may even be better! My favorite part of Karen's writing style is the little touches of description that feel as good as gulping an icy glass of water on a hot summer day. The plot twists and new ideas make me do a mental fist-pump, a "Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout."

If you haven't liked fantasy before, give Karen's books a try. If you do like fantasy, you'll find more to like about it.

Karen has become a dear friend, but I'm still in awe of her writing skills--she's a fantastic storyteller. If you like original stories with depth to the characters and cool twists along the way without having to resort to graphic violence, sex, or language, I highly recommend Karen's books.

You can find her stories in e-book at Smashwords, and paper or e-book at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Karen has some Christmas specials going on through December 31st! Go to her blog here for e-book specials, and here for paper book specials, as well as a list of books available through Createspace. I got to read her latest book, Two Souls are Better than One (The Misadventures of a Teenage Wizard) in the beginning stages, and was so captivated that I'm going to purchase it to put on the e-readers my eleven-year-old son and I are getting for Christmas so I can enjoy it in the final version. (Watch for an upcoming review on that book!)

So, if you like clean fantasy with unusual plot twist and cool magic, I highly recommend books by author Karen E. Hoover!

The End of the World was at 10:30 This Morning

2011-11-10T12:52:00.000-06:00

You prepare your children for emergencies. You teach them who to call, how to behave, their address and phone number, etc.

Then the emergency actually happens, and you learn a lot about your kids.

Now this emergency wasn't one of the life and death variety--but you wouldn't know that according to my nine-year-old.

Around 10:30, Lion informed me that the water faucet wasn't working. After the initial checking and hustling bustle, the other kids settled down to wait patiently while I searched for a water bill to find the company's phone number.

Not so for Lion.

He ran around the house screaming, "We're all gonna die! We'll have no water forever and we're gonna die!" It took me much longer to call the water company with his hysterics. Trying to calm him down so I could figure out what was going on was quite the feat.

The water company didn't know anything, so I called a neighbor. She let me know that it looked like a main break was at the end of our street, when she took her boys to school this morning. Trucks were out there and everything, but they hadn't put out an alert yet. Relieved, I sat the kids down and talked about our response to the emergency, and how they helped or hindered the process.

Thankfully nothing major happened. Still, there's nothing like an object lesson. Do I expect anything to be different next time?

Nope.

The water coming out of the pipes still looks yucky. I let it run for a good while, but they may still be fixing the break. One of the kids said it looked like juice, so Professor told Bean it was "diaper-change water" so the two-year-old wouldn't try to drink it.

Maybe we'll go out for a while.

The Battle was Lost, but the War is Mine!

2011-10-10T13:08:00.000-05:00

A lot of women have left their babies with their husbands by the time said babies are two years old, but I hadn't yet. Mostly because Bean wouldn't sleep through the night regularly until he was nearly two years old. For those of you who remember Bean when he was an infant (and at homeschool co-op on Friday when he clung to me for two of three hours and wouldn't go to the nursery), I had a special name for him. Velcro Baby.

So it was bittersweet when I left him on Friday night, drove an hour to the wilderness (okay, to cabins and a beautiful campsite with real, flushing toilets) with some of my church friends. We had a blast, and though some of us swore we wouldn't do it again this year, stayed up until 4:00 am giggling and sharing stories until we passed out. (Clarification: from exhaustion. There were no inebriating liquids at camp, unless you count the cold water.)

I was pretty tired by the time we got back to the church around noon. I dropped off a couple of friends, and picked up some Little Caesar's pizza, hoping to bribe my family into getting the house cleaned up since I'd been gone.

As I drove home, I thought about how happy they'd be to see me--especially my little Bean. Sure enough, as soon as I got out of the car and balanced the pizzas in my arms, I saw a little face beaming at me through the screen door.

My heart melted at the sight of my little angel, with his squishable, kissable cheeks. I couldn't wait to pick up my bright-eyed cherub, who was so overcome at the sight of me he got more and more excited the nearer I came.

Finally, I was just about to get on the step and reach for the door, when he couldn't contain his excitement any longer. Bean gazed up at me, nearly dancing with joy, eyes sparkling, and spoke one word:

"Pea-duh!"

He'd recognized those rather rare cardboard boxes, the ones we only get once every couple of months or so.

I sighed, reconciled to my fate, no matter how wrong it seemed: I'd been upstaged by pizza.

Later on, after the pizzas had been demolished, Bean suddenly realized that I'd been gone a long time, and I did get lots of snuggles with my baby.

Little Caesar's, you might have won the battle, but I will always win the war.

All Diets Work

2011-10-01T01:00:00.003-05:00

Instantly, the title intrigued me. I mean, who reads something saying that all diets work, and that's a problem, and can resist reading more? Not me, even though I'd consider myself pretty well versed in what makes up a good or bad diet. (It's the sticking to it that's my issue, though that's going much better, thank goodness!)

I didn't know what to expect when I picked up this book. I noted that it wasn't thick (at 140 pages), and sat down for a fast, pleasant read. All Diets Work did not disappoint.

Jen Brewer gets down to the nitty-gritty in a friendly sort of way. The tone and voice of the book is informative and helpful. Jen has taken care to keep things short, sweet, and easy to remember.

The basics at the heart of most diets is what's shown here--those things which will work for most people and how to implement them. I like that All Diets Work emphasizes not only the basic need for calorie reduction, but explains in a matter-of-fact way why the type of calorie is important. A calorie isn't just a calorie isn't just a calorie.

I can see this book being extremely helpful for someone who knows nothing about diet and has just been told by their doctor that they need to shape up. Or for someone who is wanting to regain their health and needs an easy-to-understand book that goes to the heart of the matter, without a lot of medical jargon. This book would also be great to keep on hand for those times (And we all have them!) that we need some more encouragement.

The only thing I would add to this book is that while combining certain foods (like peanut butter and bread, for example) does make a complete protein, it is not necessary to do this as long as you have a balanced diet. The recommendation to combine foods at meals to make a complete protein stemmed from Frances Moore Lappe's research, chronicled in her 1971 book, Diet for a Small Planet. In the tenth anniversary edition published in 1981, Ms. Lappe wrote about her findings and went to great lengths to clarify her position--which had, in fact, changed. She states: "With a healthy, varied diet, concern about protein complementarity is not necessary for most of us." As a life-long vegetarian who has received a good deal of questions about protein, I felt this an important point to address. So in other words, if you have a varied diet, don't sweat it. If you don't, then you might want to eat more peanut butter sandwiches, or some of the other tasty suggestions in All Diets Work, but I'm not telling you what they are. You'll have to get the book for that. *wink*

One thing I found fascinating was the issue of sleep. Yes, sleep in a book on healthy weight! I knew a little about why, and cortisol and everything, but the way Jen puts it made a lot of sense and made me want to go to bed right away. In fact, thinking about this and the fact that it's late--I'd better wrap up this review and get to bed.

I recommend reading All Diets Work. Out of all the "diet" books out there (and I've read a ton), this weight control (not diet) book is one of my favorites. In it you will discover a no nonsense, basic approach to finding a good, balanced, healthy lifestyle. There are some great tips, and I also recommend going to the website. You will find blog posts by the author there, as well as menus, substitutions for favorite fast foods, printouts, and yummy-looking recipes.

Visit Jen Brewer's website here: All Diets Work

Purchase here: Amazon

* I was not paid in any way by anyone for my review. If I ever accepted payment (though no one has ever offered, thank goodness) I'd never be able to live with myself. Which means I'd never sleep, and gain 500 pounds because my fat hormones would be completely out of whack. See? Not worth it.*

An Open Day for Memories

2011-09-27T08:35:00.000-05:00

When the mornings are brisk and crisp leaves begin falling, a thrill runs through me.

Fall is here.

Mornings snuggled up in blankets, sipping something warm before gathering my sleepy children together, and in the calm darkness of the morning, we begin our studies with prayer. The world outside our window is hesitant, almost holding its breath, then the sun warms and beckons and smiles down on our home.

Today we are studying kings and queens of the medieval times and writing paragraphs and doing math and making our sliding glass door into a stained glass window. We hope the tape sticks for a while, cellophane crinkling as we smooth a rainbow into a cheery hello for outdoor brown and yellow. At least we will, today.

In the afternoon, full of sandwiches and history, we'll go to the library and drop off knowledge, then fill our bag with more--so much more. Stacks of paper and bindings make me feel like a worker at the train station, flipping a switch and diverting carloads onto our tracks to be unloaded and examined and absorbed.

Then home and cookies and cleaning and reading and dinner and Zumba and projects and bed.

I'm loving today already.

The End of an Era and a New Beginning

2011-08-31T15:58:00.000-05:00

I've been cleaning out my house, slowly. I've made a lot of progress in the past year, and am making strides in letting go of things. When I was a child, I had a strong attachment to things and what they represented to me. This has taken many years to come to terms with. Giving away old clothes and things from my past has been a difficult process, but one I'm happy to say is far easier than it used to be. The more I let go of things, the easier it gets. It's a process and a journey. I'm finally feeling lighter.

My youngest child turned two this month, and I finally did something I've been putting off since he was born.

Yesterday I washed my maternity clothes, then sat on the couch, folding them before gently placing them in a big, gray, Sterilite box. I smiled at the warm softness on my hands, remembering fondly--and not so fondly--the many times I wore the blue dress my mother made me, the striped shirt, those black pants, giving thanks for cotton and spandex mingled in wondrous ways. Then I loaded up the van and drove to Once Upon a Child, a resale store, hoping to turn them into some cash for my kids' winter clothes. They only wanted one shirt. (They said the rest were too outdated and they didn't need any more. Oh, well.)

So, last night, I posted an offer on our local Freecycle e-loop, and got several requests. I ended up offering them to a woman who gave all her maternity clothes away--then found out the next week she was pregnant. She called me back and I gave her directions to my house between beeps of my dying phone, which was a real accomplishment!

A couple of hours ago, a car drove up. "Someone's walking to our house!" the kids yelled. I took the bag of clothes, went outside, and shut the door in the dog's barking face. (Really, he's way too protective of me--but I'd rather have him scare everyone who comes to the door instead of no one.)

The woman came up to the step, full of gratitude. Being only eight weeks along, she wasn't showing yet, but I know that when you're pregnant, clothes begin to constrict before anyone else can see. Her face lit up at the sight of the full bag. "Oh, thank you so much!" she said.

"I'm so glad you can use them!" I replied. After a moment of chitchat, she left, hurrying to her next destination.

I used to agonize about giving my maternity clothes away, like it meant an end, a finality that I wasn't ready to come to terms with. It was only after she left with my black trash bag of clothes, that I realized what I was feeling:

Nothing.

Nothing but the sweet sense of having helped a mother with her journey in bringing a precious life into the world. I'm happy that instead of sitting around collecting dust, my out-of-style maternity clothes will be used as they were meant to be.

After all, the clothes were just those--clothes. What really matters to me is life and love, not things. I'm so thankful that the Lord is helping me internalize this and is giving me the ability to let go and bless others in whatever small ways I can. And in doing this, my life is simplified and I am blessed, along with my family.

So, goodbye maternity clothes. May you continue to bless the lives of expecting women until you are full of holes and ice cream stains.

When You See a Puzzled Look in a Two-Year-Old's Eyes . . .

2011-08-23T22:59:00.000-05:00

You know what follows is bound to be interesting.

Last night, Bean wouldn't go to sleep. He hadn't felt well all day and took a catnap too late. The result was a little guy who was, at midnight, still running like an Olympic athlete.

I got him settled on the couch with a blanket, then turned on an episode of "Kipper the Dog." Bean watched TV while I went to the bathroom and put a clay mask on some problem areas around my chin and upper lip, kind of where I'd have a goatee--and I just realized that I've painted a wonderful picture of myself for you.

Sigh.

I don't have a goatee. At least, not a full one. Yet.

Anyway, once I got the goopy mud on I went out to the living room and sat down by Bean. Even though it hadn't been thirty seconds since I put the mask on, I'd already forgotten about it.

Bean stared at my face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, studying me. I wondered at his change of mood. Then he asked, "Change diaper?"

Slowly, like a dawning morning, I remembered what I looked like. The lower half of my face was thickly covered in a sticky, smeary brown substance. To a toddler it must have looked like--

No wonder Bean was concerned.

I smiled as well as I could, since the mask was already drying. "Change diaper?" I asked, wondering what he'd say next. Usually if he finds something interesting, he tries to touch it. Not then. He didn't move a finger.

Bean alternated between looking me in the eyes and glancing at my chin. I don't remember when I've seen my little firecracker so calm and contemplative. Then he said, "Change diaper mouth."

I was at a loss of what to say that would help him understand (I turn into a zombie after midnight), as he didn't seem upset, just interested. So all I came up with was, "Oh, okay, buddy." I got off the couch and went to the computer, leaving him to watch Kipper and hopefully forget about what he thought he saw on his mother's face. He knows the words "wash face," so I don't know if I want to know what was going through his brain. Thankfully he passed out on the couch not long after.

Hopefully this experience won't leave a negative imprint on my son's subconscious memory that requires tons of therapy. At least I have another story to add to the family collection!

Birthday Cake and Literary Agents: When the Two Collide

2011-08-19T12:10:00.004-05:00

Yesterday was Princess' sixth birthday. I spent a good deal of the day baking a made-from-scratch, cherry-filled Hershey's chocolate cake with homemade vanilla buttercream frosting, while taking breaks to immerse myself in WriteOnCon. Oh, yes, it was decadent. (WriteOnCon or the cake? Both.)

The cake was a labor of love. I piped on pink edging (love those icing decorators in the store baking aisle), stuck in candles that looked like fairy wands, and added orange polka dots on the sides. On the top, in a space not filled with sparkly pink birthday greetings, I added what was at first an orange daisy, then I decided it would be better to fill in the "petals" (quotes used because they are well-deserved) and make it a butterfly facing downwards. (Princess was thrilled with her "fairy." I told her it was a butterfly, but she said, "No, Mom, there are the legs and that's the body and head!" Who was I to argue?)

After a dinner of Chinese food we dug into the cake. Then there were issues of getting overtired kids to bed, a huge thunderstorm that knocked out power all over the city (but not here, thank goodness), and a baby who wouldn't go to sleep until 11:30. By that time I was pretty tired, so I went into the kitchen to make sure the cake was covered and saw the dessert plates sitting there in all their drying, crusty glory.

And was enlightened.

Thoughts of the conference ran through my head while I walked around the table, assessing the amount of cleanup needed. I pondered the different preferences of agents when they looked at pitches (it's fascinating to see an agent's thought process), and the results of the first 500 words contest. The top five entries in the contest were picked by one agent. No surprise to me that my story didn't make it, after sensing a theme throughout the top picks. Interestingly enough, of the top five, only two were ones I would have personally been interested enough in to keep reading. Add to that the vlog I saw featuring agent Holly Root and editors Molly O'Neill and Martha Mihalick, and I really got something out of those sweet and sticky plates.

My husband's plate was almost clean. He'd eaten the chocolate cake and left all the buttercream frosting. He doesn't like frosting, but the cake was apparently acceptable.

My second son's plate was equally interesting. Lion had left no sign of cake or frosting anywhere, but he'd left three whole cherries from the filling. He likes the fruity "sauce," as he put it, but not the squishy cherries.

Princess' plate held the barely touched piece with the butterfly-turned-fairy. She was so excited for her cake and gushed over it, but she was full and could only eat two bites. She made me promise to keep it for the next day when she had more room. (She couldn't reject anything with fairies.)

The eldest, Professor's, plate was clean. I have a suspicion he might have licked it.

My plate held the picked-off remnants of pink and orange decorator's frosting. Not worth the calories or the sugar. (Though I need to throw in a couple extra workouts thanks to that buttercream.)

Bean (who just turned two) had eaten several thin slices of cake, which he demolished in turn, then begged for more. His last piece lay there in his bowl, because he'd had so much that even though he loved it, he couldn't fit any more in his adorable tummy.

I thought of all these plates in terms of agents (and readers, now that I think of it). Nothing in that cake was bad (we're not talking about the appearance, ha, ha), but each family member had their preference, just as an agent does. Some agents don't like buttercream frosting, some don't care for cherries. Some may really want your butterfly-turned-fairy, but have a full plate of other things.Some love everything about your cake, and others want to pick off parts that you might love, but just don't work for them. Then there are those who may want your chocolate cake and everything included with it, but have three identical chocolate cakes at home already.

So if you're going the agent route (or entering in contests, or self-publishing), remember that a rejection (or a bad review) might not mean your cake is inedible. You can test your recipe, tweak it a thousand times and end up with a rich, fluffy, mouthwatering confection, but not everyone will like it. Either something about your cake doesn't tickle their fancy--or they may just prefer cheesecake.

After all, the writing business is incredibly subjective. In fact, I like cake, but I'm more of a cheesecake gal.

Straight up New York style, please.

A Story for Tuesday: The Miniature Rose

2011-08-17T18:48:00.004-05:00

For me, one of the best ways to sort my emotions and experiences is through writing. Here is one I'll share with you. It won't win any awards, but it's close to my heart.

The Miniature Rose

Once upon a time, a little Seedling poked through rich, dark dirt and raised her head toward the sun. A soft breeze blew, cool air sending waves of delight along her delicate stem.

The Gardener smiled, leaned down, and brushed a speck of potting soil off a tender leaf. After giving the Seedling a drink, he left her on the deck to bask in the warm light.

Days passed, and the little Seedling grew and grew, until she was a Seedling no longer--but a small plant with beautiful, pink flowers growing off her in all directions, reaching over the sides of her little terra-cotta pot. She heard the Gardner telling his child that she was a Miniature Rose. Oh, how the Seedling loved the sound of that. Rose. Reaching for the sun and wind, she bent and twisted her small, thorny stems so the scent of her flowers could reach the child who played on the deck every morning.

Once the trees dropped their leaves, the Rose went to the place the Gardner kept his precious plants in the winter, and slept. When spring came, He placed her in the sun and she grew and stretched, and for weeks waved her new blossoms in the gentle wind.

After a few seasons, it became harder for the Rose to stretch. Her roots grew uncomfortably tight, pushing against the sides of the pot, and it pained her to reach out to the breeze. Still, she smiled and nodded hello to the birds that visited the feeder, and the child (who now went to school) played near her every afternoon. The Rose kept growing in her cramped pot, but try as she could, her flowers wouldn't bloom very well and she feared the child would stop seeing her. "What's wrong with me?" she cried. "Am I dying?"

The Gardener heard her weeping. "Rose, dear Rose, soon you will blossom anew. Wait, and I shall help you when the time is ready."

So the Rose waited, roots cramping and tight against the cool stone of the pot, doing her best to find joy despite the pain. One warm day, the Gardener picked her up, walked across the yard, and set her down next to a large, new pot. She watched as the Gardener filled up the empty space with special food and deep brown soil, then the Rose braced herself as the Gardener lifted her slowly out of her cramped home.

How it hurt! The Rose's roots were a horrible, tangled mass. "Here, let me help you, little one." The Gardener gently loosened her roots, which ached from being in one position so long. Then he settled her into the new pot, swept dirt around her roots, pressed firmly, then gave her a long drink of crystal clear water.

Then the Gardner rose and went away, boots clomping back to the house. The Rose looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings. He'd moved her to the garden.

That night, she cried as mist left dewdrops to fall off her leaves. Who was she now? Would she see the child again, or the birds by the feeder? She shuddered as rabbits hopped near in the gray morning hours, sniffed at her and wriggled their noses in curiosity. Wind whistled through the ivy, making her shiver. As the day grew warm, the Rose relaxed. Butterflies of rainbow colors visited her and the other flowers. She made friends with the daisies and the peonies, and their silent songs of beauty touched all who came near. The next morning, a light rain fell, and the Rose reached out her leaves to shelter the rabbits who came to see her again.

As the weeks passed, the Rose stretched and grew and bloomed as she never had before. She grew to love hearing wind whistle through the ivy, and even made friends with the rabbits. The Gardener's child came to visit sometimes, and the Rose was happy. She grew old and wise, and comforted all the frightened, young flowers who came to her garden. She taught them that even if they had pains from growing, all flowers could trust and be safe in the Gardener's care.

Party With Tristi Pinkston and Her New Book Release!

2011-07-31T02:00:00.003-05:00

Author Tristi Pinkston is excited to announce the release of the third novel in her Secret Sisters Mysteries series.

Titled Hang ‘em High, this novel takes place on a dude ranch in Montana. When Ida Mae’s son invites her to come for a visit, of course she brings Arlette and Tansy along with her. They are expecting to spend the week looking at horses, avoiding the cows, and making amends in Ida Mae’s relationship with her son. What they don’t expect is to be stuck on the ranch in the middle of a blizzard and to be thrust headlong into the middle of a mystery.

***

Help Tristi celebrate her new novel in two ways. First, come participate in the two-week-long blog contest, where you can win a book nearly every single day! All the details are up on Tristi’s blog.

Second, come to the book launch!

You are invited to an

August Authorama!

