tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356268209495339402024-02-19T07:18:44.582-08:00Amelia's MemorabiliaAmelia Loken writes...about things that are virtuous, lovely, of good report and just plain fun! Anything that is happy-making or thought-provoking is fair game here.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.comBlogger146125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-57272297363822490872013-09-20T20:47:00.000-07:002013-09-20T20:49:28.686-07:00In Which I Semi-Retire from Blogging<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5shYXzSIjjV9gKUfRCQncSU9xhN7jZI3eJzacqWCGXhLcnwcfIx-alwLFciwySasWzzhVaFtJ10reHYuzGxKmg9rRLaFzsAwdpdnWnV_FtI3MTnkcSN0bs1F3Vayk0LiZLtCNqvG9CHk/s1600/june-july+2013+018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5shYXzSIjjV9gKUfRCQncSU9xhN7jZI3eJzacqWCGXhLcnwcfIx-alwLFciwySasWzzhVaFtJ10reHYuzGxKmg9rRLaFzsAwdpdnWnV_FtI3MTnkcSN0bs1F3Vayk0LiZLtCNqvG9CHk/s320/june-july+2013+018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Those who have been ardently, impatiently waiting for the latest blog posting from me has been disappointed this past summer. I went to a regional SCBWI conference at the beginning of June, had a 'near miss' with an agent and the blog went dark. Not because I'd given up writing or anything, far from it. The agent was awesome and said she wants to see my manuscript....after it's shortened a bit.</div>
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So I spent the summer carefully performing liposuction, nipping and tucking and sometimes restructuring. But at the same time, I really studied my writing. </div>
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I love it. It's good. </div>
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I want to continue doing this for ages and ages. But I'm just now getting how Looooooong it really does take to get published. And I realized that I was okay with that. </div>
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Why? Because I decided that I couldn't wait around for the golden egg of royalties to drop into my lap to improve my financial situation. I have other skills beside writing. And those who love me best have been nudging me to get those skills polished and marketable. </div>
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I realized I can do both. I can pursue both dreams.</div>
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I knew it would be difficult.</div>
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A challenge. </div>
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A Mount Everest of tasks and responsibility.</div>
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And my track record for following through has never been awesome.</div>
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Except, now that I'm back on a college campus (after a hiatus of more than a decade) I'm not the same person I was before. I don't procrastinate my assignments. I usually have them done a day or two before they are due. I'm getting straight A's (yeah, yeah, its only a month into the school year...but still!). </div>
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I also walk a half hour every morning (*a truly happy time with my iPod).</div>
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I make breakfast for five kids.</div>
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Help five kids with homework every afternoon. </div>
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Cook dinner every night. </div>
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Keep up with laundry (sorta...not folding still counts right?).</div>
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And on weekends, I've been able to get something done on my novel. In fact, I've discovered a few new ideas and my writing feels fresher than it has in a long time.</div>
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Perhaps everyone should try going back to school in their thirties...we have a much better work ethic and a better understanding of priorities.</div>
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I do need to let a couple of things go, however. And guess what...the blog gets the ax. Not permanently, I hope. Who knows, now that I'm 'signing off,' I might just gravitate back here more often.</div>
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As it is, I am the author of one YA fantasy novel and several other partial novels (all yet to be published). </div>
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I am a happy wife and a mom of five energetic boys.</div>
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I am a college student, pursuing my Bachelors in Interpreting for the Deaf.</div>
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I still love writing. </div>
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I still love fencing.</div>
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I still love immersing myself in a good book.</div>
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I still love art.</div>
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I still love baking.</div>
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I still love so many, many things. </div>
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But if my week was a pie chart, some of that stuff is gets a pretty skinny slice nowadays.</div>
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And that's okay with me right now. I hope you understand.</div>
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'Til next time!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-19535889952151608182013-06-21T23:40:00.000-07:002013-06-21T23:57:27.709-07:00Books as a Sanctuary<div style="text-align: center;">
It is past midnight and I should be in bed. </div>
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I spent seven of the last eight hours at Family Night at my oldest's Boy Scout Camp...or on the road to get to its lovely location: Damascus, Arkansas. And with the four other boys in the back of the van, it felt like we were driving all the way to the Middle Eastern Damascus and possibly ready for some Peace Talks when we got there.</div>
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When we got home and carried the (very dirty) little boys up to their beds, I remembered that tomorrow is another Swim Meet. That starts at 7am. And it lasts six hours. And Daddy will be out of town. And I am on the volunteer roster.</div>
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Dang.</div>
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So, I let my honey crawl into bed and I headed to Walmart. (What did we do without 24hour grocery stores?) I stocked up on Pop-Tarts, Blueberry Muffins and a box of Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches and headed home. I should have gone to bed just then. But I had to check email for the list of swimming events for tomorrow and then I found a new post from a favorite blogger.... you know how it goes.</div>
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This time, when I read that post, it opened up a tender area in my heart that I don't talk about very much. </div>
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The post, by <a href="http://www.fizzygrrl.com/when-the-words-came/">Fizzygrrl, is about the power of words and writing</a>. And how it saved her from 8th grade. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Caution: Though I love Fizzygrrl and her messages and emotions, she does use a lot of <b>profanity</b>. Not for the tender reader. <i>Caveat Lector</i>.)</span></div>
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Fizzygrrl's honesty touched me and I couldn't go to sleep until I wrote a little something about books and stories and how they saved me. She was saved from the cruelty of the classroom. I was saved from the chaos of my homelife.</div>
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Now, my family sometimes reads this blog, and I'm not going to air any dirty laundry. But just the facts of our situation during my middle school years might illustrate just a little.</div>
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My Dad decided to change careers when I was in 3rd grade. He was going to become an attorney. So by 4th grade, we'd moved from Iowa to Oklahoma City so he could go to Law School. </div>
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For anyone who's never been to Oklahoma City, the place is huge. Sprawling. There are no geographical boundaries on this place, it just goes on and on, bleeding into Mustang, Moore, Midwest City. I had already lived in several towns and states before then; the place I'd lived the longest being the well-known truckstop town of Winnemucca, Nevada. </div>
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Yeah, I was going places.</div>
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So, we move to this huge city. My dad starts law school. Night school. Because he worked days at the courthouse as a bailiff to support our family of six. </div>
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But its not quite enough, so my mom takes on babysitting in our home. Four little kids at first, then sometimes as many as eight. </div>
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And the biggest house we can afford close to the university is a two bedroom rental. My bedroom was about 10' x 10' square with a set of bunks on each side. The boys' and the girls'.</div>
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It was snug, I'll tell you, but we had friends with a family of nine in a three bedroom and they had a set of bunks in the dining room, so we thought we had it good! At least we could take turns in the bedroom changing with the door shut.</div>
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But by the time I reached Middle School, the snug little house was beginning to feel cramped. We'd all grown in size and personality.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(This is the actual house. Someone spruced it up, but I bet it's still tiny inside. )</span><br />
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And we'd also grown in appetites. In addition to babysitting Monday through Friday, my mom picked up a paper route in our neighborhood.<br />
She got up at 4:30 every morning, got her papers, came home and woke up a few kids to help.<br />
Sundays everybody helped, because the papers were so monstrous. So we folded papers in our living room for a half hour, then loaded up our over-the-shoulder-paper-bags and the backseat of our Maverick. </div>
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My mom would park it every few blocks and we'd do our side of the street and come back for more papers. It was great in the summer. The worst kind of awful in the winter.</div>
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Some days, we'd groan and refuse to get up and my mom would do it on her own.<br />
Hundreds of papers.<br />
Alone.</div>
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She is amazing.</div>
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Then it would be breakfast and the babysitting kids would be dropped of by their parents and we'd get dressed for school and start our day for real.</div>
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School. Homework. Dinner. Family Scriptures. Stories and Bed.</div>
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Start all over again.</div>
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But that part you just read and skipped over...Stories?</div>
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That was the best part of the day. </div>
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My mom would read to us. She was a wonderful reader. She did all the voices and would speed up or pause in all the right places. She also told "head stories". We begged her to write them down someday and publish them. Most are forgotten, now. But she would come up with tales that were exciting and adventuresome and had children just the same ages as us, doing all sorts of wonderful things that we longed to do.</div>
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But if Storytime was the best part of the day, then Saturdays and trips to the Library were the best part of the week. We'd usually fill at least one brown grocery bag with the books we'd borrow. And I know my mother must have paid a fortune in fines over the years. </div>
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But for me, the library was my sanctuary.<br />
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" /></div>
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I can still remember what the Bell Isle Branch looked like and its been over 20 years since I've set foot in the place. It was huge and circular with floor to ceiling windows that alternated with bookshelves. It was spacious. My family's house could fit in the open area in front of the circulation desk. </div>
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And the stories I read...Adventures. Mysteries. Sweet Teen Romances (I loved Ned Nickerson, Nancy Drew's boyfriend). These were all escapes from the rest of the reality I faced each day.</div>
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Do any of you remember the suitcase full of books, hauled around by the heroine in "Moonrise Kingdom"?</div>
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That was me in middle school.</div>
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It wasn't the coal mines of West Virginia. I didn't live in a drug-riddled slum. But it was harsh and it was emotionally demanding. And I couldn't face it.</div>
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So I escaped.</div>
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With a book.</div>
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I still do.</div>
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I'm packing a book to the Swim Meet tomorrow, right next to the Blueberry Muffins.</div>
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Long live stories. Long live the storytellers.</div>
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These are the things that get us through. </div>
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Was there a special book that got you through a difficult time? </div>
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Here's a <a href="http://amelialoken.blogspot.com/2012/10/books-that-got-me-through.html">post about books I read last fall while in the hospital with a sick child</a>.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-31481685037000759592013-05-29T07:06:00.002-07:002013-05-29T07:08:10.008-07:00Middle Grade on my Radar<div style="text-align: center;">
Among my typical grab-bag of library treats the past few weeks, I've picked up a few Middle Grade books that have won me over. This actually surprised me, because Middle Grade isn't my favorite genre.</div>
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I have my favorites from my own childhood, "The Westing Game" and "From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankenweiler". And once my oldest kids reached the right age, we immersed ourselves in Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and Ranger's Apprentice. </div>
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Which are all awesome!</div>
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But you start talking about literary Middle Grade, you know, stuff that tells of a typical tween that doesn't have powers, doesn't fight monsters, doesn't have a major plot point in every chapter, and I start yawning.</div>
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Or maybe its contemporary Middle Grade that I don't like. Going back to middle school with Greg Hefley is not my idea of fun. And reading about the drama and minutia of everyday life as a 10-14 year old doesn't thrill me.</div>
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But, a few recommendations crossed my path and I was pleasantly surprised.</div>
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First off is "Capture the Flag" by Kate Messner. This is a caper/mystery at its heart which is probably why it didn't lose my attention. Three very different kids are all at a party at the Smithsonian the night some thieves steal the Star-Spangled Banner. But a snowstorm locks down the city and traps the kids and the thieves at the airport (I imagined Dulles, but it didn't say) and unable to return home. The kids begin searching. Lots of great character sketches and chase scenes and as one of the kids says, "It's a lot like National Treasure." Which must be why I like it. I loved that movie. :)</div>
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<img height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRUhkUuefjdBlO3jSLDn0xYVW9eeJbLBBkJ1cjTOpTEj2GVum7PRA" width="131" /></div>
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Also, a follow-up book, "Hide and Seek" was just released last month. The same trio heads down to Costa Rica to find the Jaguar Cup that was stolen from their secret society. I'm thinking a kid version of Indiana Jones. Can't wait to see if I'm right. </div>
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Another that captured my imagination is the quiet seeming book, "Bigger Than a Breadbox" by Laurel Snyder. On the outset, its about a 12-year old girl from Baltimore who's mother and father separate. Rebecca barely talks to her mom on the road trip or when they reach her grandma's house in Atlanta. To keep away from her mom, she explores the attic and finds a collection of rusty breadboxes. One, though is shiny and grants wishes. Rebecca uses this power to comfort herself in this difficult, emotional time. But things get complicated when it turns out that the things Rebecca wished for weren't just made magically by the breadbox, but acquired from elsewhere and other people. Rebecca's quest to set things right gets her into an even deeper muddle, and kept me turning pages long after I thought I'd quit.</div>
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Another book that I loved was "Plain Kate" by Erin Bow. Now this book is technically a YA, but the entire time, it felt like a Middle Grade book. Perhaps it was because the story focused on Kate's problems and coming of age and not any romance. This is a story full of magic, dark wishes and grieving, so I wouldn't recommend it to the younger set, but it would be great for the precocious kiddo or the one who has one foot in Tweenville and not quite ready for the smexy YA stuff out there. </div>
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Plain Kate is set in medievalesque eastern Europe. (There was some language used that looked/sounded like Polish, so that's where I set it in my head.) Kate is left alone at the outset of the book and has to fend for herself from a young teen/tween age. She is chased out of town on suspicion of witchcraft and soon travels with the gypsies. Very rich description of medieval/renaissance town life, gypsy life, creepy magic and a non-gory horror show of a slow-moving plague.</div>
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I'll tell you honestly, I cried. Quite a bit. For the last quarter of the book, it seemed like. Hard choices. Sacrifice. Redemption. More hard choices. More sacrifice. More Redemption. </div>
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But absolutely lovely. </div>
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Changing gears, I have to tell you about an author that I am just cuckoo about: Ally Carter.</div>
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I LOVE her YA book, "Heist Society" and the two that follow. </div>
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<img alt="Heist Society (Heist Society, #1)" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1359254479s/6574102.jpg" /> <img alt="Uncommon Criminals (Heist Society, #2)" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1298155996s/10327303.jpg" /> <img alt="Perfect Scoundrels (Heist Society, #3)" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1340716595s/13580928.jpg" /></div>
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(Seriously LOVE them!</div>
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... Picture "Ocean's 11" performed by an awesome teen cast of art thieves. </div>
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Sooooooo goooooood.)</div>
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<img alt="I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You (Gallagher Girls, #1)" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1334491180s/852470.jpg" /> <img alt="Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy (Gallagher Girls, #2)" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1342448094s/568645.jpg" /> <img alt="Don't Judge a Girl by Her Cover (Gallagher Girls, #3)" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1359827132s/5267365.jpg" /> <img alt="Only the Good Spy Young (Gallagher Girls, #4)" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1360564648s/6950688.jpg" /> <img alt="Out of Sight, Out of Time (Gallagher Girls, #5)" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1314135923s/10560331.jpg" /></div>
