Vinobaby's Voice by Kerry Ann Morgan

Preparing for the BIG Move

2013-08-22T11:38:00.000-04:00

You may have noticed things have been a little quiet around here.

{Cue pins dropping.}

I'll let you in on a secret: I'm currently off teaching myself Wordpress. Yup, this girl is moving up.

So, if this site looks wonky or disappears for a bit, don't panic. I'll be officially moving to

KerryAnnMorgan.com shortly.

I'll let you know when I've mastered the art of Wordpress design and blog migration. Wish me luck. Keep your fingers crossed. Send wine. I'm going to need it.

See you there soon, my friends!

photo credit: h&b { Lea } via photopin cc

Currently. The end-of-summer edition.

2013-08-12T10:44:00.000-04:00

Reading

I'm in a very rare and tough position—I've started two books, and I can't seem to get into either of them. I've halfheartedly read the first chapters of AND THE MOUNTAINS ECHOED twice. Though Khaled Hosseini's two previous novels left me breathless with their dangerous beauty, I just can't make the leap into this one. I've also picked up one of my favorite women's fiction author's summer release, and I seem to be reading it in a daze. I feel horribly guilty. I want to shout to the books and their authors, "It's not you, it's ME!"

I have a list waiting on my kindle, but nothing is grabbing me. Between books is a dangerous time for me. Need help.

Listening to

Ear worm time!

Steedle, Thomas O, MD

I've been singing this song from Grease 2 all morning, now you can, too.

Today is Kiddo's first day of 4th grade. {gulp} How is this possible? Although he is always up by seven, this morning I had to drag him from between the sheets—literally. I'm not ready for the end of playtime, relaxing, and pressure-free afternoons. I'm not ready to face the homework melt-downs, the drama, the tween angst. Fingers crossed this year will start better than last year. {If you want a clue what I'm talking about, check out my post THE BIGGER HE GETS, THE HARDER I FALL, now up at Kludgy Mom's Best of the Bonfire series. And vote for me. Please?}

Thinking about

My manuscript's next step. I'd still love some more beta readers {hint, hint} but I'm not sure how much more I can do with it. Is it ready? Is it good enough? I'm somehow desperate to start the eternally painful querying process and prepping for the requisite months (or years) of nail-biting and rejection. But I don't think my query letter is perfect. Yes, it must be perfect. Yes, this is an impossible feat. I'm trying to convince myself to cool my heels a bit longer so I can take a Submissions that Sell online class. Patience, right?

Watching

Game of Thrones (season 1). I cannot read epic fantasy, but the hubby is in love with acclaimed series. Since a fanatical fantasy lover and fellow book nerd assured me that this TV series is actually almost as good as the books, I've been watching, immersing myself in this mythical world. Season 1 has proved that there's no way I could have read the immense tombs, but I still love a great fantasy movie or TV series. Season 2 DVDs are already waiting by the TV.

At least now I get all the GOT & George R.R. Martin memes going around.

Bummed out on

My eyes. To celebrate my latest birthday, I bought my first pair of reading glasses. Granted, they are weak ones from the dollar store, but I own my first pair of glasses. I feel old. My days are spent immersed in words—on paper, my kindle, or the computer screen—and when they are blurry, my life seems unclear. Night driving and overall brightness have also bothered me lately, and I know I must get my vision checked out. I'm not sure if I'm embarrassed or proud to admit I've never had my eyes examined as an adult. Probably the former. Promise not to laugh if I'm caught wearing big honking frames in a few days.

Loving

My end-of summer memories. We took our first vacation in AGES. Though hubby has lived in Florida since he was a toddler, he'd never made it down to the Keys. Thanks to some amazing friends (with a timeshare—the BEST kind of friends to have) we spent four nights in paradise. By day we explored pristine beaches, meandered through a sweltering Key West, and glided through turquoise waters. We rented a boat and everyone (even the five-year-old) snorkeled along a shallow coral reef. We surprised a sea turtle, watched a hammerhead chase a stingray in the shallows (I was in the water on the other side of a tiny shoal), and delighted as a pod of curious dolphins surrounded our boat.

Dreamy days followed by stunning tropical sunsets and wonderful company. Perfect.

How's your summer finishing up?

A Summer Show Initiation —The Kid's First Dave Matthew's Band Concert

2013-08-08T08:19:00.000-04:00

For Dave Matthews Band fans, the summer tour is ritual. It doesn't matter if the band released a new album recently. There are no glitzy effects or troupes of scantily clad backup dancers—there's just a prolific jam band playing their hearts out for you, and if you love DMB, you savor every second of the spectacle.

I've been going to DMB summer tour shows—eating, drinking, and being merry—for more years than I care to admit (long before cell phone cameras were popular, thank god). I've married, matured, become a parent since—but I still cherish my one night of everlasting freedom dancing to Dave under the stars.

While this summer pilgrimage to Tampa or West Palm Beach has been an annual event for the hubby and I for well over a decade, this time it was different. This time we were bringing the kid. I almost wish we'd planned an initiation ceremony (although tamer than, say, Rocky Horror "sacrificing of the virgins").

All bets were off. The adventure was on.

Traffic screeched to a halt before we even made it to the highway for our two hour drive to the show. Red and blue lights flashed, and though our senses were on high in anticipation of a night of technicolor glory, these lights were of the wrong variety.

The little one piped up from the backseat. "Looks like an accident."

Turns out it was—AND the remnants of a police chase following a shooting. As we sat in the stalled traffic, cops cuffed the alleged perp and shoved into the back of a squad car.

We hadn't even left the "safety" of our suburb. This was going to be one heck of a night.

The skies opened up just past Disney. My fingers practically hot glued themselves to the steering wheel, but the kid relaxed in the back, playing something on his Kindle. Lucky duck.

Yes, he's wearing his DAD's shirt. ::sniff sniff::

An hour and a half later, the amphitheater appeared. Our plans to arrive early to beat the always wicked concert parking debacle mostly worked. We pulled into a swampy parking spot, set up the bag chairs, and popped our respective PBR, cider, and juice box. It was tailgating time.

Tailgating like a rock star. (must. finish. Harry. Potter.)

Now, normally, the DMB concert is the one night a year Hubby and I act like drunken dancing fools. We join 20,000 fans grooving in the dark (and often stormy) night to a three-hour marathon of music, sharing in a moment of consummate oneness with the happy hoard of fellow faithful enveloping us.

But this time, we had to behave. Instead of going as a wild and winsome twenty-something (as I did sixteen shows ago) I was going as . . . one of those parents . . .

Respectable. Sober. On my best behavior. ::chills going up my spine:: My how times change.

Change can be good.