Saturday, August 13th

Pioneer Book, 858 S. State, Orem

12 – 4 pm

Games, prizes, balloons, face painting,

and Dutch oven cobbler

prepared by world champion cook

Keith Fisher.

Authors Tristi Pinkston, J. Lloyd Morgan, Cindy Hogan,

Nichole Giles, and Heather Justesen

will all be there to sign books.

This is one book launch event

you will not want to miss!

Book Review: Sleight of Hand by Deanne Blackhurst

2011-07-28T23:34:00.002-05:00

Daniel Cabrero does something in the beginning of this book that, in the thousands of books I've read, rarely happens to the main character at that point--he dies. Adding to the mix is that Daniel isn't an innocent person. He's a cheat and a cad, a con man who has spent his life caring about himself far more than others and treating his fellow men (mostly women) as rungs on his ladder to success.

Right away, Daniel meets his guide, Jonah, who takes him to a place called Wasteland. The setting is beautiful and peaceful, surrounded by nature. At first Daniel loves it there, but soon realizes that his idyllic surroundings are not all they appear to be. The con man is condemned to his fate unless he humbles himself and is willing to make some tough choices.

Deanne Blackhurst has a fantastic imagination, and all the detail added a rich dimension to the setting. I could picture everything as I read. A lot of the book didn't jive with my personal belief of the afterlife, but that's partly why I enjoyed this story. It made me think about the legacy I'll leave my family and the end results of my choices. I enjoy stories that make me think, "What if?" Sleight of Hand is like nothing else I've read before, though if Christian speculative fiction is like this, I want to read more of it.

The book needs a thorough proofreading, as I kept stumbling over editing issues. However, the story was so intriguing that I had to keep reading. I thought about the book when I was away from my computer and I looked forward to going back and finishing. The fact that I wanted to keep reading in spite of the editing scores major points for the author, as poor editing is usually a deal-breaker for me.

The only thing I would have liked to see more of was the conflict inside Daniel's soul. Part of the process he goes through includes reliving old memories of things he did. Instead of Daniel being thrown back into reliving most of the memories as they first happened to him, I would have liked to see him viewing his actions from an outside perspective more often. I would have been more sympathetic toward Daniel if I could have seen more of his emotional processing. However, I found his character very interesting and the whole book quite memorable.

Deanne is a great storyteller, and I'm very much looking forward to more books by her. I'll be thinking about Sleight of Hand for a long time and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

(Heads up: some of my readers might want to know that there are a few very minor swear words in this book.)

Until August 31st, you can purchase an e-book copy of Sleight of Hand for only $1.99. Go here: Smashwords and enter code MX73D.

**I was given a free e-book for the purpose of this review. I have not been compensated in any way for my opinions.**

TAG! You're it! Or, Things You Didn't Know About Me That Won't Change Your Life

2011-07-21T11:20:00.002-05:00

I was tagged a while ago by my dear friend, Karen Hoover. I'm just getting around to doing this meme now. I love these things, random bits of useless information that forms an interesting picture of someone. (At least they form it for others; we'll see how we do today!)

Do you think you're hot?

Only in pictures of me as a teen. Too bad (or most likely, good thing) I didn't know it then.

Upload a picture or wall paper you are using at the moment

At the moment, I'm using neither a picture or special wallpaper. I'm using this:

When was the last time you ate chicken meat?

I guess with all the imitation chicken out there the "meat" has to be defined. Well, this comes as no surprise to those who know me, but I prefer Boca or Morningstar chicken. The last time I ate chicken meat was accidentally, in a jarred cheese dip, no less. I was 18 then, I believe.

The Song(s) you listened to recently?

The three that stick out from the last few days are:

The Prayer (Not sung by Josh Groban.) I heard this while on a day trip with my mom yesterday, and found myself singing harmony along with it in the store. Thankfully, no one else was in the aisle.

Bad - Michael Jackson (Before you wonder why this doesn't sound like my usual musical fare, guess why this is
here. Then continue on to see if you're right.)

Fat - Weird Al (During school I used Youtube videos to teach my children what parodies are. Weird Al is the
master! And for those who think this song is insensitive, I'm fat, and I think it's hilarious!)

What were you thinking as you were doing this?

That I'm proving to be either 1) extremely weird or 2) extremely cool. I'm guessing the former.

Do you have nicknames?

Becca (family and friends)
Beks (one friend called me this, but I love it)

Only one person is ever allowed to call me any form of Becky, and that person is my husband, James. Occasionally he calls me Becky-Wecky-o. A bazillion points to the lucky person who gets that reference. It is rather obscure. (Points only redeemable for five gallons of awesomesauce, which is an air-condiment--hence, invisible and weightless. In fact, you can't touch it at all, but you can experience the feeling. Not responsible if you are immune to the effects of awesomesauce.)

Tag eight Blogger friends

Like thrift store items? That would hurt. And in Red Racks Thrift Store, they use staples.

Oh, I see what you mean . . .

Karen Burton
Betsy Love
Don Carey
James Duckett
Ted Finch
Kim VanderHorst
Karen Robison
Samantha Lord

Who's listed as number one?

Karen Burton, or Kazzy, as she's known on the interwebs, is #1. I got to meet her in person last year, and she's incredibly beautiful and sweet! She and I share a love for Zumba. Karen and her husband are so cute together. He writes her a sonnet every day. *romantic sigh*

Say something about number 5.

Ted is such a fun guy, and I don't mean a mushroom. I have a nickname for him--actually two. Tedders and Typo. Tedders for obvious reasons (it also sounds like cheddar, which I like a lot), and Typo for one specific reason that had me and several other people in stitches for about 30 minutes (we chat online at SprintWriters). I laughed so hard I nearly passed out from oxygen deprivation. You'll have to ask him about that one.

How did you get to know number 3?

I first met Don in Utah last year at a gathering the night before Storymakers. He was so nice and made us out-of-staters feel so welcome! I had the privilege of reviewing his book, Bumpy Landings, which is a great read!

How about number 4?

James is part of Authors Incognito, our group for LDS Storymaker Conference alumni. We've gotten to know each other a bit through SprintWriters and he's a very funny guy who totally gets geek humor.

Leave a message for number 6.

Hey, Kim, this is Rebecca. I miss you! I know you don't usually do tags, but maybe since Karen and I both tagged you, you will. :D I love you and I hope we get to "chat" soon!

Leave a lovey-dovey message for number 2.

This is hilarious since I didn't plan the order of my tags. How appropriate since Betsy's last name is Love?

Betsy, I love chatting with you and your words of support and encouragement mean a ton to me! I'm so proud of you and your hard work. Congratulations again on your book coming out, and I am patiently but eagerly awaiting my copy!

Do number 7 and number 8 have any similarities?

Yep. They are best friends. Karen is my lovely sister, and she and Sam have been friends since they were 12 years old. Sam lives far away now in Bozeman, Montana, but we keep up with her through her blog. She's a very talented photographer!

Well, I guess that's it, though the last question doesn't tie things up very well. I'm going to add a question of my own.

What do you predict you will be doing on this day one year from now?

Let's see . . .next year is a leap year, so the 21st will be a Saturday . . . I'll probably be just getting out of Zumba class at this time. Or maybe I'll be on vacation somewhere and will have to do Zumba from videos on our Youtube playlist!

This has been fun! Have a great day!

Book Review: Safe Money Millionaire

2011-07-13T06:00:00.003-05:00

I admit, I don't read many financial help books. About the closest I get is listening to Dave Ramsey on the radio occasionally (whom I like and respect, even if I want to yell at him that he does deserve how he's doing). So, with curiosity and a touch of trepidation, I opened the cover of Safe Money Millionaire by Brett Kitchen and Ethan Kap, and dove in.

A sales pitch makes me wary and I get the inclination to rebel (ask me the story of how I got rid of the Kirby salesman sometime), so after the intro titled "For Skeptics Only," I found myself even more skeptical.

Then I began reading the first chapter and was pleasantly surprised.

The chapter opened by telling a story, and this conversational style continued throughout. I liked this a lot, because I learn best that way and could better relate to the information. I really enjoyed the quotes given at the beginning of each chapter. The true stories of people such as Walt Disney, J.C. Penney, and Ray Kroc (the man who made McDonald's an empire) were fascinating. The advice was presented in a straightforward, simple manner and was nicely written.

I admit that my eyes glazed over a bit while reading about the stock market and the charts didn't mean much to me. Then again, I have never been interested in the stock market. However, what I did get out of this book was that it's very important to explore different options and that putting money in a 401(k) is generally not the best idea. After discussing some of the information with my husband, we had a good discussion which has led to some interesting avenues to check out. I told James (the major source of brains in this family) that he should read this book so it can help us decide what to do about our financial future. He is currently doing so.

Since I live in the Show Me state, I want down-to-earth, common sense financial advice. This book gives that--mostly. The only real issues I had were some of the legit reasons given to borrow money. In one of the stories, a man and his wife who have just lost their retirement through their 401(k) "desperately" need a kitchen remodel, and during their financial planning found they could borrow some for that reason. I found that a bit of a turnoff. A kitchen remodel would be nice thing to have, but it's far from a pressing need for most people I know. Another reason included borrowing a couple thousand dollars for a vacation, or for a car. If I borrow money, even if it's a relatively safe way to do it, I need a good reason. Otherwise I'm stuck with an unnecessary monthly payment, and I'd rather save up to pay for things that aren't emergencies. I would have liked to see the advice given to be prudent and use discretion on what a person borrows money for and how much--no matter how easy it would be to pay back.

The basic information on how the program works is given in the last half or so of the book--and I do mean very basic. The book recommends contacting special advisers, found through the website, who can help you make the most out of your financial decisions.Getting more information is vital to having the full benefit of the program. The information given is like artichoke dip at Olive Garden--it whets your appetite for more! I had never heard of options like these before, and they do sound intriguing.

I plan on checking further into the information presented in this book and on learning about more financial planning options in general. The best thing this book did for me was make me curious about learning about all the different options out there. Oh, and a great chocolate analogy came at the perfect time in the chapters to help me understand what the authors were saying. I definitely want to enjoy my chocolate bar and have plenty for my kids as well. Read Safe Money Millionaire to find out more about an interesting plan for obtaining more "chocolate" of your own!

Purchase Safe Money Millionaire here: Amazon

Visit the website: Safe Money Millionaire

Review Disclaimer: I was given a copy of this book for the purpose of review, and have not been compensated in any fashion for my opinions.

Adventures at Walmart

2011-07-02T11:39:00.003-05:00

Last night, at Walmart, I got in the 20 items-or-less line. Princess stood next to me, clutching a package of Bonne Bell Lipsmackers to her chest. (My little girl has been asking about makeup--and this is the closest a five-year-old is getting to lipstick.) A package of contractor trash bags (for all the things I'm getting rid of) and a box of Klondike bars (for James' and my weekly at-home date night) rounded out the purchases.

The man ahead of us in line was quite friendly. Usually, I am too, but something about this guy made me wary. He looked pretty normal--40s, slight of build, white tee, slightly scruffy, not anything unusual. He leaned our direction and talked to Princess, and my alarm bells went off. He had a mumbling way of speaking, but I swore I heard something about a wink.

Princess had the same impulse as me, because she backed up and hid behind me. I resisted the urge to shove him, gave the man a half-smile, and he mumbled a few things to me, grinning. Uncharacteristically, I didn't say anything, but kept that half-smile plastered on.

The guy took a little time to pay, not quite understanding what the cashier wanted, and I tried to chastise myself for being so cold. It looks like he's mentally deficient, I thought. But the feeling of wariness was there still, and I couldn't help but listen. I put my arm around Princess and held her close to my side.

When the man had finished paying, he went to get his bag. I studied him discreetly for a moment, thinking that his movements looked familiar. He swayed a bit, and for a second I wondered, Parkinson's?, then realized that his motions reminded me of someone.

Johnny Depp, I thought. Yep, Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow.

Captain Jack . . .oh.

Oh.

The guy lurched away, and I stepped up to the register into a funny-smelling cloud. The cashier and I gave each other a look.

"Drunk?" she said in a low tone.

"You think?" I laughed as I waved my hand around a bit trying to diffuse the scent.

She stiffened, then I felt someone behind me and I knew it was the drunk guy. He moved to my side and leaned (or swayed) into my arm a moment, mumbled something, then veered off again.

"How are you today?" the cashier asked brightly.

I swiped my card. "Oh, I'll be fine when we're in the car safely!"

We all laughed, then I took my bag, my daughter's hand, and on high alert, went out of the store.

I shook my head. I need some kind of drunkdar. Years ago as a dental assistant I helped with a patient who was, as the dentist put it, "drunk as a skunk." I had no idea, though he reeked. I was used to patients smelling funny at times and acting weird.

But now, as I headed to the van, Princess tightly in tow, being highly aware of my surroundings and going over self-defense techniques in my mind, I had to admit that I have a blind spot where sloshed individuals are concerned.

Will someone out there please invent some inebriation-recognition glasses?

Edited to add: Once my wits came back and we went to leave, I realized I should report the guy to someone. I hurried to the door, looking for him and planning to tell the greeter. I didn't have any idea where he'd gone, and somehow the drunk had vanished into thin air. Otherwise I would have done my civic duty and reported him.

Watched Book Tour Prize Winner!

2011-06-27T06:40:00.000-05:00

And the winner of her choice of a cool scrapbooking kit is . . .

Stacy Coles said...

Already a follower. Just visiting.

June 21, 2011 8:16 PM

Congratulations, Stacy! Please email me today asap with your choice of scrapbooking kit

"To School or 'Bus't" or "Twinkle Star"

My email address is on the tabs under "Contact." Congratulations!

Come Celebrate The Release Of Watched With Us!

2011-06-21T04:00:00.018-05:00

Watched, by Cindy Hogan, is on tour! I've heard great things about this book and can't wait to read it. Join us on the blog tour and you could win lots of awesome prizes!

Learn about the hottest new teen novel

while making new friends.

Each of the following blogs is offering a different awesome prize!

(That's 14 prizes!)

The prize here at I am a Pistachio is your choice of a cool scrapbooking kit!

And the grand prize is a $25 dollar gift card to Amazon.

Quick, Fast Entry

Pick a blog, any blog to get started

(just click on the underlined name)

Better hurry! There's only 4 days to enter -Tues., June 21st-Friday, June 24th

**(Need more details? More complete entry details at the bottom of the page)

1. Follow Rachelle Writes and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Rachelle's blog. (If you do both you get 1 entry into Rachelle's contest and one into the Grand Prize contest-You Must do both to enter either)

2. Follow A Writer's Reality and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Melissa's blog.

3. Follow Day Dreamer and leave a comment.

Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Christine's blog.

4. Follow The Queen of the Clan and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Danyelle's blog.

5. Follow Jordan McCollum and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Jordan's blog.

6. Follow The Crazy Daze of Motherhood and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Jane's blog.

7. Follow I am a Pistachio and leave a comment.

Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Rebecca's blog.

8. Follow Chasing Dreams and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Tamara's blog.

9. Follow Ramblings of a Random Writer and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Betsy's blog.

10. Follow Matthew Tandy-The Working Writera nd leave a comment. Then followCindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Matthew's blog.

11 Follow Weaving a Tale or Two and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Donna's blog.

12. Follow Tristi Pinkston, LDS Author and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M. Hogan and leave a comment about Tristi's blog.

13. Follow My Yellow Sandbox and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M Hogan and leave a comment about Abby's blog.

14. Follow Watched and leave a comment. Then follow Cindy M Hogan and leave a comment about that blog.

13. Enter all 14 contests and you get an extra 5 entries into the Grand Prize Giveaway. (19 entries)

14. That's not all! Get 6 extra entries by buying Watched here (print book) or here (e-book) and sending her a copy of your confirmation cindymhogan at yahoo dot com. Easy peasy. Wow! That's 25 entries!

Have fun and good luck!

**More Details on how to enter

Click on the blog name
Follow that blog
Leave a comment that you were there
Jump over to Cindy's blog
Leave a comment about what you liked about the other blog.

Congrats! You've entered that blog's contest and earned one entry into the Grand Prize Drawing!

Enter one. Enter two or how ever many you like, but...

If you enter all the blogs' contests you get a bonus 5 entries into the Grand Prize Drawing.

That gives you a total of 19 entries to win the

Grand Prize- A $25 gift card to Amazon.

And don't forget to get your copy of Watched for a bonus 6 entries.

(25 total)

Remember- you only have 4 days to enter.

(Tues, June 21st-Friday, June 24th at midnight)

and you must comment on both blogs for entry into each contest.

Individual blogs will award prizes on June 25th

The Grand Prize will be awarded on June 28th on Cindy's blog.

Check back to see if you won! You have 2 days to claim your prize.

A big thanks to my awesome friends for joining in on the fun.

1. Rachelle Writes

2. A Writer's Reality

3. Day Dreamer

4. The Queen of the Clan

5. Jordan McCollum

6. The Crazy Daze of Motherhood

7. I am a Pistachio

8. Chasing Dreams

9. Ramblings of a Random Writer

10. Matthew Tandy-The Working Writer

11 Weaving a Tale or Two

12 Tristi Pinkston, LDS Author

13.M y Yellow Sandbox

14. Watched

Bumpy Landings Book Winner Take Two!

2011-06-14T13:03:00.000-05:00

Well, since the winner of Bumpy Landings was my sister Karen, she graciously offered to borrow my copy and give someone else a chance to win. So, I went to Random.org and found another winner:

Taffy said...

I wish I had Don's book to read when I was in Hawaii a few months ago!

I'm a follower!

June 6, 2011 4:52 PM

Congratulations, Taffy!

Bumpy Landings Book Winner!

2011-06-14T00:46:00.000-05:00

Well, I had eight eligible comments, so I put 1-8 into Random.org, and the winner is . . .

Karen said...

Of course I'm a follower! I could use a vacation to somewhere tropical, even if it's only in my mind!

June 10, 2011 6:09 PM

Congratulations, Karen!

Thanks for entering, and for those of you who didn't win, you can purchase your own copy of Bumpy Landings here in paperback or for Kindle: Amazon

Bumpy Landings Book Giveaway!

2011-06-06T15:44:00.000-05:00

Back in February I had the privilege of reviewing Bumpy Landings by Don Carey. (Read the review here.) I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and now is the season where I wish I were in Hawaii, cracking open fresh coconuts and eating pineapple.

Not many LDS romance books are written by men or are from a man's perspective, but this one is. Which, makes Bumpy Landings like a non-alcoholic pina colada--quite refreshing.

Don is generously giving away a copy of Bumpy Landings, and if I didn't already have a copy, I'd be all over this giveaway! (Except, well, I couldn't. That wouldn't be honest since this is my blog. But if I were a pirate, I would.)

Here's how to enter. Please read all the instructions so you will be eligible. You can have a total of five entries!

Required:

Follow my blog (or be an existing follower) and leave a comment saying so.

Additional entries:

Once you are a follower and would like additional entries, any of these count. Please make a separate comment for each entry. For example: if you tweet and blog about the giveaway, make two separate comments, one for the tweet and one for the blog post. If you combine them into one comment, they will count for one entry.

Blog about the giveaway and link to it

Tweet the giveaway

Share the giveaway on Facebook

Go to Don's website, click on "Recipes," and share which one looks the tastiest. (All of these treats are in Bumpy Landings and I want to try every one!)

If your email address isn't in your profile, please include the address in each entry comment so I know how to contact you.

The contest ends this Saturday, June 11th, at 11:59 Pacific time. I will announce the winner on Monday, June 13.

Good luck to everyone!

Book Review: Nia by Mella Reese

2011-06-01T00:13:00.001-05:00

Nia is a princess--but not your typical prone-to-faints, delicate princess. Nia has a deep, caring heart--and a father whose chief goal in life is war. The king's philosophy? Conquer or be conquered, even if the land you're conquering doesn't stand the remotest chance against you. Thankfully, Nia doesn't agree.

Princess Nia is in line to take the crown, but she struggles with the idea. Luckily, she's engaged to Andras, the man she loves more than anything, and he's studying under her father so he will be worthy to rule the kingdom one day.

To Nia's astonishment, a large, strong man from one of the kingdoms her father conquers presents himself to her. He makes a blood oath to be bound as her servant for the rest of his life.

Nia learns the man's name is Garreth, but not much else at first, as the man won't meet her eyes unless ordered. He is her shadow constantly, which annoys her, as she goes around the kingdom warring with her inner self regarding her duties as a royal while doing what she loves best--healing people with her extensive knowledge of herbs.

I was pleasantly surprised by this story, and even more when I discovered that this is a first novel for Mella Reese. The characters were well thought out, and I enjoyed watching a friendship develop between Nia and Garreth at the same time she was in love with her betrothed, Andras.

There were only a couple of minor things I felt needed to be addressed. One was that I couldn't get a good picture of what Nia looked like. Any description of her was very subtle, so much so that I missed it entirely. The other thing was an ongoing comparison with life and trees that I wasn't quite sure fit in the story, because I wouldn't have missed it if it hadn't been there and I kept reading deeper meaning into it than there ultimately was.