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But Carter's Gallager Girl's series is almost as wonderful and surpasses any teen-girl series I've read so far. It starts with "I'd Tell You That I Love You, but Then I'd Have to Kill You". Other similarly catchy titles follow. </div>
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The books take place in a private spy school for girls in Virginia (very easy to imagine a location near Winchester, where I used to live) and the lead character is known as the Chameleon, because she always blends into the background. I remember feeling that way as a teen and not in a good way. But Cameron, is a wonderfully understated character who succeeds at being good-girl and kick-butt all at the same time. This is wonderful for older middle graders who want a bit of romance, giggly girlfriends in the story with something more than 'conquer the mean girls at school without becoming one of them' dramas. </div>
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Seriously, these books are wonderful! I wish I had them in ninth grade. Would have made that year soooo much better!</div>
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A couple of other titles that have caught my eye (that I haven't read yet, but plan to in the near future) are "The Humming Room" by Ellen Potter, which supposed to be like "The Secret Garden" but with sci-fi/fantasy elements. I bought it at a school book fair and lost it, only to find it two days ago. On the top of my TBR pile.</div>
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The other is, "The Zebra Forest" by Adina Rishe Gewirtz. Annie and her brother, Raw, have been taught by their Gran to do whatever they do with excellence, perhaps even lying to their social worker. Gran says little about their father, only that he was killed by a very angry man. Then a prison escapee breaks into their home and the kids find out that Gran sure didn't tell them everything.</div>
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Seriously cannot wait to read this. But my library hadn't even ordered it yet last time I checked. Grrr. Will have to check in with them this week. </div>
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Until next time. Happy Reading, and may you never run out of good books!</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-15114560332672158432013-05-20T09:44:00.000-07:002013-05-20T09:44:58.209-07:00Read-Aloud Faves We're Raving About<div style="text-align: center;">
I am a Mom first. My title of 'blogger' comes somewhere around 8th or 9th on the list of badges I wear. That is the only excuse I'll give for my month-long absence from the blogging world. I'm a Mom...'Nuff said.</div>
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As the weather's been (finally) warming up the past month, my preschooler and I have been taking lots of walks to the library. We live within walking distance of a LIBRARY!!! (Dream come true, I'm telling you!) So we load up the hefty canvas bag of picture books, Middle Grade books, YA books, and kid movies and pull out the little guy's "motorcycle" (envision tough looking plastic tricycle) and walk the half mile to our new library.</div>
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Isn't it cool-looking! And it has lots of awesome-sauce inside!</div>
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Today, I wanted to share some of the super gems we've found inside these walls. First of all is one of our staples: Elephant & Piggie books by the ever-funny Mo Willems.</div>
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If you haven't read these books, stop right now and go pick up one. These are great for any kiddo between the ages of 2-6. But I find these are especially great for the fidgety kind. The words are multi-sized with lots of emotion. Its not just reading at a monotone. But shouting and whispering and groaning and crying. For example:</div>
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All these emotions in one book. And there are a TON of them! I couldn't afford to buy them all, so I'm reallllly glad that Libraries are around to foot the bill and make them available to all of us.</div>
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These are also great for early readers. Lots of simple words. But NOT BORING....AT ALL!</div>
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My older kids still pick them up and laugh. </div>
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Real humor, real humanity (even though they are animals), real emotions. </div>
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'<i>Caveat Lector</i>'...after reading a couple, especially at full volume, you might need a Big Gulp to rehydrate your vocal chords. :)</div>
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Another fun couple of books are two I brought with me to our elementary school's Reading Is Fundamental winter program. Let me tell you, the kids Looooooooooooved them. They wanted tons more time with these books and had a hard time going to pick out their own free book. </div>
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Our theme for the day was "Let your Imagination go Wild" and these two really fit the bill.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Images via chrisvandusen.com)</span></div>
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In the first book, author/illustrator has Jack telling his dad all about the awesome car, HE would build, and boy, does he pull out the stops, from gel-filled bumpers that don't crumple to a snack bar to a robot and beyond. Just watch the eyes of a kid reading this book for a the first time and you will not bemoan the future of the next generation. Promise.</div>
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The next book, Jack has a conversation with his mom about their boring, run-of-the-mill house and the ideas he has for improving it. Again, it is filled with lots of pink and turquoise and mid-century kitschy-cool blended with Jetson-esque remodeling.</div>
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The kids really got excited about this, as each room becomes more outlandish and outstanding. Here's an image of the kitchen, the FIRST room that is described.</div>
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It gets better...it really does. And there are glimpses of the car from the first book, which are fun 'Easter eggs' for the kids to find on their multiple readings afterwards. Which there will be. I promise.</div>
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Another fun read, we only discovered this year was "Traction Man". If any of you have sons into action figures or who had action figures yourselves or had brothers, buddies, or friends who had them, then you will enjoy this wonderful book that takes a look into the life of the new Christmas present and his exploration of his surroundings and heroic activities that day.</div>
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But what happens when Granny gives Traction Man a wonderful gift???</div>
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You <i>have</i> to read! There is a sequel that takes place at the beach with some new Barbie-esque friends. And it looks like there is another one out that I haven't read yet:</div>
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Looks good!!!</div>
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I'm noticing a trend here of Author/Illustrators. Well, we shall keep that up with my last recommendation with the ever-wonderful, Lauren Child. My family hadn't heard of her until 3-4 years ago when some friends introduced us to the fun TV series, 'Charlie and Lola' based on Child's books. We watched all of them available on DVD at our local library. We were hooked. And I polished my British accent so I could read the REAL books aloud to my crew without making them protest, "Say it right, Mom!!!" My all-time favorites are the one about picky eating and the one about Lola's make-believe friend, Soren Lorenson. </div>
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The way the book was printed to make Soren there, but not there in the illustrations was simply amazing. You have to check out the book to see what I mean...I'm not spoiling. :)</div>
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Below is another book I love, just because I am a bibliophile and I HATE it when the book I want from the library or bookshop is NOT there! Child totally captures that feeling. </div>
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Lauren Child's 'Clarice Bean' books are great. At least one is a picture book, and I believe the rest are upper elementary chapter books which are great for the almost-tweener.</div>
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But one of my favorites of hers is "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Book?"</div>
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I am planning to share this one for next fall's RIF day. (Shhh! Don't tell.)</div>
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In this wonderful read-aloud, Herb has been cutting the pictures out of his books and when he is sucked into his fairy tale book one night, he discovers the consequences of messing about with good books. Its' like a fractured fairytale/fairytale retold with wonderful illustrations and story line. And lots of humor. I mean, Goldilocks is the Antagonist!</div>
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<img height="233" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTBZ0ptkkNeMoB17WKmGOKvYtID7Up6UqqXI1oIiWEBijiyn55z" width="400" /></div>
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Made my Happily-Ever-After heart go pitter-pat. Absolutely loved.</div>
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So what about you? Do you have a favorite author or illustrator or storybook series? Please share? I love to get new recommendations. :)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-47532180001402358492013-04-18T07:31:00.003-07:002013-04-18T07:31:45.227-07:00Poetry Floaties Keep Me From Drowning<div style="text-align: center;">
After the bombings in Boston a few days ago and the explosion in West, Texas at a nearby fertilizer plant last night, I feel as if we've been hit by a terrible double-tap of tragedy.</div>
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Miles away, folks are facing their worst nightmares and I'm here, safe and sound in my home, my biggest immediate concern being sure the kids take raincoats with them to school.</div>
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If I let myself watch and listen and think about either event too long, I will be a puddle of tears before mid-morning.</div>
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Words help. </div>
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For me, words can help shape reality into something I can handle, a shape I can "see" in my minds eye. Then somehow, I can process the indescribable and wrap my prayers around something more concrete than the gut feelings of fear and dismay.</div>
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When I heard of the amazing marathoners who, though entirely spent, continued onward to help others and donate blood, I couldn't help but think of these lines from Rudyard Kipling's "If".</div>
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'If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs ...</div>
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'If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew </div>
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To serve your turn long after they are gone, </div>
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And so hold on when there is nothing in you</div>
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Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"</div>
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'If you can fill the unforgiving minute </div>
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With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,</div>
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Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,</div>
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And - what is more - you'll be a Man, my son!'</div>
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To be able to face the terrors in life, grit your teeth and keep on going, that is strength. We cannot do it alone. We need more than a British stiff-upper-lip. We need friends around us and moments of grieving and moments to stare into nothing. We need something to occupy our hands, so it feels like we can DO something; put our hand to the plow, fist to the punching bag, face to the wind. </div>
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We want to FIGHT against all that darkness and evil in the world.</div>
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At least I do.</div>
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When I hear of those who've misused power or abused others, or committed acts of terror, I recall the poem, "The Man With the Hoe" by Edwin Markham. It was written after Markham saw Millet's world-famous painting of a brutalized worker.</div>
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<img src="http://www.getty.edu/art/collections/images/m/00087901.jpg" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">via Getty.edu</span></div>
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In the poem, Markham scolds, in ringing tones, those whose actions bring pain, numbness and all other brands of brokenness to fellow human beings.</div>
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I won't share the entire poem here, much as I love it, just the lines that I feel apply to whoever might be the dark soul behind the awful acts of terror.</div>
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"...Is this the handiwork you give to God,</div>
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This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?</div>
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How will you ever straighten up this shape;</div>
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Touch it again with immortality;</div>
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Give back the upward looking and the light;</div>
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Rebuild in it the music and the dream;</div>
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Make right the immemorial infamies.</div>
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Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?"</div>
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What of us left behind, hurting, aching for the wounded and the lost? Not sure what to do, how to help, what to even pray for. Feeling angry and hurt and violated and wanting to turn from those dark feelings, to beat our swords into something beneficial. What can we do?</div>
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We can honor those who have fallen. </div>
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We can turn our back on human frailties and celebrate our God-given Humanity.</div>
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Kindness. </div>
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Just a little bit of kindness.</div>
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After the dreadful shootings in Newtown, Conn., NBC correspondent Ann Curry encouraged others to do 26 acts of kindness for those 26 victims. Now, in honor of the 26th mile of the Boston Marathon, we are again encouraged to do 26 acts of random kindness. </div>
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If we like, we may share on Twitter under the hashtag #26Acts2.</div>
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This call to action, good, righteous action, recalls the classic poem written during World War One by Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, "In Flander's Fields".</div>
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"We are the Dead. Short days ago</div>
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We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,</div>
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Loved and were loved, and now we lie</div>
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In Flanders field.</div>
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"...To you from failing hands we throw </div>
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The torch; be yours to hold it high.</div>
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If ye break faith with us who die</div>
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We shall not sleep, though poppies grow</div>
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In Flanders fields."</div>
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The torch is given. Pass it on. Pass it forward.</div>
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Break a sweat. Break a Twenty. Break for a pedestrian, a biker, the jerk who cut you off.</div>
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And then, just smile and wave and know that maybe they didn't see you. Maybe they were wiping a tear. Maybe their friend, their aunt or cousin is in Boston or Texas or some other Flanders field of woe. </div>
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Give them a break, a little kindness, and go about your day with gratitude that there is good in the world. For, if enough of us act, speak and share, the light will overcome the darkness.</div>
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Every Single Time.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-29941458513213978722013-04-16T06:50:00.001-07:002013-05-20T09:59:53.339-07:00Real Life Inspiration: The Man From Snowy River - Banjo's Poem<div style="text-align: center;">
All of us have iconic images from our childhood or teen years that just take us back like a time machine to a certain era or place or feeling. Something, whether book, movie, scent, activity that goes right for the gut of our emotion.</div>
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Today, I'm starting a series exploring some of those things in my life. </div>
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When I was a child, my parents went out a couple times a month for a date. But movies were always expensive (at least on our budget) so they went about four times a year as a couple. After one of these dates, my sister and I would bug my mom about the movie. </div>
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"What was the movie about? Did you like it? Was it exciting?" </div>
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My mom was sooooo cool! She'd sit on her bed and we'd sprawl across the King-size quilt, close our eyes and imagine the scenes as she told us the story. I watched some of the films later, and they weren't <i>nearly</i> as awesome as mom made them. I mean they were good, but not as good as what Mom had described. </div>
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Or maybe Hollywood just couldn't compete with my imagination? </div>
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Eventually, my family got a VCR and we'd trot down to the video store (remember those dinosaurs???) on Friday night and pick out a movie. </div>
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One of the few films that completely lived up to (and surpassed) my mental version of my mother's storytelling was the Australian movie, <b>"The Man from Snowy River"</b>. </div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTewuyFi2TnQ12t9Zl-qP4Xns-R0wTrzG1phOnHpdF2yHi8u-USwQ" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">via Petticoatsandpistols.com</span></div>
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Did you all see that movie?</div>
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Did you fall in love with Jim Craig? </div>
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My sister and I sure did. </div>
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I imagined myself as Harrison's daughter Jessica soooo many times.</div>
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I wanted to be fiery and smart and beautiful <i>just like her!</i></div>
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The budding romance.</div>
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Forbidden love.</div>
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Forbidden love as the hero and heroine ride horses.</div>
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Match made in heaven.</div>
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That's what I remembered as a preteen.</div>
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Then I watched it as an adult.</div>
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The music!</div>
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The plot.</div>