The amped up festival atmosphere hit us as soon as we approached the main gate. By arriving early, we staked out a prime piece of real estate. With our dollar store shower curtain spread across the soggy grass, we picnicked as the opening band played. We may have skipped our usual vodka-soaked watermelon, but we had hoagies, an unencumbered view, and an excited kid.

Though the clouds hung heavy, threatening to turn our field seats into a mud pit, someone up there had sympathy for us, and the rains held off. I had visions of my 9-year-old sliding down the sloped seating area like it was a giant mud-drenched slip-and-slide. (I'd seen it done by drunk frat boys before. Unfortunately, concert venues provide no showers.)

The crowd sat tamely this year, a trend I've noticed during other concerts in recent years. (Last time we saw NIN everyone SAT the entire show. Un-freaking-believable.) Those around us thought kiddo was adorable and they acted slightly more decorous than usual (meaning no one spilled beer on the kid, elbowed him, or blew smoke his way). They praised us for introducing him to the joys of live music. Seeing a real band live is a completely different experience than just listening on your device of choice—each one of your senses becomes immersed in the music, lighting you up from within.

This show was amazing, as always. And while kiddo enjoyed himself . . .

He grew a little tired being up past his bed time. (Let's hope this trend continues well into his college years.) Never imagined I'd be holding Goldfish instead of a beer at a DMB show.

But at least he stayed awake the whole time, unlike his first concert. We introduced him to Paul McCartney at the ripe old age of six. (Figured we'd train him young—and we hoped he'd think we were cool parents someday. A mom can dream.)

He passed out cold as Sir Paul performed some of the most momentous songs in rock history. Not even the fireworks during Live and Let Die roused him—but we did wake him so he could sing along to Hey Jude.

Though DMB didn't play his favorite song Funny the Way It Is (which will always be his theme song to our Costa Rica vacation back when he was just five), he sang along to the songs he's been raised on.

We all grow up someday. Though the hubby and I felt almost our ages this time, we made memories the kiddo will hopefully remember. And we loved every moment of it.

Have you ever taken your kid(s) to a concert? Do you go yourself? Or do you think I'm just plain crazy?

Review: The Perfume Collector by Kathleen Tessaro

2013-08-05T07:56:00.002-04:00

"You see, nothing is more immediate, more complete than the sense of smell. In an instant, it has the power to transport you. Your olfactory sense connects not the the memory itself, but to the emotion you felt when that memory was made. To recreate a scent memory is one of the most challenging, eloquent pursuits possible. It's poetry, in its most immediate form."

***

Ever since my yoga teacher began laying cloths spritzed with essential oils over my eyes during final rest time (Savasana), I've considered concocting my own unique fragrance. Nothing sultry or elegant, but a delicate aroma which could trigger scent memories, carrying me away to a place of consummate relaxation. I haven't done it yet, but after reading this book, I want to even more.

THE PERFUME COLLECTOR tells the tale of Grace Munroe, a sheltered 1950s young Englishwoman seemingly unsuited for her current situation. The former debutante from an aristocratic family married well, yet she never fits into the fashionable social scene. Though she tries to fulfill her expectations, her outspokenness, and intellectual aspirations leave her feeling detached from her contemporaries.

A spark of excitement (and confusion) ignites her world when she receives in inheritance from an unknown benefactor in France. After she discovers her husband may be having an affair (with a socialite who is the very antithesis of her), she impulsively flies to Paris to unravel the mystery.

The story flips in narration between Grace and the mysterious benefactor, Eva d'Orsey, who we first meet as an orphaned young maid in the 1920s. Eva's story takes us from New York to Monte Carlo, as she uses her wits, looks, and unusual talents to rise out of a life of servitude. . . in a way.

Grace's quest to discover her connection to Eva leads her to a stunning Paris apartment and a long-abandoned Left Bank perfume shop filled with the lingering scent of secrets. By following the scent, Grace uncovers the story of brilliant perfumer and his muse, and how one can trust their own scent memories to remember the past.

Almost everyone loves a Cinderella story. Personally, I'd rather read about smart woman transformed by a sleek haircut and stunning black Balenciaga dress than a prince and a frou-frou ballgown. While this story certainly has a fairy godmother, the happily ever after focuses on a woman's journey to find herself, not her prince charming.

The supporting characters are eccentric, egotistical, and fun to read, adding another layer of sometimes maniacal charm to the story. And as always, I love a novel that can sweep me to faraway times and places while educating me a bit on subjects I know little about. I'll escape to Paris any day, and I had no idea how fragrances were extracted—fascinating!

The dual storylines blend intoxicatingly creating a sweeping jaunt through the decades. **possible spoiler*** Though the final mystery was no great surprise, it was still an enjoyable ride.

Though the THE PERFUME COLLECTOR is over 400 pages, it is an easy read, the plot carrying readers along at a quick pace.

I'll certainly pay finer attention to the scents around me, and I'll make sure I spritz some of my signature scent, Channel Allure, before I walk out the door each day.

THE PERFUME COLLECTOR is the She Reads August selection.
For more about the book, the author, and general book love, check out SheREADS.org.

About the Author: Kathleen Tessaro is the author of ELEGANCE, INNOCENCE, and THE DEBUTANTE. She lives in Pittsburgh with her husband and son.

THE PERFUME COLLECTOR
by Kathleen Tessaro
HarperCollins Publishers
469 pages

The Camping Trip (a.k.a. how to freeze your a$$ off in Florida)

2013-07-25T07:51:00.001-04:00

Camping with my family was just another part of growing up in Florida. I knew how to relieve myself in bushes and bathe in alligator-infested rivers before I could to read.

During my tween years, I was a member of a kick-ass Girl Scout troop. We camped across the country, crashed Boy Scout conventions, and beat them at their own competitions. (Yes, this girl whipped the boys canoeing, tent pitching, knot-tying, and lip-syncing to Madonna.)

I could gut a fish and even earned my hunter's education certification. (Not that I'd EVER willingly shoot an animal—come the apocalypse, this girl will live off wild berries and palm hearts or something. Plus I couldn't hit a target to save my life.)

But you get the point—I was outdoorsy.

WAS.

I hadn't spent a night in the wilderness (not counting the night I slept in my backyard hammock) for over twenty years.

And my husband had NEVER been camping—or the kiddo.

It was long past time to introduce my boys to the great outdoors.

So, when a Groupon popped up for a "campground resort" (a.k.a. KOA) practically around the block from kiddo's soccer fields, I snatched it up. Though on the river and a part of a huge protected wildlife area, it was twenty minuets from home, and ten minutes from a SuperWalmart. Seriously. How rough could it be?

Being the ex-Girl Scout that I am, I made lists. I shopped for lanterns after carefully reading reviews. I dug through Pinterest for campfire cooking recipes. I forced everyone to pitch my parent's old tent in the backyard so they had a clue what to do when I barked orders. I had this down.