I liked that Nia wasn't a strict romance, but rather told the well-rounded story of a princess whose life had romance in it. Even a person with romantic feelings for someone has other facets to her life, and the dynamic of a princess having a dearly-loved fiancé and a blossoming friendship with a male servant while trying to figure out her royal role was really interesting. She was a character I would have liked to have as a friend.

I enjoyed reading Nia and I hope to read the next book because I would like to know what happens! Congratulations to Mella on a great debut novel!

Visit author Mella Reese: Author Website Blog

Purchase Nia here: Amazon

Lizard Wizard, Canned Cheese, and How Not to Make Your Readers' Heads Explode

2011-05-27T15:37:00.004-05:00

We read a lot as a family. Reading aloud is one of our special bonding times. It's also great for me because I learn a lot about patterns in writing--things stick out more when I hear them. Being a reader helps teach me what works for me as a reader instead of a writer. Because of this, I learned something I just have to share.

Ready? Here it is:

We writers are constantly told to show, show, show instead of tell. However, there are circumstances where it is entirely permissible, might I say preferable, to tell instead of show.

(I just heard the thunk of writers everywhere falling off their chairs. Sorry about that.)

Why tell instead of show? Because you don't want your reader to shake his or her fist at you and say bad words in their minds, which they will regret and blame you for, which causes them to feel guilty, etc, etc.

Say, for example, your reader is engrossed in how Norma and Bernie scale Mount Everest looking for a fabled scepter and discover ancient sharks swimming in a mountain lake. They fight an evil flying octopus by using hand grenades and aerosol cheese, then make sushi for lunch. End chapter.

You've done such a good job that your reader is dying for more.

She turns the page to see Norma and Bernie meet up with their old friend Lizard Wizard, who was a rocker from way back, and they rush to tell him all their adventures so he's up to speed for the next escapade--in which he'll use his extra-fast super regrowing tails to help them win another fight.

For the love of readers everywhere, please do not, under any circumstance, have Norma and Bernie tell Lizard Wizard, through dialogue, the entire previous conflict. We don't need to read ten pages of a story, then two pages of recap. Only do this if you want your reader's head to explode. That's not the kind of interactive experience they're looking for, trust me.

If we've written a great showing scene, the reader already knows the information. Making a reader endure a retelling of the action is like listening to Uncle Ferdie's golf stories for the millionteenth time.

Instead, give us a quick paragraph or two of telling so we know that Lizard Wizard is up to speed.

For example: "Bernie and Norma told Lizard the whole story, ending with the bits of octopus raining from the
sky. They then offered him their last bite of sushi."

This way Lizard gets the story and we don't have to eavesdrop on the whole conversation. Then give us a reaction from Lizard Wizard, and send the trio merrily on their way. (Or unmerrily if you write tragedies.) Nothing more to see here. We don't need to read their entire conversation about what happened several pages ago.

A paragraph. Not two pages of recap.

I love the things I learn from reading.

This post is part of Jordan McCollum's Writing Wednesday fun! Click on the picture to read more writing posts!

This Post is For the Birds. Literally. Like, if You're a Bird, READ THIS.

2011-05-23T08:48:00.001-05:00

When I was a little girl, I loved early mornings. Didn't love getting up, but there was something about the sun's first rays. I'd go outside, damp grass waiting for that golden touch and shiver, tiny goosebumps rising on my arms. Birds sang their delight in the new day. The chill burned away, and the earth warmed, bathed in a lovely glow.

I still love early mornings, and am working on moving my bedtime back so I can enjoy them again. However--the birds have betrayed me.

A few times these last days, I've been up in the middle of the night. One time I was getting to know a new, dear friend. The other time--I think it was insomnia. Anyway, the innocent birds of my youth are no more.

There is no earthly reason why birds should be so excited for a new day that they begin singing as if bringing up the sun depends on them. I swear, the robins around here must have studied under a demented rooster on a farm somewhere. The course title? "How to Make the Sun Rise and Simultaneously Drive Humans Up the Wall--or at Least Not Let Them Sleep."

6:00 am? I get that. Even 5:00, getting ready for dawn, okay, I can understand that too. But 3:00 and 4:00 in the morning? Is there some brand of peppy bird coffee I'm not aware of? I picture them on their branches, sipping and preparing their vocalizers to keep me awake. If I'm already asleep, I don't hear them. But if I've gotten up for a child or some other reason, what is usually a beautiful herald of the morning becomes a dark denizen of the night whose song is akin to Chinese water torture.

I'm just hoping that if the birds read while sipping their peppy bird coffee (How else could they be up all day and half the night?), they'll come across this and change their evil ways.

Otherwise, I may just be tempted to get a cat. They're rather nocturnal.

I, however, am not. (I keep telling myself that, anyway.)

(Reminder: this blog address will be changing June 1st. Go here for details: Blog Address Change)

Blog Address Change!

2011-05-18T16:07:00.000-05:00

My blog will remain the same, including the title, but the address will change on June 1st. If you follow my blog via the official "followers" box, you don't have to do anything. If you find me from a bookmark, or type the address in directly, you'll need the new address. It will be rebeccablevinswrites.blogspot.com.

You'll want the new address because I'm doing a giveaway of Don Carey's fun book Bumpy Landings in June, and trust me, if you don't have a copy, you need one! Who wouldn't love to read a book set in lush Hawaii?

Have a great camel day! (I don't like "hump day.")

Learn Writing Tips by Watching TV Shows

2011-05-17T11:26:00.000-05:00

Sounds too good to be true, right?

I don't watch a ton of TV, but there are times I just need to clear my mind and be entertained. After all, it's research--or so I tell myself. I do learn a lot from characterization and plot and try to use what I learn in my writing.

We don't have cable and only get one channel on TV, so we see our favorite shows online. There aren't many commercials on sites such as Hulu, which is nice, and of course there are none on Netflix. Because of this, the places in a show where there would normally be commercials stand out.

This week, I learned something.

Producers pause the story where they have the best chance of getting the viewer to stay on the channel, to come back to find out what's happened. There are many things that lure a viewer away during commercial breaks, for example, checking email, Facebook, getting a snack, or surfing around other channels to see what's on. The producer has a huge challenge in bringing the viewer back to their show after all this, so they stop the story at critical points, or hooks.

Think of a TV show as a book and where each commercial comes in as the end of a chapter. There are a lot of things that compete for readers' attention. We want to make it difficult for them to put our books down at the end of a chapter. I think good places to end a chapter may be the same as what's going on in a TV show just before the commercial break.

I've come across a few different themes lately where shows are paused, and I'm sure there are many more:

Someone is about to get hurt (physically or emotionally)
Someone has just gotten hurt (physically or emotionally)
Something major is about to happen, like thieves about to crack a safe
Something major has just happened, like thieves who cracked a safe and are fleeing from the police
Information is about to be given, like when an FBI agent's phone rings, he answers it, and someone is about to give him critical info
At the end of an intense emotional situation, like a kiss--to make us want to find out what happened after they connected
Just after something horrible is discovered
And so on, and so on.

So the next time you watch a television show, keep a lookout for tips that can help in your writing.

And in case you need a double whammy, why not watch a show about a writer? I highly recommend Castle. *wink*

I'm going to watch last night's episode tonight, so if you've seen it, please don't spill the beans!

Like Money for Chocolate

2011-05-12T12:26:00.000-05:00

My five-year-old daughter, Princess, loves to draw. Last year it got to the point where I could hardly walk in the house without stepping on one of her pictures or characters she drew and cut out. I'm telling you this so you won't think I'm an awful mother for not being aware of every picture she's drawn.

Recently I noticed a picture she'd hung on her wall with masking tape. Most of her creations feature herself and me, since we are the only females in the family. Lots of the time we're running through fields of flowers or standing under a rainbow, but this picture caught my eye because it was so different from the norm.

"When did you draw that picture?" I asked her.

"Last year," she said. (This is where the non-judgy part comes in.)

I stared at the picture, noting that she and I were drawn completely in black, but we looked like we were holding hands and between our hands were green things. "What are the green parts?" I asked.

"Oh," she said in her matter-of-fact way, "We're giving each other money and chocolate."

Money and chocolate. I don't know where she got that from, but she's learned well!

Mourning Osama

2011-05-02T20:05:00.004-05:00

The internet has been overwhelmed with a flood of opinions about the death of Osama bin Laden. People are arguing whether or not our SEALS killed him last week, spewing hatred for bin Laden and all the evils he committed (which indeed, are many) and rejoicing at his death.

I learned about bin Laden's demise on Facebook last night and immediately told my husband. I was relieved at the news, but ever since then, I've been avoiding thinking about the subject. My feelings didn't mirror those opinions I found everywhere, and since that bothered me, I put it all out of my mind--until this quote from Martin Luther King Jr. surfaced on a friend's Facebook page:

"I will mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even

an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that."

— Martin Luther King Jr

(Edit: I have since learned that the first sentence of this quote cannot be attributed to Dr. King, but the rest is from his book Strength to Love. For some equally [or greater] quotes about enemies by Dr. King, please visit this blog post: Fake MLK Quotes, Real MLK Sentiment. I am not familiar with the other content on the blog, FYI.)

It was then that I realized what it was I felt about this particular death--

Sadness.

Not sorrow because Osama bin Laden was killed, for I believe that justice was served. I feel a deep sadness for the man he could have been, for the waste of a precious human life. I mourn for the thousands of lives he affected, for the people whose potential he threw away like garbage.

I look at my children, so innocent, with their whole lives ahead of them. Just this morning I snuggled Bean close, overwhelmed with love and hope for my little son, aching at the challenges growing up will present him.

Every person was once a baby. Every murder, rapist, and thief was once an innocent, trusting toddler. So while I mourn the necessity of the loss of a human life, that is not the greatest thing I mourn.

I mourn the baby that Osama bin Laden once was. I shed tears for the trusting, innocent child who grew up into a horribly twisted adult. I have no idea what circumstances led to the terrible, depraved life he chose, but even more than I grieve for the child who was--I grieve for the man who wasn't.

The Great Ketchup Smackdown!

2011-04-26T22:21:00.001-05:00

Barbecue season is approaching! (Or for some, already here!) I've never understood the whole ketchup/catsup thing. Who would want to eat something that sounded like a feline's dinner? Cat = cat and sup = eat, or short for supper. Gross. So it's ketchup for me.

We don't use ketchup a ton, but they're essential for veggie hot dogs and veggie burgers. Also mostly essential for fries. I've tried the generic brands and I just don't like them at all. I used to be a Heinz girl all the way until Hunts reformulated their regular ketchup and got rid of the high fructose corn syrup. I switched, and boy, can I taste the difference! (I know Heinz has a sugar variety, but it's expensive!) But here's a weird thing: I have a total yum/gag relationship with the stuff.

I love ketchup with other food, like God intended it to be eaten. If some gets on my thumb, I'm out of food to wipe my thumb on and I'm nowhere with a napkin, I have to lick it off--then shudder with revulsion. Ketchup is so gross by itself. I still remember when I somehow got some of the dried stuff from the cap in my mouth. I almost lost my lunch. I have no idea why this happens, but it does. For cleanliness reasons in a place like the car I've been known to suck on a ketchup packet briefly before putting fries in my mouth, but I hold the sauce gingerly on my tongue and stick the fries in so I don't accidentally swallow any solitary ketchup.

Yes, I'm well aware that I'm weird. Totally conscious that as far as ketchup is concerned, I'm stark, raving mad.

Which brings us to the Great Ketchup Smackdown!

Do you prefer: Hunts or Heinz? (Or as in the BNL song "If I Had a Millon Dollars," fancy ketchups such as dijon?)

I'm Lucy, She's Ethel: How We Escaped Being Arrested in Omaha

2011-04-11T16:44:00.002-05:00

In February, my sister Karen took me to a concert for world-famous violinist David Garrett. She was originally supposed to go with her husband, but since he got a new job, he wasn't comfortable taking time off. So Karen drove an hour to my house, left her daughter here, and she and I traveled the three hours to Omaha, Nebraska.

We had a great drive on the way up, talking about lots of things. It had been way too long since we'd done anything like that. When we finally got to Omaha, we were glad that we'd gotten there early, because we couldn't find the venue! We drove around and around several blocks in a big circle, and finally I saw the words "Holland Performing Arts Center " on the side of a building. Gray building, silver, small words. Not so good when you're trying to find a place as it's getting dark.

So, since we'd finally found the building, we needed a place to park. We drove around another couple of times looking for the parking garage we thought was on that side of the building. We saw valets in red coats where we thought the public parking should be, but obviously the valets were there for the ritzy folk. We were beginning to get desperate. After all, we'd been driving in circles for over half an hour.

It was bitter cold, near zero degrees with the wind chill, so we didn't want to park far away. As we made the rounds of the block again, I pointed out a door to a parking garage that had opened every time we'd passed it.

"Isn't that an exit?" Karen asked.

I shrugged. "I thought so, but it must be on some kind of sensor since it opens every time we pass. No cars came out of there. I mean, the door wouldn't go up if it weren't an exit."

She was still unsure, and so was I, a little, but the fact that the door kept opening convinced us to go in. It did seem a bit odd, but we found a nice spot, went up the elevator and came out by the gate to the garage. "That is weird," I said. "But maybe they open the garage for events like this." I didn't want to think about it any further, and neither did Karen. We were both about to freeze our buns off walking half a block to the concert.

Once our buns were sufficiently frozen and we got inside the Holland Center, we found out we'd gotten there really early, so we walked down the quiet hall near the bathroom, leaned against the wall, and talked. There was a lady standing at the end of the hall, an usher. The words on the door next to her were "Green Room." Not long after I noticed the room name, we heard a violin singing from that direction. The elderly usher watched through the window, back turned, oblivious to us. "That might be David!" I whispered to Karen.

She nodded knowingly. "Yep, that's him." (I think Karen could recognize David's music if she were wielding metal trash can lids against swordfighters in the middle of an ice storm.)

I choked back a laugh. "If we run really fast, I can take her out and you grab her walkie-talkie."

Karen chuckled. "I was thinking the same thing."

Of course we left the usher alone, but the thought had been tempting. After another forty-five minutes, it was time to go in. (I'm the one with glasses.)

We had seats so close we could see the scruff on David's face and the twinkle in his eye. Fifth row, center. Booyah!

It was a fantastic concert, and one I never will forget.

When we left, the air was even colder, so we hurried the half-block to the parking garage, only to find the place we came out of locked. Barred. So we tried the revolving doors. They were locked too. It was then I had the sick feeling that we were in trouble.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked from a speaker box outside.

Karen spoke up. "We think we're parked here."

"You think you're parked here?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "We're parked here."

"Then come inside." The security guard pressed a button, and we went in, up to the fancy, big, curved desk and explained the situation. "So," he said, "Let me get this straight. No one used their card to let you in." We told him that was right. "Then you can't be parked here."

I felt like an old piece of gum stuck to a barnyard boot--no, I wished I were an old piece of gum stuck to a barnyard boot. We threw ourselves on his mercy. "We're from out of town, and we weren't sure where to park, but since the door kept opening we thought it was okay to park there."

Karen kept her cool and I squirmed as he looked on his security cameras, then agreed to escort us down to find our car. "Does this look familiar?" he asked, as we rode the elevator down.

"Yes," I said, feeling sheepish. Karen took it all in stride. We got out of the elevator and went around the corner, and like a white lighthouse beacon with tires shining through the dark night, there was her car. "It's here!" I laughed, so relieved.

But our adventure wasn't over.

The security guard grilled us on where we came in, pointing to a direction opposite us. "You came in there, right?"

Frustrated, I said, "No. We came in over there--" and pointed to our left. "We wouldn't have come in at all, but the door opened every time we went by."

The guard's expression changed and he became a little less like a member of the Spanish Inquisition. "That's an exit. You ladies were lucky." He took a breath and went on. "I blocked that door a few hours ago. It was malfunctioning. It would go up halfway, then come down again. Just go out that way,"--he pointed to the first direction he'd quizzed us about--"and it'll take you out."

At least we felt a bit justified about the mistake, and more than a little relieved not to have had the police called on us or anything. My imagination went wild, and though we were both really hungry (having skipped dinner to make sure we got to the concert on time) we got out of Omaha before stopping at a Burger King for before heading home. I didn't want to chance getting lost again and parking in--I don't know, an entrance to the sewer or something.

So I guess I'm Lucy and Karen is Ethel--though I'm not a redhead and Karen is far more pretty and fashionable than Ethel. I hope we get to go on another adventure soon, but I think we'll avoid suspect parking garages.

Friday Favorites: TobyMac, no Cheese

2011-04-08T12:06:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, the kids and I drove home from my parents house, in the rain. We were about halfway through the forty minute drive when the drops slowed and finally stopped. As the sun broke through the clouds, rays bounced off the slick pavement and shone with a near-blinding light. The gray skies closed in again, and all God's creation was subdued in anticipation--the earth held her breath, waiting for another dose of radiant warmth.

My soul thrilled from the energy around me, happiness racing through and filling me to the brim. While I love the calm before the storm, there's nothing quite like the peace after the rain stops falling. Nature's art feeds the soul, I thought, while drinking in the sight of rich farmland: dark chocolate chunks with a smattering of vivid, green sprinkles.

When the sun shone through again, I laughed and pointed out cloud shadows to the children as we chased the fleeing, dark shapes up the road. I changed stations on the radio and laughed in amazement as the blessing of having the most perfect song for the moment come on. The kids and I sang along as sunshine broke through the clouds again and again.

When I experience something like this, it feels like a hug from my Heavenly Father. My spirits were greatly uplifted, and I received a much-needed boost!

Along Came a Spider and Sat Down . . . If Only, If Only Shakes Head Sadly

2011-04-06T00:02:00.003-05:00

I don't mind spiders. Actually, I like them as long as they're not poisonous; however, I only tolerate them from a distance. No spider-holding while singing "Kumbaya" here.

There was a large spider on the corner of my bedroom ceiling two days ago. My kids came into my room and pointed out the long-legged arachnid, more than once. "Mom, there's a big spider on your ceiling!" I think it was a variation of one of these, known as a crab spider:

"Yeah, I know," I told the kids. I didn't really mind that the spider had taken up residence--after all, if we began getting mosquitoes or flies in the house, Mr. Spider could take care of them. When I was a kid, we named our house spiders and let them work for us. We paid them in free insects. Crab spiders don't spin webs; they just catch their food. That was my reasoning for letting him squat in my bedroom, anyway, blissfully unaware that the leggy dude was more curious about me than I was about him.

If I'd only known what the blankety-blank spider was plotting.

Now I think about him crouching in that corner, and shudder at what his devious mind was up to. Gullible me, who had done him a nice turn by not throwing him out into the cold, windy night. There I was, thinking that he wiggled his legs in preparation for catching bugs, when he was most likely cackling his evil spider laugh, rubbing appendages together in glee. I've since learned my lesson about trusting anything with eight legs. With several eyes, the spider is highly qualified to be a spy for the CIA--or a Peeping Tom.

Yesterday afternoon I had a nice bowl of salad and was leaning on my side on my bed, propped up by some pillows, eating while surfing on my laptop. The salad was nearly gone, and I was fully engrossed in whatever I was doing, when something the size of a SILVER DOLLAR sprinted across one of my, uh--let's just say where no spider had a right to be--and up toward my face.

I let out a strangled scream as I quickly brushed the spider away. (I hoped I did, because I had no idea where he went.) Then for good measure, I ripped off my shirt, hoping I wasn't transferring the spider to my hair and jumped around, waving my arms like I'd won the lottery. Which I guess in a way I had, because how many people are fortunate enough to have a spider make a mad dash for their face?

After my breathing calmed and the silence meant that I hadn't woken Bean (who was napping in the next room), I looked at the bed. There was the spider, not moving. Not even a twitch. He wasn't dead; I'm guessing I had scared him to the point of unconsciousness. (This would, strangely, be the second time I'd caused a bug to pass out. The other time was a cricket. I have a powerful scream, apparently.) Either that, or I'd mesmerized him with my dancing talent. He came to and made a run for freedom when I grabbed him with a cloth and tossed him outside.

I didn't want to kill the rascal. After all, he wasn't a poisonous spider. However, his house privileges were forever revoked after attacking me.

Something similar to this happened a few months ago, too. Either it's the same spider and he has an odd attraction to me, or word is spreading that a massive, juicy, wingless fly is free for the taking.

I have news for those insects or arachnids who may be planning my destruction:

This fly will not be subdued.

I hope they don't take that as a challenge.

Unspotted Love--Hopefully

2011-04-04T11:23:00.001-05:00

"I can't wait to have my own baby." Princess hugged her damp towel close as we searched through the basket of clean laundry for her pajamas.

"You want your own baby?" I asked, pulling out a pajama top which she paired with a mismatched bottom. (By day she has great fashion sense, but at night--anything goes.)

"Yes. Then I can dress it and play with it." She proceeded to tell me how she wanted a girl baby, because it would be more fun to dress.