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The horses.</div>
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The Aussie accents.</div>
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The wry humor.</div>
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The long-lasting feud between Harrison and his twin. </div>
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(Kirt Douglas is awesome!)</div>
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But one thing was still as powerful as when my mother told it, as when I first watched it on our grainy 18" TV:</div>
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Jim Craig's breathtaking leap over the ridge and down the near-vertical mountain slope.</div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRMldISDbeJzq7qmip9KnAVucEdh5Sx0E2rMWxh8I9N4VHFu_x2-A" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">via endtimepilgrim.org</span></div>
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I thought <i>nothing </i>could top that.</div>
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<b>Then I found the original poem.</b></div>
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This is the essence of the movie, the story:</div>
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The stripling from Snowy River proving himself, pitting himself against the other men and against nature itself as he chases down the Brumbies. </div>
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(The love story, as much as I swoon over it, is secondary.)</div>
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I <i>envy</i> Banjo Paterson his words. </div>
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He uses jargon and common words to deftly illustrate characters, describe a horse outside and in, paint a vista and offer you the opportunity to ride with the stockmen on the ultimate chase. </div>
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Go ahead. Watch, listen, and envy. I know I did.</div>
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<a href="http://youtu.be/fs_-DKUimeo">http://youtu.be/fs_-DKUimeo</a></div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTwF08c4JEaSfVdjjT7t-K3mSG6jwY5NjdRmsRLmkXEmwlkK2M" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">via go.sky.com</span></div>
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Special thanks to my sister (fellow Man-from-Snowy-River-groupie) who found this on You-Tube and shared.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-12468073543704579072013-04-04T07:50:00.003-07:002013-04-04T07:50:42.381-07:00Graffiti, Tagging and other Unauthorized Behaviors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I first read "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" at the age of ten, I immediately labeled Edmund as the bad one. I <i>knew</i> he was trouble before he ever entered Narnia and spoke with the White Witch. </div>
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Why? </div>
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Sure, he was a little snarky in the opening pages, and I <i>suspected</i> he was going to be a nuisance like my little brothers; the kind that stole your Barbie right off the pink plastic couch on the third story of her Townhouse and ran around the house laughing maniacally when they were bored or hyped up on red Kool-aid. </div>
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That first day in the Professor's house, before they play hide-and-go-seek, what was Edmund doing? He was using his penknife (the ubiquitous tool of English boyhood) to carve into the underside of a chair. </div>
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The nerve! The naughtiness! He was the Troublemaker!</div>
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My pre-adolescent moral compass was whirling with righteous indignation. </div>
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I was such a girl!</div>
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When I watched the movie adaptation a few years ago, I was absolutely THRILLED when Edmund ducked out from under the chair and slammed his penknife onto the trunk/coffee table when the kids decide to play hide-and-go-seek. He was doing it <i>then</i>, during the argument! He was vandalizing the Professor's furniture! </div>
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I was ready to high-five director, Andrew Adamson. </div>
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He hadn't "sanitized" Edmund 's character. He let him shine in all his frustrated, sneaky, cheeky glory.</div>
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I thought it was awesome!</div>
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Then, my own son vandalized my dining room table.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThYkPaRRNvlvGWiEHdpNAhvsbc-vA9acXtfaQBgkyV-A2LQPp-vMvZRj_vchUgqSSSDLJ0VJSt_gtY0XerDp8ga7bQ2lICjlq_yViZ9KKXDNY7yAsI2sOFFVPSQiYymlWAS_iZx5oVXw/s1600/2012-13+396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjThYkPaRRNvlvGWiEHdpNAhvsbc-vA9acXtfaQBgkyV-A2LQPp-vMvZRj_vchUgqSSSDLJ0VJSt_gtY0XerDp8ga7bQ2lICjlq_yViZ9KKXDNY7yAsI2sOFFVPSQiYymlWAS_iZx5oVXw/s320/2012-13+396.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Yup. A skull. With an eye patch. With another skull sketched on that.</div>
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And it wasn't on the underside like that weasel Edmund chose. </div>
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Or in the middle where I can cover it up with a centerpiece or basket of rolls. </div>
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Nope. Right along the curve of the oval in all it's glory.</div>
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I bought a tablecloth. A few of them.</div>
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Not too long afterward, it was time to wash said tablecloth. (Did I mention I have five sons? Lots of opportunities for laundry with five boys)</div>
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When I lifted the tablecloth away, guess what I found...This:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WlNOIk5fji1AVckTjzMKTZv4NZTXo-qTKho9AWaoPeYqO5khlnxaA2sPK4nW0hh5UYSe1au2m7IU8jGFAzWGB0j-6WZahbuckWqQphR3gIhHsf2SUG1IS-TxVZpYNnKFiRzANGV7V_o/s1600/2012-13+395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0WlNOIk5fji1AVckTjzMKTZv4NZTXo-qTKho9AWaoPeYqO5khlnxaA2sPK4nW0hh5UYSe1au2m7IU8jGFAzWGB0j-6WZahbuckWqQphR3gIhHsf2SUG1IS-TxVZpYNnKFiRzANGV7V_o/s320/2012-13+395.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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In case you can't tell, (I couldn't at first,) this is a smiling robot head. </div>
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I yelled at my skull-carving boy. He was eight and had just barely unburied himself from the heap of trouble this graffiti had brought down upon his head. (No Old English or Pledge has <i>yet</i> to cover this baby up!) The kid should <i>know better </i>than to do it again! Right?</div>
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"I didn't do it." Straight face.</div>
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I yelled some more.</div>
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"I didn't do it!" Indignation.</div>
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I demanded who <i>he </i>thought did it.</div>
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Finger pointing at the next brother down the line. Typical.</div>
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"But Mo-ooom! I carved a <i>skull</i>! This is a <i>robot</i>. A smiling robot."</div>
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Okay. Point taken. </div>
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The five-year-old did that.</div>
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He got in trouble too.</div>
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Its been over a year. Guess what. I hardly ever use a tablecloth anymore.</div>
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I look at those carvings and I shake my head. Then smile. </div>
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When no one is around to see.</div>
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Each is so totally typical of the boy who drew them. The skull was the product of my sweet-but-sometimes-rebellious middle-child after I had placed a ban on all skulls in my household...not on shirts, hoodies, shoes, sheets, posters or even doodles. </div>
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So, why was I not surprised. <i>Sigh!</i></div>
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And the next son in the pecking order is curious and daring. If his brother could get away with only that much punishment, then maybe he should give that enticing naughtiness a try.</div>
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My dining table, though once a dignified piece of furniture, <i>was</i> third-hand when we received it...with bits of irremovable green glitter on one corner and lots of dings and scratches. The deeply-carved illustrations of my boys only adds to its character (I tell myself anyway).</div>
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Then I cringe at the motherly thought: What if they move on to other surfaces? </div>
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So I do my darnedest to teach my kids respect (for themselves and others). </div>
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And I <i>pray</i> their penchant for permanent art doesn't migrate to other people's property</div>
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...or their own skin. </div>
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* suppress a shiver*</div>
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But having a house full of crazy boys does have its upside.</div>
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As I was writing a scene for a new Work-In-Progress the other day, I was fleshing out a character and suddenly I knew...my mischievous, thrill-seeking hero was a bit of an Edmund. He had a hefty slice of rebellion and longing for naughtiness just like a particular son of mine.</div>
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He would defintely be there with a penknife scratching away on the underside of a chair or making his mark on a table top.</div>
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He was perfect! </div>
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In the circumstances, I needed a daring fellow who wasn't afraid to thumb his nose at authority. The heroine needed a guy who wouldn't just shut up and sit down. The story needed a hero who would make the Hail Mary pass and then take the consequences, win or fail, with equanimity.</div>
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Such a rush! </div>
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<br />Weaving a story and sculpting a character out of words is absolutely the best fun! </div>
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(Revising on the other hand is a monster. But a thrill in its own way.)</div>
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Well, folks, gotta scoot. </div>
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There are some tablecloths I need to pack in mothballs.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-156506606107529272013-03-21T20:43:00.003-07:002013-03-21T20:43:23.003-07:00Books for Breakfast<br />
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So, my blog has been quiet for over a month and I have a very good reason.</div>
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Revisions. (Most of January and February)</div>
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And recovery from revisions. (March)</div>
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And prepping more queries. (The last two weeks)</div>
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And also, because after the intense revisions, I allowed myself to read a few books. </div>
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(I'd given myself a book ban when I wasn't keeping on task writing-wise.) So when March rolled around, I ordered a bunch of books from my library and waited for them to show up and DEVOURED them. </div>
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And they were sooooo Good!</div>
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A few highlights for all those who are YA fans:</div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRS4CJi_ykrzmqBri7UKtbVP-DrTs0ba7OVvFXEWhsCbuOQZRP7" /></div>
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I'd ordered both these books from my library and by fluke, got Scarlet before Cinder ever showed. I couldn't wait!!!! I started reading the second book first. I'd read a review of Cinder and knew the general idea of the story, so I jumped right into Scarlet's story and tried to keep up with her temper and her search for her missing grandmother. Wonderful world-building that mixed futuristic earth/moon/space travel, cyborg technology & mag-lev trains with old-world France, woods and farmland and the Paris opera house. I would have doubted these all could have been mixed so seamlessly and believably unless I'd read it myself. Amazing! I loved how fierce Scarlet and mysterious Wolf circled and prodded each other as their relationship blossomed. Then nibbled my nails over Cinder and Kai's star-crossed future. Will they ever get together??? I will be lining up for the third installment, you can bet on it. So many good things yet to come!!!</div>
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I loved the original book in this series, Princess of the Midnight Ball. The author developed a hero that was self-sufficient and bone weary at such a young age. And he KNITS! So very cool and such an underused plot device... knitting weapons to bind the badguys! The twelve dancing princesses has always been a favorite story of mine, and Midnight Ball was one of my top two faves. The following story, Princess of Glass was really well done. But this one, Princess of the Silver Woods was even more enjoyable, bringing us back to the original setting (or close enough) and bringing all the sisters back into the story and finishing off with the youngest's romance with the outlaw wolf who is actually rather noble and swoon-worthy. This tale takes all the loose ends and unexplained bits of the original (regarding King Understone and his 12 half-human sons). All the magic, magical tools, common sense and true love are needed to defeat the baddies all over again. And this is pulled off in such a satisfying way. Princess of the Midnight Ball was great for 12 and up. This one has some mild swearing in it (those princesses really have some awful luck and they're tired of magic messing up their lives). So <i>caveat lector</i> for you mommas of tweenies out there.</div>
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This swoony love story revolves around Vane Weston, the sole survivor of a freak tornado ten years ago, and the dark-haired girl that haunts his dreams every night. When his dream-girl materializes before him in the middle of a blind date, Vane recklessly pursues her and soon discovers Audra knows who and <i>what</i> he really is...and why he cannot remember his family that was killed by violent winds ten years ago. Loved Audra's brokeness and dedication and lapped up every snarky word from seventeen-year-old Vane. Lots of tension in the romance department, cool wind-related mythology and fabulous world-building layered on contemporary realities. And the wind battles were epic and awesome! Thumbs way up!</div>
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Steampunk novel set in a Victorianesque/Wild West mash-up. To the north of the civilized counties lies the land of Scree, occupied by goblins, ne'er-do-wells and other Peculiars. Lena inherited from her father unusually long fingers and toes that others expect are the result of goblin blood. When Lena turns 18 and inherits a bit of money as well from her long-gone father, she decides to travel to Scree to find answers and perhaps her father as well. But when too many truths are discovered, a too-slick lawman and an awkwardly sweet librarian vie for her loyalties. Which fellow will help her the most and who will she betray?</div>
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Such a fun read and some great questions are asked about prejudices.</div>
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Can't wait for the next one. </div>
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Will Jimson Quigley come back for Lena????</div>
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After seeing the sequel on the shelves of my library for several month, I finally ordered Hourglass. Wow! Mental illness/breakdowns, trippy time travel and intense love story make you gasp for air when you finally put the book down. Can't give any spoilers so I'll shush now. </div>
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I'd definitely recommended for <i>older</i> teens.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-46776746124610903292013-02-13T08:30:00.001-08:002013-02-13T08:38:09.558-08:00If You were an Ice Cream Flavor...<br />
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So, I've been struggling with a blog post that just may not get posted. Er...don't ask.</div>
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To relieve myself of guilt, stress and discomfort, I am going to treat myself to a bit of </div>
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Ice Cream! </div>
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Who's with me?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WToNCI39hQPQbjXREon6aXP5Qbm69h9nThfZX0aiheK7nzfa7edBZNdaSYp-kr8rXHbJg318jitBGfl0RHD42aoDhAOr8WFbkeQF5pHgivzcgL-vy4aIi3IV0tVNkCGZ1gbGwyv-RIY/s1600/jo4birthday.etc+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WToNCI39hQPQbjXREon6aXP5Qbm69h9nThfZX0aiheK7nzfa7edBZNdaSYp-kr8rXHbJg318jitBGfl0RHD42aoDhAOr8WFbkeQF5pHgivzcgL-vy4aIi3IV0tVNkCGZ1gbGwyv-RIY/s200/jo4birthday.etc+005.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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I love ice cream. A lot! And since I've moved to the South, I've eaten twice as much ice cream in the past two years than I think I've eaten in the previous five before that!</div>
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And popsicles.</div>
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Seriously, I have to almost budget Ice Cream into a separate column on the Excel Budget from May to September!</div>
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But, as I was listening to my ipod the other day, a favorite song came on and I listened to the words as if it was the first time. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGsU4vuJAIo">(Mindy Gledhill's <i>All About Your Heart</i>.)</a></span></div>
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It's a love song. A friendship song. A song of acceptance and partnership. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">I don't mind your odd behavior</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">It's the very thing I savor </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">If you were an ice cream flavor</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">You would be my favorite one.</span></i></div>
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This struck me. So many times in our world, we are told what our family, our relationships, our romances should look like. Should taste like.</div>
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So today, I'm writing a Valentine to the fellows in my life. My husband and my five boys.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0Y8sNvJllaPh-5RXm8YeoRBfkkm4a9f0WBp7ydoSjbEoUJ590CTJZU51A27xx-wytFGXPcPfUVRgk5P-tH7ZmW6QJmVdQwkx9zL4jwTeuhDxcJRF0Iha-IagxtbBZRw4VCVAZ9vxNSY/s1600/Christmas+2012+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE0Y8sNvJllaPh-5RXm8YeoRBfkkm4a9f0WBp7ydoSjbEoUJ590CTJZU51A27xx-wytFGXPcPfUVRgk5P-tH7ZmW6QJmVdQwkx9zL4jwTeuhDxcJRF0Iha-IagxtbBZRw4VCVAZ9vxNSY/s400/Christmas+2012+035.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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My life would be as empty as an Arkansas summer without ice cream without you guys!</div>
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And you are each my favorite flavors.</div>
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For my husband:</div>
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I know your <i>least</i> favorite flavor is Neapolitan. But that's what you are for me. </div>
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You see yourself as vanilla. Others see you as vanilla. </div>
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Vanilla is good. </div>
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You are a Boy Scout. Now some use that as a put-down. Not me. The world would be a better place if more people were </div>