The Morgan's First Camping Trip was scheduled during Spring Break. The weather in late-March is usually gorgeous here in the Sunshine State—not too hot yet, but perfect for pleasant days at the beach and springs.The mosquitoes usually aren't around yet to carry me away.

But this year, Spring Break was ridiculously COLD. Like we were running the heat at night. IN FLORIDA. Weather forecasters predicted a freeze night we were scheduled to arrive, so I pleaded with the campground's office to push our reservation back a day, and we crossed our fingers for a speedy warm-up.

Yes, this is the SAME tent as above. I won't mention how old it must be.

Upon arrival, the weather seemed glorious. The sun shined, the thermometer hovered in the 70s, and a dry breeze rustled the trees around the creek. We pitched the old tent without a hitch, unpacked, and explored. The campground centered around a huge old-fashioned Florida spring, and though the water remained at a chilly 72° year-round, kiddo was brave enough to play. It was a good day.

Did I mention we have always used a gas grill at home? We brought along a cute little portable charcoal grill for cooking. We planned to toss firewood in later for our campfire and s'mores. Uhm—execpt we couldn't get the damn charcoal to stay lit. Even with the handy-dandy fire starters I'd crafted from cardboard egg cartons, dryer lint, and wax.

So, diner was a little late, and my boys were ready to go all wildman and eat the meat raw by the time I warmed our food. When we tried to arrange the wood to make a campfire, the logs were twice the size of the fire pit/grill. And we had no ax. Well, shoot. Have you ever tried breaking up wood with a utility hammer? Not how Honest Abe used to split logs.

Once the sun went down, the temperature dropped. Rapidly. And the winds picked up. By the time we decided to retire into our snug tent, we realized it was going to drop back into the 40s overnight.

Then I discovered I didn't pack our sleeping bag.

I swear, I packed half the house in the car. I remembered the air mattress, the air pump, the sheets. But no blanket or sleeping bag to keep us warm.

Did I mention IT WAS REALLY FREAKING COLD?

Hubby offered to drive out to Walmart and buy us a new sleeping bag. Stupid, stubborn me refused. We came with what we came with. If we were in the "real" wilderness, we would figure out how to survive.

Big mistake.

We layered every stitch of clothing I'd packed. Huddling under both sheets, the picnic blanket, the beach towels, and even the plastic table cloth, we tried to quiet our chattering teeth. Yes, I contemplated the whole bare-skin-to-skin method for warmth, but we were in public basically, with our snoring WARM kid not two feet away. I'd remembered HIS sleeping bag, complete with the zip-around-the-head warm hoodie.

We survived the freezing night, sleeping in freezing fits, as my frigid ass kept hitting the almost icy ground (turns out the air mattress had a slow leak, too.)

The next morning, we huddled outside, trying to light a fire for warmth in the wind.

We must have looked pitiful. So pitiful that our neighbors in their Mac-Daddy setup brought us some fresh wood to stoke the fire. (These pros pulled in with their fancy RVs and had canopies unfurled, fire pits roaring, steaks grilling, and booze flowing in less than ten minutes. I'm hooking up with them next time.)

Within hours, we shed our gloves and doubled-up socks and donned our swimsuits. We enjoyed a peaceful canoe trip along the gorgeous Wekiva River. Later, we waded through a clear stream to the springs, where kiddo constructed cities in the sand and the hubby and I relaxed with books and beer.

We survived. My boys say they even had fun. We'll try again soon. I've already bought a new tent.

Now I just need to remember the damn sleeping bags.

*****

Hooking up with Mama Kat again. Come join the fun.

Are you a camper or is a Holiday Inn your idea of roughing it?

Best Summer Reads (part 1)

2013-07-21T13:31:00.002-04:00

Summertime . . . and the readin's easy. . .

I wish I could read a book a day. There must be a dozen books waiting on my Kindle "To Read" queue. I just sent three books I'm dying to read back to the library. (Gasp! But they were two-weekers, and the was no way I'd get through them without racking up some major late fees.) SO many of my favorite authors shower the bookshelves with new summer releases. I just can't keep up. And by trying to read so many book in so little time, I certainly have no to write the reviews they deserve. I'm sorry!

I thought I'd round up some of my recommended summer reads. Some are fresh releases, some I finally got my hands on, and all are fabulous.

Read on, my friends. . .

Looking For Me by Beth Hoffman

Teddi Overman found her life’s passion for furniture in a broken-down chair left on the side of the road in rural Kentucky. She learns to turn other people’s castoffs into beautifully restored antiques, and eventually finds a way to open her own shop in Charleston. There, Teddi builds a life for herself as unexpected and quirky as the customers who visit her shop. Though Teddi is surrounded by remarkable friends and finds love in the most surprising way, nothing can alleviate the haunting uncertainty she’s felt in the years since her brother Josh’s mysterious disappearance. When signs emerge that Josh might still be alive, Teddi is drawn home to Kentucky. It’s a journey that could help her come to terms with her shattered family—and to find herself at last. But first she must decide what to let go of and what to keep.

I absolutely adored this book. But as a women's fiction lover, that's not too surprising. Instead of me raving, I'll let one of my fellow Bookshelf Bombshells, a book lover who does not usually appreciate the WF genre, explain what makes this book stand out. {read full review here}

Ladies Night by Mary Kay Andrews

Grace Stanton’s life as a rising media star and beloved lifestyle blogger takes a surprising turn when she catches her husband cheating and torpedoes his pricey sports car straight into the family swimming pool. Grace suddenly finds herself locked out of her palatial home, checking account, and even the blog she has worked so hard to develop in her signature style.

Moving in with her widowed mother, who owns and lives above a rundown beach bar called The Sandbox, is less than ideal. So is attending court-mandated weekly "divorce recovery" therapy sessions with three other women and one man for whom betrayal seems to be the only commonality. When their “divorce coach” starts to act suspiciously, they decide to start having their own Wednesday "Ladies' Night" sessions at The Sandbox, and the unanticipated bonds that develop lead the members of the group to try and find closure in ways they never imagined. Can Grace figure out a new way home and discover how strong she needs to be to get there?

Heartache, humor, and a little bit of mystery come together in a story about life’s unpredictable twists and turns. Mary Kay Andrews' Ladies' Night will have you raising a glass and cheering these characters on.

I'm an unabashed MKA fan. Her books mix laughter with real life, often with a touch of mystery thrown in for fun. This book captures her wit and spunky style better than any of the last few she's released ( I liked those too, this one's just even better). And it takes place in my Sunshine State. Pack this one in your beach bag.