"Well, get married first, then have a baby." She agreed. I thought for a second, then said, "I'll be your baby's Grandma! I'll even come and help you, if you want me to. Like when Grandma **** (my mom) came and helped me when I had my babies. But if you don't want me to, that's okay too."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "But if you're a grandma, you'll be old like Grandma ****." (Sorry, Mom!) To my surprise, she teared up. "If you're a grandma, you won't look like you anymore. Will you still have your spots?"

My heart melted. "Well, I hope not. I'm trying to get rid of my spots right now. But I'll still look like me!" (She was referring to my sporadic adult acne.) She was crestfallen at my declaration, and I did my best to reassure her that my spots weren't supposed to be there. (A few months ago she even mentioned wanting spots like mine when she grows up.)

Princess struggled with her tears, but finally caved. I gathered her up in my arms, towel and all. After a while of cuddling and talking while I brushed her damp hair with my fingers, she calmed down and got dressed for bed.

I promised her that I would always look like her mom, which is true, but not in the way she thinks. It's wonderful to have such unconditional love from my little girl. I hope she doesn't change her mind if I ever succeed in getting rid of my spots. Somehow, I think we'll be okay.

Friday Favorites: I'm a Wannabe Old Softy--On My Feet

2011-04-01T13:18:00.001-05:00

After winter's over I can't wait to put on a pair of sandals. Up until a few weeks ago I had a very sturdy pair of Skechers that were over six years old, that I kept wearing even when they wore out so much they hurt my feet. Every time I went out I thought "there are my trusty, comfy sandals," put them on and a few hours later began walking funny because my whole lower body ached.

I originally bought them for that first family vacation to Nauvoo when Professor and Lion were small. That vacation was memorable for many reasons, including how Lion threw a fit because we wouldn't let him take a bath in the Mississippi. Good times. We visited our church's historical sites and learned a lot of history. Professor, who had barely turned four, learned much more than we bargained for. A few days after we were home, he took a pitcher of water into his room and poured it onto a toy house, claiming that "Nauvoo was burning." But I digress.

Those sandals got tossed (all right, gently and reverently placed) into a trash bag. I tried not to think about how I'd have to go sandal-shopping. However, the time has nearly come. But before I can go, my feet need attention.

I don't like wearing shoes in the house, though I've been giving in when I do lots of chores. My trusty Asics running shoes that I got for orthopedic reasons (makes me sound like a grandma) help my feet not to ache at the end of the day. But all the time I spent wearing no shoes means my heels make the Sahara look like a tropical paradise.

I have a husband who will rub my feet, as long as they won't exfoliate his hands during the process. So, I was excited last year when he gave me this:

I had doubts at first, since I don't fall for "Only on TV" products--especially when they're in the store two months later. But, I tried it.

And was amazed.

The Ped Egg worked so much better than pumice stones, which make me cringe like nails on a chalkboard do. With regular use, my feet were massageable and I could wear sandals without cringing. So, it's that time of year to get my feet ready, and it has been way too long since I've had a foot massage.

I need my Ped Egg, but there's only one problem . . . where did I put it?

***I have not been given any compensation for my endorsement, not even a free Ped Egg. That's a hint to the manufacturer in case they want to send me more to "try."***

A Spring Parable

2011-03-30T21:57:00.002-05:00

Today, Princess got invited to a friend's last-minute birthday party. We were running a bit later than I wanted to, thanks to Bean needing a diaper change. On our way, we stopped off at another of Princess' friends house to pick up her several-times-removed cousin. (They think it's so cool they're distantly related, and so do I!)

I got out of the van to go get Princess' friend, and next to the driveway was some bare dirt, sloping up towards a play area. The earth was packed, thick mud that had been buried under mounds of snow during our soggy winter. We had rain last week, but the ground is finally drying out, and there were deep cracks in the surface.

This in itself is unremarkable. But what I saw had me wishing for a camera in my phone. Right there, in the middle of the chilly weather was a sign of beauty and strength. A daffodil (or a crocus, but I think it was a daffodil) reached bright green spears out of the soil and had knocked some big chunks of earth out of the way as it grew.

The little plant was strong and steady, as if waiting for the air to grow warmer and the sun to shine brighter so it could keep growing and bloom. The starkness between what the small daffodil had endured versus what it would become was plain to see, symbolized by almost luminescent leaves rising out of bleak chaos.

Instantly, I thought of how we are like this. We toil and get full of dirt and at times hunker down under the ground as winter rages. But when the right time comes, we struggle through the layers to become what we were always meant to be, and our blossoming is even more beautiful when we look down to see what we pushed through and rose above.

Always remember, whether under the ground, struggling through, or reaching higher, that the Son is forever shining on His creations, encouraging us to bloom.

Writing Tip: An Easy Way to Find Repetitive Words When You Don't Know What They Are

2011-03-28T12:52:00.000-05:00

I've seen lots of writing advice mention taking advantage of Word's find and replace function to see how many times you use common words. This is a good tool, if you know what words to look for.

Unfortunately, after hours of staring at a chapter, all the words tend to run together. Oh, I thought, if only there was a way to find the words I don't know I'm repeating. I didn't know where to find such information--until now.

Today I stumbled across wordle.net. All you have to do is copy and paste a bunch of your manuscript into their special box, and the site creates a word cloud with the words you use the most being the biggest. I plugged in my second chapter, and look what happened:

I enlarged the picture a little so you can see it better, but it's still blurry. Anyway, I've been over and rewritten this chapter several times, but there's still work to do. From this Wordle I see that I need to check my chapter for the words "looked," "back," "just," and "little," to see if I can cut some of them. I may run a couple of the other words through as well. (Not with a sword, but with the find and replace function--though I may feel like using a sword by this point!)

If you try this, please let me know how you like it! I have a feeling that Wordle and I are going to be good friends.

Introducing . . . a New Blog Segment!

2011-03-25T00:03:00.000-05:00

The big announcement, the brand new segment here at I Am a Pistachio is . . .

Drumroll . . .

Friday Favorites!

Are you jumping for joy yet? No? Ah. I see. Not a fan of the subtle kinds of joy, eh? You might be surprised.

Every Friday I'm going to share one of my favorite things. It could be my favorite lotion, a band (probably not rubber), movie, a picture, experience, or something I find amazingly cool. This will help me remember why I love the things/experiences/people I do, and maybe you'll find something that's a new favorite. I'm looking forward to hearing your Friday Favorites in the comments!

Today's Friday Favorite is a smell.

Guess.
.
.
.
.
Ok, I won't make you wait.

The other day I was eating a spinach salad, and to my amazement, I found a piece of clover. Curious, I gingerly tasted it, and let me tell you, I don't know what the heck cows and horses see in that vile stuff. *shudders* But when I spit the disgusting thing out, the scent of sun-warmed, cut grass rose to my nose and brought a tingle of excitement, a teensy jolt of what it feels like after the first lawn-mowing of the spring.

Spring is fickle here in the Midwest. She teases us with a mild day, and just when we're warming up to the idea--BAM! We're hit with a cold one, and I'm not talking root beer, or beer beer, for that matter. Spring is a coy flirt. However, after munching that clover, for a flash of an instant I not only smelled grass, but sunbeams danced on my skin as delicate breezes played with my hair. It's amazing what memory a simple scent can bring.

Now I'm yearning to hear the birds sing under new leaves while I lean on the deck, inhaling green air and drinking some freshly mixed lemonade.

So spring, flirt all you want, but soon you will have to settle down. We all welcome you!

***This Friday Favorite has been brought to you by a rejected clover.***

KiTE by Bill Shears

2011-03-24T00:08:00.001-05:00

KiTE is the name of a sweeper, which is basically a space garbage truck, but much cooler. My trash guys don't have a laser to blast potato peelings or cantaloupe rinds to bits. . .but I'm getting off topic. Mason Dash is a pilot of KiTE, who thanks to advanced technology, spends most of his three-month flight wearing only boxer shorts and staring into space. Dash's wife, Janet, has made some--ahem--adjustments to Dash's virtual ~~girlfriend~~ toy, Sheila, and Sheila begins changing into something more than a visually pleasing computer program--she begins to think for herself.

Meanwhile, inside the computer, a bit of information develops enough awareness and intelligence to threaten domination of the entire system (and is comical to watch do so), while Dash (who is ignorant of the whole thing) gets wind of something strange happening on a supposedly unmanned space station.

I thought KiTE was humorous and well-written. This is the techiest sci-fi I've ever read, which made the story a bit difficult to follow at times, but it was great fun. My favorite scenes had to do with the internal computer components becoming more intelligent, forming allegiances and verbally jousting with one another, as well as the subtle but well-placed references to Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Mr. Shears writes with a flavor reminiscent of Douglas Adams, but the resulting dish is entirely his own. Quite tasty.

There was some gratuitous profanity, but I believe the words are PG-rated. Also, some readers may want to know about a scene that involves a male computer intelligence component "linking" with a female one, and though the scene wasn't overly descriptive (played for humor), it was sexual in connotation. I admit my jaw dropped a bit, but I laughed at the same time!

I enjoyed KiTE and hope to read more by talented author Bill Shears.

Purchase here at Amazon: KiTE

Visit the author's website: Bill Shears

To read my husband, James', review on Kite, head over to Syncopated Musings

***I have received a copy of this book for the purpose of review, and have not been compensated in any other way for my opinions***

My Arch Enemy: Resistance

2011-03-23T13:54:00.001-05:00

Reminder: new segment on Friday!

There is a struggle, deep within me (and most people, I'm sure) to balance my desire to express myself in various ways. I love to write, to sing, to dance. I love to create. Yet I get excited one moment, thrilled at the thought of taking part in one of these things, then something inside me takes great pleasure at distracting me from actually carrying any of those plans out.

One of my dear friends, Kimberly VanderHorst, shared a quote with me from the book The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. I was so impressed that I sent away through interlibrary loan and read this masterpiece in a couple of hours. Many times, while reading, I wondered how the author got into my head. I would combine his definition of "Resistance" (he capitalizes the word) with my own understanding on how Satan works against us to distract us from our potential. I'll share a quote with you from the book that really touched me:

"Are you a born writer? Were you put on earth to be a painter, a scientist, an apostle of peace? In the end the question can only be answered by action.

Do it or don't do it.

It may help to think of it this way. If you were meant to cure cancer or write a symphony or crack cold fusion and you don't do it, you not only hurt yourself, even destroy yourself. You hurt your children. You hurt me. You hurt the planet.

You shame the angels who watch over you and you spite the Almighty, who created you and only you with your unique gifts, for the sole purpose of nudging the human race one millimeter farther along its path back to God.

Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It's a gift to the world and every being in it. Don't cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you've got."

Now, I do think that our main purpose is getting ourselves back to God, but we're supposed to help others on their way, so I think that was an interesting way of putting his views. But this quote and the rest of the book helped me to realize that my creative work isn't just benefiting me. We should be doing what we love and sharing it with others. Satan would have us think this is prideful, but when we come to our work with a sense of humility and remembering where our gifts come from, it is the right thing to do--to share ourselves with others in this way. This also helps me remember where those feelings of discouragement and distraction come from.

Now, if it's not too late, I'm going to submit another chapter to my critique group. You know, overcoming resistance and all that polka--I mean, jazz.

(I do have to give a word of warning--Steven uses a couple of heavy swear words in the book a few times. I find that interesting since he also talks about God and angels!)

Squirrel! And an Announcement

2011-03-21T13:34:00.001-05:00

It's just a little announcement. Wednesday will be a regular post, Thursday I'm reviewing Kite by Bill Shears, and on Friday I'm introducing a new, weekly segment here at the blog. It's a surprise, so prepare to be amazed! (Okay, it's not that big. But I'm hoping this will be fun.)

Today's topic:

With the weather warming up, the squirrels are out in force. I watch them from my front and back window, cavorting around. (The squirrels cavort. Not me.) I love how light on their feet they are.

Squirrel tails are so cool-looking, fluffy and substantial, and they flick them with more talent than a Regency woman holding a fan. Sometimes I wish I had one of those tails just to display a squirrel's level of attitude without saying a word. When my kids do something I just don't have the language to deal with unless I erupt, I could do what our resident squirrel Harvey does (all squirrels here are named Harvey) to our dog--flick my tail in elegant indignation.

Once, when I was a teen, some kids I knew had a baby squirrel for a pet. Somehow I thought its fur would be bristly, but it was the softest thing I'd ever touched. Their liquid brown eyes are so beautiful too.

And one of the greatest things about squirrels? They make me laugh. Not only the way they torment the dog, but how they look when they're scampering about. They remind me of sideways parentheses. (And we all know how I love parentheses.)

Miss Delacourt Has Her Day by Heidi Ashworth, and a Giveaway Link for TWO Books!

2011-03-18T07:00:00.000-05:00

I "met" Heidi a couple years back while blog-hopping. I was probably impressed with something witty she said on the comment section of another friend's blog, and I began reading hers on a regular basis. I got to know Heidi a bit more as time went by, and discovered she wrote a book. I obtained that book, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind, and became an instant fan. One of the highest praises I can give an author is to look them up online after I turn the final page. If I hadn't already known Heidi, I would have looked her up, hoping she had a slew of books I could devour in the same way I eat chocolate--with gusto and a smile. I love books that make me laugh, and I don't come across them very often. Heidi's books are the best medicine!

I was so excited when I found out there would be a sequel, and thrilled beyond words when Heidi requested the use of a beautiful poem my husband James wrote for me. My review of her book isn't changed by the fact that Sir Anthony professes his love for Ginny using my husband's words, *squeal* or that I consider Heidi to be a good online friend. I hope I get to meet her in person someday!

My Review

Poor Miss Delacourt; dear, sweet Ginny! When we left her in Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind, she was happily ensconced in Sir Anthony's love--after many delicious ups and downs--and looking forward to her future. With the first few pages of this book, however, all this is turned upside down!

Anthony still loves Ginny, more than life itself. Heck, he even wrote her the most beautiful poem ever! *wink* But due to the untimely death of a relative, Anthony's station in life is about to become loftier. His uncle, the Duke of Marcross, is calling the shots, and the rascal deems Ginny Delacourt "unsuitable".

Thus ensues a twisting plot full of ridiculous women and Duke Marcross-inspired devices that had me despairing whether Anthony and Ginny would ever be together! However, I was reassured time and time again by the dashing Sir Anthony himself that they would be. One of my favorite parts of this story was how Anthony never once thought about not marrying Ginny. For him, it was as good as done--he just had to figure out the best way to go about it while keeping Ginny's reputation intact. Leaving his sweet darling was not an option, no matter how saggy her dress hems were, or the fact that she fell down the stairs to land in a heap in front of his highbrow mother.Which brings us to that ~~wench~~ noble lady. I wanted to smack Anthony's mother so many times, especially when we think she's going to do something kind, but it's self-serving. And Anthony's former love interest Rebecca? Besides her dashing beauty and perfect choice in names, she has nothing going for her except being a cruel, cold villainess. I loved her character!

Lucinda and Lord Avery make quite a few appearances in the book. Lucinda turned from a silly but good-hearted maiden to a completely insufferable married woman. If I were Ginny I would have thrown a toad or something in her face. I even began to feel bad for Avery, as what the years held in store for him was increasingly apparent! We also get to see a little more of Sir Anthony's valet Conti, whose wealth of knowledge and hidden talents enabled Sir Anthony to keep his plotting secret.

Heidi Ashworth writes her characters so well they come alive. I was tickled by the amount of witty dialogue. Wit and humor together never fail to make me laugh, and I did so quite often throughout the book. Not many books make me smile so much, never mind giggle into the pages. Plus, and those who know me know that I do not say this lightly, Sir Anthony is in my trio of "Regency Men Who Make Me Swoon" along with Mr. Knightley and Mr. Darcy. In fact, Sir Anthony ranks second to Mr. Knightley. I so wish these books would be made into movies.

Miss Delacourt Has Her Day is clean, charming, smartly written, and loads of fun. I will read it over and over, and both of the books I own by Heidi Ashworth will have prominent places on my shelf. I'm already looking forward to introducing my daughter to them when she grows up enough to become interested in romance, and I'll be buying copies for her when she goes off to college. She's not taking mine.

You can win BOTH of Heidi's Miss Delacourt books at a giveaway on her blog here: Dunhaven Place

Buy this book on Amazon here: Miss Delacourt Has Her Day

***I was given a copy of this book for the purpose of review and have not been compensated in any other way. James' poem was included in the book for the sheer thrill of seeing words in print, and not in any way payment for anything.***

A Slight Rant on Characterization, or Here's Something to Think About

2011-03-16T09:35:00.000-05:00

Because I live out here in the Midwest, I'm becoming good friends with Mr. Interlibrary Loan. Our library system has sadly encountered a series of budget cuts, so they do not have a lot of the books I want to read, especially ones that are up for various awards. Since we have "budget cuts" of our own, I usually try to read a book from the library first, then buy it later if I love it--kinda like regular people do with movies. (I'm not a big movie buyer, if you couldn't tell.) I had a "duh" moment a couple of weeks ago when I remembered I could get anything through the library!

So, I was excited to get an interlibrary loan last week, and read it while on my sickbed.

The plot was interesting, but after the final pages I closed the book and felt nothing. This bothered me. There was a decent amount of action, tension and emotional happenings that should have had a big impact, but the book fell flat. After a while I realized what the main problem was.

To a point, I can overlook things like predictability and less-than-stellar plot if the characters are good. I like books with characters I can sink my teeth into. Not people I want to bite (hee, hee), but something that makes them stick out, makes them feel real. Action, romance or sympathy doesn't do anything for me if I don't know what makes the character tick, and not feeling enough for the character makes me feel callous, which is something else that bugs me. Boiled down, my feelings amount to this: Oh, you're in danger? Well I don't care because I don't know what kind of ice cream you like, favorite band or type of clothing you're into, or what you typically do on a Saturday night, or if you like dogs or scrapbooking.

Superficial? If this were a real person, yes. But a fictional person needs this type of familiarity, something to make them feel more real and grounded in my mind. I can read about their emotions and how various things affected them, physical sensations and everything, but if the character's not real to me I'm not going to care why he/she is affected that way. I want to see how they act relating to their everyday habits and experiences, and how changing those things affect them.

If a woman likes to run on the sidewalk in her neighborhood every morning but she's been forced to move to a city with no sidewalks, it's going to affect her. If a man's wife always had dinner ready when he came home from work, how will coming home the first time after she's left him for another man affect him? I don't remember which book it was now since I read it as a teen, but one of the most powerful scenes I ever read was one of a family where their mother had died of cancer. She used to like to bake pies and freeze them. There was a scene where the family took out the last pie she had made and shared it. The images were so reverent and emotional that it chokes me up just to think about it now. It's these types of details that will stick with readers.

Changes in routine are also a great way to show character growth. A story about a girl trying to lose weight might have her show her internal resolve by grabbing a bag of baby carrots instead of her daily barbecue potato chips (and no, I'm not admitting to any habits here). No matter how much emotion we try to show in the way characters speak or feel, they're going to fall flat if the reader knows nothing about what makes our characters tick.

I'm going to take my own advice and see what I can do to make my characters more realistic.

A Ditz for Chocolate

2011-03-14T12:54:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I wonder how my husband can think I'm an intelligent woman when, at times, I'm a total airhead.

When I was expecting my first child, I was at Walmart with my mother and there was a lady handing out Ferrero Rocher samples. There were three different choices cut open on napkins on the table, so I took one. It didn't taste very good--kind of dried out. I was disappointed, especially when thinking about the commercials with fancy people eating them. Must be an acquired taste, I thought.

The woman looked at me strangely, which I thought was rude since the samples were there for the purpose of being eaten. As we walked away my mother leaned over and whispered, "You ate her display."

I looked back and sure enough, there was a bowl of wrapped chocolates sitting right next to the trio of stale, cut-open ones.

My cheeks burned as we drove our cart onward. My mother gave me a wrapped chocolate she'd taken for me. The fresh candy tasted better, much better, but the flavor was tainted by the bitterness of knowing I was a dork.

I haven't gotten better in the years following. Take the last time we went to visit James' parents, for New Years. We'd stopped at Taco Bell and I was tired, stressed out and waiting for our order. I noticed a brown paper-wrapped box sitting on the counter and asked the teenage guy standing there, "Is that our order?"

"That's napkins," he replied.

Oh, well. Someone has to be the family entertainment.

Book Review: Journey of Honor by Jaclyn M. Hawkes

2011-03-11T00:05:00.000-06:00

Back Cover

Disowned, she came to America anyway. Attacked and left pregnant by a vicious mob, she still pressed on. Finally, in spite of being accused of theft by the vilest of her attackers, Giselle tries to remain as upbeat and uncomplaining as a prairie wildflower as she travels on to Zion.

Thoroughly disillusioned with the ugliness and cruelty of slavery in the South, Trace Grayson leaves his young medical career to go west, hoping to leave bigotry and hatred behind. He begins taking goods by teamster train to sell in the territories. However, this fourth time across, in July of 1848, he’s stuck in St. Joseph, Missouri, waiting for enough wagons to join the train so that they can leave.