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Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean & Reverent.</div>
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<img alt="Vanilla Ice Cream" src="http://www.baskinrobbins.com/content/dam/baskinrobbins/Product%20Images/Ice%20Cream%20Flavors/Vanilla_0649w.jpg" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(All ice cream images are from BaskinRobbins.com)</span></div>
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Vanilla is just too unappreciated in the world.</div>
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But you are more than Vanilla.</div>
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<img alt="Very Berry Strawberry Ice Cream" src="http://www.baskinrobbins.com/content/dam/baskinrobbins/Product%20Images/Ice%20Cream%20Flavors/Very_Berry_Strawberry_0607w.jpg" /></div>
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You are also Sweet, Sweet Strawberry. You understand me. You commiserate with me when I run into roadblocks and doubt myself. When I wonder if I can ever make it as a mother, a writer, a person, you are my strongest advocate, my biggest cheerleader. You have the most faith in me, even though you see my dark side. The side I show no one else.</div>
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And honey, you are also my Chocolate. Not just any Chocolate, but Brownie Fudge with Nuts!</div>
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<img alt="Fudge Brownie Ice Cream" src="http://www.baskinrobbins.com/content/dam/baskinrobbins/Product%20Images/Ice%20Cream%20Flavors/Fudge_Brownie_0180w.jpg" /></div>
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You know I can't get along without chocolate!</div>
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I could say more, but this is is going out into the wide, wide world. So I'll hush now.</div>
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But...you notice that there are nuts in here? Most people <i>never </i>see the nutty, silly side of you. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKucmJOLTG3E3AIkHqUu254HEuz8__nAMLzPQ1GwDLhl3nAljtL-uw2FIRLmaiDOfpZR3qTXknJVe8h_YTQKt_apsA-xfKUMnlMRXUHcl1l3rbbECN4vmRlSKQNgC5H2d7Vml1HgygySo/s1600/Christmas+2012+052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKucmJOLTG3E3AIkHqUu254HEuz8__nAMLzPQ1GwDLhl3nAljtL-uw2FIRLmaiDOfpZR3qTXknJVe8h_YTQKt_apsA-xfKUMnlMRXUHcl1l3rbbECN4vmRlSKQNgC5H2d7Vml1HgygySo/s200/Christmas+2012+052.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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But it's there, just well hidden.</div>
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Now, for my boys:</div>
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For my oldest. My Teenager.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLAXkWQGFxjSj5u4rn7mJjEfSxCWoTvvKJiNQuhkn_UnBqmGuEaTI5PgdpI30v0r6VNJxmSNOTIoMLUEa8nVX-EKlRZyoooZEYPMAbXm8kX1i44N22HSUap92t3IL0Qri-tfIo3q-lBg/s1600/Christmas+2012+042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzLAXkWQGFxjSj5u4rn7mJjEfSxCWoTvvKJiNQuhkn_UnBqmGuEaTI5PgdpI30v0r6VNJxmSNOTIoMLUEa8nVX-EKlRZyoooZEYPMAbXm8kX1i44N22HSUap92t3IL0Qri-tfIo3q-lBg/s200/Christmas+2012+042.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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Buddy, I gotta apologize. You are my first and I keep piling expectations on you.</div>
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When I look at your youngest brother and remember what my expectations were for you when you were four, I can't believe how fast I've wanted you to grow up. I didn't see that you were just FOUR.</div>
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All I could see was you were the big brother to a 2yr old and an new baby and I needed you to be a big boy. </div>
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Gosh, honey, I'm sorry.</div>
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<img alt="Gold Medal Ribbon® Ice Cream" height="188" src="http://www.baskinrobbins.com/content/dam/baskinrobbins/Product%20Images/Ice%20Cream%20Flavors/Gold_Medal_Ribbon_0361l.jpg" width="200" /></div>
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This is called Gold-Medal Ribbon. Because you deserve one. But also because you are really, really sweet. And sometimes, Mom comes around and douses your reality with a bunch of salty expectations and Why-Didn't-You's. And you, sweet boy, are so forgiving of your faulty mom. And you just shake it off and keep being sweet. Like Salted Caramel Fudge.</div>
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Yummy!</div>
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Epic Child.</div>
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#2</div>
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What can I say?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHD_0rCkE1w3MeDyyPbpxoXXZz91LDSKTb6yp9_Vo7IRHh-cs2Kp8pCMpQNC8XfzgyenxTj_QnGQ2DG5dVAcQRVHbwXXGGr3BEEphfJkj73qDv-Xe1KLvMLIQuE1E8lmSsXApdsSMunk/s1600/Christmas+2012+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYHD_0rCkE1w3MeDyyPbpxoXXZz91LDSKTb6yp9_Vo7IRHh-cs2Kp8pCMpQNC8XfzgyenxTj_QnGQ2DG5dVAcQRVHbwXXGGr3BEEphfJkj73qDv-Xe1KLvMLIQuE1E8lmSsXApdsSMunk/s200/Christmas+2012+041.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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We haven't always seen eye to eye lately.</div>
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You are an idealist that has had his eyes open to the awful realities of life. You want to take the bitter and dissect it so that you can FIX it. </div>
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And eventually make it AWESOME. </div>
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And EPIC. </div>
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With a great soundtrack.</div>
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It's a puzzle you want to know and control.</div>
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But mom see's it as a lot of pessimism. And I shut down the bitter before it makes me sad.</div>
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<img alt="Jamoca® Almond Fudge Ice Cream" src="http://www.baskinrobbins.com/content/dam/baskinrobbins/Product%20Images/Ice%20Cream%20Flavors/Jamoca_Almond_Fudge_0112w.jpg" /></div>
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But, you buddy, are in the middle of making Jamocha Almond Fudge. I know we'll get to the point where that bitter, dark taste will be balanced with sweet happiness and nutty silliness.</div>
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And it will be EPIC!</div>
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My Bouncing Rubber Ball. The Helium-Filled-Balloon of our family.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOieZpt5H8ttMOWcVSZPfrJoLKNFEWsPIM7WwHTxhFw6Z9VFOq1YbcRjhQB2HZk6fmB3p4Qp1qG2yesvYoXjK-cuSuaz1sJAFMJ2EhxFU3VqrbSseDgoLPfbTXnXzJHr3BJVVk1DNVfOA/s1600/Christmas+2012+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOieZpt5H8ttMOWcVSZPfrJoLKNFEWsPIM7WwHTxhFw6Z9VFOq1YbcRjhQB2HZk6fmB3p4Qp1qG2yesvYoXjK-cuSuaz1sJAFMJ2EhxFU3VqrbSseDgoLPfbTXnXzJHr3BJVVk1DNVfOA/s200/Christmas+2012+038.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglfJ7-jqD6H3DFlaJSveUkyUVguhidiSYq6kFESkhC6ZjwGAIwyROGKAZpU_b5qcTUulIfydZf1TSEdB2EGEH4a9R_T6WwPUst2znuVFw_TSLW9qaKbX0E6l6-E-WN84Qyu_vKiiEO83c/s1600/Christmas+2012+057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglfJ7-jqD6H3DFlaJSveUkyUVguhidiSYq6kFESkhC6ZjwGAIwyROGKAZpU_b5qcTUulIfydZf1TSEdB2EGEH4a9R_T6WwPUst2znuVFw_TSLW9qaKbX0E6l6-E-WN84Qyu_vKiiEO83c/s200/Christmas+2012+057.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AIRdxnUPdRCdRiE4Qsz11kIY2Mz66LwEdntRlDVIivaHmLKpnEyZBIYuBx4wdNcgOxvTr7N9D7r2NpiP8qtZbF_kJT_CYva_pl0H1bE6lLWrKxfh9Co6T__zaxT5HAvz5cTbxGPFYJ8/s1600/Christmas+2012+047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AIRdxnUPdRCdRiE4Qsz11kIY2Mz66LwEdntRlDVIivaHmLKpnEyZBIYuBx4wdNcgOxvTr7N9D7r2NpiP8qtZbF_kJT_CYva_pl0H1bE6lLWrKxfh9Co6T__zaxT5HAvz5cTbxGPFYJ8/s200/Christmas+2012+047.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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I cannot even choose one picture of you, how will I choose a flavor for the kid who fits a weeks worth of fun in one day. </div>
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<i>Everyday!</i></div>
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<img alt="Rock 'n Pop Swirl Sherbet" height="188" src="http://www.baskinrobbins.com/content/dam/baskinrobbins/Product%20Images/Ice%20Cream%20Flavors/Rock_n_Pop_Swirl_Sherbet_0813l.jpg" width="200" /></div>
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You are Rock N' Pop Swirl Sherbet.<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> (Baskin-Robbins, folks!)</span></div>
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See, you're not even <b>ice cream!</b> No wonder we get so confused around you.</div>
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And how do they describe this flavor?</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #747474; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Prepare your mouth for fireworks of flavor with green-grape flavored sherbet and purple-green apple flavored sherbet and popping candy.</i></span></span></div>
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Unpredictable and Fireworks. Yep. You're all that...and more.</div>
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You shake up my expectations and show me there's more to life than what I'm settling for.</div>
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You are Way Awesome!</div>
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Now for #4.</div>
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Big for his Britches.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOf2RMJIkyWOGGpaQa3zbRKhMQzFJHikO4vZ8RdCtIqIqU4UOi2A5gwmAr6Ilz2Q4GvPqFKDwoWGl_kU4zjQv7-BBZhyphenhypheny-U3RY2f7G8JIaDpG8xfr5jBtI4Nx_aFFBc5R0nU2pIVVyuFw/s1600/Christmas+2012+043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOf2RMJIkyWOGGpaQa3zbRKhMQzFJHikO4vZ8RdCtIqIqU4UOi2A5gwmAr6Ilz2Q4GvPqFKDwoWGl_kU4zjQv7-BBZhyphenhypheny-U3RY2f7G8JIaDpG8xfr5jBtI4Nx_aFFBc5R0nU2pIVVyuFw/s200/Christmas+2012+043.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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You, mister, make me laugh everyday. </div>
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By this time, I should know not to expect cookie-cutter kiddos. But you sure prove it. </div>
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You are so incredibly smart and seem set on keeping up with your brothers, surpassing them if you possibly can. </div>
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And then, sometimes, right in the middle, you realize: </div>
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'<i>Whatever!</i> <i>That's what THEY want.' </i></div>
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It's not your goal, not your movie, not your game. </div>
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You want something <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Different</span>. </div>
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<b>More</b>.</div>
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And you head out in a totally different direction.</div>
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Off Road.</div>
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Off Map.</div>
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<img alt="Lunar Cheesecakeâ„¢ Ice Cream" height="188" src="http://www.baskinrobbins.com/content/dam/baskinrobbins/Product%20Images/Ice%20Cream%20Flavors/Lunar_Cheesecake_0241l.jpg" width="200" /></div>
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This is for you, mister. Lunar Cheesecake. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Baskin-Robbins, again.)</span></div>
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You are not just off the map, you are Outta This World!</div>
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And incredibly sweet and unexpected all the way around.</div>
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Now, what can I say about my Little Buddy!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrmaHBmX2x6jOyb_pZsjXJ0CXxEUs_ATRccRkrYtij97xBPM0VzMbkLoGYwF3OXR4EzNQVMXyddQ2ZG8WBUGB0JgbmBVN6hsfuUs6d6dLgAjzTnhHykd_lOCUfRlolsFQNN4pngzoBjc/s1600/Christmas+2012+049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrmaHBmX2x6jOyb_pZsjXJ0CXxEUs_ATRccRkrYtij97xBPM0VzMbkLoGYwF3OXR4EzNQVMXyddQ2ZG8WBUGB0JgbmBVN6hsfuUs6d6dLgAjzTnhHykd_lOCUfRlolsFQNN4pngzoBjc/s200/Christmas+2012+049.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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I think after the Roller-Coaster Ride of your brothers, God knew I needed a sweet finale. </div>
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And he gave me you. </div>
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<img alt="Nutty Coconut Ice Cream" height="190" src="http://www.baskinrobbins.com/content/dam/baskinrobbins/Product%20Images/Ice%20Cream%20Flavors/Nutty_Coconut_0212w.jpg" width="200" /></div>
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Coconutty, buddy!</div>
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Smooth, sweet, and easy to get along with. Pairs up with almost any flavor. But full of nuts, because you <i>have </i>to be to survive this family, hon. </div>
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You fill my days will joy and laughter.</div>
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All of you fill me with joy. I am so lucky to have you guys. I am so very blessed.</div>
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So, I'm done with winter. I'm ready for warmth and sunshine. </div>
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And Ice Cream.</div>
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Because you guys are my Favorite. Always.</div>
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQQvrnokQyCKAPqZCv8cQoX8RViBItKA7kPbL8CyDhwxB-zlYGM" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQQvrnokQyCKAPqZCv8cQoX8RViBItKA7kPbL8CyDhwxB-zlYGM" width="320" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-43572321627163082992013-02-02T11:42:00.000-08:002013-02-02T11:42:09.177-08:00That Kid Broke My 'HAPPY'<div style="text-align: center;">
I've been staying out of craft stores for a few months. </div>
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Part of that reason is money. I get a little creative (in a bad way) with my budget when I spend too much time at Hobby Lobby or Michaels or Jo-Anns.</div>
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The other reason is my kids. My boys. All five of them. </div>
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They each have had their not-so-great moments while I've been trying to purchase the exact shade of green corduroy or pack of scrapbooking paper or pretty doo-dad to put on my wall.</div>
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Inevitably, when I go with an entourage, something gets broken. So, I should have known.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjloxj1StNG1arNLLfh05lIJ5_Vc3KzUOi3Z7e8IuuUQ-_fg710qjJN1iPrf2ZVdyBva_a39VSFM8l81Aw-otReJaPhpmNaSrskdULA4aXsIF7UxN8ODxW675TiCUNnKph_TQrSxmgYjjs/s1600/035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjloxj1StNG1arNLLfh05lIJ5_Vc3KzUOi3Z7e8IuuUQ-_fg710qjJN1iPrf2ZVdyBva_a39VSFM8l81Aw-otReJaPhpmNaSrskdULA4aXsIF7UxN8ODxW675TiCUNnKph_TQrSxmgYjjs/s320/035.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I should have known.</div>
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But a couple weeks ago, I NEEDED to go to Hobby Lobby. My six year old has developed an obsession. With notecards. </div>
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He went through a really cute (and expensive) set of notecards from Target in two days. The kid loves to write, but...did he have to use THOSE?</div>
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What about lined paper, computer paper?</div>
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<i>"No. I like the little cards. They have pockets you put them in."</i></div>
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<i>"You mean envelopes?"</i></div>
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<i>"Yeah."</i></div>
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So, my mission that day was to obtain a 50-pack of blank notecards that my 6-yr-old can personalize himself. And they were on sale. So instead of almost a dollar a card, I could get fifty for less than $4.00. </div>
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A steal. </div>
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But I also needed to get a birthday present for my niece. Which was the excuse I needed to wander around the store looking at all the pretty eye-candy.</div>
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.....With my youngest. 4-yr-old Little Buddy.</div>
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I should have known.</div>
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So...Notecards. Check.</div>
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Now for the eye candy.</div>
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I wander the aisles, pretending I own all the pretty stuff. The store has jumped the gun on the garden things, so I hang out in that aisle for five minutes, pretending its spring.</div>
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Then we enter the aisle full of RED.</div>
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Red framed mirrors, red candle sticks and lots of little red British phone booths made into bookshelves and key caddies. They were sooooo cute!</div>
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My 4-yr-old thought they were cute too. He went down the aisle opening the door of each one. I noticed at the end of the aisle several inspirational signs. Nice. They were a little close to the last red phone booth and the edge of the shelf.</div>
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<i>If someone's not careful, those signs would get knocked over.</i></div>
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The thought quickly exited stage left as a new Diva of an Idea popped into my head. </div>
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What if I spray painted one of those phone booths BLUE! And put 'TARDIS' on the top!?!</div>
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<i>Oooooh!</i></div>
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I needed blue spray paint and a plan to rearrange the budget, so I could blow some cash on a whim. </div>
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"Come on, Sweetie," I called over my shoulder as I steered myself towards the spray paint aisle.</div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">CRASH!</span></i></div>
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Why didn't I see it coming. Why didn't I move those signs? </div>
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I knew what I was going to find before I turned around.</div>
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An open phone booth door and on the floor, the word 'APPY'.</div>
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My little buddy retrieved the 'H'.</div>
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"Mom, it broke. Can you fix it?"</div>
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I was silent a moment. I wanted to walk away from the mess, from the responsibility. I could have. It would have probably been easy, For a moment I stood between two choices.</div>
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Then I bent down and picked up the 'APPY'.</div>
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"Yeah, buddy. We'll fix it."</div>
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We walked to the glue aisle instead of the spray paint aisle and found adhesive that claimed to keep </div>
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<i>anything </i>stuck together.</div>
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And then it hit me. This is what I am in my family. </div>
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I am the glue.</div>
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I am a writer and a swordsman and singer and an artist and the PTA RIF coordinator.</div>
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But I am a mom.</div>
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My life is full of broken, lifeless, difficult things that my children expect me to fix. </div>
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To make better. To make sense of. </div>
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To hold everything together.</div>
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Homework: Add 6 ones and 1 tens = 16</div>
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or 6x + 75 = 123 ... Solve for x</div>
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Dinner: Combine flour, butter, herbs and broth. Add sausage, potatoes and onions = Soup</div>
