tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35325403413177547012024-02-21T01:38:25.067-05:00 Starting at Square OneWelcome to my corner of the universe, where cats are named after cookies and physicists. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.comBlogger199125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-87768156584875690492013-07-17T12:42:00.002-04:002013-07-17T12:42:15.899-04:00The danger of text messages and changed phone numbers. Yesterday I made my pregnancy public and today I was attempting to follow up with a high school friend. I sent her a text:<br />
<span class="gc-message-sms-from" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.89236068725586px;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span class="gc-message-sms-from" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16.89236068725586px;">Me: </span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.333333969116211px; line-height: 16.89236068725586px;"></span><span class="gc-message-sms-text" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.333333969116211px; line-height: 16.89236068725586px;">since you're never on FB...guess what--WE'RE HAVING A BABY!!</span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13.333333969116211px; line-height: 16.89236068725586px;"> </span></span></blockquote>
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I didn't get a response, but got a call from her number. I tried answering and didn't hear anything, so I hung up. I tried calling back and a burly sounding dude answered. It appears my friend changed her number and never told me! I said...'oh sorry, must be the wrong number,' and hung up. About 2 hours later, I got another phone call from burly dude, and screened it, since I have had people from wrong numbers attempt to stalk me. To clear up any misunderstanding, I decided to send him an email explaining the mix-up. Then the funny started. <br />
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<br /><span class="gc-message-sms-from" style="color: #333333; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: bold;">Me: </span><span class="gc-message-sms-text">apparently you have my friend's old number. Sorry--my message wasn't directed at you!</span> <span class="gc-message-sms-from" style="color: #333333; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span class="gc-message-sms-from" style="color: #333333; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: bold;">Burly dude with friend's old number: </span><span class="gc-message-sms-text">Its ok i been with same person an never cheated just broak up thought was her congrats</span> </blockquote>
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<br /><br />Oh yes, burly dude thought that I was his ex girl friend call/texting him to say I was pregnant. Oh the level of classiness that some people have will never cease to amuse me. My friend says that this was my own personal Jerry Springer moment<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small; line-height: 16.89236068725586px;">. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-80555183035145407422013-07-16T19:07:00.002-04:002013-07-16T19:11:01.683-04:00A big announcement Today a very important email went out to my family (at least the ones I had email addresses for). It's a message that I've waited years to send, and it was a accompanied by a little story my husband wrote. <br />
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<i>The pressure to have children often starts as soon as a couple gets married; friends and relatives have no trouble asking the question, but the answer isn't always so easy to give.<br />We tried for years, with the doctors telling us it was a coin flip whether we'd be able to conceive naturally or not. Eventually, we came to terms with the fact that it had come up tails, and had to adjust our expectations for life a bit.<br />This last Mother's Day, we discovered to our joy and surprise that we'd actually come up heads! Well, head....there's only one of them, after all. However you want to say it, we're growing a baby!<br />The first trimester is over (we hit 13 weeks yesterday), and we thought it was about time you all shared in the news. It hasn't been easy keeping the secret!<br />Did we miss anyone? We might not have their email address; feel free to forward <img src="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/images/cleardot.gif" /><br />Love,<br />Eileen & Aaron (and baby!)</i></blockquote>
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A HUGE thank you to my friend Kristen over at <a href="http://www.kikiverde.com/" target="_blank">Kiki(verde)</a> for taking some hilarious (and adorable!) pictures of us. We had so much fun! I'd also like to thank Stephanie at <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/EverburgPhotography?ref=top_trail" target="_blank">Everburg Photography</a> who made this wonderful announcement. </div>
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Since I was trying to keep this a secret, but need to write, I started a second blog. It's called Letters to Baby, with the URL <a href="http://omgbabytime.blogspot.com/" style="background-color: transparent;">http://omgbabytime.blogspot.com/</a> (I would have linked it, but I'm proud of that URL!) and in it I have been keeping that obligatory weekly journal and some other musings in the form of letters to our unborn child. Soon I will get the husband to write there too. </div>
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I have so much more to write about...but this post is long enough. I hope this will help end the radio silence that I undertook in an effort to keep the lid on my pregnancy. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-87364710300555746602013-06-01T10:00:00.000-04:002013-06-01T10:00:03.705-04:00Today Only Promotion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zURcxdSKgSg/Uakz9pT5RoI/AAAAAAAACt0/htF4LslXzlY/s1600/Today+Only+Jacket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zURcxdSKgSg/Uakz9pT5RoI/AAAAAAAACt0/htF4LslXzlY/s320/Today+Only+Jacket.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN"><b>Today Only</b> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN">by D. Love<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Blurb: In life, there are times you are granted a miracle. It may not be
the one you wanted exactly, but it will be the one you need. It will prepare
you for the next step in your journey and help you learn to accept the life you
are given, even if that life can be heartbreaking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<u><span lang="EN">Buy Links<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN"><a href="http://amzn.to/161ETTr" target="_blank">Amazon</a> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/today-only-derinda-love/1115283732?ean=2940016701103" target="_blank">B&N</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/317656" target="_blank">Smashwords</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<u><span lang="EN"><br /></span></u></div>
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<u><span lang="EN">Excerpt</span></u></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">My time here is dwindling. Everything around me – my
body, the transition from winter to spring, the height chart marking the growth
of my daughter, Emily – reminds me that the hourglass that is my life has only
a few grains of sand left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">It’s my first thought this morning. I awoke early for a
fundraiser, the Big Walk for March of Dimes. I start off with my daily routine.
I jump in the shower, trying not to notice how much the droplets of water hurt
my skin. The sting is too much this morning. I get out quickly, dry off and
throw my hair in a simple ponytail at the base of my neck. I catch my
reflection in the mirror and stare at myself for a minute. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Just a little longer? So I can watch Em grow up?</span></i><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">My mirror doesn’t have an answer for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">"Come on, Em!" I call to my daughter. "Get
your shoes on, before we’re late."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I turn away from the mirror, then hurry into the living
room and grab Emily by the hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">"You ready Em?" I ask. Whatever dread or fear I
feel in front of my mirror fades at the sight of Em’s beautiful blue eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She looks up at me with the biggest smile, and exclaims,
"Yes!" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">We hop in the car and head towards the Walk. My
daughter’s eyes are glowing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">"Mama, this is going to be the best walk ever,"
she almost squeals in excitement. The innocence of my little angel never fails
to humble me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She doesn’t yet understand that this might be my last
Walk with her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">"Yes, honey, this is going to be the best walk
ever," I agree. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<u><span lang="EN">Author Bio<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<span lang="EN">I live in Maine. My biggest passion is for my family and friends. I adore
loving others as if it is the biggest gift life can offer. I'm a read-a-holic,
loves chocolate, cowboys and everyone on
Young Adult & Teen Readers Facebook page. My dream is to travel to
Australia one day and see a kangaroo. I am nothing but simple. I do a lot of
volunteer work. I have 2 beautiful daughters. 4 grandchildren, that constantly
ask me if I lived in the black & white days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">My inspiration would be my daughters. Rita for her strength to keep fighting
and constantly trying to take care of me, even though sometimes she can’t get
out of bed & Kayla, for helping to pick up all the pieces that seem to fall
when times get rough, and the love they have for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Blog: <a href="http://yesterdayandtomorrowsreads.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">http://yesterdayandtomorrowsreads.blogspot.com/</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Author
Facebook page: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/D-Love/460898927326110?ref=hl"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">https://www.facebook.com/pages/D-Love/460898927326110?ref=hl</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Personal
Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/derinda.love"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">https://www.facebook.com/derinda.love</span></a>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN">Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/DerindaL"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">https://twitter.com/DerindaL</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-91317637338174638102013-05-08T12:06:00.001-04:002013-05-08T12:06:44.820-04:00Enlightened Promotion! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I was really excited to read and review this book, but I somehow managed to forget to put it on my calendar, which in my addled brain means that I completely forgot. In atonement, I'm going to share some awesome excerpts with you that will make you want to go get this book asap. </div>
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What would you do if you could heal people, but not the ones closest to you?</div>
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<b>Enlightened A Tale of Love and Light </b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">note: The<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Enlightened-Love-Light-Series-ebook/dp/B009XZHSP8/ref=tmm_kin_title_0" target="_blank"> kindle edition</a> is only $2.99. Click below to see this book on Amazon.</span></div>
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=squa04-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=1480191744&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>
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Loti Dupree’s meager healing abilities have been more a
curse than a blessing. What’s the point
if she can’t even save her husband from cancer? Harboring a painful secret, Loti flees the life
they had in a small Appalachian town for the ashram, the spiritual retreat
where she trained to be a yogini. But
she finds herself running from more than grief when an ominous nightmare sets
her on a dangerous path of self-discovery that challenges everything she
believes, and threatens her life.</div>
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While dodging psychic attacks from an unknown assailant, Loti
races to understand who and what she is before her enemy can catch up with her.
To make matters worse, events throw her into the arms of a handsome but
frustrating vampire. Love and light are
waiting for her—if she can only figure out how to stay alive.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Ouis2hCHUs/UYp0c-uUKGI/AAAAAAAACqg/r2f4YCDA9TM/s1600/EnlightenedCoverTagged.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5Ouis2hCHUs/UYp0c-uUKGI/AAAAAAAACqg/r2f4YCDA9TM/s320/EnlightenedCoverTagged.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
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<b>Excerpt</b><span style="text-indent: 0.3in;"> </span></div>
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Wolf stared at the full moon as if it might reveal the answers he sought.
He dug a pack of Camel’s from his shirt pocket and lit a cigarette with a
wooden match. Shaking out the flame, he dropped the burnt stick and returned
his apprehensive gaze to the sky. 500 years had not prepared him for what he
felt at that moment—the overwhelming urgency and need to go back in the house
right now, to her. Taking a drag, he glanced back at the little house; the
bedroom lights were still on and his sharp hearing picked up the women’s soft
voices. Rachel reassured Loti that she was fine and that the nest at Marksville
would help her figure this out. Wolf assured her they were different, she said.
How? Loti asked. Wolf closed his eyes and inhaled—he could still smell her. Her
unique female scent laced with fear and arousal, her blood salty and sweet, and
the something else he couldn’t identify. He had smelled something like this
before, but only faintly from another woman; it hadn’t been a one-hundredth of
what he smelled now. This was so much stronger, yet delicate. It called to him,
coaxing him to return, to stay,<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3532540341317754701" name="_GoBack"></a> to stop, to not walk away
this time.<br />
He opened his eyes, looking down at his hands. His fingers thrummed with
the sensation of soft skin over firm muscles. And what was that damn jolt every
time he touched her? And the other thing? Squashing the barely smoked Camel
under his boot, he pinched off the filter and sprinkled the uncharred tobacco
in his palm. Holding some between thumb and forefinger, he faced the east,
kissing his fingertips.<br />
“Spirits of the east,” he said, extending his pinched fingers, then
sprinkling the tobacco. He turned to the right. “Spirits of the south.” He
repeated the gesture, addressing each cardinal point in the same way, then
lifted another bit to the sky. “Father Sky.” He knelt, touching the ground.
“Mother Earth.” His eyes closed, and he touched his chest. “Hear my plea. This
creature needs your guidance.” No thoughts in his head, he waited, his spine
still crawling. Longing surged through his heart and mind, palpable, pulsing,
and heavy.<br />
Flinching, he opened predator eyes. He leapt into the air, racing through
the woods like a wraith, his feet barely touching the ground. A blur in the
dark, his humanity faded away. The vampire instinct led him to the acrid scent
of burning wood and meat, and the sweet smell of human blood. He covered two
miles in under 30 seconds. He zipped to a stop ten yards from the firelight,
where he held unnaturally still, watching the small group and listening to
their conversation.<br />
“I’ll bet you could rig up the batteries two at a time,” one man said.<br />
“Oh, yeah. It’s not hard to do,” the second man responded, taking a swig
off a bottle and passing it.<br />
Wolf sniffed. Honey whiskey.<br />
“Especially now,” the woman who took the bottle said. She drank and
handed it over. “Well, we can always figure something out.”<br />
<i>Tea tree oil, sour milk? Yogurt</i>,
Wolf corrected himself. And mother’s milk. His pupils dilated.<br />
“How much does one cost?”<br />
Lavender and eucalyptus and honey.<br />
“About $550 for the actual generator, but there’s the tower and the
battery bank, and the batteries themselves.”<br />
The conversation continued, but Wolf wasn’t listening anymore, his focus
on the lactating woman. There were four people sitting around a low fire, and
the small breathing sounds of young children came from two big tents twenty
yards away. Quite young. Urine. Breast milk. He turned his attention back to
the adults, specifically the dark-haired woman, the mother, who was standing up
and stretching.<br />
“I need to pee,” she announced. “Where are the headlamps, Max?”<br />
Max pressed something into her hand as she bent to kiss him lightly on
the mouth. Adjusting the headlamp he’d given her, she headed for the trees, and
Wolf stepped silently behind an oak as she picked her way along a fresh-cut
path. She ducked into a copse of Russian olive trees and out of sight. Wolf
balled his hands into fists and ground his back teeth together as the smell of
her blood, laced with mother’s hormones and milk, taunted him. His fangs
clicked down. He waited for the woman to put her clothing back in order, and
when she looked up, his eyes glowed with a dark light. She opened her mouth,
but no sound came out.<br />
“Shhh,” Wolf soothed, moving toward her.<br />
Paralyzed by fear and his gaze, she didn’t try to run or scream, but her
hands began a fine trembling.<br />
“Relax.” His voice filled her chest as he ran his hand along her shoulder
to her neck, lifting the heavy curtain of wavy, dark hair. The woman stopped
shaking, but she never took her eyes off his as he dragged her to him and spun
her around. He tilted her head to one side, exposing her white neck and
stretching it into a long, tight line. Resting his mouth over her jumping
pulse, he bit. She jerked beneath him, her eyes fluttering and drifting closed.
He gripped her tighter, drawing sweet blood in quiet gulps. It was sweeter than
usual, and he flashed on a mental image of his own mother: young, strong, dark,
and beautiful, but all mothers were beautiful to their sons. Was she as
beautiful as he remembered? Or had time and memory worked their magic,
softening the rough edges and creating an aura of nostalgia? Had 500 years
edited his memory? His mother held a small, dark berry out to him, the sun blazing
behind her in a clear, blue sky.<br />
“Taste it, Wolf. It’s perfectly ripe.”<br />
Her voice echoed down the years, waking up his humanity. He yanked his
fangs from her neck. What was he doing? He blinked. She was tranquil in his
arms, breathing deeply, relaxed in the vampire’s spell. As sharp guilt cut
through Wolf, he fortified himself against the warring wants. With a practiced
detachment, he licked the bite wounds until the blood coagulated and the skin
and tissue knitted back together. By morning it would itch like a bug bite and
with the two faint marks, she’d think they were bug bites.<br />
“You went into the woods to relieve yourself and noticed how unusual the
moon is tonight,” he whispered into her ear.<br />
She nodded. “The halo is beautiful. What is it?” Her voice thick with
magic.<br />
“It’s the wolf moon.”<br />
He nudged her away until she walked on her own, her vacant face tilted
up. The spell dissipated and awareness firmed her eyes as she looked to her
left then right. She hesitated, looking up at the moon once more and glanced
over her shoulder, but Wolf was gone. She had a vague sense of well-being
mingled with fear and arousal. <i>What a
strange sensation</i>, she thought. He’d taken the memory from her. It was his
alone.<br />
</blockquote>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GAwLiVjkWXQ/UYp1Ugmm1sI/AAAAAAAACqs/whMBNafQIsM/s1600/Avatar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GAwLiVjkWXQ/UYp1Ugmm1sI/AAAAAAAACqs/whMBNafQIsM/s320/Avatar.jpg" width="191" /></a></div>
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<b>About the Author </b></div>
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Melissa Lummis considers herself a truth seeker, a peaceful
warrior, a paranormal and fantasy writer, an avid reader, a thru-hiker GA<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">à</span>ME
’98, a wife, a mother, and a free thinker.