Maya's Notebook by Isabel Allende

This contemporary coming-of-age story centers upon Maya Vidal, a remarkable teenager abandoned by her parents. Maya grew up in a rambling old house in Berkeley with her grandmother Nini, whose formidable strength helped her build a new life after emigrating from Chile in 1973 with a young son, and her grandfather Popo, a gentle African-American astronomer.

When Popo dies, Maya goes off the rails. Along with a circle of girlfriends known as "the vampires," she turns to drugs, alcohol, and petty crime--a downward spiral that eventually leads to Las Vegas and a dangerous underworld, with Maya caught between warring forces: a gang of assassins, the police, the FBI, and Interpol.

Her one chance for survival is Nini, who helps her escape to a remote island off the coast of Chile. In the care of her grandmother’s old friend, Manuel Arias, and surrounded by strange new acquaintances, Maya begins to record her story in her notebook, as she tries to make sense of her past and unravel the mysteries of her family and her own life.

If I could write like anyone in the world, I'd write like Isabel Allende. A writer can dream. This story differs from most of Allende's works, as it's a modern tale dealing with modern problems—loss, addictions, crime, and atonement. Yet every sentence still reads like music, luring readers into her lyrical world through her words.

Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter

The story begins in 1962. On a rocky patch of the sun-drenched Italian coastline, a young innkeeper, chest-deep in daydreams, looks on over the incandescent waters of the Ligurian Sea and spies an apparition: a tall, thin woman, a vision in white, approaching him on a boat. She is an actress, he soon learns, an American starlet, and she is dying.

And the story begins again today, half a world away, when an elderly Italian man shows up on a movie studio's back lot-searching for the mysterious woman he last saw at his hotel decades earlier.

What unfolds is a dazzling, yet deeply human, roller coaster of a novel, spanning fifty years and nearly as many lives. From the lavish set of Cleopatra to the shabby revelry of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Walter introduces us to the tangled lives of a dozen unforgettable characters: the starstruck Italian innkeeper and his long-lost love; the heroically preserved producer who once brought them together and his idealistic young assistant; the army veteran turned fledgling novelist and the rakish Richard Burton himself, whose appetites set the whole story in motion-along with the husbands and wives, lovers and dreamers, superstars and losers, who populate their world in the decades that follow.

Gloriously inventive, constantly surprising, Beautiful Ruins is a story of flawed yet fascinating people, navigating the rocky shores of their lives while clinging to their improbable dreams

I'm late lauding this one. Drunken 50s movie stars, decrepit Italian villages, and cannibals. What else do you need? Seriously, a marvelous tale you won't want to put down.

***************

More of my favorite books of this summer comming soon.

What books have you fallen in love with this summer?

currently

2013-07-16T10:41:00.002-04:00

Reading
The Kennedy Chronicles. If you were a teen in the 80s/90s, you remember when MTV actually played MUSIC videos and VJs were iconic. Kennedy first appeared on the airwaves in 1992, my senior year of high school, back when we scheduled nightly activities around catching the MTV Top Ten Countdown and Alternative Nation, when the reluctant grunge Gods from Seattle ruled, and when music made a difference. I needed something light and funny that would send me on a toboggan run through memory lane. {I'll probably review this for Bookshelf Bombshells. Keep your eyes peeled.}

I'm also scanning through Noah Lukman's How to Land (and Keep) a Literary Agent. Self-explanatory.

Next up: a dramatic shift to Meg Waite Clayton's The Wednesday Daughters.

Listening to
Tons and tons of Dave Matthews Band. Wednesday night the hubby and I make our annual summer pilgrimage to the DMB concert. I think this will be my 16th show? But this year is different: we're taking the kiddo. His first (and only other) concert experience was at the ripe old age of five, when we introduced him to Sir Paul McCartney. He fell asleep halfway through the amazing show, but we woke him up just in time for him to sing along to his favorite Beatles song, Hey Jude. Now, at nearly ten, I think he'll be able to handle the late night and dancing debauchery much better. And maybe even remember some of it.

Thinking about
Finishing edits on my manuscript. All 90k+ words must be submitted for the final round of judging of the Novel Rocket Launch Pad contest by the end of the month, along with a book proposal. (Remember, I WON the general fiction category in June. Whoo-hoo!) I'm sending chapters to my critique partner as fast as she can read them, and the feedback has been pretty positive. Thinking about where I should put my query letter up for critique.

Watching
Not much. Gator Boys reruns and Of the Hook. If anyone ever told me I'd giggle watching a wild, bearded, sometimes Speedo-wearing wrestler filming his extreme fishing quests, I'd assume someone had whacked them upside the head with a spear gun. Somehow, the whole family enjoys this irreverent show. Maybe it's the combo of animals, humor, and a tiny bit of learning? I cannot explain it.

Bummed out on
The Zimmerman trial debacle. Once again, an over-publicized trial hits too close to home. First Casey Anthony (and I can't even go there), now this. Any of those jurors could literally be my neighbors ( I have noticed a few friends have dropped off the face of the earth these last few weeks). I didn't watch any of the media frenzy or trial. Saturday night, while driving home from an impromptu day of fun, we passed by one of the local news stations as its news chopper took off. The hubby and I exchanged an "uh-oh" look. Sure enough, the verdict was in. I hate the polarization the media has fueled. I don't think this trial could have had a satisfactory conclusion. Both parties made poor decisions. Unfortunately, one paid with his life. I don't know what happened that night—none of us do—though most of people in this country see themselves as jurors. We're not. Let it go. Rioting will not bring the boy back or change the verdict. If you want to vent your outrage, try changing Florida's idiotic gun laws. Then move on.

As Forrest Gump said, "And that's all I have to say about that."

Loving
Spending time with my mom on her birthday. It's been years since we actually enjoyed each other's company on one of our special days. I spend so much time fulfilling obligations, it's a joy to simply relax with a loved one, maybe savor a yummy Panera lunch, and share some stories. Love ya, Mom.

*This post is prompted by Mama Kat and So Sweet. Thanks for the idea, ladies!
**AND I'm sharing over with Shell at Things I can't Say--join the discussion.

The World at Your Fingertips — Top 10 Tips for Taking a MOOC

2013-07-03T13:17:00.000-04:00




Thank you to StudentAdvisor.com for sponsoring this post.

The world at our fingertips...

Anyone who knows me or reads my blog knows I love to learn. If a day goes by without me soaking up some new bit of info, I feel brain cells wither. So when I read about the new MOOC trend sweeping the virtual world, I had explore my options.

What's a MOOC, you ask?

A MOOC is a massive open online course — a web-based, college-level class (taught by a real professor) with unrestricted enrollment. They can take a variety of formats, but the most popular are usually a combination of video, lecture notes, assignments and projects.