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Ouches: Frozen bag of peas + neosporin + bandage</div>
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Relationships: Sorry + Eye Contact + Shaking Hands </div>
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Togetherness: Cuddles + Eye Contact + "Tell me about your day." + "I love you."</div>
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All this truth swirled around my head as I stood in line at the cashier, buying notecards, a 'HAPPY' sign and the Amazing Space Glue used by NASA to fix Everything.</div>
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I have to admit, since then, I've been working on my A-Game. </div>
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Writing is important to me. Cannot even tell you how much. </div>
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But my kids are so very important... Irreplaceable.</div>
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And I can't be a writer or a mom very well when I'm multi-tasking.</div>
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I stink at both.</div>
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So, now when I'm doing family stuff, I'm all in. </div>
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Eye-contact. Listening. Heart open.</div>
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When story ideas and plot lines try to edge in, they are noted and then banished until Writing Time.</div>
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And when the kids are off to school and its time to write, I know I can't procrastinate on Pinterest. The kids will be home in a few hours and I won't get back to the computer until after bedtime.</div>
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And its been better. </div>
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Better Writing Time. Better Family Time.</div>
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Not saying all is perfect. </div>
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Perfect is so far away...its not even on the <i>horizon</i>.</div>
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But Better is Here. And I love it.</div>
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Thanks Little Buddy for helping me fix my 'HAPPY'.</div>
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Oh, and to my niece:</div>
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Sorry. You're getting a gift card. :)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-14213564066209710392013-01-17T20:39:00.000-08:002013-01-17T20:39:10.598-08:00The Ideal Romantic Hero<div style="text-align: center;">
I came across <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/story/happyeverafter/2013/01/13/romance-and-the-modern-woman-part-one-serena-chase/1831609/">this wonderful interview</a> (first of a six part series) by Serena Chase of USAToday with nine authors who responded to questions about romantic fiction as a genre and where it fits in the lives of modern women. </div>
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One of the interviewees was one of my favorite authors, Shannon Hale (who I stalk, so I know when she has cool stuff going on like interviews and new books and her film adaptation of AUSTENLAND being shown at Sundance film festival this weekend...I'm not obsessed, really I'm not!).</div>
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So after this fun read, I got to thinking of my favorite heroes in fiction and romantic fiction in particular. I have to say that I loved Wesley (The Man in Black) from The Princess Bride. When I read the book (after I'd seen the movie) I decided I was going to <i>marry</i> that boy...After I mastered my own sword master skills. Which probably explains why I never married Cary Elwes or a swordmaster.</div>
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(See <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1335626820949533940#editor/target=post;postID=2549107566906671552">last week's blog </a>regarding my sword obsession.)</div>
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I also read Louis L'Amour's historicals (set a few centuries before his westerns, for the uninitiated). Heroes like Barnabas Sackett and his sons, and Mathurin Kerbouchard became my ideals. </div>
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But sword wielding heroes were a bit scarce in the early 90s when most guys I knew wore flannel and were trying to reproduce Nirvana sounds from their guitars or showing other guys how to get a mosh pit started.</div>
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In college it was not much better. Maybe I tried too hard? Most weekends while my roomies went on dates, I'd attend dance parties, then go home, curl up in my bunk and read a Dick Francis novel.<br />
I hoped that some horse-mad, everyday-fellow would see my quirkyness as cute and would dig deep into his soul to overcome his shortcomings and defeat the bad guys for me...<br />
or just work up the guts to ask me out on a date.</div>
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Finally....</div>
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Finally at the end of college, I had my first real genuine, bonifide boyfriend. He thought I was amazing and "out of his league".<br />
He really said that...about me! I was hooked.<br />
He was a bit of a cowboy. Great! I loved cowboys!<br />
He was a runner, on scholarship for the swiftness he brought to the college track team. Super! I started running and working out and going to track competition things that lasted All-Freaking-Day-Long. </div>
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I even skipped a few classes to spend time with the cutie (I <i>still</i> feel guilty about this!)</div>
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But I had my first kiss and I was...<u>in the club</u>. I was no longer an outsider. I was going on dates, I was staying out late. I even broke curfew! I was so naughty.</div>
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(Not really. But it felt naughty. And I was doing it for <i>LOVE</i> so it had to be worth it, right???)</div>
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But, we eventually broke up because...well, all the same reasons that so many others have broken up over the eons of history.</div>
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Then, after a few of years , I met the ONE! The man that later asked me to marry him.<br />
I first noticed him because he could <i>Ballroom</i> dance. Yeah ! <br />
*raises eyebrows suggestively* <br />
Like Dancing with the Stars - kinda.<br />
We were awesome together (cuz, I can dance too)! </div>
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<br />
I soon found out lots more about the guy.</div>
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He was a runner. I (still) wasn't.</div>
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He was a science/math brainiac. I was a music/drama nerd.<br />
I loved making music. He was happy to listen to it, but not <i>that LOUD</i>!<br />
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Despite the differences, I discovered that I really liked the guy...<br />
Really, REALLY liked him.<br />
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And it wasn't because he was bold and brave like the heroes I idolized. At least not with a sword or a pistol or an army at his back.<br />
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He was more like Sam, Frodo's buddy in <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>.<br />
<br />
Before our second date, he told me about his nephew that his parents were raising. He said, "Other than his grandpa, I'm the closest thing to a dad James has. If anything happened to my parents, James would live with me."<br />
That was it, on the table. James was part of the deal if we got married.<br />
<br />
He told me about his relationship that had ended badly. And though I waited to hear him bad-mouth his ex, it never happened.<br />
No blame, no vitriol. I asked why.<br />
He quietly described the problems that led to his divorce. I was aghast. Any other guy would have laid it on thick how he'd been wronged. But my man was different.<br />
It was sad. It had broken his heart. But he wasn't going to spend his energy degrading the woman who had held his heart for so long.<br />
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Wow.<br />
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When I finally got up the courage to bare the ugly corners of my soul to him, I shouldn't have been surprised that he put his arm around me and let me cry.<br />
(For a very messy and very long time.)<br />
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When my father and I had an argument, my man tried to step in as a peacekeeper.<br />
This was my weakest moment. My father was the dragon that needed to be slain. Yet, my man stood up for me. Defended me.<br />
When my (bi-polar) dad started getting out of control, my sweetheart took me away to a safe place.<br />
In my own anger and embarrassment, I raged about my father and he listened. Then he reminded me of the good things my father had done.<br />
He knew I wasn't ready to forgive, not yet. But he encouraged me not to destroy the already damaged relationship with my father.<br />
"Don't throw it all away. Not over this."<br />
<br />
And with that, I knew.<br />
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This man had the heart of a hero.<br />
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He was good. He was brave in his own quiet way. He was loyal.<br />
He would stand by me as I made the best, most difficult choices.<br />
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I wanted to be by his side forever.<br />
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So, my man may not wield a sword. He may not parry with witty repartee. He sometimes wears that ugly sweater with the burgundy plaid instead of rugged hero-wear. He definitely doesn't fight bad guys (or indians or pirates or masked criminals in back alleys with his bare fists). But I found my hero.<br />
<br />
And its funny, though I start each story I write with a handsome fellow who does some (or all) these things. He always ends up becoming my husband somewhere in his heart.<br />
Loyal, brave and true.<br />
Because without those things, he just wouldn't be a hero.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-25491075669066715522013-01-10T07:38:00.001-08:002013-01-10T10:46:07.266-08:00Coaches: Wielding a Pen or a Sword<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I LOVE swords! Since watching old black and white Errol Flynn movies to the moment when the Man in Black crossed swords with Inigo Montoya in "The Princess Bride", I have wanted to hold a sword and swashbuckle my way through a crowd of nefarious thugs, laughing all the way.</div>
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For a long time, the closest I got was going fan-girl for any movie with a sword fight: "Star Wars", "The Scarlet Pimpernel", "Pirates of the Caribbean" or "Three Musketeers" . </div>
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Or diving into a good book with such characters who either wielded a sword or should have. When I discovered the novels by Patricia Veryan, I was in absolute heaven! I think I read them all. Then while diving into an old Louis L'Amour paperback at my grandma's house, I discovered HE wrote swashbucklers, in addition to gunslingers. I ate up all the novels about Barnabas Sackett and fell in love with Mathurin Kerbouchard. (After so many reads, I can actually spell his name right!)</div>
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So what's a girl to do when she exhausts her list of swashbucklers for the third time in the year?</div>
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She complains to all who can hear how she would LOVE to take fencing classes, if only she could find some nearby...</div>
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My husband finally got tired of my whining. So this past August I walked into my first fencing class (I was a half hour early, I was sooooo excited.</div>
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We mostly worked on footwork for the first several weeks, but finally...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2dcMIIINAsHI2CzaNpnMHVlCE8NZwtYXfLi_qqg4Y_djhvuxwpHmbeCe5yQC9yTG75-jKj8Np3GIetgAXf7j7ia_7K9WmlP4yUqu-4kZR_LhocW8y-Rg7hVYF_ZIPPls8Sso25CoiOsY/s1600/2012+spring+and+summer+638.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2dcMIIINAsHI2CzaNpnMHVlCE8NZwtYXfLi_qqg4Y_djhvuxwpHmbeCe5yQC9yTG75-jKj8Np3GIetgAXf7j7ia_7K9WmlP4yUqu-4kZR_LhocW8y-Rg7hVYF_ZIPPls8Sso25CoiOsY/s320/2012+spring+and+summer+638.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I got to suit up and handle a SWORD! </div>
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Okay, its actually a <i>foil</i>, but it has a pointy end and a handle and makes a lovely swooshing sound and if the red rubber tip was off, I <i>could</i> injure someone.</div>
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My, don't I sound bloodthirsty!?!</div>
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Now for the uninitiated, one look at the picture and you may see nothing wrong. However, after several months of lessons (Yay!) I see this photo and can see that, though I have my feet placed alright and my hand up, (It could also be down or behind my back, but that's personal style of the fencer.)</div>
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...The point is my sword is not placed right. It's sticking almost straight up in the air!</div>
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Oh, I have learned so much!</div>
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But still so little.</div>
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Just this past Tuesday night, when I thought I was doing so stinking awesome, one of the coaches came up beside me and pulled my elbow back and my wrist up and then proceeded to show me how I'm using my wrist too much and my fingers not enough. My circles and my parries are much too big.</div>
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Sigh!</div>
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Part of me was so mad at myself...when will I ever get this right? All the old insecurities birthed in gym class came swooshing back over me. I could SEE what I needed to do. Why could my body not DO it???</div>
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A teensy part of me wanted to cry.</div>
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But instead, I made a joke. It was dumb and corny, but my coach recognized it for what it was.</div>
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"You're really doing well. But you need to build muscle memory. Doing the drills over and over will help your fingers remember what they should be doing. I think we all got lazy over the holidays. Keep drilling! Keep practicing. Go slow until your foil goes where you're aiming. THEN you can speed it up."</div>
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I went back to my drill partner. We worked on Lunges, Parry 4's and Ripostes. A part of me started a nagging internal dialogue.</div>
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But then, I recalled another coach's inspiring words from a month ago when I had done really well (before the holiday break!).</div>
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"Amelia's got the Mojo! Taking on Kevin! And you're getting points! See, all we needed was to tap into your killer instincts! You got this! Keep up the drills and keep challenging these experience fencers. That seems to help you do better. You got this!"</div>
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So many times, when we get criticism or critiques, we naturally may want to lash out, cave in, break down.</div>
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But we need to remember how much we've improved. Hey, I've been fencing for less than half a year! I'm doing WAY awesome!!!</div>
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And when I face my manuscripts with critiques in hand and I want to cry because there is sooo much to fix and I feel like maybe I should toss in the towel, I look for the comments amidst the crits that look something like this:</div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Overall I think this chapter works really well! My comments are
really little nit-picks. I like the dialogue and relationship between the two
and it definitely moves the story forward and keeps me interested!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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or</div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I do think you should cut
the line "That flash of fear in Taddeo's green eyes finally convinced
him." Because you do SUCH A BEAUTIFUL JOB in the next paragraph SHOWING
that. It's really good! </span><br />
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or</div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">AND don't be discouraged by my notes. You're a good writer. I
enjoyed everything a lot. I READ the whole thing, and I'm not someone who will
keep reading something that is not good. The reason I'm being so nitpicky here
and trying to be as detailed as possible is because I really really want to
help you. There's so much potential and good stuff here! Let's make it shine :)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I think the biggest thing to look for as you go through to cut
things yourself is really REALLY ask yourself if the scene is NEEDED. I know
you’re a good story teller. Your writing is good! And your story and characters
and world are all things to get lost in. However, I feel that what you need to
focus on is what NEEDS to be in the story. What do readers NEED to see and NEED
to know for your story to unfold in just the right way? Be aware of what each
scene and chapter is telling and showing your readers about the plot, your
characters, the world, and what MIGHT happen in the story (i.e.,
foreshadowing). I think if you take note of all of that, then go through,
you’ll see a lot of scenes are telling/showing me the same things. Readers only
need to be shown or told once to get it :)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Coaches...We need them in all areas in our lives. We need the ones who take time and say, "Keep your wrist down and your sword angled." or "I think you can find another word here." or "I like this chapter but it doesn't move the story forward. Can you cut this and include a bit of this information somewhere else."</div>
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Coaches are awesome, they have experience. They have a good perspective to see what we're <i>actually</i> doing and have the expertise to show us a better way. </div>
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For you writers out there, a friend shared with me this wonderful video series with Brandon Sanderson. Basically they are films of him teaching a university level creative writing class. I've only gone through a handful, but I'm really enjoying. Here's the link: <a href="http://www.writeaboutdragons.com/home/brandon_w2012/lecture-1-sub/intro-to-the-class/">http://www.writeaboutdragons.com/home/brandon_w2012/lecture-1-sub/intro-to-the-class/ </a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-67102256489320396692012-12-20T07:20:00.001-08:002013-01-10T10:49:14.824-08:00Lord Have Mercy <div style="text-align: center;">
I had a several ideas for my next blog post. But after the events in Newtown, Connecticut, I felt silly blathering on about plot and swordplay when so many people were suffering. I know we all must get on with our lives eventually, but I felt it would be insensitive to "move on" so quickly, though I know no one connected with the tragedy and have no ties to that part of the country.</div>
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But today, a friend posted a YouTube video by one of my favorite artists, Alex Boye. He and the Soulsaints and the LDC Choir have put together a music video tribute for the victims of the Sandy Hook shootings and their families (and all the rest of us hurting because of the terrible violence). </div>
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I needed some uplifting just about now.</div>
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I thought maybe some of you could use some too.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/KvW_zfxgz9o" width="480"></iframe></div>
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I love the call from olden prophets to be "...willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things and in all places...even unto death..."</div>
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These wonderful musicians have used their talents to reach out in sympathy, love and compassion to those who seek comfort in these troubling times.</div>