She believes the universe conspires to help an adventurer. And if we live our lives as if it is a daring
adventure (and it is!), then everything we need will find its way to us.</div>
The author lives in rural Virginia with her husband, two
children, an Alaskan Malamute and a myriad of forest creatures. The nature of her mind dictates that she
write to stay sane. Otherwise, her
fertile imagination takes off on tangents of its own accord, creating scenarios
and worlds that confuse the space-time <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3532540341317754701" name="_GoBack"></a>continuum.
Namaste, dear friends.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-40983828436844366422013-04-21T09:30:00.002-04:002013-04-21T09:30:15.766-04:00Morrigan Book Review and Giveaway! <div class="tr_bq">
I had two book reviews this month, and for some reason I can't fathom, I somehow scheduled them a week apart. There has been so much going on in the world, that I'm glad to take a break to read a good book. This is an awesome book to kick back and escape with, and I finished it pretty quickly. Make sure to read to the end, because there is a giveaway! </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kqYswDgJuhQ/UXM0XJM2e8I/AAAAAAAACmI/MbHPo5ObxVE/s1600/16138392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kqYswDgJuhQ/UXM0XJM2e8I/AAAAAAAACmI/MbHPo5ObxVE/s320/16138392.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Morrigan</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Laura
DeLuca <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tour Host: </span><a href="http://ambersupernaturalandya.blogspot.com/p/lady-amber-tours.html" style="font-family: inherit;">Lady
Amber's Tours</a></div>
<br />
<blockquote>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Shuffled from place to place in the foster system, Morrigan
doesn't know the meaning of home. Plus, she is different. She has power over
fire, the ability to move objects with her mind, and glimpse into the future.
Just when she believes her life can’t get any stranger, she discovers her true
identity.</span></i><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Filtiarn, a knight with a dark past and a surprising secret, has been tasked
with guiding the heir of Tír na NÓg through countless perils to be returned to
her family. Once Morrigan has been reunited with her mother and grandmother,
their triad can save the forgotten land of magic from being devoured by an
ancient evil.</span></i></blockquote>
What is not to like in a book with this awesome plot? I really got into this book, so into it that I forgot, for most of it, that I was reading to review it. Once again, I'm going to point out some slight pacing issues, especially in the beginning of the book. Maybe I'm just picky, but I really love to read about the back story; I want to know how she discovered her telekinesis, and really delve deep into knowing and feeling for her, before we find out her secret.<br />
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I love the plot, I love the ideas, and my goodness, I loved the twists in the story. This is one of those stories that you wish was three times as long so that you could just keep reading for days, instead of hours. If you can't tell, I really enjoy stories that have this cross-world type plot. I really enjoyed seeing how she changed, and grew as a character, fell in love, and learned to stand up for herself. Also, finding out that your cats are actually guardians that can kick some serious butt, totally up my alley.<br />
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I really enjoyed reading this book, and was transported in a far away mystical land where fairies trapped in trees are an every day part of life. I could nitpick and come up with criticisms of the writing, but the overall feeling that I took away from the book was one of satisfaction, and enjoyment. It's a perfect book to curl up with for an evening. Check it out, and tell me what you think! The buying link are below the author bio.<br />
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<b>Author Bio:</b><br />
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Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful <st1:place w:st="on">Jersey</st1:place>
shore with her husband and four children. She loves writing in the young adult
genre because it keeps her young at heart.
In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the editor of a popular
review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan
community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years. Her current works include Destiny, Destiny
Unveiled, Phantom, Morrigan, Player, and Demon.</div>
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<b>Author: </b> <a href="http://authorlauradeluca.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" title="Author Laura DeLuca">Website</a> | <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AuthorLauraDeLuca" target="_blank" title="Author Laura DeLuca Facebook">Facebook</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/authorldeluca" target="_blank" title="Author Laura DeLuca Twitter">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4670048.Laura_DeLuca" target="_blank" title="Author Laura DeLuca GoodReads">GoodReads</a> | <a href="http://pinterest.com/authorldeluca/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";">Find the Book</span></b>
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<a href="http://www.crossroadreviews.com/" target="_blank"></a><b><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00A46DKBG/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00A46DKBG&linkCode=as2&tag=squa04-20%22%3EMorrigan%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=squa04-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00A46DKBG%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important" target="_blank">Amazon</a> </span>|</b><b><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";"> </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16138392-morrigan" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";">Goodreads</span></a></b><b><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";"> | </span><a href="http://www.booksamillion.com/p/Morrigan/Laura-DeLuca/9781938397356?id=5600144729617" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";">Books A Million</span></a></b><b><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";"> | </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/morrigan-laura-deluca/1113768815?ean=9781938397356" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";">Barnes and Noble</span></a></b><b><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";"> | </span><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/253124" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "inherit","serif";">Smashwords</span></a></b></div>
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<b>Short Excerpt:<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“Guardians!” A low snarl emanated from the back of his
throat. “What are you doing with Guardians?”<br />
“Stop it! Sit down!”<br />
Morrigan wasn’t sure who she was addressing, the man or the
animals. Luckily, they both obeyed her command. She stepped in between them to
avoid any further confrontations. The cats took a seat on either side her legs,
but their posture hardly relaxed. They still glared warily at the newcomer,
even though their hisses died down to an occasional soft growl.<br />
“Dirty, filthy beasts!” Tiarn snarled as he climbed to his
feet. “I hate Guardians.”<br />
“They’re just little cats,” Morrigan told him. “What’s the
big deal?”<br />
“Just cats! Hah!” He was standing at a careful distance,
even though they had started licking their paws nonchalantly. “They are much
more than simple cats! Though even those I find distasteful.”<br />
Morrigan narrowed her
eyes. “What do you mean?”<br />
“Never mind. It does not matter.” Tiarn dismissed her
question with a wave of his hand. “They are not coming with us.<br />
“They most certainly
are coming!”<br />
Tiarn growled again. “I beg to differ with you, Your
Highness. They would only get in the way.
Possibly even get killed.”<br />
Danu raised her head from her grooming to hiss at him again,
as though she had taken that last statement as a personal threat. The strange
reaction of her faithful sidekicks made Morrigan wonder again just how much
Tiarn could be trusted. She also wondered why, when she wasn’t sure she could
trust him, she still felt the undeniable urge to wrap her arms around his neck
and kiss him.<br />
“If they stay here
alone, they’ll definitely get killed or at least sent to the pound,” Morrigan
told him. “I can’t let that happen. So, they’re coming. End of story.”<br />
Tiarn’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he looked like he
wanted to argue, but thought better of it. “Very well, Princess. Bring your
mongrel felines. Just keep in mind that Guardians and lycans do not mix well.”<br />
“Lycans?” Morrigan repeated.<br />
A sick feeling started to settle in her stomach, as the
truth of his words sunk in. It all started to make sense—his hairy arms and
chest, his reaction to the cats, even his earlier comment about smelling her
out. Her dark knight had a much darker side than she had ever seen in her
dreams.<br />
“Why yes, Your
Majesty. Did you not realize? You are a witch and a sorceress. And I, your
faithful traveling companion, am a lycan—a werewolf.”</blockquote>
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<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/bdb287632/" id="rc-bdb287632" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-50919269526119826562013-04-14T07:30:00.000-04:002013-04-21T09:32:47.653-04:00Giveaway! Brenda Sparks Midsummer Night's Demon and Author InterviewI walked a 5K this morning, so I'm sitting here catching up on my DVR, with my feet up on an ottoman, and a cat purring at my side. This indeed, is the life! I'm excited to bring you more than my standard book review this week. This is a long post, starting with an overview of the book, my review, an author interview AND a giveaway. I put the giveaway at the bottom, so make sure you get down there and and enter for some great giveaways! I also loved doing the author interview, and am going to have to do more, because getting to know the author was lots of fun! I hope you enjoy. <br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><b>A
Midsummer Night's Demon</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Brenda Sparks </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G0rrYWwu8d4/UWnCpKLxQlI/AAAAAAAAClo/lsmSVwcFigE/s1600/AMidsummerNightsDemonMEDIUM_w7338_300+(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G0rrYWwu8d4/UWnCpKLxQlI/AAAAAAAAClo/lsmSVwcFigE/s200/AMidsummerNightsDemonMEDIUM_w7338_300+(3).jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Synopsis:</b><br /><i>
Daelyn Torres is determined to break
free from her over-protective brother. Born a demon, she knows little of the
world outside her home and work. A chance blind date promises adventure and
perhaps a walk on the wild side. But her night on the town takes a deadly turn
when she is gravely injured and left to die. A handsome, mysterious stranger
comes to her rescue and brings with him a passion she has never experienced.<br />
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A dark guardian sent to investigate a series of missing person cases, vampire
Ky Robinson is ready for anything, except the insatiable desire that engulfs
him when he meets Daelyn. He senses their destiny is intertwined and vows to do
everything in his power to keep her safe. The only problem: demons and vampires
go together like fire and ice.<br />
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Daelyn never believed in things that went bump in the night but is more than
willing to be seduced by the sexy vampire who marks both her body and soul.
Will Ky be able to keep them both alive long enough to prove that vampires and
demons can be so much more than friends? <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Review:</b> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The good-- The story is well written, and a great plot potential. I love the idea of the bad ass cop saving the day, and the damsel in distress. It's short, and a quick read. Also, the end has some eternal compromise. There is one, pretty explicit, sex scene...I did warn you. </span><br />
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The bad -- I want to love this book, I really do. I think it's a great start, but because it's so short, it's feels choppy, like parts of it are missing. Like the part that explains why it matters that Lyn is a demon. Her brother isn't brought up until the end, and she doesn't appear to have any powers. If anything, I'd think that 'demon' could be used anonymously with 'witch'... if that witch had no apparent powers. We want to follow these awesome characters through their lives together. It's like a tease! </span><br />
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The ugly -- It's too short!! Brenda, double the length, and give us all of the juicy details, and we'll eat them up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Overall, I think that this book has great potential, but could benefit from having lots more added to it. Just as I was really sinking my teeth into it, it ended. I want more adventures! My friend told me that she absolutely loved Brenda's other book, <i>Weaver of Dreams</i> though, so I can't wait to read that one, and included an Amazon link to it. Check it out, and tell me what you think! </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Author Bio:</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Born in <st1:state w:st="on">Virginia</st1:state>,
Brenda Sparks now resides in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Sunshine</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">State</st1:placetype></st1:place> with her loving
husband and son. Balancing her professional commitment to the local
school district with her writing is challenging at times, but writing
suspenseful paranormal romances is a passion that won’t be denied. Her idea of
a perfect day is one spent in front of a computer with a hot cup of coffee, her
fingers flying over the keys to send her characters off on their latest
adventure. Brenda loves to connect with readers. Please visit her
online or stop by her website to say hi. <a href="http://www.brenda-sparks.com/" target="_blank">www.brenda-sparks.com</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Links:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br />
</span><b><span lang="FR" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: FR;">Facebook Fan Page: </span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/forBrendaSparks" target="_blank"><span lang="FR">http://www.facebook.com/forBrendaSparks</span></a></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Twitter :
@brenda_sparks</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Goodreads:
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/BrendaSparks" target="_blank">http://www.goodreads.com/BrendaSparks</a>
</span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Facebook
Author Page : <a href="https://www.facebook.com/brenda.sparksauthor.1" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/brenda.sparksauthor.1</a> </span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Website :
<a href="http://www.brenda-sparks.com/" target="_blank">www.brenda-sparks.com</a></span></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Blog: <a href="http://www.brenda-sparks.com/blog" target="_blank">www.brenda-sparks.com/blog</a><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Click here to check these book out on Amazon </span></b></div>
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<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=squa04-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B00C16T11K&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>
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<b>Author Interview</b></div>
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Brenda,<br />
<br />
Thanks for agreeing to do an interview for my readers!Thank you so much for having me, Eileen. I’m thrilled to be a guest on your wonderful blog.<br />
<b>What inspired you to write this book, and did anyone in your life influence your main characters?</b><br />
Please don’t roll your eyes, but a dream inspired Weaver of Dreams. Actually I had a nightmare. When I awoke, I could still feel the fingernails of my dream villain biting into my arm. It seemed so real, I started to wonder what would happen if there were beings who could sneak into our rooms at night to give us dreams, the physical sensations of which we’d still feel when we woke. Needless to say, I did not go back to sleep that night. Instead the entire premise for the book was developed by the time the alarm went off.As for influences on the main characters, there is a little of my husband in every one of my heroes. In this story, Zane’s protective nature is exactly like my husband’s. The heroine, Maggie, was inspired by a guidance counselor I worked with the year I wrote the story who was going through litigation.<br />
<b>What writers are your influences?</b><br />
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I’d have to say Christine Feehan and J.R. Ward are my two biggest influences. I was introduced to adult paranormal romances by Ms. Feehan’s work and it was love at first read. While J.R. Ward’s stories inspired me to write my own series.<br />
<b>What was your favorite book or author as a child?</b></div>
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Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews. It is the first chapter book I remember reading, so it holds a special place in my heart.<br />
<b>What books are you reading right now?</b></div>
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I am currently reading Wild About You by Kerrelyn Sparks (no relation, unfortunately) I love her series and always have fun reading her work.<br />
<b>Do you have anything specific you'd like to say to your readers?</b></div>
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I LOVE you guys! I write for you and there is nothing I like better than connecting with you via Facebook, email, Twitter, Goodreads, etc. Please find me online or through my website and say hi.<br />
What do you do when you aren't writing?I love exploring new places. When I’m not writing (which isn’t often), I am on vacation or trasping around local spots of interest for fun. I’ve been to some really interesting places like a bat conservatory and underground caverns.<br />
<b>Have you had any supernatural experiences of your own?</b></div>
<div>
Does living with my husband for the past 21 years count? He’s a bit strange and wacky. :)In all seriousness, I did have a few interesting experiences after my grandfather died. Within the first six months, I found the door to my grandfather clock open on four separate occasions. That has never happened before or si<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3532540341317754701"></a>nce in the fifteen years I’ve owned the clock. In addition, during that same time period there were two occasions when I could have sworn someone grabbed my arm. Both times I was leaving my home having forgotten to take something to my grandmother. Each time it happened, I instantly remembered want I intended to take and turned around to grab it after feeling the hold on my arm. I’d like to think my grandfather stuck around long enough to be sure my mother and I were going to take care of his wife properly. He was the kind of man that would do that. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-21234994304321670402013-03-31T16:32:00.002-04:002013-03-31T16:34:45.479-04:00Let's go Fly a Kite!Yesterday my college friend flew in for a work trip, and I used it as a perfect opportunity to get my husband to agree to come into the city with us. While the Cherry Blossom trees aren't blooming...really at all, the festivities are in full swing. Before we left, I discovered that yesterday was the Bloom Kite festival, and we were excited to see if we could get down to the Mall in time to fly one of the finger kites my mother in law gifted me a few years ago.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking at the Capitol</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Washington Monument covered in scaffoling</td></tr>
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The Smithsonian Metro station was <i>packed</i> with tourists coming down from the Mall attempting to get on trains, and it lent an air of excitement to the crowds de-training. As we stepped onto the Mall...we saw kites (and a whole lotta people!). People stood from Capitol all of the way down to behind the Washington Monument, and the splendor of these kites ranged from the Power Ranger one, the woman near us was trying to get into the air for her son, to finger kites, to extremely expensive trick kites that did dives and flips in the air. There were huge kites that must have been bigger than a person, and teeny kites. I was frankly, shocked, at the lack of run ins I saw. I've always wondered how people managed to not get all of the kite lines messed up. Some people did, but for the majority of people, once they got the kites up, they sort of stayed up on their own. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">all of the dots to the Washington Monument are kites</td></tr>