Think of them as TEDTalks with homework. They cover subjects from cutting edge technology to the obscure. And, did I mention, they are free?

Yes, you read that right — free Ivy League classes at your fingertips. Have you ever wanted to take Computer Science 101 at Stanford, learned about The Psychology, Biology, and Politics of Food at Yale, or brushed up on The Ancient Greek Hero at Harvard? It's all available to you with only an investment of time.

Most MOOCs are flexible; you can watch videos on demand and fit readings and assignments into your schedule after work, between traditional classes, or even while waiting in the carpool line.

Student Advisors just launched a new website MOOCAdvisor. My article, Top 10 Tips for Taking a MOOC at Student Advisor, is featured over at MOOCAdvisor.

Curious? Go take a look. There are new virtual worlds to explore.

Have you ever taken or considered taking a virtual class?

*****

For more information about MOOCs, please visit StudentAdvisor.com. I was 
selected for this opportunity as a member of Clever Girls 
Collective, and the content and opinions expressed here are 
all my own.

photo credit: Éole via photopin cc

Review: The Firebird by Susanna Kearsley

2013-07-01T06:30:00.000-04:00

"He sent his mind in search of me that morning."

Nicola Marter was born with a gift so rare and dangerous she keeps it buried deep. When she encounters a desperate woman trying to sell a small wooden carving called "The Firebird," claiming it belonged to Russia's Empress Catherine, it's a problem. There is no proof.

But Nicola's held the object. She knows the woman is telling the truth.

With elements of mystery and magical realism, The Firebird intertwines contemporary romance with historical drama, sweeping readers from modern day Scottland to 18th century Russia. I hadn't read a historical fiction book in a while, so this was a refreshing change. I don't think I've picked up a historical with elements of the paranormal since Deborah Harkness's last release.

In present day London, Nicola works with fine Russian works of art. While she's a savvy and well educated woman who excels at her position, she also has a secret: she can see an object's past with just a touch. Nicola fears her power, for the most part ignoring it, until the day she sees—actually "sees"—the visitor's firebird in the presence her ancestor, Anna, and the Empress Catherine. But without revealing her visionary powers, she has no proof.

Knowing she cannot control her power enough to trace the origins of the firebird and prove its provenance, Nicola seeks out Rob, a man from her own past—a man gifted with the power to envision history from just being in proximity. A man she once may have loved.

Nicola easily enlists Rob to join her in her quest to prove the firebird's provenance. Rob, a kind-hearted policeman, is more interested in developing Nicola's talents and possibly rekindling their relationship. Together they travel from seaside Scottish ruins, to rainy streets where a Belgian covenant once stood, to the palaces of St. Petersburg.

Anna's story is more intriguing than Nicola's present day quest. A child born during the Jacobean Rebellion, she's been hidden away from her parents' powerful enemies. Allies faithful to her family's cause—a grandfatherly colonel and a mysterious soldier— whisk her away when danger nears. Clever Anna makes her way in her ever changing worlds, finding strength, family, and love in times where no one is who they seem.

I found the tales of the Jacobites who fled to Russia to serve Their King James in the Russian courts of Peter the Great interesting, as that is a slice of history I don't recall studying thoroughly. And, as you may know from my previous reviews, I love learning something while engrossed in a work of fiction.

Kersley supposedly continues some story lines from her previous novel, The Winter Sea. (I've yet to read it, so I won't mention anything as it may be a spoiler.)

The Firebird will appeal to lovers of historical fiction. It's elements of paranormal and romance are far from overwhelming, and this would be a lovely read to pair with a cup of tea on a chilly day.

The Firebird is the She Reads July book club selection.The wonderful women at She Reads are giving away FIVE copies of THE FIREBIRD. One reader will receive this book and four more of Susanna’s novels.(Again, thanks to the wonderful people at Sourcebooks). Visit SheReads.com today for your chance to win, and throughout the month to discover more about the book, the author, and other fabulous summer reads!

The Firebird
by Susanna Kearsley
Sourchebooks
530 pages

Monarch Madness: Attracting & Raising Butterflies in Your Yard

2013-06-27T07:33:00.001-04:00

If you buy milkweed, butterflies will come.

In droves. Or a flutter. {A group of monarchs is called a flutter. A group of butterflies can be called a swarm, flight, rabble, or my fav a kaleidoscope.}

Back in March, I innocently bought two milkweed (a.k.a. butterfly weed) plants at our favorite annual garden show. Why not? I like butterflies. Not only did the plants have cheerful yellow and orange flowers, they seemed like something I wouldn't immediately kill. Butterflies showed up immediately, and I patted myself on the back.

On Father's Day, I noticed the plants looked scraggly and bare. Upon closer investigation, I discovered why.

They were ~~infested~~ covered in Monarch caterpillars.

I counted at least twenty brightly striped critters devouring our plants. Within a day, the two plants were stripped to their stems. Holy hungry caterpillars! Eric Carle knew what he was talking about. Not wanting our newest family members to starve, I hunted down more more milkweed for our very hungry caterpillars to munch. These rapidly growing little guys are extremely finicky—they ONLY eat milkweed. Luckily, our local Lowe's had some in stock.

Quite by surprise, we had our own summer biology class. Not bad for a slacker parent who planned no educational enrichment for the summer.

We researched how to keep our new pets alive. A few years back, my kiddo received a butterfly cage from Santa. I dug it out, dusted it off, carefully added a few of the largest caterpillars. He'd been begging me to order some online. It couldn't get any more natural (or cheap) then just plucking them from the yard, right?

Mama Monarch lay her eggs (estimated 100 - 300 in her short lifetime) on the milkweed plants yard.

When the eggs hatch in 3 - 4 days, the itsy-bitsy caterpillars (larvae) are only about 2-6 mm.

Then they start eating.

And eating.

And eating.

{and pooping, as you will discover, if you raise them in a cage}

After approx. 10 - 14 days, they reach the size of their final shed {about 2 inches}.

They attach themselves to a stem or a leaf {or the top of the cage} with silk and start metamorphosis. After hanging upside down for a day or so, they shed their caterpillar skin to reveal a green cocoon. It happens in about a minute —amazing!

Seven days later (although all the research says it takes 10-14 days) our butterflies emerge from their cocoons. You have to be quick if you want to catch it—the ones we watched this morning popped out in less than a minute. The new butterflies unfurl their and dry their wings.

The first beauty to hatch didn't want to fly away. We coaxed her onto flowers, tempted her with nectar and blooms, but she wouldn't take to the air. After careful inspection, I noticed she had a broken wing.

Guess she will be spending her short life cycle with us.

We'll be kind.

Want Monarchs in your yard? In most areas, they follow a distinct migration pattern. Here in Florida, they seem to be around for a large chunk of the year, possibly even overwintering in some locals.