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If you want a few more positive music videos to give yourself something happy to focus on, may I recommend Alex Boye's version of OneRepublic's 'GoodLife'</div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sxxpz4eh4Uo&noredirect=1">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sxxpz4eh4Uo&noredirect=1</a></div>
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Or another corroboration with LDC Choir remaking this gorgeous version of </div>
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Mercy Me's 'I Will Rise" </div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FQb-cVwbKE">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FQb-cVwbKE</a></div>
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May you each find a portion of peace in your hearts during this holiday season as we celebrate Light in the midst of Darkness.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-74209023674313788812012-12-07T12:35:00.003-08:002013-01-10T10:51:26.564-08:00Leftovers, Lunches & Learning Lessons in the Kitchen<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="265" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTWMeT9DvGbywi1blMnOPiMUe5O58dEyoWyagwb9aOW8q4g26M4" width="400" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">medievalhistories.com</span></div>
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I felt so lucky today. I had some leftovers. Not just any leftovers.</div>
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Homemade Beef Stew. </div>
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With emphasis on the Homemade part. </div>
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It was sooo tasty! Big chunks of creamy potato. Sweet carrots. Lots of onion and garlic to make it flavorful. And a can each of corn and green beans. Okay, green beans aren't my fave in beef stew, but it gets the kids to eat them more than they do, and I am trying to be a good mom and give the little shavers a well rounded diet. The stew even had barley. I never remember to buy the stuff, but I had found a bag of it amongst my beans and oats in the back of the cupboards the other day. So extra hearty and flavorful, especially when I compared it to the bowl of orangey mac n' cheese in my preschooler's bowl. </div>
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(He didn't want to share and neither did I, so we were both happy.)</div>
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As I was enjoying my bowl of soup, I was grateful I didn't have to make it from scratch today. Way too busy. But when I had made it two days ago, the process had started at lunchtime, so the beef would be tender and flavorful by dinnertime. Earlier in the week, I'd made Chicken Noodle Soup. From scratch as well. Again, I started it hours ahead of time.</div>
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Now, I'm not all 'Whole Foods'. Nor do I eat homemade, organic, wheatgerm pasta with sauce made from tomatoes grown in my garden, from seeds I planted nine months ago.</div>
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Er...no.</div>
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I just happened to have a mom who stayed home and taught me a lot of her homemaking skills. And I lived close to her when I was newly married so I could go over and really pay attention, now that I needed to know that stuff.</div>
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I don't make ALL my meals from scratch,either. Heaven help me, I've got 5 boys! I do not have enough time for that! But some afternoons/evenings, it works out to do that. </div>
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Especially since cooking from scratch is so much cheaper than the more fully prepared varieties. And since my dear husband is a school teacher, you can guess why "cheap" is an often used word in our household.</div>
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But cooking from scratch has a great side benefit if one is a writer of fiction of any variety earlier than the last forty years. Because every character, though only between the pages of a book, they gotta eat. And if they live before McDonald's existed and don't have enough money for servants or eating out every night, they gotta be able to find their way around the kitchen, even if it's just to make scrambled eggs or make toast (and I'm not taking about in a toaster either!!!).</div>
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So far, my stories are set in pre-kitchen appliance times. And food then was never fast or convenient. A medieval guy's version of fast food was a hunk of cheese and a heel of bread. Easy to carry in one's pouch, purse. Easy to grab and go. (Though of course the bread had to be made before hand.)</div>
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Or, if the season was right, some berries or nuts off the bushes. Highly convenient when that happens. </div>
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Really not convenient if it's late autumn to early spring. Nothing's available. </div>
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And no corner grocery store.</div>
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Or $5 Little Ceasar.</div>
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Oh my goodness, we are so blessed! </div>
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As I've been writing these stories and sticking in a few details here or there about feasts, everyday meals, and snacks, I've pondered how much our eating habits have changed over a hundred years. There is so much preparation that we skip now days. </div>
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Washing and chopping vegetables. </div>
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Browning and slow cooking tough cuts of meat. </div>
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Heck, we don't even have to butcher the animals! </div>
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For that matter, I don't have to keep my husband and boys chopping wood all year, so I can have a fire in my fireplace/stove to cook my dinner. I don't have to bend over that hot fire.<br />
I don't have to be careful of keeping my skirts from the embers. I don't have to worry about catching fire while cooking my stew. </div>
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(I've read that a hundred and fifty years ago, more women died from cooking related injuries than any other cause of death, except childbirth.)</div>
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When writing a historical novel, or historically based fantasy novel (which is me!), one must not <i>only</i> think of the differences in clothes, transportation and housing. But food (and how one gets it or prepares it), is a very important part of a character's life. And if that character is not modern or isn't a child anymore, then a good deal of consideration should go into what efforts they must make to obtain their 'daily bread'.<br />
<br />
At my last SCBWI conference, I was in an intensive with Carolyn Yoder, editor for Calkins Creek Books,and a senior editor at <i>Highlights</i> magazine, who spoke about common mistakes she stumbles across in manuscripts. One thing she mentioned three different times in those three hours, was:<br />
"Make sure your characters eat!"<br />
(And make sure it is historically correct.)<br />
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Now, if you are looking for help in the kitchen or in your text-only kitchen, I recommend the following resources: </div>
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Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book <span style="font-size: x-small;">or </span>Baking Book<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Lots of side notes, pictures and explanations)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
Good Housekeeping Cook Book<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(My mother-in-law gave me her old one and I learned much from that tattered copy)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><a href="http://jamiecooksitup.net/home/">Jamiecooksitup.net </a><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Lots of great photos from start to finish. Not historical per say, but very good step by step directions for yummy food.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">There are lots of food blogs out there, I just find Jamie's a very easy to follow, simple ingredients, but still good kind of blog.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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Or, really the best resource....<br />
Go to your church or synagogue or other organization that has regular 'pot-luck' type gatherings and ask around for the lady who brings the best dishes.<br />
Casserole, soup, rolls, pies, homemade candy, etc.<br />
Find this lady (it possibly could be a fellow), and ask to become her student. Offer to go in halfsies on the ingredients and make/eat dinner together.<br />
Or invite over some friends. Or a family in need.<br />
Or a group of starving artists that you've been dying to have an evening with.<br />
Or maybe take candy lessons from one person, bread making lessons from another, and learn to make homemade noodles from yet another.<br />
This will cost little and give so much back to you by way of personal enrichment and expanding of your world, both personally and in culinary matters.<br />
If this person happens to be older and lives alone, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Start asking questions. Find out where she (or he) learned her skills. At her mothers side? In a cafe? During WWII using ration coupons? Lots of amazing conversations will soon follow. And plenty of inspiration, I am sure.<br />
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So, expand your horizon in culinary matters, and see how much your life can be enriched.<br />
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I shall let you ruminate, masticate and digest these thoughts with only two more words from culinary connoisseur, Julia Child:</div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQpm-uKdGBMokZk7OdoGrELBFFG0fAB4N4CFVC-wwl8OMS9Z1vXIQ" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">recipeboy.com</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Bon Appetit!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-13234755787587856222012-12-05T06:38:00.001-08:002012-12-05T06:44:34.549-08:00Better Blogging... Smarter Blogging... More Cool Stuff<div style="text-align: center;">
Have you ever said a word so often that it begins to sound strange in your ears? Or taken a second glance at something that you've seen dozens of times a day, and yet suddenly it is a new experience?</div>
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I have been pondering my place as a writer in this world the past several weeks.<br />
What is my goal? Where do I go from here?<br />
Writing great adventure/romance (and the goal of eventual publication) continues to be my joy.<br />
I love my stories.<br />
I love the thrill of taking what's in my head and writing (and rewriting) so someone else can imagine my characters and their journeys through quests, challenges,and romance.<br />
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I tried to zoom through NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) with my newest story...and then was side tracked by familial obligations. True, I had quite a few out-of-town family come visit and I needed to dedicate some intensive time to my children, lately. The zooming happened in a week and half and the rest of the month was a bit of a put-put-puttering. </div>
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(Almost 15k words...not 50k, but still some good stuff and more than nothing!)</div>
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I also received a particularly upsetting rejection this month. No hurtful words were given or received. However, I was hoping for a particular opportunity...and it never happened. </div>
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I also broke the biggest rule I had given myself about this blog.<br />
<b>Keep it positive!</b></div>
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I know we can't always write about fluffy bunnies nibbling clover. (Little bit boring.) However, I knew I didn't want this page to become a snark page or a pity party. And I threw a pity party for myself last week. Online. On my blog. How utterly embarrassing and ... can I go crawl under a rock, now?</div>
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I did receive wonderful support both in comments, on the phone and in person, but I started wondering about the best place for this blog in my personal life, in my writing life and in my future.</div>
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I did read some wonderful information about "Slow Blogging", a movement based on a <a href="http://toddsieling.com/slowblog/?page_id=10">2006 'Manifesto' written by Canadian software designer Todd Sieling</a> and in turn based on Alice Walker's "Slow Food" movement. The idea is quality blogs (that people actually want to read) versus quantity (brain vomit that nobody is interested in reading). And these on a regular basis, MWF, TTh, once a week, once a month. </div>
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This sounds like something I can really get behind. And...I seem to be doing this anyway. Ha Ha!</div>
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I also read some great information (mostly on blogs) about shaping one's author brand. So I want to make sure that my posts here reflect more of:</div>
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My love for Adventure, Romance, SWORDS!</div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRJZnlsRE7E3d0Z43t-iRYrgCt5jdGeuKqHFljI2X5kf-Cz8xoc" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">lughofthelongarm.deviantart</span></div>
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Other stuff that gets me thrilled: political intrigue </div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRRYOsOKGlnwaAsSteb-FRZBYEt6jvoU9QrqkVzEZbaVBjAb1woxg" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">'The Borgias' via Showtime</span></div>
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(many centuries ago...don't mention 2012 presidential politics within my hearing or reading, please!)</div>
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Music...that inspires my stories or just plain inspiring.</div>
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<img src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRnPICUWu0H20cKe9dCJS6aqsudLGBk1yVy4rmQZsvYFkq4hXyt3Q" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">kingsburyhall.utah.edu</span></div>
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Fencing and other swordplay, rock climbing, swimming, hand-to-hand combat, survival skills and other skills that I learn/study to help me inhabit my characters and their world.</div>
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<img height="149" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSu9X1nlibuh6SbPKZVuAvUA6PTd1xwz94sK0QHKnyH3_tGlm2S" width="200" /><img height="130" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTGKVSCLS8d8zDqizg8Td9eGl-q1ZGbmoNDZwTGy6QBBbRAZAPH8A" width="200" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">whatisfencing.com h2hcombattraining.com</span></div>
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Cool photos of places, costumes, etc. that inspire my writing, my stories.</div>
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<img src="http://www.buzzle.com/img/articleImages/327930-28019-44.jpg" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">buzzle.com</span></div>
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So more of THAT fun stuff and less of me whining. </div>
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I won't promise to <i>NEVER </i>whine, ever, because sometimes, hard times are the best teacher, the best motivator, the best cesspool of experience to draw from when we are crafting a story. So a <i>bit</i> of whining, but all in context with story.</div>
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So this is my own manifesto: Cool stuff, less whining, blogs at least once a week, on topic and with content.</div>
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I hope you enjoy!</div>
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What do you think? Less is more?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-17569824691615153512012-11-23T22:51:00.000-08:002012-11-23T22:51:15.874-08:00Taking a Moment to WallowI hate it when I feel like a failure. It stinks. I stink.<br />
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Today, was only one day after the National Day of Thanksgiving. Yet, I holed up in my room with two books and a bag of Sour Cream & Cheddar potato chips. I never do that. Well, not with potato chips, anyway. But such was the day.<br />
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It probably had a little to do with the-day-after-Thanksgiving recovery. I did bake six pies over a 24 hour period leading up to the actual feast. I also prepped several side dishes and made a triple batch of rolls. Not that I was actually hosting the dinner, no, my awesome sister-in-law volunteered for that. She took care of the turkey and potatoes and two different types of stuffing and four additional pies. And she got to orchestrate all the madness of timing all the dishes to be hot.<br />
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I just brought extra sides because my kids are such picky eaters, last year they only ate a few bites of turkey and some black olives.<br />
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I was mortified.<br />
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My sister-in-law is a follower of Rachel Ray and is always coming up with cool new ways to fix traditional foods. The turkey this year had a glaze consisting of orange juice and soy and lost of other stuff that made it scrumptious! I made sure my kids had no idea as we loaded up their plates with turkey and dished up the straight-from-the-can sweet corn and the straight-from-the-box stuffing. They actually ate fairly well this year, and had two helpings of pie. Some even had thirds.<br />
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So Thanksgiving wasn't bad, it was actually pretty good.<br />
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I guess it was partly the lead up. Monday, I spent at my oldest's middle school, shadowing him. The poor kid is genuine and kind ... and seems to get close to failing at least two classes once a semester. This time it was three classes. So, I prepped some colorful printouts about his learning disability and things that help him the best to share with each teacher as I came into class. Wouldn't you know, three of them were gone. I couldn't very well give them to subs. I sat in his classes and observed and checked out where the assignments were posted and reminded him (discreetly) to write them down in his planner. I worried the whole time I would embarrass him, but the sweet kid told me on the way home it was the best day of middle school ever.<br />
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The next day, I spent a lot of the day cleaning before Grandma and Grandpa pulled in from out of state. This mostly involved bathrooms and kitchens (I have five sons, remember), but then I saw my home with new eyes and saw the ugliness of the fixer-upper that I had such grand plans for. That flooring, still awkward mismatched tile and industrial style carpeting. And the mess of a family of seven didn't exactly help the ambiance of Home Sweet Home. Well, Grandma and Grandpa were here to visit the family, not inspect my home, right?<br />
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I told myself I was right, but knew not-so-deep-down, my standards just weren't the same as my mother-in-laws. But when she showed up on the doorstep two hours earlier than I expected, all I could do was smile and push the vacuum back into the closet.<br />
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Things actually went well for the next little bit as the elementary school kiddos came home and basked in Grandma and Grandpa loooove. Then the front door opened and shut and one of the kiddos shouted that my oldest was home and that he was crying.<br />
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"Shut up!" echoed down the hallway and the library door slammed shut.<br />
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Uh-oh. I went to check out what was going on with my middle schooler. It took a while for that poor boy to speak through his tears. Every time he seemed to have it together, he'd look up and a little brother was peeking through the door or I could hear the little boys in the hallway wondering loudly why big brother was crying, and he'd melt again. Finally I told them get out of there with some lovely language that I am embarrassed to say did not reflect my upbringing, or sound wonderful in my in-laws ears, I'm sure.<br />