Knowing that if they don’t start west soon, they’ll be caught by snow in the mountains, Trace is thrilled when the final wagon signs on. Then, when the beautiful, young Dutch girl traveling with the last wagon is falsely accused of stealing and is detained, the whole trip is jeopardized. Thrown together by circumstance, Trace and Giselle team up to begin to figure out just how to make this epic journey across a continent a success.
With a deep sense of honor and an equally strong sense of humor, together they learn to deal with everything except the one trial that neither of them can overcome.

My Review

The back cover pretty much sums up the story, so I can't say much more without giving anything away. I liked Trace's character. He was strong, gentle, and loyal. What a guy!

I had a harder time finding Giselle's character believable because she didn't seem to have any flaws--except for not letting Trace know when she was in trouble. She was perfect in sweetness, looks, and everything a man could ever want. Seeing her have a few flaws would have made her more real to me. Also, Giselle was so innocent that I felt like she should have been more traumatized after being attacked by a mob than she was, and I was surprised those horrors didn't affect her new relationship with Trace more than they did.

Something that distracted me while reading was that, in many instances (but not all), I felt I was being told the story instead of shown it. For example, there were times I would liked to have read a conversation instead of being told what a character said, or seen how they were angry or happy instead of being told they were, but that's just my personal preference.

I had some difficulty with the backstory concerning Trace's adopted brother Mose. Could a white physician have adopted a black child in pre-Civil War Georgia? To my knowledge, a black child who had recovered from a severe beating would have been someone's "property" and been reclaimed or sold. Adopting a black child into a white family would have caused a lot more problems than hatred and bigotry in words only, especially in the deep south. I could have believed the doctor bought the child out of necessity and treated him as one of his own only behind closed doors, but not adopting and calling the boy his son.

I think the author did a great job with the romance. The romantic tension between Trace and Giselle was riveting, and there were some funny moments between the two. I liked how Trace kept control of himself, and how the attraction was addressed in a tasteful way instead of being tossed to the back burner. I enjoyed seeing where budding attraction took the main characters, and that's what kept me reading until the end.

You can purchase Journey of Honor here: Amazon

Visit the author's website: Jaclyn M. Hawkes

*Disclaimer* I was given a copy of the book for the purposes of review. I have not been compensated in any manner for my opinions.

Why Write?

2011-03-09T12:55:00.002-06:00

For a long time I struggled with the time aspect of writing. Why, I thought, should I spend so much time and work on something that may never see the light of day? My main reason for writing a book is to give someone an experience that will reach them like so many authors have touched me, but what if I don't make it? Wouldn't all that time be a waste?

Then, one day, I stumbled across this post on Carolyn Garvin's blog: Writing the Significant Versus the Superficial , and it led me to this post on Murderati by Toni McGee Causey: Comfort Reading.

Toni's words, in an instant, changed my view of the time I spend writing. I don't think I've ever read a blog post that changed me so fundamentally. There's the writer I was before the post, and the writer after. When I begin to doubt myself I think of that post and right away, I have things back in perspective.

I've bookmarked the post and when I get a writing space/desk, I may just print and frame it.

After you read Toni's life-changing advice, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

It's Like That. Exactly.

2011-03-07T15:44:00.000-06:00

You know how one of the perks of owning one of these--

Our dog Romeo

is how they'll snarf up anything resembling food on the floor?

Drop a Cheeto, gone. Cookie crumbs? You betcha.

Don't want a dog? No worries.

Get one of these:

(Photo by Louisa Stokes)

Same result--except you don't have to worry about chocolate.

It's an Obsession, Nuh-Nuh

2011-03-05T14:23:00.001-06:00

I have this tendency, this quality, if you will, to become ~~totally~~ a little obsessed with whatever I'm focusing on. For example, the other day I was curious about fermented foods and spent an undisclosable (because it's embarrassing) amount of time learning how to make my own sauerkraut. (Which I plan on doing when I find a suitable crock or gallon-size jar.) But I digress.

For the past couple of months I've been slowly going through everything in the main level of my house. It's going to take another couple of months to get through the rest of it. The clearer the rooms are, the better and more calm I feel. So my obsession has been taken to new heights--I've spent hours poring over Walmart and Target's websites, as well as Amazon, looking for the best (read cheapest without falling apart) storage solutions for those things that are necessary to keep.

So, once I found out yesterday that some of those things were in stock at the store, I had to go. James and I went on a date last night and I couldn't get to Target before it closed. So, this morning when I couldn't go back to sleep after being woken up by the Meem Monster (Bean's new nickname, because he yells "Meem!" at everything he wants. It means "more".), I headed out in 20-degree-feels-like-minus-6 weather. I was a little surprised when I saw the clock on the dashboard--8:00. I thought it was lying. On a Saturday I'm lucky to get out to my Zumba class at 10:00.

I got home four and a half hours later, loaded down with some drawers I scored at 50% off, some bins to keep toys under Princess' bed, a cabinet thing for the living room, and something I've always wanted but could never justify the purchase of:

Yes, it's a basket. I'm doing cartwheels over having a lovely basket! It now lives under the side table that I want to refinish in my living room. I've always wanted a sturdy, pretty basket with straight sides, but never needed one enough to actually get one--until now. We go to the library pretty often and it's perfect to hold our tons of books!

So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make lunch for my hungry family and sneak out of the kitchen every couple of minutes to gaze at my basket--and the boxes of drawers and the cabinet that need to be put together.

Book Review: The Peasant Queen by Cheri Chesley

2011-02-23T00:02:00.003-06:00

Author: Cheri Chesley

Genre: Fantasy

Publisher: Cedar Fort

Date Published: December 8th,

Page Count: 256

About the Author

Cheri Chesley grew up in Phoenix, Arizona with her mother and four older brothers. She discovered her love of writing at a young age, but didn't consider it as a career choice until high school. Writing a novel in a year and ten months can do that to a person.

After marrying Bryan, her sweetheart, and becoming a stepmom to his then four-year-old daughter, Bryana, they moved to Oklahoma where they tried the quiet life and had three sons in four years. She didn't do a lot of writing during this time, but the urge never left her completely. In 2000, the family moved to Utah, where they currently reside. They had two daughters--one in 2001 and one in 2004.

In 2006, Cheri rediscovered her passion for writing and decided to start taking herself and her constantly speaking characters seriously. She enjoys the continued support of her husband and family, including extended family, across the nation. And she could never have gotten this far without a little help from her friends, too.

Back Cover

After running away from home, Krystal is transported to a faraway kingdom where an evil tyrant is bent on taking the crown - and Krystal's hand in marriage. But when she falls in love with the rightful heir to the throne, she must make an impossible choice: sacrifice her one chance at happiness or face the destruction of an entire kingdom.

My Review

First of all, kudos to Cedar Fort on the cover. This is one of the most beautiful covers I've ever seen, and the picture doesn't do it justice!

I didn't realize this book was a fantasy when I started reading, which made me really happy when magical things began happening! Krystal, the main character, is betrothed to a dull guy she really doesn't want to marry. She leaves home, is kidnapped, and carried away to a beautiful kingdom (complete with a huge castle and a handsome, single about-to-be-crowned king) where she won't have to worry about marrying the dimwitted lout ever again. Sounds like a dream come true, right?

Wrong.

Krystal has, forgive the cliche, leapt through no fault of her own from the frying pan into the fire. Gregory is a deliciously disturbed, twisted man who wants Krystal for himself--and will stop at nothing to have her.

I enjoyed the political back story, which is something I don't usually care for, but it works here very well. As I read, my distaste for Gregory grew and grew, while my admiration of Krystal's courage intensified. One thing I was particularly fond of was when Krystal initiates a rescue--it's pulled off in a way that's not typical, and I found the scene very well done. I also thought the characters were pretty well defined. The contrast between their personalities was great. Gregory has more than a few screws loose and is devious enough to be extremely dangerous; I was happy on more than one occasion that I never had to see him in real life.

I was left with some questions, namely how it was that the man who was truly in love with Krystal acquired the means to discover and fall in love with her, how did those means come about, and why the way it happened didn't seem to bother her. If it had been me, I would have been a bit creeped out, but to be fair, I'm not the most beautiful peasant in the land who is used to being admired from afar. I also, being a lover of fantasy stories, wanted to know more about the magic in the land and the magical objects. Perhaps Ms. Chesley is saving that information for her sequel, which I'm looking forward to reading.

The Peasant Queen is a light, fun, uncomplicated read that made several hours fly by in an enjoyable fashion.

Comment on this post for a chance to win not only a weekly prize drawing; you'll also be entered to win a grand prize from the blog tour!

Visit Cheri's website here: http://www.cherichesley.com/

*Disclaimer: I was given a copy of this book for the purpose of review and was not compensated in any way for my opinions. They are my own.

My First Blog Interview--by Author Sarah Miller Eden!

2011-02-18T10:00:00.001-06:00

I have the honor of being today's guest on Sarah Miller Eden's I Need Friends Friday blog series. Find out which is my favorite continent and if I win her pistachio quiz game! Sarah was so much fun to chat with, and a way cool--I mean, totally awesome--author.

Thank you, Sarah!

Check it out here: INFF: Rebecca Blevins

Valentine's Day Blogfest: Sharing a Scene From my Work-in-Progress!

2011-02-14T15:21:00.004-06:00

I wasn't going to do this, but heck, why not?

My Authors Incognito friends are participating in a blogfest today, hosted by Jordan McCollum. The writers involved share a scene from a work-in-progress or another scene they have where two characters meet who will end up falling in love. Mine is from my waiting-to-be-edited book Dream Date. I'm not completely done editing this portion yet (or any of it, for that matter), but Valentine's Day is for throwing caution to the breeze, right?
This scene takes place right after Natalie turns off the light and tries to go to sleep. A face flashes before her, of a guy she's never met--and the whole thing scared and startled her. She finally falls asleep, and this follows.

Dream Date

by Rebecca Blevins

As I opened my eyes I blinked repeatedly, surprised at how vivid everything was. I stood, back to the wall, in a giant, domed room. Rainbow colors shone everywhere, so bright they hurt my eyes. Everything looked intense, felt intense, as if every aspect of the room blazed with purpose. I felt I had been living in a giant haze all my life, and suddenly the mist had been burned away. The sun hung from the center of the room, turning like a fiery disco ball. Maybe that was why.

The sun was far smaller than I thought it should be, pulsating rays giving off a scorching heat. I was amazed that the clouds could survive the temperature, but there they were, hanging all wispy and motionless. I blew at one and it lazily swirled about, not dissipating. Growing braver, I stuck my arm into the middle of the cloud and waved my hand around, spreading it into new designs. The chilly mist was shockingly cool and felt fantastic in contrast to the warmth of the room. As soon as I stopped stirring the cloud and removed my arm, it slowly pulled together and reformed, almost as if it were alive. I was both intrigued and a little sickened. If it was alive...well...I had just had my arm all in its insides—and they were now drying on me.

Shuddering, I turned my attention to the rest of the room. The heat was definitely increasing. I had to find the way out.

I looked down and discovered I was standing on a rectangular block of cement floor. Yellow, to be exact. You could set a full-size bed on it without any room left over. There was about eight feet of straight-down emptiness on each side of the block, ending in more concrete at the bottom. Around the room there were identically sized, different colored rectangles in front of what appeared to be Van Gogh paintings. There appeared to be no doors.

How fitting that the paintings are Van Gogh's, because this place is insane.

The only way to view the other paintings at close range was to step on a circular, moving sidewalk made of large, brightly colored bricks. The sidewalk reminded me of smooth, giant Legos—or Candyland game squares, shaped like rectangles. To look at the other paintings you had to step onto the sidewalk, then get off at the brightly colored block in front of the painting you wanted to view.

A man in a charcoal grey suit stood across the room, so still that I hadn't noticed him at first. He seemed to be studying what appeared to be “Starry Night”, hands clasped behind his back, oblivious to my being there. Even at this distance, I could tell he was tall. His self-assured air caused me to pause for a moment before disturbing him—he was obviously absorbed in the painting—but I didn't know how to get out of the room, and I knew I'd go crazy in the pulsing sunlight before long.

I stepped onto an orange block of the moving sidewalk and nearly fell, crying out as I caught myself. Not only was it a lot faster than it looked, but I was wearing ridiculously high purple heels! As I steadied myself, I noticed I was wearing a beautiful, pearly-colored, shimmering cocktail dress. The gown was not quite knee-length, and while perfect for an event at a museum, not quite the thing for hopping onto moving sidewalks. Not falling down became an even higher priority; flashing my underwear while twisting an ankle was not an attractive option with the well-dressed man in full view.

I balanced precariously on the orange block as the paintings came past faster, and I neared the man, who was watching me approach. He must have heard me yell. So much for not looking stupid. If I fall...well...I hope I'm at least wearing underwear.

“Step on the blue brick and it'll stop!” he called, obviously anxious. The tension in his voice did nothing for my frame of mind—I was already freaking out a little as I was trying to balance. Glancing up, I realized I had already sailed past him.

“Ok!” I yelled back. I didn't think about whether I should trust him or not. After all, did I really have a choice? The sidewalk was moving faster by the second, and I didn't want to stop to take off my ridiculous shoes in case the next go-round hurled me against the walls—or more likely, into the holes in the floor. Not the most comfortable way to die. The blue brick was two bricks away. I carefully made my way across the orange block I was on, but as I stepped onto the red—my purple heel caught.

Great. I'm gonna die after all.

I dropped down, unbuckled my idiot shoe, and began to crawl toward the blue block on hands and knees, no longer caring about the spectacle I was making of myself.

I heard a yell. Looking up as the crazy sidewalk gave a lurch, I saw the guy standing just ahead, in a wide football player's stance, arms reaching toward me. Struck by the desire to get off the galloping deathtrap as soon as possible I forgot about decorum, my short dress, and the fact that I was wearing one high-heeled shoe. I stood up, balancing like I was a drunk surfer on a tipping surfboard, knees shaking and hands trembling. Just before I reached him, he yelled “NOW!”

I jumped.

We collided, and the force made him stagger backwards into the painting. We fell hard. My knee hurt where it hit the floor, but I was more worried about my rescuer.

I scrambled off of his firm, strong body (I would have to have been dead not to notice—ok, I would have noticed even if I were dead) and prayed he was alive. He looked up at me, sandy brown hair all messed up, gray-blue eyes worried. “Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks to you.” I sighed with relief—and then it hit me. He's the guy I saw when I was falling asleep! Wait—I'm dreaming. How can I know that? I know I'm dreaming in a dream? That's never happened before! Cool! I wonder if I can fly.

I jumped up in the air (which wasn't easy, considering I was still wearing one shoe) and flapped my arms a little. Nothing happened. I didn't want to fling myself completely parallel to the ground to see if that would work. The twinging of my knee discouraged reckless experimentation.

Even dreaming, I was a wuss.

I sat back down and unbuckled the useless shoe from my foot, then chucked it over the edge of the block we were sitting on.

“That shoe looked great on you, but I don't blame you for sending it to shoe hell.” He smiled at me.

I melted.

He gingerly rolled over onto his side. “By the way, flying doesn't work. I tried it before you got here.” Groaning a little, he put his right hand to the back of his head. When he took it away, a smear of blood shone wetly. He must have whacked himself pretty hard on the picture frame.

I moved over slightly and knelt next to him. “I'm ok, but you certainly aren't.” I wracked my brain, trying to think of what to do. Even though this was a dream, I didn't want him to die or anything. I couldn't take his coat off—that was the only thing protecting him from the cold floor.

He pulled himself up to a sitting position against the wall. “I'm glad you aren't hurt. I'm Adam.” He extended his bloody hand toward me, catching me off guard. I stared at the red smears, not sure what to say.

“Whoops, sorry about that.” He extended his left hand, wincing slightly.

I put my left hand in his but didn't shake it. I figured I'd hurt him enough already. “I'm Natalie”.

He didn't let go; his mind appeared to be somewhere else entirely. I didn't mind. “How did you know what to do?” I asked.

“What? To rescue you? Ran into the same problem myself and figured it out before I became wall putty.” Adam went back to whatever he was thinking about. He had fine, strong, long fingers, a doctor's hand. No—a musician's.

I was thoroughly enjoying how my hand felt in his, delicate and protected, though his grasp became a little clammy. Adam was one of the most gorgeous guys I had ever seen. Not perfect—his nose was slightly crooked, forehead a little high, but they added character. I studied the painting, trying not to stare at him. “Do you play the piano?” I asked absentmindedly.

“On occasion.” His voice was strained.

That doesn't sound good. I looked at him immediately.

Adam began looking a little faint. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and he turned pale, a human ivory candle.

A small knot of worry grew in my stomach with each passing second.

I did the only thing I could think of: I loosened his tie, and began undoing the first few buttons of his white shirt. “I think maybe you should lie back down—”

“Natalie, do you like birds?” A silly grin decorated his handsome face. I had a sinking feeling that the blow to his head had done more than make him bleed.

He grabbed my arm and I stopped unbuttoning, which was a good thing because I had forgotten I was doing it. That would have gotten embarrassing fast. He stared at the ceiling. “Is that a dove?” I looked up. No bird in sight. Watching his face for signs of trauma, I admitted to being mesmerized by his amazing eyes, the squareness of his chin, the slight shadowing of his clean-shaven jaw.

He waved his unoccupied arm nonsensically at the air above me. “Get away! No! I said NO!” Then to me: “He's going to sit on your beautiful dress and ruin it!” Adam brushed at my shoulder as if shooing away a pigeon while mumbling something about doves and their bathroom habits.

“What bird?” I asked, hoping he was suffering from a mild concussion; otherwise I was stuck here with a lunatic.

“That one!” He pointed to the air, grinning crazily—then passed out.

It's Valens-Tine Day!

2011-02-14T14:47:00.001-06:00

For those of you who look at Valentine's Day as nothing but an excuse to party, I have the whole evening planned out! I'm going to share my list for this exciting, unforgettable experience for the low price of. . .free! That's right folks, FREE!

First up: come on, let's get our groove on with Valens. . .

Then when we're about to collapse from spinning around the living room a la whirligig, it's time for the 'tine' part:

which we can use for this. . .

this. . .

or this. . .so versatile!

Or if you're my brother-in-law, this:

Repeat sequence as many times as you like, until you fall on this:

Whoops! Go wash your eyes and come right back.

I meant this:

Or if you're single and feelin' it, this:

A couple of warnings. Don't spin around too fast or you'll end up like this:

Or hugging this:

The wonderful thing about this plan is that it's one size fits all! Now get to it and PAR-TAY!

(I'm not usually one for cat pictures, but this one was too cute to pass up.)

Happy Valens-tine Day!

Book Review: Bumpy Landings by Donald J. Carey

2011-02-11T12:08:00.001-06:00

Title: Bumpy Landings
Author: Donald J. Carey
Genre: LDS Romance
Release Date: January 2011
Pages: 251

From the Back Cover

Across the field, a couple of small planes cast long shadows as the sun inched its way toward the western horizon.

Then Jordan heard the sound he was hoping for. He looked out into the sky above the ocean where a small white plane with a red tail buzzed over the waves, flying parallel to the runway. As the plane flew past, Jordan imagined he was the one at the controls, with one eye on the airport and the other on the altimeter, waiting for just the right moment to turn into the base leg of the landing pattern.

All his life, Jordan MacDonald has dreamed of taking flight and soaring above the majestic mountains of his native Hawaii, but he doesn’t dare disobey his mother, who has absolutely forbidden him from flying. Suddenly everything changes when, spurred by the pain of a failed relationship, Jordan begins working toward the coveted pilot’s license. Just as he finds love again, Jordan’s lies start to close in around him, and he soon learns that a life full of dishonesty attracts more turbulence than he’s ever faced in the air.

My Review

I opened the pages not knowing what to expect. I soon found myself immersed in Hawaiian scenery, and felt as if I were there, driving on roads with the tropical breezes bringing all kinds of warm scents to my nose. I could almost see the sun sparkling off the ocean.

Jordan MacDonald was a bit of a non-risk taker at first. His dating prowess needed major work. Being a woman, there were times I wanted to yell at him to slow down while dating a girl! I wanted to spare him the embarrassment that comes from pursuing a lady a little bit too quickly. Reading his trials brought back memories of my dating days, specifically ones that I'm thankful are over. I wanted to pull Jordan aside and give him some sisterly advice!

It was great seeing how Jordan grew throughout the story. I rooted for him to stand up for what he wanted for himself, both with his mother and in his love life. I found myself really caring about what happened to him, and his mother was someone I wanted to kick in the teeth! I stayed up way too late at night (actually, in the morning) to find out what would happen. I knew what I hoped would happen, but Carey was really good at making me wonder if things would go as I wished! There were some twists and surprises as well. It was so fun reading a romantic story written from a man's point of view.

I enjoyed the book so much that I would have liked to know some of the characters a little bit more. For example, I would have liked to know more about Jordan, the kinds of movies, food (besides a couple of delicious-sounding recipes I'm thrilled are on the author's website!), music, and other types of things he enjoyed. I would have also liked to see Jordan and the women he dates finding out those things about each other; it would have added a bit more solidification to their relationships for me--though there was enough that I was heavily invested in the story.