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After discovering that the finger kite wouldn't fly, since the adhesive holding on the streamers was too old, we just watched for awhile, and then walked down the Mall, around the Washington Monument, and then turned around and came back. We then went to indulge in delicious Thai food at <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/thaiphoon-washington">Thaiphoon</a> in Dupont Circle. I was first introduced to this place (and Thai food) in college, and fell in love with their garden rolls. My husband declared that he could eat those every morning for breakfast, and longingly looked at me, hoping I would volunteer to get right on making them. I'll look up a recipe, and see what I can do, that's all the commitment he's getting. <br />
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We had a wonderful day, full of beautiful sunshine, kites, friends, food, and laughter. I was so glad to get to spend this time making awesome memories with the people I love. I've got a post going about Easter memories as well that I hope to share soon! <br />
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What did you do this weekend?<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-24408307974455841192013-03-21T17:44:00.001-04:002013-03-21T17:44:06.759-04:00Confessions of an angry fat woman, what no one told me about weight lossI've been thinking up this title for awhile. I started this blog to talk about my weight loss journey, and despite my posts about book reviews and recipes, the core of this blog has remained the same; it's a blog about health, fitness, and my journey to finding them. <br />
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People aren't comfortable talking about being fat it seems, unless they were there, and are actively working towards not being obese any longer. Lately, I've had the honor of having some really frank conversations about what it's like to be fat, lose weight, and both the psychological toll it takes, along with the things that no one really told us about losing weight. I'll own all of these, but some of of them are also taken from discussions with friends. And before people start commenting about it, here is my take on my use of the word 'hate.' <span style="line-height: 16.984375px;">Being angry, hating something isn't wrong. Mourning that loss of understanding of who I was, is never wrong. But I have to get over the mourning, get past the anger, and get to acceptance and moving on. </span><br />
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<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I hate when people say how nice I look since it makes me think they lied to me when I was fatter.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I hate feeling like I'm being lied to. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I absolutely hate being told how beautiful I'll look when I hit my 'goal' weight. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I hate when people ask how I lost the weight. Taking drugs makes me feel like I cheated to do it.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;"> In my case, I took phentermine to help start my weight loss, and the last 40lbs have been been I started taking Vyvanse for my ADD. Appetite suppression is one of the side effects, as is increased energy. This is why I need to work on fitness, and getting those healthy lifestyle changes in place for when I don't have the medicine to help me. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I worry about how I see myself, and how pretty I feel now, and how I probably got fat to keep potential myself from getting hurt. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I'm scared of getting attention from people I don't know, and I really hate getting unwanted attention from men I don't know.</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I'm the same damn person. How dare people treat me differently now.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I hate that skinny people watch Biggest Loser and talk about how pretty they are when they are 'normal' sized. I'm fat, but, I'm still 'normal.' I almost feel like Biggest Loser watching should be restricted to overweight people, because I'm pretty sure skinny people aren't learning empathy watching it, but rather enforcing the mindset that you can lose this weight really fast, </span><i style="color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">if you just tried hard enough. </i></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I hate fitting into someone else's view of beautiful and what that means, and I hate that I want to be that person.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;"> I hate that there is a part of me that doesn't care about the healthy aspect of this, I just want to be hot and skinny. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I hate how scared I am about losing weight, and how my body is changing. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I hate being constantly scared of gaining the weight back. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">I'm pissed when skinny people assume that I have a shitty self esteem because I'm fat, and treat me patronizingly, telling me to 'love myself.' Thanks, I don't need your brand of therapy. </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17px;">And...I hate that I let myself ever get to the point where I was at, where I let fear, self doubt, depression and pain lead myself, and I forgot to let health and fitness take the lead. </span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="line-height: 16.988636016845703px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 16.988636016845703px;">I've said this before, and I'll say it again; losing weight is a psychological battle, as much as a physical one. You can lose the weight, but if you don't deal with the reasons you gained it, you'll gain the weight back. Every single day, we have to choose what we eat, how we move, and what we do. Every day we're given a chance, and </span><span style="line-height: 16.984375px;">simultaneously</span><span style="line-height: 16.988636016845703px;"> have one taken away from us that we can never get back. We have to constantly motivate ourselves, to change our lifestyles, to change our habits, to change our mindset, and to change our hearts. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-7139887416607653292013-03-20T05:00:00.000-04:002013-03-21T17:45:10.856-04:00Book Review - Crimson Flames<span style="font-family: inherit;">Woah! I have two book reviews this month and they are less than a week apart. I hope you enjoy! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tour Host: <a href="http://ambersupernaturalandya.blogspot.com/p/lady-amber-tours.html">Lady
Amber's Tours</a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaR29gvPT3jrpmYyM70xb89tJc1pkAke5fp_hQi3380fP-l7RyAckZwZtM7mj-rCE78fz68NZOUbbWws5GblBm5CQrwjJnu6mTthEI_0jRdmchknZJOOklzVtG-vCJ7xSUvNf6y1aBZBKb/s1600/crimson+flame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaR29gvPT3jrpmYyM70xb89tJc1pkAke5fp_hQi3380fP-l7RyAckZwZtM7mj-rCE78fz68NZOUbbWws5GblBm5CQrwjJnu6mTthEI_0jRdmchknZJOOklzVtG-vCJ7xSUvNf6y1aBZBKb/s320/crimson+flame.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Synopsis: </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Half-vampire Abby Tate is determined to learn more about the sorceress
powers that were awakened inside her when she was turned into a vampire—making
her a whole new hybrid species. There’s a group of rogue vamps banding together
and forming a Resistance against the vampire governing body, The Head Council,
and Abby’s newly discovered powers are the key to the Council’s victory. Now
the Resistance will do anything possible to remove the hybrid threat, and with
no other options, Abby is forced to rely on the aid of the Council, yet can she
trust the very vampires that hunt for her human lover? And even worse, can she
fight the unwelcome attraction that’s growing between her and one of those
ancient vampire rulers?</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Crimson Flame is actually the second book in this series, following Crimson Groves. I received both to read, and I think I liked this one more. At this point Abby's powers have gone from pretty cool, to kick ass, but at the same time, she's in a constant time struggle to develop these powers before the evil guys (the Resistance) basically do whatever they can to destroy her, and everyone and thing she holds dear. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Abby, as a newly turned vampire is a sympathetic character. You can understand her confusion, her anger, her wanting to cling to what is familiar, and similarly you're also amazed as her powers grow, and develop. You can feel the heat from her flames, and see the story unravel in front of you. The author is very successful in pulling you into her story. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Overall, it's a pretty good read. Some of the relationship aspects of it didn't seem very plausible, nor was this seemingly unnaturally strong connection to the male characters. I get that she's powerful, but every single male character seems to fall for her, and hard. There were also a couple of phrases, such as talking about sweat pooling between her breasts, that got repetitive, and the <i>constant</i> discussion about food, blood donors and feeding got old...in the first book. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This book proved that I can still get down with the vampire genre, I just don't need to be reminded about the blood sucking thing quite so often. If you want to check this book out on Amazon, just click <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00BLKTJG4/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00BLKTJG4&linkCode=as2&tag=squa04-20%22%3ECrimson%20Flames%20(Crimson%20Series)%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=squa04-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00BLKTJG4%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important">here</a>. If you're looking to read the first book, well...first; you can find it<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B006J248NI/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B006J248NI&linkCode=as2&tag=squa04-20%22%3ECrimson%20Groves%20(The%20Crimson%20Series)%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=squa04-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B006J248NI%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important"> here</a> (and it's only .99!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For a sneak peek
at Ashley Robertson’s upcoming books, giveaways, and blog entries go to </span><a href="http://www.ashleyrobertsonbooks.com/" style="font-family: inherit;">www.AshleyRobertsonBooks.com</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Chapter One Sneak Peek</b></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">MY STOMACH CLENCHED as I sensed
the vampire’s approach. He was close. So close I could feel the thrum of his
power vibrating along my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I
knew if I was going to use my power for defense, then I needed to bring it
forth now. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe as deeply as I
could—which thankfully had gotten easier with practice. I focused on the energy
inside me, willing it to the surface, and as I felt it swelling, building like
an approaching storm, I threw out my hand, gripped Stone’s shirtsleeve, and
urged him to the floor. “Get down! He’s here!”</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stone raked me with a look that
told me he was not too pleased, but then fear swept over his face when he
realized just how little time we had.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The wooden door to the pub
suddenly burst open—bits of wood and dust raining down from the force. Even
though Stone should’ve cowered behind me—since his gift of reading blood wasn’t
something he could fight with—somehow he’d found some bravery and boldly stood
by my side. Though I appreciated it, I didn’t like it, and desperately wished
he had listened to me. But I couldn’t think about that <i>and</i> call
forth the fire within me at the same time. So I pushed Stone to the back of my
mind with the silent promise of dealing with him later. Then I returned my
attention to the power building inside me. One last deep breath and my heart
shuddered to life inside my chest, making a rhythmic pattern with my faux
breathing. A tingling warmth spread from head to toe, then settled on my
awaiting hands. Seconds later, there was a glowing orb of fire (about the size
of a basketball) cupped inside my palms. And just as the vampire appeared
through the settling fog, I called out, “Not another step, Tristan, or it will
be your last!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I think you should reconsider your
threat,” Tristan shot back. “We are on the same side.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That I sincerely doubted, but I
knew killing a member of the Head Council would definitely put me on the “Most
Wanted” list. Which I might already be on, since I’d helped the human this
vampire was here to claim escape.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“She’s not bluffing!” Stone said
through a snarl. I wanted to glare him into silence, but I refused to take my
eyes off of the vampire standing in the broken doorway, wearing a black
Armani-looking suit—now lightly covered with dust. It was a custom for all
members of the Head Council to wear black suits, but each of them would wear
shoes and an undershirt of their own choosing. I guess it was a way to express
their individual personalities. Yet this one seemed to express himself through
his spiked, platinum blond hair, not the basic black undershirt and matching
boots—which were much more boring compared to what I’d seen a few of the other
Council members wearing. But this vampire was far from boring. He was a tracker
for the Council—one of the best hunters on earth. And he was after my human
boyfriend.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“You know why I’m here, Abigail,”
Tristan bit out. “The human was here.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt my gaze narrow as I
carefully took a step forward, the ball of flames growing hotter in my hands.
“Yes, he was. It’s my fault he wasn’t captured.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“That’s not exactly true,” said
Stone as he moved up beside me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I stole a few deep breaths,
fighting the urge to throw my fireball at him instead of the blond vampire in
the suit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Please explain!” Tristan ordered
with impatience. But as Stone attempted a reply, he was cut off. “Not you! I
want to hear this directly from Abigail!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Abby,” I corrected, feeling
sweat forming above my brows and pooling between my breasts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The blond vampire smirked,
folding his arms in front of his chest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I did not restrain him because I
do not believe he will be kept safe once in your hands,” I went on. “And until
I can prove his innocence in all of this, I feel it’s best that he stay far
away from <i>you</i>.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A tinge of red formed a ring around
Tristan’s irises as he scowled. “That is not your decision. He must pay for his
involvement with those rogue vampires, including Bronx. He cannot get away with
helping them try to destroy our stronghold.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I made an agreement with the other
Council members,” I reminded him. “Doesn’t that count for something? Your word
is nothing if your actions do not back up what you say.” My voice was getting
louder, my patience thinning. And the angrier I got, the more difficult it
became to control the fire in my hands.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Yes. We have a deal,” Tristan
assured. “We will not kill him or harm him—just as we told you—but that does
not mean he won’t be punished some other way.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I don’t believe you,” I snapped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stone put his hand on my shoulder.
“Abby, maybe you should—”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In a flash of movement, the vampire
closed the distance between us and held Stone in a headlock from behind with
his fangs hovering over my friend’s neck. And since it wasn’t to drink Stone’s
blood, since Stone was also a vampire, then that meant it was a threat to rip
out my friend’s jugular. From there it would be too easy to finish Stone by
ripping off his head. And that’s when my patience snapped. There were only two
ways to kill a vampire—burning to death or decapitation—and he was about to
find out firsthand just how very dangerous I was. Sure, he could threaten to
kill my friend, but he’d be burned alive before Stone’s head hit the ground. I
placed all my focus on the orb of heat in my hand, willing it to retract to
half its size while intensifying, growing hotter, then I thrust it at Tristan’s
face. In a blur of motion, he ducked, throwing Stone to the floor as the
fireball grazed over his head, singeing the soft tips of his hair. A snarl
erupted from his throat as his fiery gaze locked onto mine. There was a brief
hesitation, burnt hair and musk filling my senses, then something similar to
curiosity flashed over his eyes and he was airborne, plunging straight for me.
My body shuddered as heat blasted out of every pore, radiating from me like
invisible steam. Throwing his arms over his face, the vampire faltered midair
and fell sideways, then jumped back once he landed and retreated by the door
from which he’d entered. Satisfied I’d made my point, I pulled all the heat
back inside me, then rushed over to Stone and helped him up. “You okay?” I
asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He nodded by way of an answer, then
ran his hand through his coffee-colored hair—which was completely messed up
now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">My eyes narrowing, I fixed my gaze
on Tristan across the bar by the door. “Do that again and I’ll kill you,” I
warned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tristan brushed some of the dust
off of his pants. “Abigail, I’d rather not have to repeat that again. Hopefully
I’ve made my point by now,” he said, his mouth curling into an amused grin that
nearly reached his eyes. The hints of crimson were gone—for now anyway. “I
would not have harmed your friend, as I’m sure Mr. Rayver here is already
aware.” He glanced at my disheveled friend, a smirk still pulling at his lips;
then his gaze slid back to me. “Your powers make you far greater than just any
other Enforcer. You are an equal with us. We should work side by side, you
making the sixth, and final member, of the Council. But you must not argue with
our protocol. If rules are broken, there are, and will always be, consequences.
There are no exceptions to this. Ever. The rules of our kind are ageless. It’s
been that way for centuries and shall remain that way indefinitely.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well that was news to me. I knew
the Head Council wanted my services, but I’d thought they just wanted me to be one
of their many Enforcers. Enforcers were gifted vampires like me. Well, kind of.
A few months ago I’d been kidnapped by an evil vampire named Bronx and turned
against my will, which awakened the sorceress’s bloodline inside me,
unbeknownst to me. But Bronx knew all about it, and he’d planned to use my
powers to defeat the Head Council. Only I’d killed him before he got the
chance. Later on, I’d learned about my real mother being an all-powerful
sorceress and how she’d used her magic to impregnate her vampire lover—my
father. So I never really was just another vampire. Or even an Enforcer. I was
always more than that. A whole new species altogether, a hybrid, and a hot
commodity among the vampire world—since there was no other like me. Yet if the
Head Council really wanted my partnership, then I just gained a whole lot of
leverage. Anxiety curled through my belly. “If you want me to work with you,
and of course the others, then I will need you to be more flexible. Rules are
always in place for guidance, but we both know they are not in stone.
Especially when I believe innocence is a key component.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“When there is proof of one’s
innocence, then we have a trial,” Tristan explained. “But there is no proof of
that with this human.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I thought about that for a moment.
Sure, I didn’t have “proof” per se, but I had Tyler’s word. And though he’d
lied to me about his alliance with Bronx, and the fact he’d known about my
father’s death all along, for some crazy reason I believed him now. “Allow me
the time to find the proof you require and I will consider partnering with
you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tristan shot me a lasered glare.
His face softened but I had absolutely no idea what his thoughts were. Mind
reading wasn’t one of my gifts—yet. Since no one could predict what other gifts
I’d inherit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“How can you possibly believe this
human didn’t help those rogue vampires?” he asked at last.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Keeping my eyes on Tristan’s, I
shook my head. “He was involved. I’m not saying I can prove that differently.