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I sat, feeling as though my heart was being put through a juicer as the tale finally came out. Bus ride home from middle school and someone farts. The smart-alec kid who's been a source of irritation in the past decides that my kiddo is the one who cut the cheese. The other kids lay it on. Teasing. Razzing. My kiddo tries to brush it off, but ends up just slouching in his seat with his hood over his head. When he gets off, a couple of sixth graders from the front of the bus get off too. They can see evidence of tears and start in on him. The fact that they are sixth graders is even worse degradation for my seventh grader. He tells them to quit, but unfortunately, their homes are in the same direction as ours from the bus stop. So they and a couple of kids from the other middle school who just got off their bus are following my son, joking, teasing him about being a cry baby. The leader is right beside him. My son kicks at him sideways. The other kid kicks back. My son elbows him away. The other kid punches him back. Then they are hitting each other. My son calls 'Truce' and the other kid shrugs, 'Whatever' and laughs with his buddies as my son walks as fast as he can the last two blocks home.<br />
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Poor kid. He's so shaken by the idea that he's actually gotten into a fight. He is convinced I will be disappointed he didn't 'Turn the other cheek'. My blood is up and I say, I probably would have done the same thing, no matter what I taught him before. I give lots of hugs and assurance that the other kids were the ones to start it.<br />
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And I second guess myself wondering if I have turned my son into a victim somehow. Wondering if I should just tell him to slug the other guy next time. Wondering if I should protect him more.<br />
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I know this is bullying. Yet I know that there is no anti-bullying law when he gets to college or into the work force. I wonder where is the line for protecting ones child and letting him 'grow up' and learn how to be tough. Part of me wants to enroll him in the nearest karate class and another part of me wonders if its my fault that he cries so easily. I was so proud of his tender heart and compassion for others just the day before. He is such a GOOD kid.<br />
<br />
I call the school to report the bullying, and of course, almost everyone's gone home. I'm told the principal will call me when she gets the message.<br />
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We're both shaken by the whole episode.<br />
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When I go to fencing lesson that night, I bring the family so they can see what I've learned the past ten weeks. But because I was sick the week before, I've hardly practiced and the awesome-sauce I've poured on the past few weeks seems to have dried up. I barely make it though the footwork and the instructor is calling my name more than any other's to remind me of my stance, of my sword grip and to for goodness sake RELAX! Hmmm. Not quite the strong, cool-mom image I want projected to my kiddos that night. Sigh!<br />
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Wednesday, I start early baking pies. Then we go to a doctors appointment. I preface this with the fact that we had an awesome family doctor when we lived in Virginia. Since we moved to Arkansas, I've put off finding a pediatrician and just taken the kids to the little clinics that the local hospital has in the Walmart stores. Close, convenient, cheap and no commitment if we don't like it. But after my 10-year-old was in the hospital half of September, I got on the stick. I already felt like a #momfail before, but now we parade in with all five kiddos and when the doctor gets down to business, we have a lot to talk about. Auditory processing disorder for the oldest, recovery from surgery with the next, learning disability and possible ADD for #3 son and for the fourth I start to mention possibility of ADD with him and the doctor, noticing his behavior in the small room pipes up. "And hyperactivity?"<br />
<br />
Gosh. It's obvious.<br />
<br />
The kids were doing actually pretty good considering. But you put five boys in a doctors office and .... it gets overwhelming pretty quick and it makes it even easier to see what you don't want to see. That bright little first grader has very few filters and acts like a mexican jumping bean.<br />
<br />
So I got a fistful of referral cards as I left the doctors office.<br />
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I took comfort in knowing I had resources. I have insurance to pay for it (at least mostly). And my youngest has no medical conditions. Yay!<br />
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Then why did I feel like I had just failed a mommy exam?<br />
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I tried to put it behind me as I prepped for Thanksgiving dinner. So, my kids might have issues, but they weren't going to embarrass me with their picky eating this year. One thing I could control.<br />
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The morning after Thanksgiving and I groan because its my oldest's birthday and I have hardly done a thing to prepare for it. I have a cake mix and a tub of frosting, the flavor he requested. Point for me. But I realized that I had very few things for him to unwrap. True, he was getting piano lessons, like he'd been asking for. And the grandparents had given him some lovely gifts already or mailed. And a gift from an aunt sat on the piano ready to unwrap. But I had been planning on buying him a new pair of jeans. He needed them. And he could use a couple of t-shirts. And maybe the latest cool Lego set. Or something else I didn't know he needed until I saw it at the store.<br />
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But it was Black Friday. And I was whupped. I couldn't bring myself to face any crowds. I felt fragile, like I'd break into tears or screams at any minute.<br />
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I started second guessing myself. What else could I give him? I HAD bought him a couple of novels at the book fair when I was with him at the middle school on Monday. We were planning on taking him to the movies with his brothers and Grandma and Grandpa. But we were going to the discount theater, which meant seeing 'Brave' not 'Wreck-It Ralph'.<br />
<br />
I knew the boys would like much of 'Brave' if not all of it. And wasn't I educated enough to want my boys to identify with female protagonists as well as male video game heroes? But somehow that morning while I baked the cake, I felt like I was totally letting my son down. After all he had dealt with this week, didn't he deserve a fun movie tailored more to his interest? I wanted to blame my husband. It was him who was the tightwad, not me. It was his fault that we couldn't go to the perfect movie and have to settle for a girl movie.<br />
<br />
When we got to the theater, my opinion deepened when my husband wouldn't spring for popcorn. I thought about using my own cash, except I knew I had exactly $13 in my purse. And wouldn't that make for a semi-great present if wrapped in nice scrapbooking paper? So my 4-year-old bounced between his daddy and me throughout the entire movie whining for popcorn. When we got home and my husband promised the little terror some popcorn, I reminded him of the broken microwave. Not to fear, he took himself off to the little grocery store down the street and bought a bag of popcorn. You know the kind you put in an air popper (not that we have one any more) or cook over the stove in a thick-bottomed pan. So as my husband set up making himself the hero of the day, I couldn't stand the good cheer in the kitchen and took myself and a bag of potato chips up to my room to wallow in my anger and self-pity and panic at trying to figure out WHAT to give a thirteen year old for his birthday without going to the store.<br />
<br />
I almost got clear before dinner. I faced my lovely family and prepped something easy.<br />
<br />
Then I couldn't find any birthday candles for the cake. I almost sat down on the kitchen floor and started bawling. My husband came to help. Not that I appreciated it at the moment. And he did find candles. My son didn't even notice that we could only find twelve. He never counted them.<br />
<br />
And when he opened his certificate for piano lessons and his ticket to go shopping for new jeans and t-shirts with Mom or Dad and his little envelope of cash and the Civil War historical novels for middle graders that I had gotten at the latest SCBWI conference, he declared it the best birthday ever.<br />
<br />
Yet, I still feel like a BFI truck backed into my yard this morning and dumped its contents onto my front porch. Why? I dunno.<br />
<br />
But I'm hoping that writing it all out will prove cathartic and that tomorrow will dawn a brighter day.<br />
<br />
Until then, I am grumpily yours,<br />
<br />
Amelia<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-4970912981480281642012-11-11T19:09:00.000-08:002012-11-11T19:16:19.777-08:00Making the Past Come Alive<img height="424" src="http://pics.livejournal.com/sergey_larenkov/pic/0006t2cw" width="640" /><br />
<br />
I have been astounded and impressed by the marvelous photos that <a href="http://sergey-larenkov.livejournal.com/tag/normandie">Sergey Larenkov</a> has produced and shared over the internet. In case you are unaware, this Leningrad native has taken old postcards and archived photographs, especially of World War II, and superimposed them upon modern photos he takes himself. This one above is of Omaha Beach during D-Day, June 6, 1944, blended with Larenkov's own photo of modern Omaha Beach.<br />
<br />
I only discovered Larenkov's work the past few months, but each photo has so much story. I stare at the fresh faced boys under the soldier's helmets. I wonder what they wrote to their sweethearts in their letters sent off that morning in the post. Was it that much different than what the modern soldier sends today in email or skype? And yet those boys died over fifty years ago, or have become pale, wrinkled veterans in wheelchairs, unheroic in the eyes of the modern young man who slays opponents on his wii or Xbox or PS3.<br />
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<img height="480" src="http://api.ning.com/files/52DAl4oSffH8xkd83NiuGtkRoyoRdJ6D5gvRqfLeSGc72SK8IpTNNgQ1vG2PbBKR3jYC0wxCYjJ30R5XIu1W6LNZYY-BaUPe/seiz.jpg" width="640" /><br />
<br />
Yet, seeing them with the modern trappings that are so familiar just a few pixels away, somehow make these fellows in khaki so much more...REAL.<br />
<br />
Now, I grew up with a father who idolized World War II veterans. The father he never knew served in the South Pacific as did his four brothers. I grew up listening to tales from my great-uncles. I know how my Uncle Chuck (the oldest) served on submarines (because he was so short, all the other uncles tell me). I know how when the youngest, Doc, enlisted up at sixteen, the middle three all signed up so they could "watch over the baby". I know the tremor in my father's voice that comes right before the climax in each story.<br />
<br />
I remember every holiday, Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, as well as Veterans Day, Memorial Day and the Fourth of July, my dad would go down to the video store and rent a stack of movies about the men he most admired. We watched "The Longest Day" (D-Day), "Tora, Tora, Tora" (attack on Pearl Harbor), "The Great Escape" (POW camps), "The Guns of Navarone", "The Dirty Dozen", "Stalag 17", "The Bridge Over the River Kwai" are all part of the fabric of my childhood, my heritage. Yet, John Wayne and Eddie Albert, and Steve McQueen and Charles Bronson fade away when I stare at these photos.<br />
<br />
This is real.<br />
<br />
It happened.<br />
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<img height="424" src="http://api.ning.com/files/VizpRQDC6hp0eonVVEKE8lwku2-RPqdaMBuegBhTDWXofFIxRLS6bzq-*W1PqomMqPe*EhagH2X*7Qzj31vlh7wTph5Wb5EH/ghostsworldwarII0.jpg" width="640" /><br />
<br />
And when I stare at the photo of Adolph Hitler during the occupation of Paris with the Eiffel Tower in the background, I get chills. Because, that is not some actor looking fierce or silly in a movie. That man was there, in Paris, in Berlin, in all these places that are now beautiful and healed in another century.<br />
<br />
We have forgotten, perhaps, the men and women who fought in uniform, the men and women who resisted, the men and women who risked their own safety to hide others. We forget that people died horrible deaths on the beaches, in the trenches, in the concentrations camps.<br />
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I have forgotten. At times, I have let my lovely modern world lull me into thinking that this could never happen again, that it is in the past. But the past is real and we must learn the lessons from those who have gone before.<br />
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As George Santayana has written, "Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it."<br />
<br />
I hope that the past is always kept fresh enough in our memory that we can glean lessons from it in each generation. I know I've passed on to my sons the stories of their great-grandfather and great-uncles. But now they are into action movies and think a hero dresses in an iron suit or pounds villains with green fists. I think I'm going to go reserve "The Longest Day" or "The Dirty Dozen" on my library's web page now. While I'm there, I think I'll find a few more books that are age-appropriate for sharing these important stories. I think I'll dust off my book of 'Yad Vashem' (honored individuals that hid/helped Jews). I think I'll open up a conversation and tell a few more stories.<br />
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I need to share some history with my boys this weekend.<br />
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Cheers,<br />
Amelia<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-37475658369885032862012-11-09T03:00:00.000-08:002012-11-09T03:00:00.050-08:00NaNoWriMo<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><img height="320" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQOpMAopqQr_16CpiHFxkqnE-K8pyb-PW1DwnM7s7UAfBs_PIZG" width="228" /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Image via jot.org</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">As I mentioned yesterday, though I did fill the
last half of October with revisions and edits, this week, I've been working
on National Novel Writing Month. </span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Or NaNoWriMo as it is affectionately called by
us crazy enough to attempt writing a 50,000 word novel during the month of
November.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I've never done it before. And I'm not
even doing it officially since I did start this new book back in September,
because I <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Just. Couldn't. Wait.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The idea had been marinating for a year
and I had two documents filled with delicious ideas. This shiny new book was
begging to be written. So I started it. Then I broke off to prep for my SCBWI conference. </span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">When November 2nd rolled around, I had received encouragement from several
friends and I made the decision to join in the madness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I opened a new document, so I wouldn't
"cheat" on word count. And I am proud to say that I have written 9558
words so far. And that was only Saturday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Pretty
dang good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">The kids were off school yesterday. And they are off today. So I'm not even guilting myself into working on it. It would just be a load of hooey anyway. Right now they are happily playing. I know it will not last long. So I am taking advantage of the moment.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Now for those who are not writers, this is what NaNo looks like from the outside: </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><img src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcThkeDpkyOWteT0B4JCfIVWt1Wc4C34lobjapuOyld2zTA2ITsXqg" style="cursor: move;" /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Image via serendipity34.blogspot.com</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">I really am not smoking a pipe. But there are other signs of dissipation and letting go of the unnecessary things in life. The breakfast cereal bags and boxes stay on the table until its time to set it for dinner. Though the laundry is done, it is only stacked in the laundry room and the occupants of my home will have to find their piles and take them up themselves, thank-you-very-much!</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">But this is what I'm seeing in my head as I'm writing: </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><img alt="Gravensteen Castle Ghent Belgium Counts of Flanders" src="http://media-cache-ec2.pinterest.com/upload/134826582564579458_DTs9c5ED_b.jpg" /> </span><img alt="Awesome view of Dinant fortress from across the river." height="204" src="http://media-cache-ec3.pinterest.com/upload/162481499026449057_26FdYxOP_b.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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<img alt="Belgium. Another view of Dinant" height="211" src="http://media-cache-ec4.pinterest.com/upload/275775177152288355_fV1CZdK4_b.jpg" width="320" /> <img alt="Rock climbing in Dinant region" src="http://media-cache-ec5.pinterest.com/upload/162481499027819551_30IVLjZU_b.jpg" /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Images via bargaintraveleurope.com, trabel.com, visitbelgium.com and rockclimbing.com</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">Doesn't that look cool!</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">And then mix it with:</span></span></div>
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<img src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTHaJxdVz64DsGEGV7aTBGtAiDH_OnYwyG6UJjStyqENXtej5y8" /><img src="http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSy7FfMisBCdehRsYdG4e4Xc-6x7i-bwe7Rxho62VIDbQe3kRo3xQ" /></div>
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<br /></div>
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and with this creepy villain:</div>
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<img src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQgjVV1zZtwR_VWuowig-9vgSC6b1tWmqxqT9O5tm5UPmkXj_fFiA" /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
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And you can see why I couldn't wait to start!!! </div>
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<br /></div>
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I can't say much more now, and I've wasted enough NaNo time writing this anyway. So, off to my secluded chamber.....or not quite so secluded living room and family computer. :)</div>
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Cheers!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-81587431941681157202012-11-08T12:09:00.004-08:002012-11-08T12:09:39.061-08:00Writing, Rewriting and Necessary Critiques<div style="text-align: center;">
<img height="298" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSYYL3l2klwumVGqcfd63WXg4EcYTCbguxS0g6SjNNDiBgRF3pl6g" width="400" /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Image via writelivelihood.wordpress.com</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
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I have been neglecting my blog again, and I must apologize. My excuse is valid, however. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I have been writing 'real' stuff. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Not that I'm not interested in sharing with all of you. But...after receiving a (spot-on) critique and great advice at the SCBWI Mid-Atlantic Conference, I sent myself headfirst into revisions. My 3-hour layover in North Carolina was spent hunched over a notebook sketching out how I was going to fix the flash-backs and (mini) info-dumps that distracted from the beginning of my story. Also the wonderful Cynthia Cotten advised me to get my story out of the European Union and fix a location for my 'YA Castle Fantasy'.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So I knew 'where' in Europe this was all taking place, (Northern Italy, Eastern France) but my names reflected a more Swiss mix of French and German ....with additional slang from old England and one of the characters Spanish heritage coming on too strongly.</div>
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Whoops! </div>
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I hadn't even noticed this. </div>
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<br /></div>