There was also a subplot that, after finishing the book, made me wonder why the characters would have kept reminders of each other in a prominent place, but that was only a minor thing.

The flying parts were wonderful, and I loved the attention to detail. I could picture all the characters really well. Carey did a wonderful job defining each person. This is a book with a lot of heart.

So, if you want to know how guys think while they're dating, get whisked away to a fabulous, warm, tropical beach in the Hawaiian Islands and laugh and cry (darn you Don, you did make me teary-eyed!), pour a glass of pineapple juice and curl up with the great read that is Bumpy Landings. I highly recommend it.

Comment on this post for a chance to win a prize on this blog tour!

Buy your own copy of Bumpy Landings at Amazon in paper or Kindle editions.

You can visit Don Carey at his website, www.donaldjcarey.com. (While you're there, look for the recipes from the book! I can't wait to try both of them!)

*Disclaimer: I was given a copy of the book for the purpose of review, and this does not influence my opinions. I have received no other compensation for this review.

Sit. Yes, Sit.

2011-02-07T13:14:00.003-06:00

My baby Bean is now eighteen months. He says a lot of words, albeit imperfectly. Except "no". He says that one very well. I haven't counted, but I think his current vocabulary contains around thirty words.

Just this past week he learned "baby", "sit" (from Mommy instructing him to sit the bathtub), and on the way to church we discovered he knew the words "a game" (not surprising since his brothers are often requesting to play a video game) and "all done" (this after he was served the Sacrament in church). He asks for "more" all the time, not only when he wants more of something, but if he just wants it. He stretches his little hand out and yells "MEEEEEEM!" It gets a bit repetitive after a while.

He's adorable, saying all his words in that cute little voice. The only problem is when he pronounces the word "sit", he--um--says the letter 's' as if it were 'sh'.

I don't think I need to explain further.

So, when he's saying "sit, sit, sit" his siblings are rolling on the floor, laughing as if it's the funniest thing ever. Which of course, makes Bean say it more.

I tell them to ignore him, because it's normal for babies to accidentally say naughty words. Professor's eyes bugged out when I told him of a particularly bad word he came out with as a baby. So now they try to hold in their laughter when their baby brother imitates a sailor, and they look like tomatoes about to explode in a pressure cooker.

So, I'll hope for the best, that Bean's swearing will be limited to ignorance. At least it's not like his spicy brother Lion--

But that's a tale best saved for another day.

A Symphony of Words

2011-02-04T10:54:00.003-06:00

My fingers are poised on the keys, remembering again for the first time how thrilling the act of pressing, forming letters, words, are.

Fear enters, stemming the tide, flow. No matter how much I resist, my heart bruises easily. Me, a novice, trying to pen (an outdated, but loved term) my thoughts for the world? Yet not the entire world, perhaps a few.

I devour ink-scented pages and yearn, fear to be in their masters' place.

Why do I torment myself? Why? It would be so much easier to ignore the clarion call, to pretend that I'm pretending-- the desire is just that, and unimportant when compared to Real Life--

The answer comes when I read the endings of a hundred books*, eyes caressing the page, thrilling over and over, savoring.

Ah, so subjective.

Phrases, arranged in art form, touch and twist and stroke hidden fibers as Beethoven does, sparking a remembering of an almost-something which I can't put my finger on--

Right and good. Resonating.

So, I sit on my bed, fingers itching to fly, to discover, between endless meaningless words, phrases that catch and vibrate through me as the sounds of a rich cello, warm and deep.

I must create a symphony of words.

*http://americanbookreview.org/PDF/100_Best_Last_Lines_from_Novels.pdf (Warning: a couple of 'naughty' words)

Fairyland in the Parking Lot

2011-01-25T11:54:00.001-06:00

"But I want to go with you, Mama!" My five-year-old daughter's big, blue eyes gazed up at me under bangs that were beginning to remind me of ornamental grasses. Her lips trembled, and yet again I felt the pity of her being the only daughter in a houseful of boys. A basketball game was on, Bean was sleeping, and the other boys were doing whatever boys do on Saturdays. I was looking forward to a few minutes out alone, even if that was only a thirty minute run to the store.

"Oh," I sighed, "All right."

"Yay!" she proclaimed, and ran off to don her purple coat and shove on pink and leopard print boots. Without socks. (Those boots are wild and not my choice, definitely. But she loves them--and they were free.)

Not fifteen minutes later, we got out of the van and headed into the store. She held my hand and said, looking at the ground, "Look at the rainbows!"

I knew she was referring to the mess of oil and water that results from car offerings and melting snow. It is beautiful, I thought, but pushed that to the back of my mind, preoccupied with getting the errand done. "That's wonderful, huh?" I said, only half listening.

Twenty minutes later we left the store, and loaded up the van. After returning the shopping cart, we strolled (well, I strolled, she skipped) back across the parking lot. She stopped when we reached the back of the vehicle, and her little, awed voice floated through the air, "Wow, look at the rainbows."

I glanced down, then saw--really saw what she was looking at. Just as I expected, the rainbow was comprised of oil and water, blended together on the filthy parking lot. What I didn't expect was how bright the colors were as they washed long over the dark surface, like a rainbow tower laid sideways. Sunlight coaxed a brilliant sheen that sparkled like Tinkerbell's dust, and it was as if a magical fairy world was just waiting behind the pavement. "It is beautiful, isn't it?" I said. We stood there together for a few moments, my little girl and I, enveloped in the world of magic and fairies and rainbows.

Then we got into our van and drove home.

Now and then I'll take the time to look--really look--around me. You never know when magic might be around the corner--or down at your feet.

New Year's Restitutions. Yep. Restitutions.

2011-01-11T01:01:00.000-06:00

I used to be the person who said, with a big laugh and self-satisfied smirk, "My New Year's Resolution is to not make any New Year's Resolutions." Then I basked in my own cleverness.

Sad, huh?

The only problem with that was that I felt like a shmuck who, instead of actually trying to do something new, gave up before lifting a finger even a quarter-heartedly, never mind half.

In the distant past when I made resolutions, I never stuck to my guns--so in recent years, instead of filling my being with self-loathing and more chocolate than should be legally allowed, I didn't make any at all. However, this year I got to thinking, and this was the result: why should I miss out on all the fun? After all, making resolutions feels great! There's something about a list that makes me all excited and trembly inside, like I imagine the Baby New Year must feel when presented with a Tootsie Roll pop for the first time. (Disclaimer: I do not recommend giving normal babies lollipops, but I make exceptions for magical babies who are teenagers by March.)

Therefore, instead of resolutions, I'm making restitutions. As in, making it up to myself for past resolution-inflicted soul wounds. Instead of setting goals that make me cry and reach for the Hershey's by February, I'm making ones for things that I have been unwittingly depriving myself of that will make me entirely, selfishly happy. (Though this benefits my family--if I'm happy, generally they are too.)

So, here are my restitutions for 2011:

1. Watch Avatar. James Cameron's version. Blue people. I heard it's good. (I have to clarify which version because as all geekish people know, Avatar: The Last Airbender is the true version, even though Mr. M. Night Scaryman royally messed it up.) Which brings me to number. . .

2. Watch the original Last Airbender series. I got to see parts here and there, and heard a lot of it because I was cooking dinner while James and the kids were watching the show. I should cut a hole in the wall over the stove so I can see what they're up to while I'm stirring a pan full of onions.

3. Watch Inception. (I detect a theme going on here. I think it's because people are incredulous when they've heard I haven't seen this or that movie, and said movie is so awesome I just may die from the lack of awesome by not watching it. I don't watch many movies.)

4. Read The Hunger Games trilogy. I keep my fingers in my eyes going "La, la, la, I can't see you!" while cruising the interwebs. It's about time I sink my eyeteeth (meaning my sharp pupils, not like Edward) into those books.

5. Read some James Dashner. Read the latest Brandon Sanderson/Robert Jordan Wheel of Time. Read everything by every author I have on my mental want-to-read list. (Sorry, got carried away. At least Sanderson and Dashner. At least.)

6. Learn to make those peppermint balls James had as a kid and loved. I didn't get to it this last Christmas, but by golly, I'll learn in time for December!

7. Edit my book and *gulp* write and send out querys to real, live *double gulp* agents.

8. Fit into a size--dare I say it--14 pants by my birthday in October. (Mind you, fitting in means zipping up. While laying down is ok. Standing up and causing a button to be embedded into the wall doesn't matter, as long as the zipper holds.)

9. Eat something containing cocoa powder at least once a week.

10. Have a Diet Coke at least two times per month.

11. Paint my bedroom some other color. Buy this or this print for it. Maybe both.

12. Paint my daughter's and baby's bedroom light yellow, even if I have to buy new paint because the other one I got is probably three years old, has been frozen several times in the garage, and is most likely gross now.

13. Make these adorable wall hangings for Princess' and Bean's room: Happy Garden , Hill Man , and Bird Hill. They're so whimsical; I love them!

Ok, I guess some of these are more resolutions, because they may cause me some anxiety, but humor me. I'm going with it.

'Tis the spirit of the season, after all!

***Thank you all for your words of love and encouragement after my last post. They meant the world to me. I'm doing better now, and will keep on keeping on with the hope of brighter days to come!***

I am Not a Juicy Hermit Crab

2010-12-28T16:03:00.000-06:00

I hate being squeezed. Hugs are one thing, squeezes another. Emotions squeeze so tight; they don't stop even when there's nothing left to squeeze out. It's a break at the press, then back to it again.

Ever since April, when I went to the Storymakers Conference, I felt different. Something changed for me, that weekend. James and I both had an experience during one of the conference workshops that I won't share because it's one of those things that are better left to marinate in the sauce of privacy, but it was one of those life-changing things, something you know you'll never forget.

I've struggled since then, with life here as I know it. There are people I care about and love, but I desperately want a new space to grow. I'm a hermit crab who is being squeezed into hermit juice, shell cracking yet holding strong, and there's no new shell as far as the eye can see.

I need to get out.

My sister is moving; the one who lives three minutes from me. She'll be moving two hours away. Not far, and not across the country, but still--underneath, I kind of believed that if you don't take something for granted and are thankful for it every day, that it would stay the same.

Yeah, I didn't really believe that, but something deep within me hoped. Our daughters adore each other. Karen is the only thing that has anchored my tether to our city, the only thing pulling at keeping me here.

Now, I'm adrift.

Pulled and tossed by the waves, each one washes over my head, pretending to be kind by washing off the salt from my eyes, but leaving more deposits. Soon, I will weigh too much and drown.

I find myself crying during the week far too often.

Some may say, "You sound depressed." You'd better believe it. I'm tired of pretending I'm not. I'm fighting against it every day, the squeezing, seagulls pecking at my shell, snatching bits of me because I'm bursting at the seams.

I need a new shell.

Felt Food Giveaway Winner and Consolation Prize for All!

2010-12-13T10:08:00.000-06:00

The winner of the Felt Food Giveaway is:

Julie said...

http://www.etsy.com/listing/40192140/queen-of-hearts-linzer-cut-out-cookies love these
aunteegem@yahoo.com

December 8, 2010 7:39 PM

An email has been sent, and you have 48 hours to claim your prize! Congratulations!

For all of you who didn't win, you are in luck! Karen at The Whimsical Gourmet is extending her holiday discount this week only. Get 10% off any size order in her shop by entering the code PISTACHIO at checkout. This offer is good through Saturday, December 19th.

Thanks to everyone who entered!

Tristi Pinkston's Merry Month of Miracles Giveaway!

2010-12-10T14:39:00.000-06:00

Make sure to enter my handcrafted play food giveaway that ends tomorrow night!

Tristi Pinkston is having a Merry Month of Miracles month long giveaway to celebrate her new book, Dearly Departed. Head on over and be sure to enter! There's a cool prize every day, and a few big ones you don't want to miss out on!

Go here: Merry Month of Miracles

GIVEAWAY! Adorable, Handcrafted Play Food by The Whimsical Gourmet!

2010-12-04T01:29:00.006-06:00

***Comments are now closed. The winner will be announced Monday morning at ten o'clock, and the wintner will be contacted and given forty-eight hours to respond.

Thank you for entering, and good luck!

Guess where I've been?

Ok, I won't make you guess. I've been working on my manuscript. My goal for NaNoWriMo was to finish a first draft for the FIRST TIME EVER, and I did it! Though I didn't officially win NaNo because I used a partially-written manuscript to start with, I achieved a goal that I seriously doubted I'd ever reach.

Man, it feels so good!

Now, I'm going to let my book simmer and wait to be edited. Simmer. . .mmm, reminds me of soup. Soup, rolls, take-out, holiday party food--I'm hungry! Let's have an online holiday party! I'll bring the food! How would you like some no-calorie takeout with your choice of shrimp. . .

. . .or tofu?

Mmm. . .perhaps with a side of crab rangoon and sweet-and-sour sauce?

If you're in the mood for breakfast, how about some light and fluffy pancakes with eggs, bacon and sausage?

We'll even dip our own strawberries in chocolate for dessert! (The shells are removable and perfect to dip over and over if you like chocolate as much as I do!)

Karen of The Whimsical Gourmet (who I also claim as my very talented sister) hand-crafts these adorable sets, plus more, for her Etsy shop. I have been privileged to see these way cute toys in person, and they're even better than the pictures!

So, drumroll, please. . .

Karen is giving away one of her handmade sets to one lucky reader of this blog! It gets even better--the winner gets to pick between two of them! The prize winner will receive their choice of either the Felt Sandwich Set with Nacho Cheese Chips. . . (How fun is that tomato and bag of chips?)

Or the Deluxe Sushi Set. (I just love the little tube of wasabi!)

Either one would make a perfect Christmas gift--if you can bear to give them up. If you like these, you'll want to check out the picnic basket, egg rolls, gourmet pizza, falafel, raspberry tarts, and everything else Karen offers!

The giveaway begins today, Saturday, December 5th, and ends Saturday, December 11th, at 11:59 Central Standard Time.

To enter: Please leave a separate comment for each entry. For example, if you're following my blog, leave one comment saying "I'm following your blog", and if you share on Facebook, leave another comment with that information. If you combine your information into one comment, that one comment will be treated as one entry.

Entries: There are six ways to enter, which mean six chances to win!

1. Follow my blog, I am a Pistachio

2. Post about this giveaway on your blog and link back to this post.

3. Visit The Whimsical Gourmet and leave a comment about your favorite
   item. ( http://www.etsy.com/shop/thewhimsicalgourmet )

4. Follow The Whimsical Gourmet on Twitter @thefeltgourmet
http://twitter.com/thefeltgourmet  and tweet this giveaway RT -insert some creative message about giveaway-
http://tinyurl.com/yjtj3oj   Leave the link to your tweet in a comment

5.Like The Whimsical Gourmet on Facebook
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=lf#!/pages/The-Whimsical-Gourmet/190628445963

6.Share this giveaway on Facebook and leave the link to your post in a comment

The winner will be chosen by Random.org. (This means though *I* will still welcome all bribes, especially books and chocolate, the website will be an impartial judge and will not listen to any of my whining about how great so-and-so's Grandma's holiday fudge tasted.)

IMPORTANT! To qualify, if you do not have your email address on your blogger profile or it's private, leave your email address in your entry comments so we can find you if you're the winner.

The winner has 48 hours to respond after they have been announced and contacted. If the winner is not heard back from, the next winner will be randomly selected, and they will then have 48 hours to respond.

**********************Special offer for my blog readers!*****************

The Whimsical Gourmet is offering a 10% discount to the visitors of this blog, I Am a Pistachio, for the duration of this giveaway! Use the coupon code PISTACHIO at checkout.

Good luck, and happy shopping!

Coincidences in Writing, or Oh My Gosh, You're My Long-Lost Twin!

2010-11-11T22:48:00.003-06:00

Over the past few months, I've been doing a lot of thinking on this subject. What brought my attention to it in the first place was a book that I acquired from a free box of LDS fiction. Someone had graciously brought the box to church, and I dove in before another girl there, with arms already full, could snag all of them. I couldn't blame her, though. On Black Friday I'm as timid as a nun in a bar, but put free, clean books out and I'd tussle with the best of 'em.

First, I looked for names I recognized from Storymakers. I managed to get a Rachel Ann Nunes and a couple of J. Scott Savage's works. The others were chosen by publisher, then by cover. (Don't judge--I was speed-grabbing, here.)

I picked up a book with a neat cover. I hadn't heard of the author (not surprising since I live in the Midwest), but the back cover looked promising. I like suspense, so it got added to the pile.

Once I started reading, I knew I was in trouble. It seemed like every other page there was foreshadowing of some connection between the characters. For example, the mafia boss's long lost son (let's call him Junior) appears out of nowhere and wants a job, so he's employed to kidnap this 18-year-old high school girl (we'll call her Lisa). The guy--SURPRISE!--turns out to be FBI (saw that one coming a mile away).

That's only the beginning.

Junior has a partner (Bob) who's working to protect Lisa's father (Larry), who the mob guys are after. Larry left years ago, and Lisa never knew why. She has some angsty teen problems as a result, but is at heart a good girl.

Lisa and her mother find out that Larry is still alive. Cue Lisa's parents running to try to save their daughter, the bad guys running after them, and the good guys always one step behind until the end, where they're (predictably) one step ahead. In the end, not only do we find out that FBI partners Junior and Bob are stepson and stepfather (assigned to Junior's mafia boss father's case together, no less), but that the last big bad guy who shows up in the end is--get this--some rich dude that Lisa's mother was engaged to years ago! Of course, he is shown what a catch he missed out on! The bad guys get their bums handed to them royally, and everyone else hugs at the end. Oh, and not only was Lisa a less-active member of the LDS church, Junior was an active member, and since she had just turned 18 (and a couple of weeks away from finishing high school) she was fair game to start a relationship with. Everything was tied up into one big, happy, perky, pink bow with ice cream and blargh on top.

I closed the book in disgust. I wanted to poke my eyes out. The premise had so much promise, the author a great imagination with some cool moments, but all I wanted to do was rip the book into little shreds and throw them in a moat filled with piranha fish. I was a little bothered by my strong reaction, because being a writer, I look forward to the day I get published with both excitement and trepidation. I'm hoping the golden rule applies to writers--treat others' books like you want your own to be treated. It would bother me a lot if someone had that big of a problem with what I wrote, so I let my feelings melt and simmer down for a month or two until what was left consisted of exactly what bothered me, condensed, strong, and unmistakable.

The boiled-down result? Coincidence.

Writers like to evoke a strong emotional response. We revel in being creators of our worlds, pulling the puppet strings of our ~~victims~~ readers. If we can touch your soul, make you care about creations from our brains, make you feel, that is the highest compliment there is to a writer--at least to this one.

Coincidences are neat things. In real life, coincidences happen that we'd never put into writing fiction, because they would come across as too coincidental to be believable! However, because of the mystery of coincidences, we writers are tempted to put them into our books. "Wouldn't it be so cool if Aunt Shelley turned out to be her niece's adopted baby's birth mother?" Well, maybe. Then again, maybe not.

The thing is, when we write coincidences, they're not coincidences, but contrivances. The reader knows this. They can't be true coincidences because we, as writers, make them happen. So, for a coincidence to be believable, we have to provide a way for the reader to suspend disbelief and believe that the coincidence is the real deal. I think one of the best ways to do this is to write strong, well-rounded characters that leap off the page and become real to the reader. It's hard to argue storyline with a character that your mind and heart is attached to in some way, a character who feels like a real person to you.

Coincidence can also, in some cases, be an excuse for laziness. It's a lot easier to think up a coincidence than to do the work in weaving the story together, which can involve bringing in more characters and angles, which isn't necessarily an easy thing to do.

I hope to learn the ins and outs of writing coincidences myself. In my current manuscript, there is something that happens in a different town that makes the reader question (at least I hope) if the unlucky thing had to happen for the 'coincidence' to happen, or was it just rotten timing and would have happened another way at a slightly different time if circumstances were different? It's a tricky thing to work in. I want my readers to end up being so immersed in the story that they can't stop to question why I put something where I did.

So, it may be a great idea for a single girl to run into her true love literally, with her car, while he saves a cute puppy's stuffed toy from getting run over--or it may not be. Just go over your choice several times, and if it still sounds like a contrivance than a coincidence, scrap it or approach the idea from a different angle.

Blog Tour Book Review: Perilous by Tamara Hart Heiner, and Win a Book or Kindle!

2010-11-03T00:25:00.000-05:00

Perilous

Author: Tamara Hart Heiner

Published: 16 November, 2010

Genre: YA Thriller

Pages: 265

About Tamara Hart Heiner: Perilous is her first published novel, and she wrote it many years ago when she was bored in study hall. They’ve both come a long way since then. She now spends her time running around her house chasing three kids and trying to sneak to the computer when they’re not looking. She has a wonderful, supportive husband who appreciates the fact that she enjoys cooking as much as she enjoys writing. Not that she has time for that, either.

Author website: http://www.tamarahartheiner.com/

Back Cover

Jaci Rivera has plans for her sophomore year: go to regionals with the track team, make the honor roll, and eat too much pizza with her best friends, Callie and Sara. Her biggest concern is Amanda, the pushy girl who moved in a few months ago.