He’s innocent of knowing what Bronx’s intentions were, what those rogue
vampires’ intentions were.” I paused a moment to suppress some of the heat
inside me, though I didn’t completely extinguish it just in case things got
hostile again. “He thought he was helping them,” I went on. “He thought they were
in trouble. He didn’t realize he was working for the bad guys until…until it
was too late.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stone snorted in disbelief, but
kept his mouth shut. Smart vampire.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tristan’s eyes widened. “How can
you possibly believe that? He must have you brainwashed!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“That isn’t possible,” I told him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“What are you speaking
of?”—confusion in Tristan’s voice. “Bronx would have claimed you with his mind
control had you not killed him first.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> “No, it’s not possible to
brainwash me,” I explained. “And that is how I <i>was </i>able to
kill Bronx.” Saying that struck a pang inside my chest: I didn’t want to be a
murderer any more than I wanted to be a vampire, err hybrid. “I have the
ability of blocking powers.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A wave of surprise flashed over
Tristan’s face. “There is so much to learn about you, Abigail,” he said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“So do we have a deal?” I asked,
taking a couple steps toward him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tristan raised a brow. “How much
time are you asking for?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“As long as it takes,” I replied
instantly. “I have a feeling you and the others will delay me, since we are all
curious to learn more about my powers.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tristan closed his eyes
momentarily, presumably using his telepathic powers to confer with the other
members of the Council. I stole a moment to look at Stone. He was shaking his
head slowly, azure eyes with hints of red wide with shock. I shrugged my
shoulders warily, knowing fully that to keep Tyler safe, I’d break this deal
and the neck of anyone who attacked him. Obviously Stone knew that too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“We have a deal,” Tristan finally
announced.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I smiled. Relief flushed through me
as the remnant heat within finally extinguished. Moments later, my breathing
slowed and my heartbeat completely stopped. Oh the joys of being a vampire
hybrid. “I have one more favor to ask,” I said, a whole new confidence exuding in
my voice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stone called out, “Abby, what are
you—”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Silence, Mr. Rayver,” Tristan
stated. “I am very interested in what Abigail will ask for now.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I want to speak to Madelaine. Will
Elliott do that for me?” My real sorceress mother, Madelaine, had died long
ago, and I’d never even had the chance to meet her. My father and one of his
female blood donors, all the while believing she was my mother, had raised me.
And though I’d love for Elliott to connect me to my father, I simply couldn’t
risk giving away the fact he was dead too. Who knew how that little piece of
info would affect the deal I’d just made, or the innocence I wanted to prove
for Tyler. Bronx killed my father. But it was because of Tyler’s gift of
premonition that Bronx was able to find my dad in the first place. So I guess
you could say Tyler did carry some of the blame. But he’d sworn that he never
thought Bronx would’ve killed him. And I believed him, hopefully not foolishly.
So far I was taking the news of my father’s death okay. Maybe my estranged
relationship with him was helping me through the mourning process. After all,
he’d left me when I was ten. Fifteen years later, I’d finally gotten a phone
call from him, warning me I was in danger. I never had a chance to thank him
for trying to help me…or see him again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Abigail,” Tristan said, bringing
me out of those thoughts. “You’re going to make a great addition to our team.
You’re already very good at negotiations.” He chuckled lightly. “It will be our
pleasure to call upon Madelaine for you and an honor to introduce you to your
real mother.” Holding out his hand, he moved closer, giving me a good view of
his violet eyes speckled with the deepest of cobalt, not a trace of crimson in
them, which calmed me further. “So we have a deal?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I nodded, taking his hand inside
mine. “We have a deal.” Then I asked, “When do we leave?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">His answer was one simple word:
“Dusk.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt my chest tighten as he said
it, even though I’d somewhat expected that to be his answer. Moving to where
Stone was behind me, I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face against
the softness of his tee, yet I could feel the ridged lines of muscle just
beneath. “I know I just got back here, but I promise we’ll have more time once
this is all over. I will miss you,” I told him, my voice muffled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He gently grabbed my shoulders and
pushed me back, just enough for him to look at my face. “What in the hell are
you talking about? Do you actually think you can get rid of me that easy?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“What do you mean?” I asked,
feeling confused.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I’m coming with you.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“No, you’re not!” Tristan shouted
from behind me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I shrugged as a plan formed in my
mind. “Wait a second. I think it’s a great idea for Stone to come.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“No,” Tristan repeated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Actually, sir,” Stone said, “I can
be of help to both Abby and the Council. I can help look for the information
Abby seeks to clear her human while she is tied up with business affairs with
you. It would make her that much more available.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt my eyes widen. That was
actually better than my plan. “But you hate Tyler.” And he did—with a passion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Oh I still hate him, but I think
the world of you.” Stone gently gripped my chin, caressing it between his thumb
and forefinger.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A lone tear I hadn’t felt before
dripped from my eye as I smiled. Stone let go to wipe it and I glanced over at
Tristan. “Please allow Stone to come with us. He would be a true asset. And he
is my friend. Please.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tristan was quiet for a short
moment, face hard, eyes studying us intently. “Very well.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Where are we going exactly?” I
asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Boston,” Tristan replied. “We have
a few stronghold locations, but we are operating out of Boston right now. It’s
good to move around. Staying in the same place for centuries can get quite
boring. And it’s not as safe.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I nodded. I’d never been to Boston
before, but I’d heard it was an interesting place. A huge part of me was
looking forward to seeing it, checking out all the historic monuments,
buildings, and the statue of Sam Adams, if there would be any time for
sightseeing. With Stone coming, we would certainly accomplish twice as much,
twice as fast. I trusted that he would work diligently on finding a way to
prove Tyler’s innocence. Though Stone despised Tyler, I was certain that he
cared enough about me to do as he said he would. Yet Stone wouldn’t be upset in
the slightest if he was unable to find the proof we needed to clear Tyler’s
name.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">There was also the uncertainty over
what kind of situation I’d be getting myself into with the Head Council.
Learning vampire politics and more about the new species I’d become when Bronx
turned me…well, that could take more time from me than I could ever imagine.
Plus meeting my mother for the first time and finding out more about her set my
emotions swirling with anxiety.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I closed my eyes and let out a
deep, long sigh. <i>Just take one thing at a time, Abby. One thing at a
time. Quit worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. </i>Bronx was
dead. Tyler was alive and pardoned for the moment. Lily, my closest human
friend and old blood donor, was okay. Stone was here with me now and would stay
with me at the Head Council’s stronghold. And I’d gotten pretty good control
over my amazing, awesome, and insanely strong powers. I’d say my life,
afterlife, whatever, was going pretty darn well at the moment. Yet, at the
time, I had no idea just how quickly everything was about to change.</span></blockquote>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-27211844667501851042013-03-19T09:12:00.003-04:002013-03-21T17:45:33.857-04:00Delectable Desserts - Strawberry shortcakeI try to stay away from dairy as much as possible, but after a visit to the Amish market left me with some blackberries and strawberries, and three friends coming into town, I decided I needed to make some strawberry shortcake.<br />
<br />
I have a love hate relationship with shortcake. When I was a kid, we always used bisquick, and it always tasted salty to me. I don't want salty in my dessert cake! This was an issue I had with almost all foods made with bisquick though, and I'm not sure if they've changed the formula over the years, or if I can't taste salt anymore, but after my friend's sister made us pancakes recently, I didn't taste the salt. I still don't keep it on hand though, so I needed to find a good recipe to make these from scratch. <br />
<br />
Even from scratch recipes tend to be a bit salty to me though, and contain things like a huge stick of Crisco. I never have cream in the house, but I'd just gone to Costco, and out of a desire to not stop at the regular grocery store as well, picked up a whole quart of cream. "Holy crap...that's a lot of cream that I don't want my husband to put in Kahlua," I wisely think to myself.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
So, when I came across this recipe, I was happy to sacrifice half of the cream to this cause, and the other half to the cause of whipped cream. Instead of butter, eggs, or Crisco ..you use 1.5 cups of heavy cream. Not healthy, but really tasty. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/chic-easy/strawberry-shortcake-recipe/index.html">Strawberry Shortcake Recipe</a></span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
2 cups all-purpose flour<br />
2 teaspoons baking powder<br />
1/4 teaspoon baking soda<br />
2 tablespoons sugar<br />
3/4 teaspoon salt<br />
1 1/2 cups heavy cream<br />
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.<br />
Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, remaining 2 tablespoons sugar, and salt in a medium bowl. Add heavy cream and mix until just combined. Place mixture in an ungreased 8-inch square pan and bake until golden, 18 to 20 minutes.<br />
Remove shortcake from pan and place on a rack to cool slightly. Cut into 6 pieces and split each piece in half horizontally. </blockquote>
<br />
My changes are this: I always made individual shortcakes in the past, but this time, I took the batter and just pressed it into a round cake pan, and sprinkled a little vanilla sugar on top. I then cooked it for about 22 minutes until it was golden, and a toothpick came out clean. I cut it into 8 pieces. I also didn't have that many strawberries, so I mixed in blackberries. There were 5 of us, and I thought the shortbread would be gone in minutes, but we were either too full from a good dinner, or being health conscious, because there were 3 pieces of shortbread left over, and a little whipped cream. <br />
<br />
To make the whipped cream, I put 1.5 cups cream, 2tb sugar into a bowl and used my awesome 1960's style hand mixer to whip it. I hate making whipped cream...no matter how neat you are about it, it splatters, and I don't tend to be terribly neat. The key, seems to be using a HUGE bowl, and not lifting the mixer up much. I used a spatula at the same time to scrape the sides so that the mixer could do it's thing. Also, I learned that whipped cream can really help you get back into your husband's good graces when you allow him the honor of taste testing, and licking the mixer attachment.<br />
<br />
This was by far the best shortcake I've ever made, or had. It's delicious and dense, but sweet and not at all salty. Basically, the cream goes in there and makes some serious miracles occur. <br />
<br />
Edited--I have no idea why the format was so screwed up. I was using someone else's computer, so perhaps that's why. Sorry!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-22634194172193118292013-03-17T08:33:00.003-04:002013-03-17T08:33:53.123-04:00Things that make you go ooh la laI've always struggled to get my husband to remember what should and should not go into the dryer. I realized after years of having clothing die quickly, that I was murdering it by putting it in the dryer too hot. One day I finally figured it out and said to him, "listen, if it makes you go ooh la la, don't put it in the dryer!"<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Fast forward a couple of weeks. I had completely forgotten this conversation, and normally don't expect him to do laundry. I went to babysit, came home last night and found my swimsuits and sports bra hanging up and thanked the hubby. Actually...I walked up behind him and gave him a big hug and kiss and he wanted to know why. When I told him how happy I was that he listened to me, he said..."well, I looked at them, and they made me go ooh la la, so I hung them up!" <br />
<br />
Ahh...marriage. Such a lovely place to be. <br />
<br />
Off to Zumba. Have a lovely St. Patrick's day! I'm rocking a green shirt, and green sneakers. I'm not a fan of beer, or green beer, but I'm sure I'll find something fun to do today. I think it may involve roasted brussel sprouts and broccoli. <br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-67057949362994566292013-03-16T07:30:00.000-04:002013-03-21T17:46:27.674-04:00Book Review: To Breathe the Breath of Isis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>To Breathe the Breath of Isis</b></div>
Author: Elizabeth Marx<br />
Genre: Historical Romance/Time Travel<br />
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours<br />
<br />
<b>Synopsis:</b><br />
<br />
<i>One woman. One man. An eternity of love hammered into twenty-one pieces of silver.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Marguerite is a victim of a vicious attack. The resulting brain damage causes amnesia and</i><br />
<i>when she inexplicably appears in a tomb in Thebes, she insists she was coming to meet</i><br />
<i>Robert Bruton. Disorientated, destitute, and alone, she senses that her necklace has led</i><br />
<i>her to this familiar swashbuckler who takes her breath away; however, he claims he does</i><br />
<i>not know her.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Lord Robert Bruton, eminent Egyptologist, and possible spy for the crown, has never</i><br />
<i>discovered anything as captivating as the young woman he recovers unconscious on</i><br />
<i>his dig. He has staked his career on finding the final resting place of Queen Tiye and</i><br />
<i>wonders why Marguerite possesses a piece of jewelry belonging to the Eighteenth</i><br />
<i>Dynasty queen. She could be a tomb robber, an American spy, or a madwoman spouting</i><br />
<i>fantastical stories.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>As the necklace’s curse is revealed, the fire of Marguerite’s and Bruton’s ancient bond</i><br />
<i>burns between them. But when Marguerite disappears, Bruton fears that the wings of Isis</i><br />
<i>have carried away the true treasure he has been seeking his entire life.</i><br />
<i>For to breathe the breath of Isis is to be reborn.</i><br />
<i></i><br />
<a name='more'></a><i><br /></i>
What happens when an intelligent, opinionated woman from Chicago ends up with amnesia in the Egyptian desert 100 year ago? Mystery, desire, pain, love, and villiany, all mixed up with some sarcastic wit.<br />
<br />
Overall, I enjoyed this book. I finished it in a day (mostly because I had to have this review written and had just come back from vacation), and have been thinking about it frequently since. It is very well written, with the author obviously putting in an insane amount of research into the Egyptian history, clothing, foods, culture etc. The story is captivating, educational in some ways, and beautifully written, albeit there is some incredibly long and flowery phrasing that could detract from the main story. <br />
<br />
While I did study history, Egyptian history is not my forte. This book has a loooot of Egyptian history. I found myself reading it on my tablet while, at one point, simultaneously having a Google page open to look up unfamiliar words. A dictionary of terms in the back of the book would have been really helpful, since even if you explain it once, I have probably forgotten it ten pages later, and I can't look back on my tablet for reference. <br />
<br />
I think that having the book split into three parts made it seem longer than it was, as I expected it to end after the second section and had another 25% of the book to read. I like that there was resolution in the end of the story, but I'm still not entirely sure that I 'got' it, like what the point of the story I just read was. Why did this necklace pick her? Why then? Why there? For a grand love story...it didn't read like a romance at all. It seemed, oddly, like the romance was secondary to the history and that aspect of the story. Also, there were some scenes that had me going 'what the hell?'...like having a miscarriage that was never mentioned again, and way too many beating for my comfort level. I have to admit, I kept having De Vinci Code flashbacks while I reading all the stuff about secret societies and cabals. <br />
<br />
Love history, romance, or time travel? Grab this book and tell me what you think! Keep reading for an excerpt! <br />
<br />
<br />
Want to learn more about the author? Check out her website <a href="http://www.elizabethmarxbooks.com/">here</a> and here is her <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AuthorElizabethMarx">Facebook author page</a>.<br />
<br />
Come buy the book!<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006GI4J66">Click here to buy on Amazon</a><br />
<a href="http://itunes.apple.com/us/book/to-breathe-breath-isis-time/id488508141?mt=11">Click here to buy it on Itunes</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/to-breathe-the-%20breath-of-isis-a-time-travel-historical-romance-elizabeth-marx/1107766656?%20ean=2940032889014&itm=3&usri=elizabeth+marx">Click here to buy it from Barnes and Noble</a><br />
<a href="http://www.diesel-ebooks.com/item/SW00000107684/Marx-Elizabeth-TO-BREATHE-%20%20THE-BREATH-OF-ISIS-A-Time-Travel-Historical-Romance/1.html">Click here to buy it from Diesel</a><br />
<a href="http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/To-Breathe-Breath-Isis-Time/book-%20hSE2O55WwUSU0j_6lf3EnA/page1.html?s=dO8K-d1SX0mi32iH43wfdw&r=3">Click here to buy it from Kobo</a><br />
<br />
<b>Excerpt</b>:<br />
Marguerite had spent two weeks in the desert with her task master. He was quiet except<br />
for his constant examination of her knowledge of Egyptian history. Lord Bruton had a<br />
rugged swagger and raw strength that probably frightened most of the damsels of the day,<br />
but because he seemed familiar to Marguerite she ignored his bravado.<br />
<br />
They dined alone under the stars most evenings, a fire mingling between their piecemeal<br />
conversation. Bruton spent most of his nights playing records on his phonograph and<br />
studying her under hooded eyes that revealed nothing of his thoughts. He tried to<br />
convince her to sleep in one of the tombs to avoid the cool nights, but the thought of the<br />
confinement was more than she could bear, so she slept on a pallet across the tent from<br />