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So, I stared at German-sounding names in that airport and desperately coveted an Italian baby-name book. First thing, the next morning, I was on the computer trying to figure out a new name for half of my characters. Most importantly, my hero. For so long, I had been calling him Cornelius. It was so hard to let him go as Cornelius. Or as Neil, his name when he is in disguise as a commoner.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Now he is Lesandro. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Lesandro.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Mmmm, I like that name. I still kept typing C.o.r.n.e.l... as I wrote the revisions before I caught myself.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Finally, Lesandro is beginning to feel natural.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Once my pages filled with Lesandro and Chenzo and Hugo and Rosalba and Taddeo, I could almost taste the garlic and oil and wanted to go dance with these characters during their chestnut festival. </div>
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<img height="299" 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" 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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Image via vintageholidays.co.uk</span></div>
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I have no idea why I couldn't see the disconnect between the names and place before. Well, yes, I can. These names were picked three years ago when the European setting was much more nebulous and my writing was only fit for spiral bound notebooks shoved under my bed.</div>
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Sometimes my writing is still only fit for shoving under my bed. </div>
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But it's improving and I am so grateful for those who have gone before and shared their hard-won knowledge with me. </div>
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Thank you Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators! </div>
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(More tomorrow on my new writing project for National Novel Writing Month.)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-72241293689042747222012-10-18T07:07:00.001-07:002012-10-18T07:07:53.502-07:00 Hurry Home<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tSZh9ocLJqg?fs=1" width="459"></iframe><br />
<br />
I am sooooo very excited to attend a SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) Conference in Virginia this weekend. I've swung rapidly between excitement and nervousness, between the exultation of four carefree days and the stress of compiling lists for my husband and kiddos for while I'm gone. I've packed (mostly) and prepped and worried that I've forgotten something.<br />
<br />
Then this morning, as I was chivying the boys out to the van, one stopped and spread his arms. "Mom, can I just get one last hug?"<br />
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Of course.<br />
<br />
And it hit me again, how even though I am so thrilled by my writing and the journey to become a published author and get my stories out there.... to my family, I'm just Mom. Not really 'just' either. I'm the center that the world revolves around. I'm the Sun that pulls them in and keeps them close. I know who likes which veggies and the favorite snacks to stock in the cupboard. I know who loves back scratches best and who likes long talks and who wants just to snuggle.<br />
<br />
I am <i>MOM</i>. And I had forgotten how scary having Mom away for even a couple of days can be kinda freaky. Compound that with my absence so much of September as I was in the hospital with my 10-year-old. Home life was just starting to kick back into normal routine and now I'm <i>leaving</i>!?!<br />
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That hug (and the avalanche of hugs that followed) this morning reminded me that though writing and telling stories brings me joy, I am a Mom first. That is my calling for now and eternity. No matter what happens with agents and publishers, I will always be a storyteller. That's how I connect with people. I love hearing stories. I love telling stories.<br />
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But, the most important story is MY story. The story about me and how I found the most perfect man almost fifteen years ago. How he swept me off my feet with the cha-cha and a waltz and how I couldn't forget him even when a thousand miles separated us. How he proposed with a diamond that was smaller than he wanted, but which had clearer color and no flaws. A diamond that represented the purity and goodness he saw within me.<br />
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That story winds from Michigan to Ohio to Virginia to Arkansas. We have added wonderful characters to our story, the most important characters being:<br />
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A square-headed lad who is passionate about designing and building and so very tender-hearted. I love this guy! Couldn't ask for a better "big brother".<br />
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A sharp-eyed fellow who wants to suck the marrow out of life and cannot stand the boring moments. An epic adventurer (as long as there is no more pain involved). Can't wait to see what he does with life.<br />
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An enthusiastic hot-head with a mischievous grin, who just cannot stay out of trouble. How many angry and repentant tears have I wiped from this fellow's eyes! He melts my heart everyday.<br />
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A funny little guy who wants to be just as amazing and smart as his brothers, yet purposefully goes another direction, because he knows exactly what he wants. Such a great kid!<br />
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An adorable cutie who seems to wrap the entire family around his finger. He is the most agreeable kid, and is willing to help anybody who asks.<br />
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Wow! I am so blessed! I have been looking forward to a few days away from the Loken brand of Chaos. But I have to say, I will 'Hurry Home' to my little agents of entropy when this weekend is over.<br />
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Love you guys!!<br />
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Cheers,<br />
<br />
Amelia a.k.a. 'Mom'<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-83281794123892569842012-10-16T07:09:00.001-07:002012-10-16T07:09:44.595-07:00Chariots of Fire and the Talent Within<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSrl9bDTWns3BhK-92ColvVBThcbYeRq1G1LhwtnimBwuPMqVSt" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo from film 'Chariots of Fire' via Tumblr</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I love the example of Eric Liddell who is one of the principle characters in the film, 'Chariots of Fire'. I remember watching this film as a youngster and then again, several more times. The whole film is chock-full of awesome sound bites that are inspiring. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This week, as I watch some of my revisions take on a better quality, I feel an excitement within. Like a runner feeling the exultation of speed and effort and lightness. These revisions were inspired by critiques and the need to improve. Not always fun. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">In fact, its never fun to hear that you missed your goal in whatever you are trying to accomplish.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But as I poured over my manuscript and saw that yes, I needed more dialog here and more internal there. And then the words CAME, and I experienced a thrill.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Somehow, I always fear that the words will dry up and that I won't be able to make a text better, more clear, more precise, etc. But when I exercise my writing muscles, the words do come. Not always right away. </div><div style="text-align: center;">(That's for sure!) </div><div style="text-align: center;">But the words come.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">And I know that there is a talent within me, a talent for telling a story, that God put within. It is a delight to find that chunk of talent and start hacking away at it, mining it from the dross that surrounds it. And then to find a sparkly story peeking through. It takes time and a TON of effort to get the story pure and ready for an audience. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The fire of revisions is truly a crucible. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But the shiny, polished story that emerges is worth every effort.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I know that there will be an agent and some editors in the future who will help me burn off more dross and get me polishing. But that's all good. Because stories have power. Power to reach another soul. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So, back to Eric Liddell. I love his quote: </div><div style="text-align: center;">"I believe God made me for a purpose. But he also made me <i>FAST! </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i></i>And when I run, I feel his pleasure."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That's how I feel about telling a story. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
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</div><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uwyltmUR3MU?fs=1" width="459"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-88262694958421188262012-10-04T19:50:00.000-07:002012-10-04T19:50:36.497-07:00Books That Got Me Through<br />
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The month of September really knocked the stuffing out of me. One of my kiddos landed in the hospital and we were in and out of that place ALL month! I am so grateful for the care of the amazing doctors and truly awesome nursing staff. However, I am now an exhausted and sleep-deprived ZombieMom. Or at least I feel that way much of the day.<br />
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I was so blessed to have finished the big revisions to my manuscript just days before my close relationship with Arkansas Children's Hospital started. (Whew!) And I have been somewhat productive in getting some queries out there and trying to get some other bits ready for a huge upcoming contest on <a href="http://misssnarksfirstvictim.blogspot.com/">"Miss Snark's First Victim"</a> blog where there will be real-live literary agents and everything. (Blows in a paper bag and tries not to hyperventilate.) <br />
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But while I sat in the hospital with my boy, there was a lot of down time and I wanted to be distracted. So here are some of the YA books that kept me sane for the days I enjoyed the hospitality of Children's Hospital.<br />
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The morning we went into the ER, I had the sense to pick a book out of the Amazon Box that had come a couple days before (Happy Birthday to ME!). I picked out "<b>Princess Academy: Palace of Stone</b>" by Shannon Hale. This was a book I had been looking forward to, since I enjoyed the first "Princess Academy" so much. This was sweet at the beginning with all the emotions of Miri leaving home, but quickly moved on to much more intriguing circumstances as Miri's old loyalties are tested and new friends are made. By the time I was on page 20, my son was in the OR and Miri's adventure with the revolutionaries in Danland kept me from pacing and generally stressing out. After we were settled in his hospital room, I soon opened the book. I had to know who Miri chose to align herself with. I <i>loved </i>the multi-tiered ending. Lots of excitement and tension. It ended so perfectly. Such a great book that can engage lots of discussion about loyalty and deception in friendships. How loyal, how truthful are we? Which friends deserve more loyalty and more openness?<br />
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Once I had finished licking my literary fingers, I moved on to "<b>Farwalker's Quest</b>" by Joni Sensel. This was <i>such</i> a great adventure book with both a girl and boy as the main characters. It had so many of the elements that I love. The heroine went through the wringer, but still proved so courageous! And the hero/boy was a great character. Loved him. I think this book was intended for Middle Grade, but the earlier chapters recount the heroine's kidnapping, reports the murder of her mother and the vandalism/desecration of her village. I know my 12 year old is a bit sensitive for it yet. One of the original "badguys" becomes more and more gray, until he becomes trustworthy. It was a wonderful ride for me, but I know another of my children who could totally take it the wrong way at his developmental stage right now. So, use your judgement. Great story for the mature middle grader and YA.<br />
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So, a few days into my son's hospital stay, I was back at my house for a change of clothes and a new novel. I chose "<b>The False Prince</b>" by Jennifer Nielsen, and I am soooo glad I did! This was an amazing story of danger, intrigue and disguise. Four orphans are chosen by a shady nobleman to learn the traits of the prince who died a few years before. It is a cutthroat competition where one will win and claim the throne (Anastasia style) and the rest will have to be...silenced. I want so much to share spoilers, but I will sit on my hands (for a moment) and resist the urge. Just have to say that the plotting (writing-wise and otherwise) was so wonderfully woven. I suspected the truth and LOVED the big reveal 3/4 of the way into the book. So very satisfying. This one got me through the wait next to the MRI and later in Radiology as a PICC line was inserted into my kiddo's arm. But the story and the characters (especially Sage) were so powerful, it was easy to immerse myself into the world Jennifer Nielsen created.<br />
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By the time I finished it, the hospital was starting to feel like home (kinda) and we got past the seriousness of all the sicky-stuff. Having a great book as a distraction helped, so that we could laugh and get silly and take pictures like this:<br />
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I just have to add one more book to this list. I have been reading "<b>The Dragon's Tooth</b>" by N.D. Wilson the past week. Oh Boy! That was a fun read! After about forty-some pages, I realized this was a retelling of "Treasure Island". It was all there, the lonely boy, the ramshackle inn, the mysterious guest with a nickname of Billy Bones. I was already interested, but at that point, you could not have pried the book out of my hand. (Though I did set it down for meal-prep and writing work and mothering and sleep.) But whenever I could find an excuse, it was in my lap and I was right with Cyrus and his sister, trying to figure out where the talented Mr. Wilson was going to take this creepy, adventuresome tale. When the character Big Ben Stirling shows up in the kitchen of the secret society, I laughed out loud. Loved the clever writing and fabulous characters and wonderfully elaborate world. I highly recommend it to thrill-seeking MG readers and up.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-57171734928018480662012-09-30T21:50:00.001-07:002012-09-30T21:50:46.735-07:00myliblog: Myth-busting: libraries and ebooks<a href="http://jaslarue.blogspot.com/2012/08/myth-busting-libraries-and-ebooks.html">myliblog: Myth-busting: libraries and ebooks</a><br />
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Linking to this great blog article regarding Libraries vs. Retail sales of books.<br />
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My mom and my sister are both librarians. I have had library cards in 11 different library systems since I was able to read. (Winnemucca, NV; Council Bluffs, IA; Oklahoma City, OK; Kalamazoo, MI; Otsego, MI; Ricks College (now BYU-Idaho); Rexburg, ID; South Haven, MI; Massillon, OH; Winchester, VA (Handley Regional Library); and Little Rock, AR (Central Arkansas Library System).<br />
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I feel like I grew up in libraries....<br />
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Libraries ROCK!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-62903615816171144722012-09-27T17:52:00.001-07:002012-09-27T17:52:23.122-07:00TOFW: Twenty Rejection Letters and a Bestseller<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1c_J0B1n2VI?fs=1" width="459"></iframe><br />
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I had a fabulous post 90% written when my kids lost it on the computer while I was checking dinner. This will have to do ;) I sent out a bunch of queries to literary agents in the last 24 hours.<br />
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Sorry, my brain is a bit fried. I'll see if I can re-blog my missing post tomorrow between a doctor's appointment and baking rolls for a funeral. We'll see!!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1335626820949533940.post-47098644887344829812012-09-26T15:44:00.002-07:002012-09-26T15:44:20.126-07:00Looking at the Glass Half Full<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Okay, so the month of September has really whipped my heiny. </div>
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I spent twelve of the first sixteen days in the hospital with my son. What started as (what we thought was) a sprained knee or maybe a little fracture, ended up being so...much...more. Then as life started back to normal, the stomach flu hit our house and worked it way through each member of the family.</div>
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So, apologies for dropping off the face of the planet, so to speak.</div>
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But I'm back and I hope to keep my blogging day job.</div>
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I just wanted to share a thought from my experiences the past month. When life was at it's craziest, this month, and I had to "give up" writing for a few weeks, my writing didn't go on a permanent vacation. I had just gotten my manuscript whipped into shape and sent it off to a gatekeeper in the publishing world. So, I didn't have the immediate pressure of getting something in by a deadline. It really was perfect timing, because I wasn't stressed out or worried (about writing anyway). I could just focus my brain and heart on my son, and what he needed to get healthy again. When we came home from Children's Hospital ( the first time), I remembered a deadline a week away for submitting pages for an upcoming writing conference. I spent my spare time rearranging some chapters and had the materials ready to send off when I discovered a rash spreading all over my son's arm and chest.</div>
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It seemed he was allergic to clindamycin, the antibiotic I was giving my son intravenously every 8 hours.</div>
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We went back to the hospital for another four days. <i>Le sigh!</i></div>
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However, on my quick trip home for my cell charger, I remembered the freshly printed out papers needing to be mailed. Within ten minutes they were in the hands of our friendly neighborhood postmistress. Yay!</div>
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The past week has been crazy and full of stress but I've still been able to find opportunities to write. My crit partner is awesome and had some stuff critiqued and ready for my perusal when we first came out of the hospital the first time. I didn't work on it right away, but the comments sat and stewed and I found myself jotting down ideas on improvements. I spent much of last night typing the changes into my manuscript.</div>
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Now, I'm not saying that tough times are easily overcome. I'm not. I know the only way my family was able to get through this month was with the help of friends and prayers from many throughout the country. I felt comforted and had peace that all would work out for my son's health. I knew that wonderful people were watching over my children who needed rides to school and day time care and an evening meal. A combination of helping hands and the blessings of heaven got us through this thing. And I am so very grateful.</div>
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I know I need God and I need friends no matter what storms sweep through my life. </div>
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So, whatever you may be going through or the tough times you may face, keep your notebook at hand, a prayer in your heart and your hands open to receive the blessings that will come.</div>
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Cheers, Amelia<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14324491231695823916noreply@blogger.com0