What she doesn't plan for is catching a robber red-handed, or being kidnapped. The desperate thief drags her and her friends 2,000 miles across the Canadian border. They escape from his lair, only to find that he has spies and agents watching their path home, waiting to intercept them and take them back.

Then Jaci finds something out about her family. Something which irrevocably connects her to their kidnapper, and makes her question their chances of escape.

My Review

Ms. Heiner sure knows how to start a story! After I read the beginning where a body is discovered, then went back in time before the crime was committed, I kept hoping the beginning was wrong and the corpse was someone else--or a terrible joke. There were some awful things that happened to the girls that weren't glossed over, but were honestly and skillfully dealt with while not glorifying them with graphic violence.

The writing was tight and enjoyable, and there were very few mistakes throughout, which contributed to making Perilous a book I could immerse myself in. The biggest problem I had was a minor detail--but a major pet peeve of mine--the phrase "I could care less" when it should have been "I couldn't care less" was used two times. Though this could have been a part of both characters' speech patterns and a teensy thing overall, it still bothered me.

Ms. Heiner is gifted in her ability to write descriptive scenes--never too much or too little. I was drawn into the story and it transitioned well from scene to scene. I found myself holding my breath at times, racing through the pages to find out what was going on.

I did wish I could have learned more about the characters lives at first, that would have made it easier to remember which girl was which. I had a little trouble keeping them straight for a while, and the story would have had more emotional punch if I had gotten to know them better. I hope we get to find out more about the villain in the next story since we didn't know that much about him. I'd like to know more of the reasons he is so feared; he sounds like an extremely interesting character. There is also one specific coincidence that seemed a little over-the-top to me as well as what felt like too much nonchalance at a rather shocking revelation, but overall, Perilous was a great read.

There were a lot of loose ends that will lead us to a sequel. I felt that the story, though it did get wrapped up, should have been wrapped up a little more. I finished the book feeling sure I was missing part of the ending. However, I imagine everything left unresolved will be addressed in the upcoming sequel.

Out of the thousands of books I've read in my lifetime, this is one that will be easily remembered.

I'm very much looking forward to reading more from talented author Tamara Hart Heiner.

To read the first page of Perilous, go here: Perilous Excerpt

To pre-order for the fantastic price of $12.95 with free US shipping and handling go here: Pre-order Perilous or you can find it on Amazon.com in Kindle form, available for download right now, for $4.99.

Would you like to win a signed copy of Perilous? Don't have a Kindle but would give up your chocolate stash for one? Put your Hershey bars down and read on to find out how you can win a Kindle you can ~~smother in chocolate kisses~~ read new favorite books on!

Blog Tour Contest Details

From Tamara Hart Heiner, herself!

(Ok, I swiped it from her website.)

(I hope that's ok.)

(I'm lazy. Sorry, Tamara!)

So, here are the details to my ultimate blog tour contest.

1) There will be two book giveaways. Signed copies of Perilous, of course. All you have to do to get in on that action is make a comment anywhere in the blog tour. The drawing will be completely random. Of course, the more comments you make, the more chances you have of winning.

2) There will be a Kindle giveaway. This WON'T be random. Kindles are kind of a big thing, so I'm going to make you work for it. The giveaway will be point based, in other words, whoever has the most points at the end of the blog tour wins the Kindle. The contest will run until Dec. 15, at which point all hopeful winners will email me at tamara at tamarahartheiner dot com with their points and their proofs.

Here's how you get points:

+1 for each comment on the blog tour

+1 be a follower on my blog (old or new)

+1 retweet

+2 blog about the blog tour

(You prove all of those by emailing me the links.)

+5 purchase the book; ebook or paperback, doesn't matter

(Email me the confirmation number of your purchase.)

Oct. 15 David J. West
Oct. 18 Nichole Giles
Oct. 19 Talli Roland
Oct. 20 Guinevere Rowell
Oct. 21 Mary Gray
Oct. 22 Frankie
Oct. 25 Mary Greathouse
Oct. 26 RaShelle Workman (interview)
Oct. 27 T. Anne Adams
Oct. 28 Valerie Ipson
Oct. 29 Ann Best http://ann-jen.blogspot.com/
Nov. 1 Christy Dorrity http://www.dearestdreams.com/
Nov. 2 Chrstine Bryant http://www.ckbryant.blogspot.com
Nov. 3 Rebecca Blevins http://www.iamapistachio.blogspot.com/
Nov. 4 Kathryn Magendie (guest post) http://tendergraces.blogspot.com/
Nov. 5 Annette Lyon http://blog.annettelyon.com/ (interview) and Jaime Theler http://www.jaimetheler.blogspot.com (review)
Nov. 8 Jennifer Daiker http://jennifer-daiker.blogspot.com/
Nov. 9 Carolina Valdez http://carol-in-print.blogspot.com/
Nov. 10  Elizabeth Mueller http://elizabethmueller.blogspot.com/
Nov. 11 Christine Danek http://christinedanek.blogspot.com/
Nov. 12 Elle Strauss http://ellestraussbooks.blogspot.com/
Nov. 15 Niki http://wool-n-nuts.blogspot.com/
Nov. 16  Lynn Parsons http://lynndeniseparsons.blogspot.com/
Nov. 17 Danyelle Ferguson http://www.queenoftheclan.com/
Nov. 18 Elana Johnson http://elanajohnson.blogspot.com/
Nov. 19 & 20 Sarah McClung http://babblingflow.blogspot.com/
Nov. 22 Suzanne Hartmann http://suzanne-hartmann2.blogspot.com/
Nov. 23 Marsha Ward http://marshaward.blogspot.com
Nov. 24  Tara McClendon http://eyefeathers.blogspot.com/
Nov. 29 Courtney Barr http://princesscourtneysbarr.blogspot.com/
Nov. 30 Tristi Pinkston http://www.tristipinkston.blogspot.com/
Dec. 1 Cheri Chesley http://cherichesley.blogspot.com/
Dec. 2 Karen Gowen http://karenjonesgowen.blogspot.com/
Dec. 3  Melanie Jacobson http://readandwritestuff.blogspot.com/
Dec. 6 Kristie Ballard www.thiscrazywritingthing.blogspot.com
Dec. 7 Melissa Cunningham http://melissajcunningham.blogspot.com/
Dec. 8 Arlee Bird http://tossingitout.blogspot.com/
Dec. 9 Debbie Davis www.debbiesinkspectations.blogspot.com
Dec. 10 Taffy Lovell http://taffyscandy.blogspot.com
Dec. 13 Sheri Larsen http://writersally.blogspot.com
Dec. 14 Joyce DiPastena http://jdp-news.blogspot.com/
Dec.15 Diana Miezcan http://diana212m.blogspot.com/

*I was sent an e-book for the purpose of review, and have not been compensated in any way for my opinions.*

I've Found the Secret! (No, Not on Oprah!)

2010-10-20T10:09:00.000-05:00

My kids were sick a week ago last Monday. I wasn't glad for them actually being sick, but it meant I could cancel school and could work on something else.

I chose Professor and Lion's room.

The room had a peculiar odor--as anyone who has a boy with a room can attest. Stuff was jammed under the beds, cracker crumbs danced near the bookshelf and by the wall, dirty clothes lounged with everything else. It was a stew that would make an ogre proud.

I gingerly ~~climbed~~ walked in there with a Sam's Club box of black trash bags--the big ones. I enlisted the boys' help since they were too sick to focus on school, but not sick enough for their bodies to lie still. We took everything that was a toy and stuffed them into the bags. We filled nearly three! Another bag was stuffed with trash, and several loads of clothes were extracted from the piles. I felt like an archaeologist--"Oh, look! These were the pants you wore last year! Remember when you wore those sneakers?" It was bad enough that the "too small shoe bag" was half full before we called it quits.

It took around six hours that day and another hour or two the next (not to mention sweeping enough dirt to plant a small garden--what the heck?), but all the bags of stuff were taken downstairs, leaving the boys' wooden floor gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. They were left with a few things on the bookshelf in the closet.

Every day since then, if their room is clean, they're allowed to go downstairs and get one toy out of the bags. If anything is left on the floor it goes back downstairs. They've been very careful to keep things where they belong. The funny thing is that they're very choosy about what to get, because they don't want to mess up their room again. Having the toys gone makes the room much easier to keep clean. I never, ever thought my boys could keep their room immaculate for over a week! It feels weird even typing the word 'boys' and the word 'immaculate' in the same sentence!

The magic with this method is that the agony of deciding what to keep and what to get rid of is taken away. The kids didn't like putting everything in the bags, but the knowledge that they could take their favorite things back out made it far easier. When they're done taking what they want, the bags will be gone through a final time by me and donated/thrown out.

A word of caution: be very careful what you promise. The day after this happened, Lion proclaimed "Hooray! Now all we have to do is keep it clean for 30 days and then we earn Mario Party 8!" A dim memory floated to the surface of my mind like a bubble that has been trapped at the bottom of a pond--the memory of a promise I made sometime last year, a promise I was sure would never be fulfilled. A promise that doesn't have room in our budget at present.

Well, the clean room has been going strong for 8 days now with no signs of stopping. Professor and Lion are more than a little proud that their room is the cleanest room in the house.

I'd better start checking Ebay.

In Which I Float Up to the Sky, Collapsed

2010-09-17T13:07:00.000-05:00

I walk into the church gym. Lining the left side of the wall are people talking, stretching, or waiting with glassy-eyed looks--they must have had a long day.

These people are strangers I have known for several weeks now. The shy girl inside me (or maybe she just wants to get on with it) propels me to the right side of the room, where I stretch and wait among two or three people until the beat starts thumping. I walk up and take my place at the front, as close to the middle as I can get just before the black line, the line we have all silently agreed we would not cross. Something about it screams "TOO CLOSE!"

Two dancers on stage, clad in pink, blue, and black, are so fit they hurt my eyes. Colored lights shine above them, taking me back to my teenage years and the dances where I didn't rest for hours. How I wish I had that stamina today.

The beat pounds through my body, screaming "MOVE!" to my arms and legs. They have no choice but to obey. Following the dancers on the stage, I wave my arms and shimmy. My feet step and glide, I spin and slide like a million bees are chasing me.

I ignore the people who might be watching me shake what my mama gave me (plus a lot more) because most of them, like me, are too busy grooving and gasping to notice anyone else.

I dance, I sweat, I break for the water bottle: samba, rinse, repeat. A spark of rebellion, hidden deep, comes out to play as I substitute my own arm movements for a few of the ones demonstrated. Is it truly rebellion, or do I just like Egyptian arms? Strange, but freeing for this follow-the-rules girl. The leaders don't seem to mind.

Shakira sings "The pressure is on, you feel it/But you've got it all, believe it. . ." I try to breathe while spinning, my soul opens to the universe. I yell "Whoohoo!" several times and laugh quite a few more.

This is the way to get a runner's high without running.

This is the way I come alive, while dancing.

This is the way I'm tightening my body, exchanging fat for muscle.

This time I jump a little more, spin a little faster, a little tighter in my movement. I push my limits, I break through that barrier for the high, and as adrenaline floods my body I'm so happy I nearly cry. Somewhere inside me is a dancer. And she's ecstatic.

This is Zumba.

There's a First Time for Everything!

2010-09-06T11:30:00.000-05:00

Today is my first guest post, and it's over at the awesome LDS Writers Blogck! I wrote about my recent experience about finding writing advice in the scriptures.

You can find the post here: Rebecca Blevins

Cotton Candy and the Bronte Sisters

2010-08-21T20:23:00.002-05:00

Yesterday morning I started my goal of writing a thousand words per day. I got up earlier than I normally do, and sat down at my laptop with a squirming one-year-old who forgot that he should still be sleeping. I placated him by balancing him in my lap, and began to work.

The subject of cotton candy came up in those thousand words. I tried to remember exactly how the fluffy candy tastes and feels in my mouth, and the fact that I couldn't remember bugged me to no end. "Well, it's too bad that I can't get that stuff around here," I muttered.

Later, after James came home from work, I went grocery shopping. (I will leave out my adventures in the hurricane-like weather we had, that included me getting soaked to the skin in five seconds flat and sloshing around Walmart in my drenched sneakers.) At the first store I went to, they had shipments of special purchases that had just come in. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor when I saw small tubs containing mixed colors of pink and blue cotton candy (the same colors as I put in my manuscript) for a dollar each.

Never in a kazillion years had I ever thought I'd be buying cotton candy for "research". I even *gulp* took that as a teensy bit of a sign.

I took a couple of pinches for the sake of my manuscript (sounds like I was doing snuff, huh), and the kids blissfully stuffed their faces with the rest. Even Bean smacked his lips and screamed when I put the container away.

No doubt they hope I'll be writing piles of doughnuts, snack cakes, and Hershey bars into my book soon.

***

Now for the second part of this post: I saw this video somewhere and got a huge laugh out of it. This is a "commercial" that's a minute and a half long for Bronte Sisters Power Dolls. If you ever wanted to see the beloved Bronte sisters as action heroines, here's your chance!

My favorite part was the Brontesaurus. Enjoy the rest of your weekend!

Book Review: Defensive Tactics by Steve Westover

2010-08-16T10:40:00.001-05:00

Defensive Tactics

Author: Steve Westover

Published: August 8th, 2010

Genre: LDS Fiction, Suspense, Romance

Pages: 256

Back Cover

IN A WORLD OF CORRUPTION and moral relativism, how far will you go to protect the ones you love?

PAUL STEPHENS HAS IT ALL—a wonderful job at the FBI, a potential new girlfriend, Emily, and a great apartment. Even when Jimmy, a friend from his past, unexpectedly ends up on his couch, Paul manages to keep it together, despite Jimmy’s eccentric ways and sudden interest in Emily. But when a plan to arrest a corrupt judge puts Emily’s life in danger, Paul is forced to make decisions that put everything on the line. And with Jimmy along for the ride, anything can happen as they race to save Emily.

FULL OF SUSPENSE, ACTION, AND SURPRISES, Defensive Tactics navigates the maze of burgeoning relationships and the rigors of investigation to ultimately show just how much the bonds of friendship can endure.

I have been acquainted with Steve and his family for many years, so I’m excited for the opportunity to review his debut novel!

Review

The author has a great imagination, and his characters were fun to read about. Paul was my favorite character. Although he was a bit on the stuck-up side at first, he grew on me. In my days as a single woman, I would have been quite taken with Paul! He's strong, noble, does what he feels is right, and takes no thought for himself when defending those he cares for.

I cheered Jimmy on and was rooting for him to find himself and be able to come to terms with his tragic past. Some of his antics and quirky sayings made me laugh out loud. I sensed that underneath his charisma he was a very complex character, and a whole book could have been written from his point of view, delving further into his personality. I also wondered what happened with his old girlfriend, but perhaps that's being saved for another novel.

There is a sweet, touching scene between Emily and Jimmy where she urges him to confront the demons from his past. The prologue shows the tragedy that turned Jimmy into the shoddy, wisecracking mess that he is, but I feel there would have been even more emotional impact on the reader if that information had been saved and revealed to us as Jimmy shared with Emily.

Emily, at first, was too perfect for me to find her believable. However, as the story progressed and she struggled with life-altering decisions, she showed more personality and I really enjoyed her character. I appreciated how she was a strong, independent woman who retained a lot of femininity, a quality that is lacking in much currently published fiction.

One thing I need to mention: the book would have benefited from a thorough, professional edit. There were enough errors that they interrupted the reading flow and pulled me out of the story. However, I was able to set them aside and get back into the plot. *Edit: the author assured me that many of the editing errors were resolved with publication of the hard copy. I reviewed the electronic version.*

Without giving too much away, there is a cool action scene that I loved because I really saw Emily's character and quick wit shine as she battles the bad guys. She was calm, collected, and efficient. She made me hope I would be at least one tenth as capable in such an emergency!

The storyline with the corrupt judge was interesting, and kept me guessing. There were a couple of places toward the end that had me figuratively biting my nails! Agent Rick Stark is a fun character, and I'm still wondering what kind of guy he will turn out to be in the long run.

What I enjoyed most about this book was how the main characters all grew and changed in various ways. They all had to search deep inside themselves to find out what they were willing to do (or weren't willing to do) to maintain their personal standards.

Overall, I found Defensive Tactics a quick, intriguing read that earns its place in the world of LDS-themed fiction.

Visit Steve's website: Steve Westover and blog: Westover Writes to learn more about the author and his current projects.

*Disclaimer* Other than a free, electronic version of this book for the purpose of review, I have not been compensated in any way for my opinions.

Battle of the Yucky Bugs!

2010-08-11T11:49:00.000-05:00

We've been battling fruit flies lately; they're pesky, evil little bugs that dive-bomb us at every opportunity. I feel like a special ops agent sneaking around the kitchen to assemble a salad! The darn things catch one whiff and they turn into produce-seeking missiles. The military really should explore that option.

These nasty bugs aren't like regular fruit flies; they are almost sticky, crawl a lot and are sluggish when they fly. Years ago, my mother christened them "Yucky Bugs", and the name, well, stuck.

This morning, the kids were covering their juice glasses with their hands, trying to think of ways to get rid of the Yucky Bugs.

Lion was the first to pipe up. "Maybe we could take all the fruits into a jar, and the fruit flies will get in the jar, and we can take spiders and put them in the jar with the fruit flies, and the spiders will eat them."

Professor liked the spider idea. "What if we capture some spiders and take them inside, put them near the fruit, then when the fruit flies get near the fruit they'll get caught in a web?"

Lion sat there eating his scrambled eggs, scanning the counter for weapons. "We could slice the watermelon in half, then the fruit flies will go in and we'll close it and trap them inside."

Professor shook his head. "But then we couldn't eat it!"

Lion thought for a second. "Yeah, that's true."

Princess just sat there eating her breakfast one-handed, since she wouldn't remove her palm from the top of her glass.

Bean was blissfully eating toast, unaware of the dire straits we were in.

My cheering section hurrahed from the table as I quickly emptied out the fruit bowl and filled it with hot water, drowning five flies. My children joined me in shouts of triumph as I yelled out the number of how many I killed. I shook my head at cries of "I want to do it!" while I smashed fruitflies with a paper napkin, fighting the urge to hurl all the while. (My biggest fear about learning to drive wasn't that I'd be in charge of a ton of metal hurtling at 70 mph, it was continuing to watch the road and not get sick when a bug splattered on the windshield.) I didn't want to chance little bug legs, wings and smashed innards wiped anywhere I might find them, so my volunteer extermination squad was out of luck.

Finally, most of the fruit flies were vanquished. Our juice glasses and salad bowls are safer now.

Peace reigns. Especially now that I've cleaned off all the counters and the bugs have nowhere to hide.

A Yucky Bug was just crawling on my shirt and glasses, no joke. He is no more. E's bleedin' demised. He has joined the choir immortal...if there is a choir down there.

He is an ex-Yucky Bug.

Love and Dating Escapades #2: Scott

2010-08-06T13:47:00.001-05:00

For the first installment in this series, go here: Love and Dating Escapades #1: First Crush

When I was around thirteen years old, we moved from Springfield Missouri to West Valley City, Utah. For a newly blossoming teenager, Utah was like stepping into Willy Wonka's chocolate factory--if you replaced the candy with boys.

I wasn't horribly boy-crazy, meaning I didn't think about them every second of every day, but I had my fair share of crushes. I also kept to my no-dating-until-I-was-sixteen rule. I could have dated earlier, since my mom told me that she would let me choose. Smart thing for her to say, since she knew that I followed the rules to a fault. In fact, the first time I had ever heard of a "pity party" was one I was invited to by my fifteen-year-old friends who were missing MORP (prom spelled backwards, girls asked guys) held a couple of days before my sixteenth birthday. (We had a blast, especially since one of our friends was such a fluffy-headed gal that she thought potatoes came from some kind of animal. Seriously!)

When I was fourteen, one of the boys I had a big crush on was in my ward, an older brother of one of my guy friends. Scott was sixteen, and I was completely gaga. I knew there was no hope for us, since he treated me as a friend, and was dating the older sister of one of my friends. She was a sweet girl, cute and blonde. Talk about a triple threat--but she wasn't a threat since I wasn't even remotely in the picture.

Scott's family had an extra ticket to go see the Christmas Devotional at Temple Square, so his mom invited me to go. I adored his mother--she was both classy and fun. So, I went. I got to sit next to Scott, who I was all too aware of, and noticed that he put his hand on his girlfriend's knee during the devotional. She was still fifteen. After the devotional was over, sometime in the next few days Scott's mother asked me if I thought what her son did was appropriate. I told her "no", and she agreed with me. I wondered why she asked me. Maybe to find out how I felt about being the third wheel on the pew.

Ah, the sweet innocence of youth.

For some reason though, Scott and his girlfriend were extra nice to me. I loved to dance, so they invited me to go over to her house so they could teach me to swing dance. Since Scott lived right by me and she lived about a mile away, so he offered to pick me up.

I was so excited! It would be my first time riding in a car with a boy.