him.<br />
<br />
She woke early this morning to find him gone. It wasn’t the first time she’d awoken to his<br />
empty pallet, but he usually snuck away in the darkest part of night. Marguerite tore her<br />
covers off, dressed and went to work, telling herself that who he was with was none of<br />
her concern.<br />
<br />
Marguerite’s work table was positioned so that the shaft of daylight fell over the surface,<br />
and she could read the papyrus document. The stagnant air dancing with dust motes<br />
moved, and a shadow fluttered down the stairs of the tomb. Down one step at a time,<br />
over the surface of her sheltered respite, the silhouette bringing the dry scorch of the<br />
desert. Marguerite stopped dabbing the hanky across her upper lip to glance up from her<br />
transcription to stare at the figure whose features were hidden under the brim of his hat.<br />
Bruton put his hands on his hips. “What on earth are you doing now?”<br />
<br />
“I’m working.” She brought a hanky to her brow, but it was dry, like the fine filament<br />
of a shroud. She considered the rest of the tabletop, wondering about the location of her<br />
water canister.<br />
<br />
“Is there a particular reason for your state of undress?”<br />
<br />
Marguerite imagined the exasperated look on his face, happy that she couldn’t see it<br />
because after fifteen days, it was losing its desired effect. “I’m only partially unclothed.<br />
I came down expecting to remain alone. You went roaming the desert without me, again,<br />
remember?”<br />
<br />
“Why?”<br />
<br />
“Why?” She refused to look away from the papyrus, drawing a magnifying glass over the<br />
textured surface, forgetting the heat and the water canister. “Because you enjoy keeping<br />
me up to my elbows in work while you traipse off into the luxuries of Luxor.”<br />
<br />
“Why are you partially unclothed?” He took the last of the stairs moving behind her,<br />
gazing over her shoulder. “What is this?” he asked, snatching her corset, which was<br />
dangling off the snout of a dog-headed ceramic figurine.<br />
<br />
She eyed him from the corner of her eye, pretending to squint from the reinfusion of<br />
light. “That would be the most preposterous women’s undergarment. I plan on sacrificing<br />
it over the spit at dinner.” She made another note in the margin.<br />
<br />
“I believe that this is a necessary woman’s undergarment for a woman with your kind of<br />
figure.”<br />
<br />
Marguerite looked up with narrowed her eyes. “I am too busy to care about your insults<br />
right now.”<br />
<br />
“Knickers, you confuse insult with observation.”<br />
<br />
“Yes a very keen one,” she started fanning herself with her sketch-pad, since the<br />
temperature seemed to suddenly rise.<br />
<br />
“Do you really have time for a break when there is so much copying to be done?”<br />
<br />
“Do the papers strewn everywhere indicate inactivity?” She huffed. “Anyway, I’ve<br />
copied everything that you asked for, Herr Kommandant.” She extended her makeshift<br />
fan and was sorry for its loss.<br />
<br />
Bruton opened the pad, amazed at the accuracy in all the tomb drawings, which were<br />
beautifully rendered. She had gone so far as to color in a section of each wall so that he<br />
had a feeling of the overall color scheme.<br />
<br />
It was more than he expected, and he continued paging through the drawings until he<br />
came to a sketch of Zita, it was detailed, capturing her sweet disposition in the thoughtful<br />
strokes around her eyes. Dr. Beshwani was on the next page, and she had drawn his<br />
austere manner in a handsome fashion. Agnes followed, without her habit, her hair down<br />
around her elbows, and the overall effect was quite seductive.<br />
<br />
He turned the next page and stared at his own reflection. She had gotten him precisely<br />
right, down to the fine lines just starting to form around his eyes. The only thing missing<br />
was his goatee. “You must not care much for my facial hair,” he said rubbing his jaw<br />
thoughtfully.<br />
<br />
Marguerite turned away from her work to wrangle the portfolio away from him. All her<br />
jostling drew his attention to her shirtwaist which was partially unbuttoned, exposing the<br />
lace of her chemise. She cleared her throat, trying to get him to look at her face again, but<br />
when he didn’t, she said, “I don’t think the absence of the corset bothers you as much as<br />
you let on.”<br />
<br />
He gave her a wry twist of his lips. “I never said I minded it at all, Knickers.” He winked<br />
as he released the book, taking her in leisurely.<br />
<br />
She turned back to her work. “You know if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been<br />
watching me.”<br />
<br />
He couldn’t contain himself; a broad smile erupted, exposing his teeth. “You are the most<br />
intriguing thing I have to ponder.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-44692901634658136332013-03-15T16:48:00.001-04:002013-03-15T16:50:31.543-04:00Vacation Adventures --- You know you're sick...when you're willing to sleep on an airport floor. Okay, at least I knew my husband was sick when he was willing to do it...twice. I think he would have preferred checking into a hotel for the 6 hours between us checking out of our hotel, and being able to go to the airport, but I'm a mean taskmaster, so I wouldn't let him. Truthfully, neither of us realized how sick he was, and we wanted to attempt to get our last day of Universal Studios in. Yeah, that didn't happen.<br />
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We had to check out of our hotel by 10am, but since the husband wasn't feeling well, I did all of the packing and it took me a couple of hours that morning to get my tired butt up, and to get two suitcases packed to perfection. Have you seen this video? It was totally my packing inspiration. I had one suitcase packed with nothing but 90% of our clothing, and the other was our 10% that we had been wearing the night before, or were dirty, or were being used to wrap up our souvenir glasses. It works, well, but don't expect to be able to shove stuff in around your clothing. </div>
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So we were off, and then stopped at Whole Foods to pick up some breakfast, and then went to the park. I even paid the extra $5 to get the preferred parking so that we didn't have to walk 'as far.' That sort of a crock though, since you have to walk a half mile from the garage just to get to either park. Since we weren't there when they opened, but 3 hours later...Harry Potter World was PACKED, and any chance of hitting up rides that last day, with a sick husband in tow, were dashed. I took a couple of pictures and then we started the long walk back around the park to the car. It's like...11:30 at this point and our flight doesn't leave until 8pm. So...I tell him to put his seat back and take a nap...and I start reading the book I'm posting a review for tomorrow. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Throngs' of people, as the husband calls them, and a 126 minute wait, at 10:30am. First time we went, I walked in, no line at all. I should have ridden everything 5 times, instead of once! </td></tr>
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<div>
Around 1pm, we go get gas, drive to the airport, return the car and are hanging out on the bottom floor. In the Orlando airport, they have these (bolted the floor lest you start to think they are nice) wicker seating areas, and it's quieter and much emptier than the gates upstairs. After attempting to sleep sitting up, the hubby just says, I'm laying on the floor and proceeds to wedge himself between the chair and a column. After warning him that he would contract a communicable disease, and that I was burning his clothing when we got home, I gave him my coat to lay on, and kindly arranged our luggage so it sort of shielded him from people looking at him. </div>
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There we sat for a couple of hours while I found out about a new Pope being selected and stalked Huffington Post waiting to find out who it was. A nice girl, a college sophomore in town to play golf, asked to borrow my phone to call her ride, and we ended up finding out about Pope Francis at the same time, and I even was able to watch his first remarks LIVE...all from my phone, in an airport in Orlando. Seriously, I love love love technology. </div>
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Sadly, that technology didn't serve us terribly well at the Southwest/AirTran counter were the poor women couldn't figure out how to check our bags as well as get our tickets. Apparently they just changed it that week, and it was giving them a massive headache. Luckily, that gave me time to realize that one of our bags was over weight by 5lbs, and I quickly shoved my husbands shoes (umm..3lbs..he has some heavy shoes), the candy from Harry Potter World, and a beach towel (1.5lbs!) into the duffel bag I'd smartly gotten the hubs to buy the day before. </div>
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Getting through security it's own adventure, with TSA agents telling us (as we funneled from one line to the next), that we needed to be 'assertive' to get into line. Seriously? I'm not a fan of crowds like that...not a fan at all. Luckily it was moving quickly, although they made me go through one of the body scanners I generally abhor. I wasn't standing around for an hour waiting to get pat down, so I just went through the thing, all the while the TSA agent insisting that it gave off, 'like a thousand less times the amount of radiation than a cell phone.' Uh-huh. It showed a spot on my arm, and while the lady patted my arm down, I mentioned I'd given myself a huge bruise there the night before. I'm pretty sure that set it off, but at least the underwire in my bra didn't set off the metal detector this time. </div>
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The lady behind me in line had her luggage stopped under the x-ray machine and was worried because she'd packed her son's toy ax, and thought they might think it was a weapon. Uh nope...they were more concerned about the 4 large bottles of suntan lotion in her bag. Yep! Totally slipped her mind. </div>
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Long story short, I drugged my husband up with Sudafed and ibuprofen at our gate, and tried really hard to get him to not try to sleep on the mashed into the carpet Craisins that were on the floor that he, once again, insisted on laying on. We rolled onto a plane that was VERY luckily only about 25% full, and after a rather scary landing that made me question the sanity, and ability of the pilot, we got home. Seriously, that landing was so bad and shaky that some poor woman a few rows up puked. Apparently all of us were feeling pretty motion sick. After that, I was happy that we paid an extra couple of dollars a day to have a bus that drove us to our car, this time the bus even had a nice Chevy Chase doppelganger on it. The husband insists that the 'real' Chevy Chase wouldn't be wearing a tie. Who knows. </div>
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So we're home, with the kitties, and nothing like being away to make you more grateful to be home. Now if only all the laundry were done! </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-37671185790632744172013-03-11T23:42:00.001-04:002013-03-15T17:06:15.799-04:00Vacation Adventures -- That time I almost met Justin Bieber...with photographic proofWe have had a couple of really fun days...and it was nice to take yesterday to do very little. Yesterday morning my husband woke up and told me to call and get a massage. I'm not sure if it was as a treat, to keep me out of pain, or to keep me out of his hair for an hour, but either way I was taking it. I had a wonderful massage at 4pm, and came out to find him by the pool. As I walked out I saw a kid fully dressed, in glasses, and a wacky hat sitting on the side of a lounge chair. I said to myself, "hrmm...he sorta looks like the beebs, but no way..." and sat down with my husband.<br />
<br />
Let me insert here that my husband knows jack crap about pop culture, and is proud of this fact. He turns to me and says "Uh...do you know who that is?" to which I respond, "he looks like Justin Bieber, but he's supposed to be in Europe right now, right? (sue me, I read the Huffington Post!) Wait..are you shitting me? Is that really him?" <br />
<br />
Up until about a year ago, I had no idea who this kid was, and thought his last name was beaver the first time I heard it. I'm as vulnerable to being starstruck as the next person though, and I thought it was pretty damn cool that I was sitting 10 feet away from a really famous dude. And my phone was almost dead. I got one picture off, and my husband and I sat and chatted for a bit. While I had been getting a massage, he had actually talked to some people in the Beeb's posse, and every once in awhile people had come up and asked him for a picture. People generally were polite...but I think that's because 99% of them had no idea who he was. Just for the record, had he been wearing a swimsuit, no sunglasses or huge ass hat, I probably wouldn't have recognized him. I did not ask for a picture with him, because the kid was trying to relax and watch his friends play volleyball, and I'm by no stretch of the imagination a fan. For all those that are wondering, yes...his pants were pulled up and secured at his waist. <br />
<br />
So here is the picture you asked for, since my friend Paige is fond of reminding me, "picture or it didn't happen."<br />
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Fast forward to tonight where we decided to play some water volleyball and invited all of the kids that were looking at the ball longingly to play with us. I had no idea what fodder for hilarious conversation this decision would render. <br />
<br />
I'm 28, so it's been quite a few years since I was some screechy 12 year old girl. I really should have remembered this when I made the tactical error (for my ears) of telling the girls that we invited to play volleyball with us that Justin Bieber was at our pool the day before. Yes, he was. I was not lying, and yes I had a picture to prove it. What?!?!?!?! (insert copious amounts of screaming here, and a burgeoning headache...not to mention a ruined pseudo volleyball game that was left at the wayside as all three girls converged and started screaming in unison. <br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Some hilarious quotes include, "I take my Bieber very seriously!"</li>
<li>After much screaming about whether or not he was still here, my husband saying "What if he was still here? What would you do? What would you do if David Bowie was here instead?" to which a 12 year old said "Who is that? Is that a guy that looks like Justin Bieber?" (Clearly my 40 year old husband hasn't had a conversation with a 12 year old girl in a very long time). </li>
<li>Going along with the age thing...the girls on the husband 'team' (we really weren't playing) thought that he was my father. When I told them that I was almost 30, they thought I was lying. Apparently 30 year olds are really old, and I didn't look old enough. It seems to be a reoccurring theme that I don't look old enough. Ha. </li>
<li>One of the girls that we were playing with was a 13 year old Canadian. She introduced herself to the other girls and said "Hi, I'm Dee, I'm from Canada." Other girls response "OMG YOU'RE CANADIAN YOU'RE LIKE AN ALIEN!" </li>
<li>These girls became pretty social after we stopped playing and decided to introduce themselves to other people in the pool. I heard Dee introducing herself by saying "Hi! I'm Canadian I'm like an alien!" to which the people she was introducing herself to responded with, "uhh...hi. We're Canadian too." Umm...awkward! </li>
<li>I need to mention that even after showing them a picture of the Beebs, they didn't believe that he was actually here. They were fainting over themselves about it, but didn't believe us. Cause, we have nothing better to do than lie to pre-teens. Anyways, about 90 minutes later as we were leaving the girl Dee walked over and said, very proudly to us, "I believe you now that Juster Bieber was here. I talked to the security people and they said he left at 5am today." Oh good! Now we can sleep tonight knowing that you believe that we'd tell the truth. </li>
</ul>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-34102797307668648642013-03-10T13:26:00.002-04:002013-03-10T13:27:07.107-04:00Vacation highlights, life updates and blogging confessionsI realized today, while my husband was giving me another HTML/CSS lesson that, in the midst of the insanity of the last week, I had neglected to post much. Some of these updates are short on purpose--I want to expound on them in other entries that I haven't had the time to write yet. I feel bad 'stealing' my husband's laptop while we're out of town, and I can feel his palpable desire to be playing a video game from the other room.<br />
<br />
<b>Swap</b>:<br />
I was reluctant to post about this immediately afterwards because I didn't want to come off as bitchy, but here goes. It did not, in any way, go as planned. In the past, I spend a week frantically attempting to clean my house, begging for tables, and having everything prepared, then on the appointed morning, everyone shows up <i>on time</i> and swaps. At the end, people take all the leftover stuff to charity, leaving me exhausted but with a moderately clean house. This time though, most people seemed to cancel, show up really late, or just showed up to hang out.<br />
<br />
I can't overstate the awesome of having few enough people in my house that I was able to sit down and have real conversations with people. However, I have to admit that it was frustrating to spend so much time, energy and money, only to have the swap aspect of it...sort of flop. I know my husband had an awesome time gathering geeky stuff for his side of the swap, but since none of his friends seemed to show up at the same time, he's going to basically warehouse all of the stuff people brought, and have another event in the future. I also felt bad for the people that brought things to swap, and took home very little. I feel like I need to apologize to them, even though so much of this was out of my control. All ends well though, since the high schooler that scored all of our leftover clothing to give away to our local community, was super psyched. I would also like to give a huge thank you to our friends that came and hung out all day, and made it a really fun time. Also a thank you to my table providers, food cookers, people who moved stuff for me, and everyone that showed up.<br />
<br />
<b>Trainer:</b><br />
Ummm...so I've been somewhat steadily losing weight over the last 15 months, and have realized that I really need to kick up the physical activity aspect of my weight loss, and work on getting muscle tone back and getting some endurance. I'm pretty pitiful in the endurance department right now. Watching Biggest Loser has actually inspired me to get more active, and in that spirit, I took my friend up on her recommendation of a personal trainer. This woman is beyond perky. Think...hyper without caffeine, now add in a gallon of coffee to the mix. I have to admit, when I met her at her gym for our first session, the fact that it was filled with skinny fit people...very intimidating. Just for the record--I was rightfully scared of the hyper one, because my quads were so sore the next day, that I could barely walk. She failed in the 'taking it easy' aspect of our first session. This session is short because I'm going to write more about this later.<br />
<br />
<b>Vacation: </b><br />
Ha...ha...ha. Oh so many stories already. Did you know this massive blizzard was supposed to hit the DC area last week? Actually supposed to hit the same time yours truly was supposed to fly out of a DC area airport to fly to sunny Florida? Oh well, it was, but in true DC style, the storm was a dud. We didn't know that though, so we ended up in Florida a day ahead of schedule, sans a hotel room or car. Here are some highlights so far though:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>It sucks, but you can pack for vacation in an hour. You'll forget your camera, an extra duffle bag, cash and a variety of other things, but it can be done.</li>
<li>Getting a rental car that I've dubbed 'the dickmobile!</li>