Before the migration hits your area, BUY MILKWEED. These beauties are desperate for it. The caterpillars only eat milkweed, so if the female can't find any, she won't lay her eggs.

See—this guy was so enamored by it, he went after the flowers on the plant tag.

Too many Monarchs fell in love with our tiny milkweed patch. We don't have enough plants to sustain all the caterpillars. I've already started milkweed seeds in pots, and I'm going to plant it all around the yard.

This time next year, I will oversee a mammoth butterfly colony.

Save the Monarchs. Buy some milkweed. Your kids will think you're a hero. So will I.

For more information on how to raise butterflies, click here. I followed the guide provided by My Monarch Guide. She even includes the simple household items you can use to create a Monarch habitat. It's easy. You can do it. The Monarchs & your kids will thank you.

Should Authors Write Book Reviews or Stick with Book Promotion?

2013-06-24T07:42:00.000-04:00

Last week, Kirsten Lamb (leader of the #WANA Writer's Tribe and author of #1 best-selling books We Are Not Alone—The Writer’s Guide to Social Media and Are You There, Blog? It’s Me, Writer) stirred up some controversy in the writer-sphere. Her blog, a wealth of writerly words of wisdom, is one of the first I read daily (and if your a writer, you should read it, too). Like most of her readers, I'm an aspiring novelist, and her post made me wonder if by posting book reviews I've written myself into a corner.

The Three NEVERs of Social Media (for writers) via Kristen Lamb

1. Never be nasty in a blog comment. Agree. Unless the blogger is an ass-hat writing about raping and pillaging as a hobby or something else ridiculously offensive.

2. Never be nasty on twitter. Yes. Though I'd never intentionally be nasty to another tweeter, I should cut down my snarky commentaries about celebs and politicians (unless they fall into the "fair game" category). Maybe even then.

3. Never write a bad book review. Yeah, but... What constitutes a "bad" review?

"This doesn’t apply to book bloggers and book reviewers. That’s your job and we love that you give us guidance on what to read. But, as authors? I believe in what Candace Havens calls Writer Karma. If I can’t give a book a five-star rave review? I just don’t review it. Again, publishing is a small world and we all need each other. The world is already out to throw us under a bus. We need each other to keep from turning into cutters."

What if someone is a book blogger AND an aspiring author?

How many books truly worthy of a five-star review are out there? Reviewers seem to base their star ratings on a sliding scale. Some dole out stars like cheap Halloween candy, whereas I hoard my fives. In my imagined ratings scale, a three-star is book good, not amazing, but decent read if you happen upon it. A four-star is excellent, a book I recommend. A five-star is blow-me-out-of-my-chair, go buy this in hardback NOW, then pass it along to all of your friends and family.

I read many good books, even more excellent novels I'd wholeheartedly recommend for others read, but very few works that take my breath away.

So, should I only review those few? Are my expectations too high? Should I revise my ratings scale? Or is that shifting from a review to book promotion?

On my blog, I refuse to give star ratings. I prefer to discuss what I loved about the book. By highlighting the positives—the way the author wove subplots, developed character, or uniquely captured ideas that resonate— potential readers can decide if this book is for them. Most books I review are character, not plot driven, and sometimes I explain what drove me nuts about a particular character. But nicely. Subjectively. It's just my opinion. And infuriating characters are often a part of a damn good (four or five-star) novel. Anyone who's a member of a book club knows how amazing books often open our minds to different ideas and occasionally heated debate. Passion leaves an impression.

In the comments of Kristen's follow-up post Should Authors Write Bad Book Reviews many commentators discussed correcting grammar and critiquing technical issues "so the author could learn from their mistakes." Whoa. Stop the presses. Publishing critiques?

A BOOK REVIEW and a BOOK CRITIQUE are not synonymous.

A CRITIQUE should be done before a book is published, in private, so the author may find issues within a manuscript before publication. Here's where one can point out homophones and misplaces commas, plot holes or factual errors. It can also be used in the classroom (and many English Lit majors spent years dissecting everything from Shakespeare to Shel Silverstein). Trust me. My work in progress is in the process of being ~~critiqued~~ shredded so I can piece it back together. I invite knowledgeable readers/writers to constructively dissect it so it can improve. Without claws and in private, please.

Reading through her post's comments I was shocked how many writer/readers have sent emails to authors gigging them on grammar. I could never EVER imagine sending an author a note of criticism, constructive or not, about what I disliked about their published work. Some authors wrote how this skewed their heart. Others said they appreciated the constructive criticism.

A BOOK REVIEW is an impartial commentary, written so that others can decide if they would like to read the book. Reviews should be written from a reader's POV, not a writer's. It should be helpful, mentioning a plot summary and character sketches. It should discuss setting, themes, readability, and memorable scenes. It should explain who the book would appeal to and why. It can discuss issues that might have rubbed the reviewer the wrong way. But it should be cruelty-free.

And it should be honest. If a reviewer gushes about every single book, their credibility evaporates.

The Book PROMOTER vs. REVIEWER

Some book blogs and reviewers primarily promote books. Now, in today's world where authors (even traditionally published) are often responsible for 100% of their own book promotion, they NEED people to write about their books. If no one is reviewing them, posting about them, or singing their praises over their social media networks, no one will know their baby is "out there" in the seemingly infinite book market. But a book promotion post is often not a review—it may be a summary, book blurbs, author Q&A, or funny antidote. Many times, the blogger may not have even read the book. And it's overwhelmingly positive. That's all good, so long as readers understand it for what it is.

Again, authors desperately need straight book promotion. And they need reviews, good reviews, with at least four to five stars to get anywhere with Amazon's ever-fluctuating algorithms. Reviews help sell books. Writer's need to eat.

And maybe, in this touchy world of book reviews, Kristen is suggesting authors (published & non-published) become more promoters than reviewers? Writers have vast and enduring memories. Friends can be hard to come by, and enemies hard to shake. So why make any? We're all in this together, right?

Then there's the whole issue with karma...

Buy this shirt at cafepress.com

Kristen spurned so much discussion with these posts, she kept the dialog open with a third installment, Is It FAIR for Authors to Review Other Authors? Do We Ruin the Magic? If you're a writer or a book reviewer, these posts and their comments (each as over a hundred) will get you thinking. Even though I didn't agree with the whole "Only Five-Star" bit in the first of the series, I loved the dialog these posts stirred up.

I won't be writing any more negative reviews. (I think I've only written one, as I had to express my disbelief about the Fifty Shades phenomena. Oh wait—I didn't care for Rowling's The Casual Vacancy either. Both authors made enough moula that I don't believe my rant hurt their sales much.) I've received many books from publishers which I've declined to review. If I couldn't say anything nice, I chose to say nothing at all. But I think I must review more than just the lofty five-star works. There are too many authors out there who deserve praise and publicity ... and hopefully a few more sales.