When I only had around ten minutes before he was supposed to arrive, I couldn't stand the anticipation anymore--I went outside to wait in front of the carport. I walked around, grasshoppers jumping in my stomach. Then the unthinkable happened, about two minutes before my watch said he should be there.

I don't know what I had eaten the night before, but I'm guessing it was the equivalent of a big batch of homemade, unsoaked, fully cooked pinto beans. I was a pressure cooker that had nearly reached its limit. I didn't need a bathroom, but I did need a quiet space where no one would visit for a few minutes.

I thought about waiting, but decided not to. Wait and then what? Try to sit tight in the car and hope a bump in the road didn't prove my undoing? Wait until we got to her house, then run to the bathroom and risk someone hearing or invisible trails following me out? No, that wouldn't do at all.

So I quickly ran to the back of the carport and...well, you fill in the blanks.

When the strength and caliber of what had just transpired hit my nostrils, relief flooded me head to foot. Thank goodness I didn't wait! I turned to walk back up to the front of the carport--and froze.

Scott had just arrived, and was coming up the driveway on his bike. No car, no air-conditioned windows separating him from the air in my yard. I was confused, disappointed, and horrified all at the same time.

I flew into full-on panic mode. This can't be happening. Oh please, please don't come any closer!

I walked over to meet him, hoping to stop him before he hit the invisible wall. He smiled his gorgeous smile and said, "I couldn't take the car because...(insert reason I forgot here)...so I thought we could ride our bikes."

Recovering at the speed of light, I nodded. Anything to get us out of there as soon as humanly possible! "Sure, that'll be fine."

I hurried to the carport post where my bike was chained. Please, oh please don't follow me!

He did.

What was I supposed to say? "Um, I'm sorry, you have to stay there because I just proved how much of a lady I am not!" Right. Totally uncool. So I tried to get my bike loose as fast as I could. My fingers turned to thumbs as I fumbled, but I finally got it and pulled my bike up to where Scott had stopped, a few feet from me.

I swung onto the bicycle and we set off.

I will never forget what a great guy Scott was. Not only did he pretend to ignore the noxious cloud hanging in my yard (I guess he could have not noticed, but I doubt it!), but on my birthday he took my bike and put new tires on it. I had wondered about the lame excuse he gave me for needing to borrow it the day before.

His mother raised him well.

Sharing Villainy

2010-08-01T23:53:00.004-05:00

Back at good 'ol Storymakers 2010, J. Scott Savage spoke about how to write interesting villains. The presentation fascinated me, and I've spent time since then thinking about my favorite villains.

My favorite villains all have several things in common. But since I've been to Storymakers, I've been learning to show instead of tell, so let's take a look! (For those of you with short attention spans like me, I've kept all videos far less than a minute in length. If you already know the character, feel free to skip them!)

Yzma from "The Emperor's New Groove" is quite possibly my favorite villain. She shouldn't be likeable since she hasn't even a flea-sized bit of love in her body and tries to kill Kuzco. However, her tarantula eyelashes and pointy elbows make me laugh, and who can resist a villain who has a weakness for keeping eye candy (known as Kronk) around? Yzma cares nothing for anyone except Kronk--and I bet the instant his muscles show signs of atrophy she's outta there. Yet, she has enough personality and humor to be quite memorable.


Yzma: scary beyond all reason.

This is my favorite scene from the movie, only 30 seconds but it sums Yzma up quite well!

Next up is Coach Sue Sylvester from the hit TV show Glee. I love the roller-coaster ride Sue takes us on. She's funny, but so cruel in her dealings with Will and the Glee kids that she's oh-so-easy to hate. (Legalize cane lashings, anyone?) Then, we learn she has a sister with Down Syndrome, and we discover Sue's tender side. I begin feeling sorry for her and want to like her, then the next scene she's bitterly heartless again. Oh yes, Sue, I hate your emotional roller-coaster but I ride it anyway--the thrills are just that good.

Not my kind of Cheerio

Here's a good example of Sue's hate for Will's hair. Vicious!

The ultimate villain (in my eyes) is Dr. Horrible. I rooted for him against the insufferable hero Captain Hammer. I felt Billy's desperate need to be someone, to get into Bad Horse's good graces. I agonized with him over his unrequited love for Penny. His singing voice? Awesome! Then, when his dastardly plan backfired and hurt the girl of his dreams, he buried his pain and used his sorrow to his advantage. Dr. Horrible could have used that terrible incident to turn things around and do good, but he didn't. Nope, he used his giant mistake to further his own world-dominating dreams. Jerk.

I hold a P.H.D. in Horribleness

This clip is from Bad Horse, head of the League of Evil. Dr. Horrible would do practically anything to get into Bad Horse's good graces.

I know there are other, more evil villains out there. Darth Vader, Voldemort, Hannibal Lecter. But for me to really want more of a villain, to feel something for them, I have to identify with them somehow. My favorite villains have to have a great sense of humor, and not be pure evil. They have to have something in their life that helped influence them to be that way.

I believe that's why Heath Ledger's Joker was so good. We got small glimpses that showed us he wasn't born a tortured soul, but became one. We didn't know all the whys, but his twisted mind made him even scarier--because he rejected any sparks of humanity he might have once had. The Joker is not one of my personal favorites though, because he makes my stomach churn and I feel sick when I watch him. I guess I prefer tamer villains.

When it comes to writing the children's fantasy I have in the works, I'm thinking a villain who tugs at your heartstrings before stomping on them will make him (or her) more appealing to my readers. At least, that's how I feel about it.

That about sums up this glimpse into my favorites list. Who is your favorite villain, and why?

We Create Divinely

2010-06-08T21:30:00.000-05:00

There is something common among all creatively-driven people. I have found it exists among the painter, the writer, the sketcher, the dancer, gardener, welder, photographer, sculptor, knitter, musician, and scrapbooker, to name a few.

Jillian Michaels uses it as she helps people battle obesity. Bode Miller feels it as he straps on his skis. I'm sure Martha Stewart sighs in satisfaction with her possession of it as she pulls together the perfect summer picnic.

Is 'it' perfection at their skill? Possibly--but not wholly.

Is 'it' pride at being among the best in the world at what they do? Maybe a little.

What could 'it' be?

Drive. Drive and passion--they go hand-in-hand.

Drive sounds like such a common thing--but is it really? What binds us to our passion and keeps us working at it when we feel we fall short? What keeps us at it when we succeed? I've pondered this a lot until I came to this realization: because we're children of God.

It hit me not long ago that the drive to explore our passions is actually a spiritual desire. The journey to becoming like God is an integral part of us. He created us, our world, everything we have and create with. Many of us have the goal to become like our Heavenly Father. We are made in His image, and part of that is the drive, the passion to create like He did--like He does.

It is never a selfish thing to make time to work on those things that interest us. It is never a bad thing to learn something new, as long as our and our family's needs are met--and by met, I don't mean running ourselves ragged to give them every single thing they wish and desire.

It is a worthy, god-like attribute to work on those talents the Lord has blessed us with. Not only should we try not to feel guilty in pursuing those things that feed our spirits, we should actively seek them out.

Hobbies and interests we delight in help to stave off depression--whether it's stamp collecting or going on nature walks. If we don't feed our bodies or give them water, they will suffer. If we don't feed our spirits, they will too. If you believe in God, you would most likely agree that it's important to read scripture, pray, and do good to others. However, I think sometimes it's easy to deprive ourselves of our interests and passions because of the fear of not being good enough. Satan uses our fears to keep us depressed and unhappy. We may not be good enough to water ski barefoot--but if we never try, how will we know it's time to dream about something else?

Sometimes we find that it's easy to deprive our souls. Why? Because it feels so good to express ourselves that there has to be something bad about it. When I don't feed my spirit by expressing myself creatively, I suffer. I don't think about it much, but the absence of something is definitely noticeable. My family suffers, my whole outlook on life is affected.

When I make time to do some of the things I love, my soul benefits. Everyone around me does too, because creating something helps me love myself.

Finding my passions and exploring them with drive and creativity also helps me consume less chocolate.

As Martha would undoubtedly say, that's a good thing.

How to Lose Weight FAST!

2010-05-04T00:33:00.000-05:00

Here is a way I've discovered to drop inches FAST! The only thing it might cost you is pain medication. Oh, and I suggest doing this over a weekend so that your spouse can take care of the children. Believe me, you will not be in any shape to. But it's all worth it in the name of beauty, right?

Go somewhere that's very crowded, oh, sometime in the middle of the week. That way you'll have a couple of days to see if you're lucky enough to contract the "Magic Weight-Loss Virus". Timing is VERY important, because you won't want your spouse to miss work to take care of you. Because he or she will definitely have to, or your children will be left to watch Quest for Camelot endlessly, eating cereal all day long out of dirty bowls, convinced that you are dying.

Anyway...

After a few days of your exposure... let's say Friday, live it up. Go to your sister's birthday party, have a great time with friends, because you'll soon be hanging onto those fun memories from your bed--actually, you'll be nearly hallucinating, so you won't be thinking of much else besides pain, your Mommy, plot points of another book you want to write when you should be hallucinating about the one you're currently writing, and oh...publishers.

At said party, you may feel your throat getting sore. Not to worry, it's only the promise of better-fitting jeans you're feeling! Have another small helping of three kinds of ice cream to soothe your throat.

About two hours later, your throat will begin to melt. Have another helping of three kinds of ice cream (just make sure they're small scoops so no one thinks you're totally gross), and why not throw in some cake? After all, this will be the last thing you will eat for a long while. May as well enjoy it.

Now you'll be in for a real treat. This is where the magical weight loss happens. Not only will your throat be swollen and filled with balefire (if you're a Wheel of Time fan you'll get this reference, if not--oh well.), you won't want anything, not even to swallow your own saliva.

Next, you'll begin shaking. You'll swear you've lost all your clothes and are laying on a dogsled in the Arctic in the middle of winter. This works to your advantage--you get all the benefit of calorie burning without hypothermia. Win-win!

The tough part is the pain, but it will help you on your weight-loss journey. All the groaning and twitching from freezing, and the pain from ice picks in your back and thighs burn several hundred calories an hour. You may take Extra Strength Tylenol, because it will help to keep your temp steady at the 102-103 degree zone, while stopping your twitching long enough to get scattered sleep. You don't want to be awake ALL the time, that would thwart your weight loss. You know, the importance of cortisol and all.

HOWEVER--DO CHECK YOUR TEMPERATURE WHEN YOU START FEELING HOT. Because it may turn out that the two blankets, a comforter, sheet, socks, hot water bottle and heating pad turned on high may be a leetle bit too much once the Tylenol takes you down a bit. After all, 105.3 is getting up there--weight loss is important, but not to the point of having to change sweaty sheets.

You will know you are at the height of this wonderful program when you can't surf the internet on your laptop, sit up for more than a few seconds, lay down reading, keep your eyes focused on anything, or care if your kids were running around naked on the rooftop and were abducted by aliens. In fact, you might be grateful for the peace and quiet.

After a weekend of this, you should have lost 3-5 pounds. It's hard to be accurate, say, if your husband changed the batteries in the scale and now it's registering everyone two pounds heavier, and your brain is fried from fever which makes the math too hard. So you're guaranteed to lose 3-5 pounds. Or more. Or less.

A nice, lingering effect is that your throat will stay sore for a while afterward, making you think twice about putting those M&Ms in your mouth. You will probably think three times then only eat half as many. Which is good, especially if your husband got a family-sized bag when he made a Walmart run with the kids on Saturday.

**Disclaimer: these statements have not been evaluated by the Fleshy Divas Association. Use at your own risk, return to sender. Address unknown. No such number, No such phone. Etcetera. **

Storymakers Trip Overview--Or in Other Words, Suffering From Withdrawal Symptoms!

2010-04-28T22:26:00.001-05:00

Storymakers--*sniff, sniff*. I want to go back RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW, DO YOU HEAR?

That was one of the best events I've ever gone to. It was life-changing. I'm already seeing a big difference in my writing, and in my mind and confidence as well.

I got to meet so many wonderful people I knew online, and some new friends: Kimberly, L.T. Elliot, DaNae, Dedee, Tristi, Annette, Elizabeth, Brillig, Kazzy, Sue, Terresa, Elizabeth, Aimee, Danyelle, Wendy, Keith, Don, Tobyn, and on and on.

I'll give you a brief overview. Sorry, no pics yet, they're in James' phone.

Thursday morning we left for the airport. Three of our children had Grandma stay with them, Bean came with us.

It was my first time on a commercial airplane, and I discovered one thing--I like mild turbulence. James thought I was a bit off my rocker because of it. I think the actual exchange went like this:

James: "You actually like this?"

Rebecca, noticing the mild bumpiness again now that James mentions it: "You mean the turbulence? Yeah!"

James: Shakes his head at his crazy wife.

Seeing the Rockies from the air was a spiritual experience, and I admit to shedding a few tears. I got some great pics of them too, all in James' phone.

Bean traveled well. We were supposed to have a mid-size car, but since Enterprise was out of mid-size cars due to BYU commencement, we got a free upgrade to a shiny, black Ford Expedition. It was nice, and by the time I got into the SUV for the last time before we returned it, I had figured out how to climb in gracefully. The other times? Not so pretty. My behind, showcased by the black door frame, must have made a lovely target.

The event on Thursday at Borders was so fun! I admit to being pretty nervous at meeting bloggers in Real Life, but they were all so lovely, friendly, and sweet, and I felt right at home.

The workshops at the conference were spectacular. I didn't enter any contests as I wanted to attend the most basic workshops to improve my skills first. Next year I plan to enter, though!

All the presenters and people in charge were incredible people and did amazing jobs! I thoroughly enjoyed the bit of visiting time I had with Annette Lyon, Julie Wright, Heather Moore, Candace Salima, Karen Hoover, and others. Julie was so sweet and encouraging to a young, aspiring author that it brought tears to our eyes. I'd bet that she doesn't know how much that must mean to the girl she was speaking with. James and I just watched the girl blossom while Julie was talking to her. Julie is an incredible example and I hope to get to talk with her again someday.

It was totally worth it to stay at the hotel. I ran up and downstairs so many times with Bean I lost count. James and I traded holding him, and Bean did really well.

He did so well, in fact, that while he was army-crawling around the hotel room on Friday, he disappeared around the corner leading to the bathroom. James went to check on him and I knew that the "oh no, Bean" that came out of his mouth could only mean one thing. I winced as I said "Is there blood?" because I already knew the answer. After hearing James' "Yes." I walked around the corner to find the words Red Rum drawn on the mirrored panel closet door in blood.

Well...ok, there were no actual words. But it did look like something small had been murdered there. Blood was all over the carpet, and Bean had been merrily playing on the mirror while his finger dripped, not even crying. He was only drawing in his blood, nothing to worry about, right?

I had to actually nurse him so he'd let me hold his finger to stop the bleeding. We figured that he must have slid his finger down the mirror panel at just the right place to slice it.

Bean was pretty wonderful through the workshops. We sat at the back of every one to enable a quick getaway, but he gave nary a peep until the very last workshop on Saturday, and at the closing ceremonies. He even fell asleep on Elizabeth Mueller's shoulder on Friday night at the Shaun Barrowes concert, and James and I got to dance. That was very romantic! Thanks again, Elizabeth!

We also got to visit with Shaun for quite a while. He is incredibly talented! We're hoping to work the details out for him to visit our hometown. He does musical concerts with high schools to promote the importance of music in schools.

When it was all over, I was so worn out both physically and emotionally, but I would have done it again in a heartbeat. I learned so much, and met so many wonderful people! It was very hard to leave the hotel.

Saturday night after conference was over, we went to Alpine to visit someone who was James' Teachers Quorum Adviser years ago. He and his wife are lovely people.

Sunday we went to Temple Square and the Church Museum, but only got to stay for 45 minutes or so before we had to leave for our flight.

Now, all I want to do is work on my book, so I'll leave you with some wise information: if you want a warm, melty Lindt 85% (I'm hardcore, plus it has much less sugar) dark chocolate bar, leave it by the side of your laptop where the fan is blowing. Gooey.

If You'll Be at Storymakers This Week

2010-04-20T21:23:00.001-05:00

Ok, it's Tuesday night. I guess I'd better do this now, I've been meaning to. I was hoping to be in far better shape before I posted, but since we writers are all about inner beauty, I'm counting on that. Because man, I'm a little nervous! However, I do want people to recognize me. :)

I can't find my camera, and even if I did, I don't remember how to get those darn pics online. So, I swiped a recent pic my sister took two Saturdays ago, at her daughter's birthday party.

At least this is an awful picture of me sans haircut, hairstyle or makeup, so it's only up from here. I still weigh 23 pounds more than I did in my profile pic (Thanks, Bean!), but at least it's not the 45 it was in January. I've had a haircut since that pic, and I promise I'll be wearing makeup and will do my hair. (James will like that, I'm sure.)

That hot guy sitting on the bench is James. He still looks the same as he does in his pic. The adorable little Bean he is holding will be coming with us to the conference.

So, there you have it.

Oh yes, and I have bangs again. :)

I am so looking forward to meeting you all!

Edited to say that yes, I do wear glasses all the time now.

I Am a Pistachio

A Book Review About Grandmotherly Detectives and Cabana Boys

Book Review: Family by Design

Confession Time--There is One Thing I Miss About Those Pounds . . .

The Love of a Two-Year-Old's Life *Should* be His Mother

Faithful, Fit and Fabulous--or Get Your Rear in Gear While Making it Nearly Painless

This is Not Your Grandma's Book Review

The End of the World was at 10:30 This Morning

The Battle was Lost, but the War is Mine!

All Diets Work

An Open Day for Memories

The End of an Era and a New Beginning

When You See a Puzzled Look in a Two-Year-Old's Eyes . . .

Birthday Cake and Literary Agents: When the Two Collide

A Story for Tuesday: The Miniature Rose

Party With Tristi Pinkston and Her New Book Release!

Book Review: Sleight of Hand by Deanne Blackhurst

TAG! You're it! Or, Things You Didn't Know About Me That Won't Change Your Life

Book Review: Safe Money Millionaire

Adventures at Walmart

Watched Book Tour Prize Winner!

Come Celebrate The Release Of Watched With Us!

Bumpy Landings Book Winner Take Two!

Bumpy Landings Book Winner!

Bumpy Landings Book Giveaway!

Book Review: Nia by Mella Reese

Lizard Wizard, Canned Cheese, and How Not to Make Your Readers' Heads Explode

This Post is For the Birds. Literally. Like, if You're a Bird, READ THIS.

Blog Address Change!

Learn Writing Tips by Watching TV Shows

Like Money for Chocolate

Mourning Osama

The Great Ketchup Smackdown!

I'm Lucy, She's Ethel: How We Escaped Being Arrested in Omaha

Friday Favorites: TobyMac, no Cheese

Along Came a Spider and Sat Down . . . If Only, If Only *Shakes Head Sadly*

Unspotted Love--Hopefully

Friday Favorites: I'm a Wannabe Old Softy--On My Feet

A Spring Parable

Writing Tip: An Easy Way to Find Repetitive Words When You Don't Know What They Are

Introducing . . . a New Blog Segment!

KiTE by Bill Shears

My Arch Enemy: Resistance

Squirrel! And an Announcement

Miss Delacourt Has Her Day by Heidi Ashworth, and a Giveaway Link for TWO Books!

A Slight Rant on Characterization, or Here's Something to Think About

A Ditz for Chocolate

Book Review: Journey of Honor by Jaclyn M. Hawkes

Why Write?

It's Like That. Exactly.

It's an Obsession, Nuh-Nuh

Book Review: The Peasant Queen by Cheri Chesley

My First Blog Interview--by Author Sarah Miller Eden!

Valentine's Day Blogfest: Sharing a Scene From my Work-in-Progress!

It's Valens-Tine Day!

Book Review: Bumpy Landings by Donald J. Carey

Sit. Yes, Sit.

A Symphony of Words

Fairyland in the Parking Lot

New Year's Restitutions. Yep. Restitutions.

I am Not a Juicy Hermit Crab

Felt Food Giveaway Winner and Consolation Prize for All!

Tristi Pinkston's Merry Month of Miracles Giveaway!

GIVEAWAY! Adorable, Handcrafted Play Food by The Whimsical Gourmet!

Coincidences in Writing, or Oh My Gosh, You're My Long-Lost Twin!

Blog Tour Book Review: Perilous by Tamara Hart Heiner, and Win a Book or Kindle!

I've Found the Secret! (No, Not on Oprah!)

In Which I Float Up to the Sky, Collapsed

There's a First Time for Everything!

Cotton Candy and the Bronte Sisters

Book Review: Defensive Tactics by Steve Westover

Battle of the Yucky Bugs!

Love and Dating Escapades #2: Scott

Sharing Villainy

We Create Divinely

How to Lose Weight FAST!

Storymakers Trip Overview--Or in Other Words, Suffering From Withdrawal Symptoms!

If You'll Be at Storymakers This Week

The Love of a Two-Year-Old's Life Should be His Mother

Along Came a Spider and Sat Down . . . If Only, If Only Shakes Head Sadly