<li>Buying a vacation package and when we arrive finding out that it's a timeshare. Kitchen and laundry for the win!</li>
<li>Finding out that there are two outlet malls in Orlando and we're at the wrong one</li>
<li>Rainforest Cafe -- definitely about the experience, and the experience is better if you're under 10</li>
<li>Heated pools are manna from heaven</li>
<li>5 story arcades make 40th birthday's awesome</li>
<li>So does getting a blue handprint on your head</li>
<li>BUTTERBEER BUTTERBEER BUTTERBEER!!!!! Harry Potter Harry Potter Harry Potter!!!!</li>
<li>I likey resorts...</li>
</ul>
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<b>Confessional: </b><br />
Overall, a hectic, crazy, but fun couple of weeks. I think blog writing is sort of like exercising, the more you do it, the more you want to do it. If you stop for awhile though, it's much much harder to get back into it. Consistency is key in so many aspects of life and has always been what I struggle with. I however, love writing this blog, love getting the feedback, and love having random people I didn't know read my blog, quote it to me. Yes, I'm a bit of an attention whore and it makes me feel special inside. <br />
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I have a confession to make though. I don't ever feel like I can be completely open here. I really struggle with not wanting to hurt peoples feelings, or having stuff that I write come back and bite me in the ass. The two times I've written and posted opinions about people in here, I was immediately told how wrong my opinions were, or that my recounting of a story was incorrect. Just for the record--I'm not changing a post simply because you don't like how I perceive a situation. That would ruin the entire point of blogging for me. <br />
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My husband has even given me a strict directive to not make fun of him here, although I may tease, cajole, and regale you with tails of his funny antics, I have no intention of mocking him or hurting his feelings. I never want to do that, but at the same time, I do want to be open, raw, and honest with my writing. I have an unfortunate tendency to lean towards the negative in my speech and writing, and I make a conscious effort to keep my blog on the happier sunshiney side of things. I also have this odd, pathological need to have some conclusion in what I do--in my writings you'll see that I always have to 'finish' a post, or in games (why I can't stand games that take too long to play) or books (I like finishing them in 2-3 sittings max). This need for conclusion makes it really hard for me to open up about issues that I haven't figured out myself yet. <br />
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Conclusion? We will see. I'm learning a lot about blogging, myself, growing older...and it will be really interesting to see how this blog evolves with me. My husband originally named my blog, when he set it up, but I never changed it because it resounded so well with me. We all start on square one, and then figure it out as we go. Here's to attempting to figure stuff out.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-27245686115698640072013-02-27T16:33:00.000-05:002013-02-28T23:02:46.087-05:00Memorials and Elusive BeepingYesterday started out as a rather stressful day with worrying about a friend having surgery, and remembering that it was also the 20th anniversary of both my grandmother's death, and coincidentally the first bombing of the World Trade Centers in New York. Twenty years ago, I was 8, and I still distinctly remember getting the call that grandma had passed away. My mom took the call, I was sitting at the table. I knew, as soon as my mom picked up the phone that she had passed away, and while we knew it was coming, that didn't help the mourning process much. My grandmother was an amazing woman who still lives on in our memories and through the lives of her children and grandchildren. I was touched to find out that my mom had put this memorial in the paper. <br />
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I also wrote about <a href="http://ekward.blogspot.com/2011/03/10-memories-of-my-grandmother-keeping.html">13 of my memories of my grandmother here</a>.</div>
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After a morning spent worrying about my friend, I was taking solace in the guitar lesson I had coming up at 8pm. I take Skype lessons with this amazing musician who lives in Nashville, and his eternal optimism, and quirky humor always put me in a good mood. I've missed the last couple of weeks because of illness, and darn it, I really wanted my lesson! Then, thirty minutes before my lesson...the power went out. </div>
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I get that it was raining, and the wind did blow hard enough to knock a cooler off of our porch table, but it was not bad enough for the power to go out, especially when we have underground lines, <i>and </i>for the third time it was only my row of townhomes and the ones across the street that lost power.</div>
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So now I'm missing my guitar lesson, my phone is almost dead and suddenly the smoke detector lets out a persistent <b>beeeep. </b>I at least managed to find the flashlights without killing myself. My husband seems to like to hide them in randomly labeled boxes in the basement. This works really well...<i>in the dark</i>. Then I sat down and played the guitar. I only know two songs, so I serenaded the cats...in the dark. It was romantic. </div>
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About ten minutes later the husband came home and he was quite keen on the idea of a romantic dinner in the dark. He so kindly finds, and makes the chirping smoke detector shut up. A neighbor texted me that the power would be back by 10:30. I emailed my guitar teacher, plugged my phone into my computer, and my husband read me short SciFi stories about peace until we got tired...which was around 9:30pm. We headed upstairs for an early bedtime, and boom...the power comes back on. Sweet! All is well...right? </div>
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Of course not. The smoke detector started chirping again. I let the husband deal with it, and hear him swearing from across the house, "grumble grumble, tearing it from ceiling...mutter mutter grumble."</div>
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"Uhhh...let me look at it!" is my response. Let's just say, the 'shut the hell up' button wasn't working, the test button made it go off, and we ended up taking it down, and happily retiring to our room. <b>Beeeeeeep, </b>we hear. Um...omg is there another one going off now? At this point I just lay my head down on the bed and laugh. </div>
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We decided to split up and check the two other rooms on the floor, each of us standing in our offices. <b>beeeep! </b>We hear again. I'm adamant that it didn't come from my office, he adamant that it didn't come from his. I lost the argument and we hear it again, quieter this time<b>. bee</b>eeep? It seems more like a question now than a demand. We're at a loss...and suddenly my husband suddenly had a Sherlock moment, throws up his arms and yells, "I've got it! Residual power...that's why it's getting quieter." And then walks out of the room to our bedroom. </div>
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Yeah...I told you it wasn't coming from my office. </div>
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I also learned last night that if you go to bed at 9:30 and read for two hours, it may feel like 1:30am, but it's really only 11:30. I also learned that if my husband wants to snore loudly while sleeping on his back, I have no qualms about sending him to sleep on the guest bed, which was conveniently made up already. I slept quite well, and have no idea when he came back to bed. <br />
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Apparently my life is too boring, because this morning at the dentists, when they went to replace a crown (apparently the one they put in never fit correctly), and gave me anesthesia, the epinephrine made my heart rake spike, and me almost pass out. I have never felt so weird in my life. I couldn't take a breath, or focus, and my heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to explode. So not fun. Then, as she was drilling off the crown, I started getting really woozy again and they had to give me oxygen. I hate being 'difficult' but this appointment, even though I love my dentist and her assistant, really stunk. Luckily the temp crown doesn't seem to be causing me trouble, and my molds look good. They took five. Any more and I think my teeth would have been pulled from my head. <a href="http://ekward.blogspot.com/2012/01/does-everyone-hate-dentist.html">Here is my blog post from my first visit to get my crown.</a> The nice lady wasn't the first lady who screwed up my crown. I only ask for the nice lady. She's really nice. <br />
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Now I'm back to making a disaster area out of my living room as I pull things out of the closet for the swap. I'm getting excited!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-70511151462463347882013-02-26T15:58:00.001-05:002013-02-28T23:03:07.221-05:00We're Going To.....So we left off with my husband thinking, that when I was talking about going to swim in'the Gulf,' that I was talking about his time overseas during the first Persian Gulf war. Feel free to facepalm--I did. The next day however, out of the blue, this beautiful Google chat happened:<br />
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">(Most likely I was apologizing for my earlier behavior and telling him how much I loved him. Let's skip the schmucky stuff)</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A: Do you love me because I'm going to take you to harry potter world?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">me: are you?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">we are going to do this?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm going to get to see Hogwarts?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">And drink butterbeer?</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">really?!?!? really?!?!?!?!</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A: In all its butterbeer glory.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">me: <b>YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! INHALE YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY</b></span></blockquote>
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Soo...we're going to Florida! I've only been twice before--once when I was a nanny and we spent most of the time at Epcot with a two year old. The second time was also when I was a nanny, and we went on a cruise, but only spent the night in Orlando. I wasn't on my schedule, and had limited flexibility with what I could do on those trips. This time...we are going to have some fun!<br />
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Once my husband realized that I wasn't asking to take him swimming in a warzone (umm...context clues honey!) he jumped on the Florida bandwagon and started doing some research. Since homie is turning 4-0 while we're down there(!!!), I'm taking him to see Blue Man Group for his birthday (second row anyone?). I plan on drinking too much Butterbeer, riding some rides, hopefully not standing in lines for too long, swimming anywhere that there aren't gators, and most of all...being somewhere warm, spending time with the man I love more than anything. Looking outside at the grey and the rain, while being constantly barraged with tails of how awful the weather is in the rest of the country, makes me desperate to leave today.<br />
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Of course, upon finding out that I was travelling to Orlando, my friend and I began to sing this song from The Book of Mormon, obviously loudly. My husband couldn't figure out what we were singing, so we forced him to watch as well. He approved.<br />
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In other news, I have a big swap at my house this weekend, and unless a table fairy comes and bops me on the head, I have no clue where I'm putting stuff, or for that matter what anyone is bringing. In the past, I feel like I've had a bit of a better idea of the types of things that people are bringing. This weekend, I haven't a clue. I just pray for decent weather, and a good turn out. Oh, and for whatever charity comes to pick stuff up, to find happy homes for a house's worth of stuff. I'm really happy to have a means to provide people with a way to give away unwanted items, and trade them for more wanted items. I love bartering, and trading. I get so tired of how badly things are made, and how we throw so much away. That said, I'm trying really hard to not turn into a pack rat, and think everyone should go through everything they own a semi-regular basis. It's good to know what you have and you never know what you'll find. It's like Christmas...with your own stuff! <br />
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So, I think on this cold day, I'll watch Biggest Loser and start hauling crap out of our "Harry Potter closet" for the swap. Yes, we have a closet in our stairs, and <b><i>yes</i></b>, you're damn right that I dubbed it the Harry Potter closet as soon as I saw it. I would be a bad fan not to! And <b><i>no</i></b>, no one is sleeping in there, and there are no spiders. Well, someone could sleep in there, but it's too full of our crap right now.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-43649536187819516632013-02-23T12:02:00.002-05:002013-02-28T23:03:26.351-05:00To Orlando, or not to Orlando Part 1You know those awesome videos on Youtube where parents tell their kids that they're going to Disney, but only when they're on their way there already? The kids burst out crying, and screaming and carrying on. Sadly it appears my husband's only response is a soild 'meh.'<br />
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Well my husband is switching jobs, and being the supportive kind wife I am, I demanded a vacation somewhere warm with white sand after he quit his current job. He's been stressed, and that stresses me. We deserve a vacation. First we batted around the idea of going to this tiny island in the Carribean but planning something like that quickly on any sort of a budget was killing me. Then I got this great idea--let's go to Disney (okay, Orlando) and have the vacation I never had a kid, but I've always wanted. Super excited, I started looking up deals, found amazing flights for 400 bucks for both of us round trip, and started talking to people about their experiences, where to stay and what beaches to hit up. I had like 15 windows open as I contemplated the merits of Cirque Du Soleil vs. Blue Man Group, and if we wanted to go to universal studios, or Disney, and where to stay. Then...my husband gets home. I regale him excitedly with all of these details that I'm happily making a spreadsheet and list about (no joke, I like me some lists), and his response, "but I thought we were going to (insert tiny Carribean Island here with large touch of whine)" But, I countered, yet again, "I already told you that we can't afford it, and that I wasn't interested in trying to plan that last minute. I'm sorry, but I'm much more excited about this, and I can do it on a budget."<br />
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Next ensues what can only be politely referred to as a 'whine fest' where we both whined and groused towards our reasons for wanting to go to each place, which culminated in my declaring that I didn't want to go on vacation after all, and I basically left for a dinner date I was late for. <br />
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Oh so mature. Ohhh, the maturity, it just shines through, along with our very obviously first world problems. We are seriously arguing over where to go on vacation? However, this is indicative of our type of communication faux pas. See, I had already set a budget--the money that we had been putting aside for the last year to actually go on a vacation. My hubs budget apparently was 'every cent we can scrape up.' That type of budget does not work well with switching jobs, and still being able to pay rent and bills. Also, I didn't realize that he had no idea what type of activities were actually available in Florida. He's from the west coast, and and frequently, and infuriatingly, likes to stay blissfully ignorant of these things until I rudely demand he learn more. So when I asked him what he thought of Florida, his honest response was that he thought, "Florida is that place that old people retire, and where Scarface was set." Oh...my...God. Really? Let's just say it's time for Phase 2 of Operation Going where Eileen Wants to on Vacation....<br />
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Stay Tuned for finding out where we are going and how the planning is going...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-67254119654804131922013-02-22T08:00:00.000-05:002013-02-28T23:03:45.365-05:00Ashes and Ice book review! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As promised, here is my review of the exciting debut novel, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00BAFOI02/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00BAFOI02&linkCode=as2&tag=squa04-20%22%3EAshes%20and%20Ice%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=squa04-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00BAFOI02%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important">Ashes and Ice,</a> by my wonderful friend, <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6483061.Rochelle_Maya_Callen">Rochelle Maya Callen</a>. This post is long, but it's because as a bonus gift, you're getting an excerpt at the end! So read my review, then go over to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00BAFOI02/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00BAFOI02&linkCode=as2&tag=squa04-20%22%3EAshes%20and%20Ice%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=squa04-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00BAFOI02%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important">Amazon</a> or <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ashes-and-ice-rochelle-maya-callen/1114308388?ean=2940016192550">Barnes and Noble</a> and buy it now for only 99 cents. I can't wait until the paperback comes out because I'm planning a giveaway then! Thank you Lady Amber Tours for hosting this blog tour. </div>
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<i><b>Synopsis</b>: <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>She is desperate to
remember.<br />
He is aching to forget.<br />
Together, they are not broken.<br />
But together, one may not survive.<br />
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Jade wakes up with no memory of her past and blood on her hands. <br />
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Plagued by wicked thoughts, she searches for answers. Instead, she finds a boy
who doesn't offer her answers, but hope. But sometimes, when nightmares turn
into reality and death follows you everywhere, hope is not enough. <br />
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LUST. LOVE. LOSS. Sometimes, all that is left are Ashes and Ice</i></div>
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Wow. I read this synopsis months ago on Goodreads, and was already ready to read the book! In the spirit of full disclosure, one of my closest friends from college wrote this book, and no matter what, I was going to read it. Luckily, this book is
<b><i>really</i></b> good. It's so good that I bought it Superbowl Sunday, live 15 minutes away
from Raven’s stadium deep in purple country, and wanted to stay home just to read it. Rochelle writes in a really melodic way that
sucks you in, and keeps you constantly guessing and engaged. </div>
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I just finished reading <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1442428260/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1442428260&linkCode=as2&tag=squa04-20%22%3EThe%20Wake%20Trilogy:%20Wake;%20Fade;%20Gone%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=squa04-20&l=as2&o=1&a=1442428260%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;">Lisa Mcmann’s Wake series</a>, and in
some ways Rochelle’s writing is reminiscent of her puzzle piece story telling style.