What do you want to learn from a book review?

Should authors review books?

Do you write reviews or base you book buying on reviews?

photo credit: orangeacid via photopin cc

Review: The Mermaid of Brooklyn by Amy Shearn

2013-06-19T08:09:00.001-04:00

"For a woman in my state, a free afternoon was a dangerous proposition."

Jenny Lipkin is an average, stretched-too-thin Brooklyn mom, tackling the challenges of raising two children in a cramped Park Slope walk-up and bonding with other moms about breast-feeding while spending endless hours in Prospect Park. All she really wants is to survive the sweltering New York summer with a shred of sanity intact. But when her husband, Harry, a compulsive gambler, vanishes one evening without a word, Jenny finally reaches her breaking point. And in a moment of despair, a split second decision changes her life forever. Pulled from the brink by an unexpected (and, as it turns out, sometimes annoying) supernatural ally, Jenny is forced to rethink her ideas about success, motherhood, romance, and relationships. Confronting her inner demons—of both the mermaid and non-mermaid variety—is no easy task, and eventually Jenny has to come to terms with who she truly is, for better or worse.

~~from The Mermaid of Brooklyn reading guide

I loved this book, even though it drove me nuts sometimes.

Shearn perfectly captures the endless doldrums of parenthood: those days when a mother can be stretched to the breaking point by the self-perpetuating demands of society and by the episodic little terrorists of our her creation. How a mother can completely loose herself as her mind withers and she can't even pick up Cheerios from the floor or comprehend how they keep ending up there. How she can love her kids, yet sometimes be afraid of who they may be.

Everything in the story happened to Jenny. She let herself fall into this pit of despair, in a way not taking any responsibility for how she fell into this pit (and later "fell" off the Brooklyn Bridge). Her husband, who isn't the greatest guy, goes out for a pack of cigarettes and never comes back— and she's kind of okay with that. She's depressed and/or struggling with postpartum depression, but even after contemplating suicide, she won't go back on her meds. Perhaps she's just weak or overwrought.

Jenny snaps, and in a moment of darkness, dies. Or she thinks she dies. She slips off the Brooklyn Bridge only to be brought back from the depths of the with the soul of a rusalka (a menacing mermaid from Slavic lore) who strives to live vicariously through Jenny. She returns to her hum-drum yet precarious life refreshed and ready to regain control of her two undisciplined young daughters, sew magical reproduction dresses, and aim her pent-up sex drive at the neighborhood stay-at-home dad.

At times, I wasn't sure if Jenny was possessed by a supernatural being or if she was bipolar. The mermaid who supposedly roamed the East River (excuse me—ruskala —one of the "the unavenged spirits of suicides, forsaken girls, betrayed brides, unwed mothers-to-be") acted as the polar opposite of Jenny, so she may have been an easy out for Jenny to release her impulses. Or she could have been a fairy tale creature. I'm still not sure. And I don't know if it matters to the plot. The story is painted as "magical" so I guess we'll go with the modern fable twist.

All of Jenny's issues bring me back to the issue of likable characters, a point that has been driving me crazy in my own writing lately. Sometimes I wanted to hug Jenny, help her get through the day. Sometimes I simply wanted to smack some sense into her. When Jenny's apartment grew to call-child-services messy (just clean up the spilled milk already!), I wanted to calmly explain how it IS possible to shower with kids. But she touches on ideas that modern moms think but don't dare say—"I hated that I felt like I had to be unhappy in order for it to count as important." Yes. We never utter this aloud, but stress,contentment, and importance form a sticky web many moms can't untangle.

I don't believe we need a character to be our best friend for us to find her story compelling and readable. A real character is not necessarily always nice, even in Women's Fiction. I empathized with her as if she was a friend or relative who I still liked, though I may not approve of her choices. And I wanted to discover where those iffy choices would lead.

Which makes it a good story.

Shearn's writing is insightful, sharp, and sometimes wickedly funny. Though the Park Slope stay-at-home-mom is a slightly different breed from my own suburban Florida variety (and she skewers us weak suburbanites often), she nailed the frantic ennui. Jenny, and the story, possess a depth and cleverness that sometimes borders on literary without being pretentious.

You may want to hug Jenny, you may want to toss her off a bridge, but you'll have to decide for yourself. Whether you've enjoyed or endured the traumas of this generation's touchy-feely-parenting, this story will resonate with modern moms. The Readers Guide at the end is excellent—The Mermaid of Brooklyn would make a fabulous selection for some feisty book club discussions.

The Mermaid of Brooklyn
by Amy Shearn
368 pages
Touchstone, April 3, 2013

Amy Shearn Writes | Twitter | Facebook

Launching from the Depths

2013-06-11T08:24:00.001-04:00

If anyone is still out there...I'm still here.

I haven't been posting much lately. My brain has been fried nightly grading standardized student MATH exams. Did I mention I hate math. Grading 500 4-part algebra/trig/geometry problems an hour has been penance for every wrong I've ever committed or considered. The quality of work truly made me fear for the students of this generation. No, I cannot reveal which state's horrible exam I graded, but if your kid is in summer school or flunked a grade becasue of me, I'm sorry.

Wait. I'm not at all sorry. If I marked it wrong, it was WRONG and the kid needs to learn. Ack, the guilt.

But it was a temporary paycheck.

And lately, I've been in dire need of some cashflow. Would you believe that being an unpublished aspiring novelist doesn't pay well?

Recently I've felt as if the Fates have been messing with me. Everything is breaking down. Dear family friends passed away. The car brain (and several other cranky parts) fizzled out. Our main a/c broke again and must be replaced. The kiddo's tween hormones and attitude kicked in. So it shouldn't have been too much of a surprise that my blood pressure spiked higher than an obese senior's with a 50-year smoking habit, right? Even though I'm thin. I eat my veggies. I do yoga for cripes sake.

Too much.

So I set my writing and blogging aside in a sudden reprioritizing of my life. I ignored social media, my immense list of unread blog posts, and my floundering manuscript.

Well, after I tidied that manuscript up for a contest.

The contest's word limit was a scant 4,500. My first two chapters weighed in at about 7,500. Crap. I whittled and slashed and sometimes squeezed my eyes shut as I hit delete repeteadly. But I nitpiked that sucker down.

Then I discovered the place in hell they save for those crafting that nasty little Two Page Synopsis. (For those not in the industry, imagine condensing a 100k novel into 450 words including all relevant characters, plot, subplots, tone, voice, everything.)