This method is frequently badly employed where you attempt to keep
reading to find out what happened, but then the writing is so convoluted that
the puzzle pieces don’t fit together, and some of them are missing or smudged.
This book fits together perfectly, and despite being a trilogy, has an actual
ending. I hate when you read an entire book, and the ending is some cliffhanger
to encourage you to read the next book, and while I’m grumbling about having to
read the next book (cause I'm impatient, and of course want to know what happened), I want to smack the author. While this book is very
obviously set up to have a sequel, the ending was excellent and I can hug instead of hit my friend. </div>
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In the story, a teenager named Jade wakes up, covered in
blood with no memory of who is she, or how this happened. She’s constantly battling this odd inner
force/consciousness that doesn't jive with her day to day realities and
desires. Jade doesn't understand why she
has blackouts, draws strange symbols, is terrified of water, and yet is feeling
this constant pull over a bridge to to a door in New Orleans. She’s inexplicably attracted to a social
misfit named Conner, who himself is attempting to grieve the loss of his
beloved father, and fit in at a high school where bullies apparently don’t get
in trouble with adults. </div>
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The story unfolds as Jade attempts to figure out who she is,
Conner attempts to figure out who she is, what she is, and how he feels about
her, and you try to figure out when the two of them are going to get together,
along with figuring out the above questions. I have to add in here, that don’t like when there are non-protagonist
characters in books that aren’t well developed.
It takes away from the story for me when the author doesn’t put in the
time to develop these side characters.
Rochelle did a wonderful job developing them, and I adore the character
of Conner’s mother; a grieving widow with a tale of a great love that she and
her late husband had. I love the old
woman Maman that Jade comes to live with, and wish there had been more
background information about her. The
bullies in the stories, feel so real that you have a visceral response to them,
and start to get angry and frustrated along with the protagonist. </div>
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The only criticism of the book I might have are a couple of
pacing issues. I’m realizing that one of the most challenging aspects of
writing fiction is this understanding of when to include background material
and how much. Also, if you don’t want to
read the entire book to find out Jade’s secret—too bad. You’re going to be reading two hundred pages,
and you’ll love every…single..one of them. And no, I'm not giving it away here. </div>
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This book is truly a wonderful piece of work, and I’m so
incredibly proud of Rochelle for writing it while working full time and being a
mom. She is my hero. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU85KLs_MnA3Qf0Q1TM_i9lfaSI37sY2f0fk0rv1FiLIPyPmoifOvt4z0ufuoSs4DMPrl4BB1HpFv8LlJYqqGq0m15kbHA97_09nFRTxPFVLE05gGuyYWMCwUWtHKxmr7qmQQdJycPE7kA/s1600/EileenRochelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU85KLs_MnA3Qf0Q1TM_i9lfaSI37sY2f0fk0rv1FiLIPyPmoifOvt4z0ufuoSs4DMPrl4BB1HpFv8LlJYqqGq0m15kbHA97_09nFRTxPFVLE05gGuyYWMCwUWtHKxmr7qmQQdJycPE7kA/s320/EileenRochelle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The two of us at our college graduation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Author Bio: </span></div>
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<i>Rochelle grew up dreaming up stories. When she entered high
school, she tucked away her creative side and jumped head-first into academics,
work, and service projects. She graduated summa cum laude with a degree in
Political Science and Communication when she was twenty years old. After years
away from her writing, Rochelle picked up a pen and started fleshing out a
character sketch that she outlined when she was twelve. That sketch was the
start of the Ashes and Ice story. Rochelle lives in the DC metro area with her
husband and daughter. By day she works as a behavioral therapist. By night, she
is a dreamer and is busy tapping out new stories on her keyboard.</i></div>
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<i>Links:</i></div>
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<a href="http://www.rochellemayacallen.com/" target="_blank"><i>http://www.rochellemayacallen.com/</i></a></div>
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<i>twitter: rockyiswriting</i></div>
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<i>goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15864513-ashes-and-ice" target="_blank">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15864513-ashes-and-ice</a></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#%21/pages/Rochelle-Maya-Callen-Author/478176392210312" target="_blank">http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Rochelle-Maya-Callen-Author/478176392210312</a></i></div>
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<o:p> <b>Ashes and Ice Excerpt </b></o:p></div>
<h2 style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Jade</span></h2>
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The girl’s glassy, dead eyes stare into me, through me, pierce me with a fierce
urgency, with a wicked accusation. The blood is still on my hands.</div>
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Red hair, blue eyes, a constellation of freckles on pale skin. She was fragile
and innocent, a lovely thing. That is what I think until I see the gashes on
her wrists and throat. With her blood spilling out, she looks delicious. She’s
mine. Possessiveness shocks me, stabs into me. I run, tearing away from a craving
I don't understand.</div>
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Breathless, I grit my teeth and run harder, faster.</div>
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</div>
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My feet pound against the earth, away from the lifeless body and toward the
lights of the city lingering on the horizon. Rot and death linger in my
nostrils. Unscarred skin stretches taut over my freezing bones. Echoes of an
empty memory reverberate in my mind, taunting me. The ice chases me, clutches
me, and bites at my heels, sending shivers up my spine. The ice wants me back,
but I run forward, toward the lights, toward the heat, toward a world that
burns me, because I have no other choice.</div>
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The lights are so close. Heat scalds my skin.</div>
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Images race through my mind, paralyzing me. I skid to a stop, my boots digging
into the mud. The vision’s blurred edges materialize into solid shapes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I gasp.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A new horror rakes my insides. Desperation propels me forward; the pictures
nagging at my seams threaten to tear me apart.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Scorching fire licks over my skin. In my vision, I contort like a vile, ugly
creature, eyes as black as decay. My frame hunches over the small, dead girl,
like a demon looming over a defenseless child. Her blood drips from my mouth.</div>
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I lick my lips and taste only salty sweat.</div>
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I run, desperate to trample the vision under my feet, to crush it deep into the
ground.</div>
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I refuse to believe the image, refuse to acknowledge the monster within me
demanding to be unleashed—and the possibility it has already been unbound. An
unrelenting tide of fear washes over me. Past the denial, the fear, and the
hope, I think I can still taste her.</div>
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The cold stillness inside me cracks open just as the lights of the city slam
into me.</div>
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<br />
Now go and.....</div>
Buy from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00BAFOI02/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00BAFOI02&linkCode=as2&tag=squa04-20%22%3EAshes%20and%20Ice%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=squa04-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00BAFOI02%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important">Amazon</a><br />
Buy from <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ashes-and-ice-rochelle-maya-callen/1114308388?ean=2940016192550">Barnes and Noble</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-66379323597861385232013-02-18T13:04:00.000-05:002013-02-28T23:01:19.296-05:00Learning New SkillsMy husband is a geek, an alpha geek at that. He loves to make computer's sing and dance. You'd think that would mean that he had the nicest of computers, and nothing technical in our house would ever be broken for long. Yeah, so not true. Right now he's working off of a laptop he just bought, because this desktop that he built while I was still in college, kept blue-screening. His computer history since we moved into this house has been a comedy of error, and hopefully he'll build himself something worthy of the level of his geekiness. <br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Another issue we have is my husband's not-always-stellar time management skills. He summed it up after we got married by telling me that it would take, on average, six months for him to fix anything. I didn't realize that this wasn't limited to just technology, but also things like cleaning our bathroom, and getting around to buying himself a new computer.
Someone once told me that I married an older guy and that he would want to shape and mold me into someone. I sort of laughed it off, but thinking about it, it's not entirely untrue. My husband wants me to, in short, become the best version of myself. In his eyes this includes widening my skill set, especially my technological skills. He isn't at all biased in this, you see.<br />
<br />
When we first moved here, I took a intro to programming class, and basically ended up having to come home and have him re-teach me everything, which made me think that it was a waste of money. Then I realized that if we apply the six month rule to him teaching me, without the constraint of a collegiate timeline, that I would become proficient in something, around my 50th birthday. So, while I've been slacking off in figuring out a direction I wanted to take my skills in, I know that I will probably have to go back and take classes.
So we're now figuring out how to increase my technological knowledge, while helping me from losing motivation and interest along the way.<br />
<br />
Right now, I have a keen interest in learning how to personalize my blog, and learning HTML/CSS to do it. Yesterday we sat down for a couple of hours, and made a sample webpage, which taught me quite a bit about the difference between HTML/CSS, and how the stuff that Blogger uses to automatically produce their websites, isn't necessarily the best syntax to use. I actually had quite a bit of fun, and am learning about how I personally, learn. I can now recognize when my eyes sort of gloss over, and I start to completely use focus.
As I'm learning new things, you'll hopefully see my blog change and develop.<br />
<br />
I'm excited to see the progression of these changes, and I'm hoping that, in the end, I'll have an awesome, and professional looking blog. Then, I just need to keep writing! I've been searching for something that would help me professionally, and personally and learning about web design/development might be it. I'm really interested in seeing where this next year takes me.
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-25123551372652567912013-02-15T11:09:00.004-05:002013-02-28T22:59:52.845-05:00Valentine's Debacle <div class="MsoNormal">
Time to delve back into my history a bit, before marriage came into the picture, while we were still alight with the glow of a new relationship...<br />
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<i>Valentine’s 2009</i><br />
I had just commuted back from a conference an hour away, was <i>not</i> in a terribly
good mood. I had my period, awful cramps and it was Valentine’s Day. What a
lovely combination, right? The one
shining light I had though, was that my boyfriend and I would be able to see
each other that night. My husband and I started dating right after Thanksgiving
five years ago.</div>
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I don't remember having particularly high expectations for the holiday, perhaps since my boyfriend (now husband) had, at one time, told me that he didn't really 'do' the Hallmark holidays, and would rather give me gifts when the mood struck him, not when he felt forced. That didn't mean that he didn't spoil me, especially when we first got together. Two weeks after we started dating, he took me for a romantic dinner, and to see the play Avenue Q. I was spoiled, I will admit. However, I wasn't expecting to get nothing but this card, which he had printed off at work:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhze0kP2s8iIRsSnkB3p5iqDYc1YKE2BNr-Ki-xKs-gUJNRfQKYxgZ_sk6ok18Wq5A7mpqKkvFU6_KLU9xel4Eu-LFxfnUpquwPqRcC3jSx-wWnhFAat_GyOnnEQkJuM2pMeX1hV61Hv5BC/s1600/bad+valentine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhze0kP2s8iIRsSnkB3p5iqDYc1YKE2BNr-Ki-xKs-gUJNRfQKYxgZ_sk6ok18Wq5A7mpqKkvFU6_KLU9xel4Eu-LFxfnUpquwPqRcC3jSx-wWnhFAat_GyOnnEQkJuM2pMeX1hV61Hv5BC/s320/bad+valentine.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
Oh that's right. I got nothing, but incestuous home printed Star Wars card. Are you freaking kidding me? No candy, no flowers...nothing. And still, you ask, I married the guy? </div>
<br />
When a relationship starts, there is a period where the other person can 'do no wrong.' Luckily, this card was received well in the do no wrong parameters, because instead of trying to kill him, I sort of laughed it off...and then held it over his head since then.<br />
<br />
I prefer the passive guilt trip really. The next year, when he got home, there were flowers, candy and dinner ready for him. I'm not sure what he got me, but since then, I have spoiled the crap out of him with candy and treats on Valentine's Day, and never really let him live down...the card. I think I've trained him well, with my expectations for a semi-Hallmark holiday. Two years ago he actually sewed me a heart shaped pillow out of tie-dyed fleece (omg so cute, and I need to find it), and the year before that, when he was unemployed, he made me a website with a candy heart that says something sweet to me every week for three years. See, I could sense that there was some sense under the drunken glee of bachelorhood <br />
<br />
<i>2013</i><br />
This year, I was cursed with a stomach virus for the last week that killed any romantic plans for the evening we may have had. My shining accomplishment for the week was running (ha...more like stumbling) to the grocery store to buy Gatorade, bananas and applesauce. Luckily, I had bought the hubby two bottles of wine and some super hero glasses from Michael's before I got sick, so I had presents prepared. I also saw a link to these <a href="http://www.epbot.com/2013/02/my-portal-valentines-free-printables.html">Portal valentine's</a> that I printed off and surprised him with.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYq7Mgu5P_v4sxqL6_gDyckWWjyl8OgYM-66tp86QwvP8_B2uX5Pzg0eNXEud4rpQ1f-HTC3Mt0fWvLAEHvmelFpPINQkd39fzIW_bchm9CGNjZCinWwlEOxqTElsnuQ2mGkg4_AHVC6Z5/s1600/valentine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYq7Mgu5P_v4sxqL6_gDyckWWjyl8OgYM-66tp86QwvP8_B2uX5Pzg0eNXEud4rpQ1f-HTC3Mt0fWvLAEHvmelFpPINQkd39fzIW_bchm9CGNjZCinWwlEOxqTElsnuQ2mGkg4_AHVC6Z5/s640/valentine.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Note the bottle of wine shaped like a cat, and the threatening Valentine's Day cards.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In return, he took a trip to Costco last night after work, and...he surprised me with a vacuum.<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=squa04-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=B005FQMALQ&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe>
A vacuum? Well, it's a Dyson, and I've wanted it for years, and never been able to wrap my head around paying more for a vacuum than some people pay for a car. Once again my husband needs to be banned from Costco, for our own financial well-being, as he also bought new sheets, daisies and a box of chocolate. It was sweet, and has been wonderful in taking care of me, so on our way to bed last night, I told him that he had made up for the...card. But, before I let it go, I had to tell the world.<br />
<br />
So last night, I ate a churro, moaned on the couch with regret for attempting to eat said churro, read a book and watched him play (and maybe bossed him around a little while he played) <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0002Y2XXQ/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B0002Y2XXQ&linkCode=as2&tag=squa04-20%22%3EKatamari%20Damacy%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=squa04-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B0002Y2XXQ%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important">Katamari Damacy</a>, while he drank an entire bottle of wine. I love the purple daisies he bought me, accidentally thinking that they were the gerbera daisies I wanted. I love that he puts so much thought into getting things for me, and then totally confuses it with what I really wanted, just because he took the time to try. So thank you lover, for being my valentine. You're my super hero, but if you ever get me another cheesy incestuous card, I <i>will </i>use physical violence. *smiles*<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-68562627337275307122013-02-08T11:03:00.001-05:002013-02-28T23:04:45.687-05:00New things to come, book reviews! Soon you will be seeing a new feature on my blog--book reviews. One of my<a href="http://strandupdate.blogspot.com/"> favorite bloggers</a> has pretty regular book reviews, which initially drew my interest. I love to read but frankly, I'm getting sick of reading the free fluff that I get through <a href="http://www.pixelofink.com/">Pixel of Ink</a>. It's an awesome resource to have (and you should totally check it out). My issue is that fundamentally, I'm cheap and slightly paranoid, and the idea of electronic books still makes me feel like I was jipped out of a real book. However, I will totally admit that since I discovered brain candy, as I like the call trashy fiction, I became hooked. It's like heroin in literary form, and I really need to expand my horizons a bit and read more genre's of books. I like funny, light and fluffy because it seems like too much of a commitment to delve into something that is deeper. Hopefully this will soon change.<br />
<div>
<br />
<div>
A brief side note on my take on self published books is this -- power to you for taking the time, effort and energy to write a book. It's a huge accomplishment. As such, don't sell yourself short by <b>not</b> having a decent <i>professional </i>editor for your work. If you don't, and I find any typos at all in your book, my respect for your writing goes down, and I'll lose interest pretty quickly, and your formatting will probably really annoy me. I will almost never stop reading a book unless the editing is so convoluted that I can't follow the story line. Also, take the time to deal with the editing issues for the kindle to ensure that your typeface isn't so big that it can read on the moon and we aren't allowed to make it any smaller (this happens all the time!). I know I make tons of typos here, but I'm not, nor do I have a professional editor. I sure as hell can't proofread my own work. Ask my last boss, she'd be glad to point out that shortcoming. </div>
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So last week one of my dear friends from college, who is this amazing, hardworking, fabulous, awesome lady named<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6483061.Rochelle_Maya_Callen"> Rochelle Callen</a> released <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00BAFOI02/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00BAFOI02&linkCode=as2&tag=squa04-20%22%3EAshes%20and%20Ice%3C/a%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=squa04-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00BAFOI02%22%20width=%221%22%20height=%221%22%20border=%220%22%20alt=%22%22%20style=%22border:none%20!important;%20margin:0px%20!important;">her first book</a>. I was excited at how beautiful the cover was, and when I found out that she actually did have professional editing done (go back up and read my rant), I was really excited about helping her promote it. The book was released on Sunday, I was done on Tuesday, and that was me trying to read it slowly so that I could hold out the story as long as possible. Click on some links here, and check it out because it's only 99 cents this week, and you won't regret it. Don't worry, it's the first review I'm writing in a week, and when it comes out in paperback, I'll even host a giveaway for you folks that can't get kindle books.<br />
<br />
Through helping promote her work, I was pointed to a group that does book reviews and releases on Facebook and was hooked up with some other awesome sounding books to read, and review. I'm really psyched and now have a bunch of books to read! I'm really excited about adding another component to my blog, which will help focus and force me to write more often. Consistency is something I struggle with on a daily basis, and anything that can help train that side of me, is totally appreciated. </div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Keep an eye out for: </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*Book reviews* My first will be a review of Ashes and Ice on February 22nd!
</div>
<div>
*Weight loss pictures! I've lost almost 40lbs, and the difference in pictures is remarkable. I know most people who read this follow me on Facebook, but I want to get some side by side pictures up. </div>
<div>
*Updates on life and my usual commentary on everything and nothing</div>
<div>
*Guitar--I'm playing it, or at least trying!</div>
<div>
<br />
Come over Amazon and check out the book for yourself!</div>
</div>
<div align="center" style="float: left; width: 115px;">
<a href="http://squidutils.com/us/B00BAFOI02/squa04-20" rel="nofollow" style="text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/5150viuJGyL._SL160_PA6,6,6,6_.jpg" />
<b>Ashes and Ice</b>
<img border="0" src="http://squidutils.com/us/mB00BAFOI02.png" vspace="4" />
Amazon.com</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-77268390088436353312013-02-05T08:00:00.000-05:002013-02-05T08:00:11.171-05:00Don't Kill Dinner Cover Reveal!<br />
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Everyone loves a good vampire book, so I had to do a cover reveal for this awesome looking book that's being released on March 15th! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAVbQWlVkFeqHPlgQnhJH_AM5x6tSuHVfObaUYnq2mvREq7o1Nac6awawlnr1vLWHIHfUzD6MS-XxH6UiQ8_ZZGyM08Lk82Z8Gt5NzXPCVarzzZOQ6qmiujmKxlnnmP5158UeeV-dv0zH/s1600/dkd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitAVbQWlVkFeqHPlgQnhJH_AM5x6tSuHVfObaUYnq2mvREq7o1Nac6awawlnr1vLWHIHfUzD6MS-XxH6UiQ8_ZZGyM08Lk82Z8Gt5NzXPCVarzzZOQ6qmiujmKxlnnmP5158UeeV-dv0zH/s320/dkd.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
<b>Serie</b>s: The Rules Trilogy<br />
<b>Author</b>: Jennifer Martinez<br />
<b>Genre</b>: Urban Fantasy/New Adult Paranormal Romance (Mature audiences only. Mild to<br />
moderate swearing and sexual situations)<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Don't Kill Dinner Blurb:</b><br />
There are three rules when it comes to being a vampire in New Orleans. 1) Don’t kill dinner.<br />
2) Don’t feed from people you know. 3) Don’t tell anyone. Not too hard, right? Wrong. Kenna<br />
is a new vampire filled with a passion that has turned into an uncontrollable lust for blood.<br />
Will Arthur be able to stop her feeding spree before the coven comes after her or is Kenna<br />
beyond saving?<br />
<br />
Arthur has been watching Kenna for years, wanting her to try her own hand in life before he<br />
gave her the ultimate proposal. Now that she has accepted, will his love be enough to save<br />
her?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_ZSPR7R-fFOjPQ2uBhfKLFmboiffK6tyd5u7X6_ap5r7xloZeD0o22SmbaxexedKtGyyNHQOWCbONwXJXdaPFXJwIvg6ohwZKQnGxKKkUE-HTLvVqZV27-YeVvMWmpTcF-FSzU8-eatL/s1600/JM+Author.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-_ZSPR7R-fFOjPQ2uBhfKLFmboiffK6tyd5u7X6_ap5r7xloZeD0o22SmbaxexedKtGyyNHQOWCbONwXJXdaPFXJwIvg6ohwZKQnGxKKkUE-HTLvVqZV27-YeVvMWmpTcF-FSzU8-eatL/s320/JM+Author.jpg" width="197" /></a></div>
<br />
Author Bio:<br />
<br />
<i>One day while slaving away at her monotonous day job, Jennifer Martinez found her true</i><br />
<i>calling. Like a firefly in the night, the pages called to her. Once she caught the bug there was</i><br />
<i>no stopping it. Her fingers flew furiously across the keyboard winding tales of love, mystery and</i><br />
<i>anger. She snapped out of her reverie to find herself still behind the desk but at least she knew</i><br />
<i>who she was… Author Jennifer Martinez.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I like to think of myself as a beautiful conundrum. When I am not writing, I can be found</i><br />
<i>surrounded by my amazing family and 4 dogs or volunteering at a local animal rescue. I love who</i><br />
<i>I am and don’t mind at all when I get strange looks from people. I am a tattoo covered, child and</i><br />
<i>animal lover who looks forward to destroying peoples preconceived notions of what “someone</i><br />
<i>like me” would be interested in. You only live life once… you may as well make it interesting.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I love to get lost in a good book and hope that everyone will get lost in mine.</i><br />
<br />
Links:<br />
<br />
Jennifer Martinez on Facebook<br />
Jennifer Martinez on Twitter<br />
Jennifer Martinez on Amazon<br />
Actor for Hire, The Rules Trilogy 0.5 Kenna’s Story on Amazon<br />
Actor for Hire, The Rules Trilogy 0.5 Kenna’s Story on Smashwords<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-3193074361109238092013-02-01T11:40:00.002-05:002013-02-28T23:04:17.014-05:00The Psyched out in the Work Out,I had a rough week, healthwise and realized yesterday that I felt like I was losing motivation, so I thought that I'm exam that a little bit today. I'd love your feedback too!<br />
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Keeping motivated while losing weight is so difficult, but what about when we become our own worst enemy? What I feel isn't talked enough in relation to weight loss is the psychological effect, especially in people that lose a large amount of weight. It's hard to look in the mirror every day and see a different person, even if you like the person that you're seeing in the mirror. Basically--you know when you put makeup on, pout your lips all sexy like and take a picture to display yourself in all of your peacock glory on Facebook and you think to yourself 'damn I look pretty good in this picture!' Well, when I look in the mirror now, I feel like I'm looking at that styled up 'skinny day' picture of myself. When I lost weight in college, I thought I looked good and I was happy with how I looked, but I don't remember looking in the mirror and feeling like I was looking at a different person. This would sound great, and in many ways it is, but it starts making you question people's motives for being nice to you (would that person still like me if I was fatter?), it starts making you want to scream, "but that's not me!" at the mirror, and it can start planting seeds of doubt in your mind.<br />
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I started watching Biggest Loser recently. Just for the record, that show is a lot easier to watch, guilt free, if you are busting your own butt trying to lose weight. The first week I watched, I found myself jogging around my kitchen, and house for a half an hour to alleviate my guilt at watching people sweat that much on camera. While I may not agree with some of the elements of the show, the fact that they are trying to get to the psychological root of the cause of weight gain is really important. What made you gain this weight, and kept you from working to take it off? Despite what society tells us, it isn't because we are all lazy slobs. Each of us has our own reasons, and they aren't as clear cut as we'd like them to be. These reasons that we gained the weight in the first place are what are sabotaging our ability to lose weight. When I was gaining weight, I'd be permissive--oh well, I was good yesterday so I can be bad today. Now it seems that I'll be on a great streak and then...sorta taper off, allow myself to eat more, work out less etc. and the weight loss will stop for 6 months. In a way, I think I do this subconsciously because I need time to adjust to my body, see the differences, and learn some maintenance. As long as I'm not getting lazy and gaining the weight back I think this is okay, because I try to use this time to work on living a healthy lifestyle where I'm not constantly gaining weight, but able to maintain my weight. I worry when people lost weight too quickly that they never get that adjustment period and it's far too easy to start gaining the weight back. <br />
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My new year's burst of energy started to suffer greatly after I got sick last week and was feeling pretty blah this week. My lung capacity has suffered, and I'm not sure if it's from illness or from not using my lungs like I used to (singing, playing flute, screaming at people etc.). The thing that I'm not giving up on, is tracking calories. I started using MyFitnessPal, and since I have friends on there that see me track every day, that accountability has kept me in line. Knowing I have to write down what I'm eating is keeping me from losing my mind, and frankly, it takes a lot less food to feel full so I don't feel like I need to stuff myself. Also, let's be honest--if people can see that you ate Chinese for lunch, Pizza for dinner and Oreo's for a snack...you're going to feel a little guilty, and not want to do it again. I swear that wasn't what I ate yesterday (just for the record, I still kept it under my calorie limit!) To get back on track, I'm heading back to Zumba tonight, because just getting there will help me feel like I'm back on track, and cardio really breeds a desire to do more cardio!<br />
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I went to the gym last week (the day before I got sick) and the gym trainer gave me a bare bones work out, and set me up on cardio for the day. I thought I was going to die. I can do some interval training, but my stamina sucks right now. I didn't realize that I was sick, I just thought I was tired, and I pushed myself really hard and only got 20 minutes of cardio in. That was discouraging, but the next day as I lay in bed shivering with a 102 fever, I understood that I did well listening to my body and stopping when I did. I<br />
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So I need to keep motivated, and keep MOVING, but I need to stop feeling guilty about not being good enough. I need to just be...enough. I need to be ME, and love me, and embrace all that I have learned and all of the knowledge that I have gained. I also need to come to terms with this new person that was hiding in this fat suit. I need to come to terms with a falling ass, and boobs and lots of loose skin, and know that those are a hell of a lot better than being 300lbs. I need to come to terms with getting colder a LOT easier than I used to, and finding myself doing loads of laundry that consist of almost nothing but work out clothing.<br />
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So I leave you with this -- why did you gain the weight? Why do you want to lose it? What is your motivation, and how can you help motivate the people around you? Are you scared to lose the weight you've held onto for so long? How do you deal with seeing a different person in the mirror? What psychological challenges did you face? Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06818565776731697636noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3532540341317754701.post-47792470868809999392013-01-29T06:10:00.000-05:002013-02-28T23:06:50.592-05:00An open letter to my momHave you ever come up with this amazing idea, right before you fall asleep, and then forget it? I do that all of the time, especially with blog ideas, but last night right before I fell asleep last night, say to myself, "God, wake me up early tomorrow morning so I can write this," and at 4:59am, unassisted I woke up. The unassisted wake up is a miracle in it's own, because I hate mornings. The only thing is, God apparently lives in another time zone, because I did NOT intend to get up this early, but I'm awake, and felt really compelled to write this.<br />
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My mom is an amazing lady, and I don't think she's give enough credit for what she's been through to get where she is in her self journey of life. We judge people on the surface, and forget about the journeys and the scars and experiences that bring us to this place in time. If being an adult has taught me anything, it's that adults are just as confused, lost and seeking what they 'want to do when they grow up' that kids are, only they suddenly have a lot less time to do it in. I just want to let my mom know she's appreciated, and thought of, and loved. Even when I forget to call her, she's loved. <br />
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<i><b>Dear Mom, </b></i></div>
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<i><b>I know our relationship has been tumultuous at times, but also know, that I love you more than words can express. I'm sorry for all of the times that I don't call, and I do promise that I'm not ignoring you on purpose, I just suck at calling people back. I think about you all of the time, and have this childish hope that if I don't hear bad news that you're doing well. I love calling you to update you on my life, and projects, and the silly stuff my cat is doing. </b></i></div>
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<i><b>Since I probably haven't said this enough, thank you. Thank you for starting with nothing, and clawing your way through the mess that is life, mental illness, addiction and motherhood. Thank you for putting your kids and husband above ego, illness and alcoholism, and choosing us. Have I ever thanked you for that before? Thank you! Thank you for caring. Thank you for always wanting to learn, and improve yourself and instilling a love of learning and self improvement in your children. Thank you for teaching us to care, and love and hope. We aren't perfect, not a damn one of us. It's okay that you aren't perfect--just constantly working to become better.</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Please know that you are loved. When the voices of depression and self doubt start their whispering in your ears, quash them with the knowledge that you are such an amazing and worthy person. No one taught you how to be a mother, but like grandma said, she's never seen someone work so hard to change themselves.</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Thank you for instilling in me irrefutable goals and desires. You always told me that I was going to college. There wasn't a choice, or room for failure in that statement. You always told me that I would have better than you had, and I did. You gave me the most amazing step-father, whom I call dad, that anyone could ever ask for. You always taught me to marry a man who loved, valued and treated me well. I married a man whose goal in life is to make me happy (and you think he walks on water...he's pretty awesome!). You taught me to love crafts, baking, the outdoors, and how how to never try to birdwatch and drive at the same time! I see you every time I look in the mirror, and am constantly reminded how beautiful you are. </b></i></div>
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<i><b>I know depression can be a black hole. It's the pit of despair, a hopeless vacuum, where you're left wondering when the storm will pass and you can see light again. I know how incredibly difficult it is, and how it seems to never end for you, but I know you can make it out. I know that you can push through it, and keep a glimmer of hope, enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know that you won't give up, and I'm proud of you. </b></i></div>
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<i><b>Mom, you've been through so much. You've done so much, seen so much, given so much, learned and taught, so much. Thank you for everything that you've done, seen, given, and taught me. I am who I am because of you, and because you chose us. I love you. </b></i></div>
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<i><b>Love,</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Leenie</b></i></div>
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Have you told the person you love that you love them lately? I opened my Facebook page and came across this youtube this morning that I want to share. It's the famous singer Andy Grammer, singing with wife. It's a beautiful song based on a Baha'i quote, "Where there is love there is always time," and it's been running through my head as a I wrote this. <br />
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