While the pictures in my office to get me in the mood all look like this:

I may as well have been staring at this:


Christ In Limbo by Hieronymus Bosch, 1575. Image: http://www.imamuseum.org/art/collections/artwork/christ-limbo-bosch-hieronymus

But I did it. I submitted my chopped 4,500 first chapters and my synopsis. (Which never would have made any sense without the brilliant guidance of my critique partner--thank you!!)

And...

I won.

Well, I won the General Fiction category.

Someone besides me (after a few glasses of wine) thinks my manuscript is not total crap.

Sometimes that's all a girl needs to get back in the game.

Novel Rocket Launch Pad Competition

First Choice General Fiction

{If you happen to follow this link you'll find the first duly edited version of my entry. Edited once because, as stated before, I hacked the hell out of my first two chapters to fit it into the wordcount. And twice because it's a Christian affiliated website, and my characters tend to swear. So no, my Ivy doesn't say "Cuss" — some situations call for the f-bomb.}

Lauren Graham's Debut Novel & Rory Gilmore's Reading Challenge

2013-05-22T07:47:00.000-04:00

Lauren Graham wrote a novel—sharp, poignant, snort-coffee-out-your-nose funny novel that you do not want to miss. Her debut SOMEDAY, SOMEDAY MAYBE earned my Buy It NOW rating over on Bookshelf Bombshells. I absolutely adored this book. Rush over there and read the full review.

But here's a quick synopsis from Goodreads:

Franny Banks is a struggling actress in New York City, with just six months left of the three year deadline she gave herself to succeed. But so far, all she has to show for her efforts is a single line in an ad for ugly Christmas sweaters and a degrading waitressing job. She lives in Brooklyn with two roommates-Jane, her best friend from college, and Dan, a sci-fi writer, who is very definitely not boyfriend material-and is struggling with her feelings for a suspiciously charming guy in her acting class, all while trying to find a hair-product cocktail that actually works.

Meanwhile, she dreams of doing "important" work, but only ever seems to get auditions for dishwashing liquid and peanut butter commercials. It's hard to tell if she'll run out of time or money first, but either way, failure would mean facing the fact that she has absolutely no skills to make it in the real world. Her father wants her to come home and teach, her agent won't call her back, and her classmate Penelope, who seems supportive, might just turn out to be her toughest competition yet.

Someday, Someday, Maybe is a funny and charming debut about finding yourself, finding love, and, most difficult of all, finding an acting job. ~from Goodreads

Since Ms Graham's delightful novel left me to twitching in Gilmore Girl withdrawal, I decided to jump on the Rory Gilmore Reading Challenge.

You've probably seen this make the rounds, as I'm always a few years late to the party, but I'm a sucker for book lists and reading challenges.

I've had a huge hole in my television viewing pleasure since that smart and sassy show went off the air years ago. {If you never watched it, go back and buy the entire series on dvd. NOW. You won't regret it.}

Rory Gilmore was a breath of fresh air in a TV world dominated by brainless bimbos fighting over boys and their fifteen minutes of fame. Between her brains, bookworm tendencies, and her witty banter she broke the Hollywood mold of what a typical American teenage girl should be and gave a generation someone to emulate.

And she got the hot guys anyway.

This meme/challenge lists 250 books mentioned by Rory during the show's run. I didn't count them to verify.

The books in orange I know I've read. I'm embarrassed to admit that there are many on the list I can't remember if I actually read or just saw the movie. (I've been reading for a loooong time...)

How would you do?

1984 by George Orwell
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon
An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser
Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
Archidamian War by Donald Kagan
The Art of Fiction by Henry James
The Art of War by Sun Tzu
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
Atonement by Ian McEwan
Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy
The Awakening by Kate Chopin
Babe by Dick King-Smith
Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women by Susan Faludi
Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie
Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
Beloved by Toni Morrison
Beowulf: A New Verse Translation by Seamus Heaney
The Bhagava Gita
The Bielski Brothers: The True Story of Three Men Who Defied the Nazis, Built a Village in the Forest, and Saved 1,200 Jews by Peter Duffy
Bitch in Praise of Difficult Women by Elizabeth Wurtzel
A Bolt from the Blue and Other Essays by Mary McCarthy
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Brick Lane by Monica Ali
Bridgadoon by Alan Jay Lerner
Candide by Voltaire – read – June 2010
The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer
Carrie by Stephen King
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger – read
Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White
The Children’s Hour by Lillian Hellman
Christine by Stephen King
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
The Code of the Woosters by P.G. Wodehouse
The Collected Short Stories by Eudora Welty
The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty by Eudora Welty
A Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare
Complete Novels by Dawn Powell
The Complete Poems by Anne Sexton
Complete Stories by Dorothy Parker
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

Cousin Bette by Honor’e de Balzac
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber – started and not finished
The Crucible by Arthur Miller
Cujo by Stephen King
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon – read – 2009
Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende
David and Lisa by Dr Theodore Issac Rubin M.D
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
The Da Vinci -Code by Dan Brown
Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol
Demons by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller
Deenie by Judy Blume
The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America by Erik Larson
The Dirt: Confessions of the World’s Most Notorious Rock Band by Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars and Nikki Sixx
The Divine Comedy by Dante
The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells
Don Quijote by Cervantes
Driving Miss Daisy by Alfred Uhrv
Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Tales & Poems by Edgar Allan Poe
Eleanor Roosevelt by Blanche Wiesen Cook
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe
Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters by Mark Dunn
Eloise by Kay Thompson
Emily the Strange by Roger Reger
Emma by Jane Austen
Empire Falls by Richard Russo
Encyclopedia Brown: Boy Detective by Donald J. Sobol
Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton
Ethics by Spinoza
Europe through the Back Door, 2003 by Rick Steves
Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer
Extravagance by Gary Krist
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
Fahrenheit 9/11 by Michael Moore
The Fall of the Athenian Empire by Donald Kagan
Fat Land: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World by Greg Critser
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson
The Fellowship of the Ring: Book 1 of The Lord of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien (TBR) – read
Fiddler on the Roof by Joseph Stein
The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom
Finnegan’s Wake by James Joyce
Fletch by Gregory McDonald
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem
The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Franny and Zooey by J. D. Salinger
Freaky Friday by Mary Rodgers
Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut
Gender Trouble by Judith Butler
George W. Bushism: The Slate Book of the Accidental Wit and Wisdom of our 43rd President by Jacob Weisberg
Gidget by Fredrick Kohner
Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen
The Gnostic Gospels by Elaine Pagels
The Godfather: Book 1 by Mario Puzo
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy – started and not finished
Goldilocks and the Three Bears by Alvin Granowsky
Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
The Good Soldier by Ford Maddox Ford
The Gospel According to Judy Bloom
The Graduate by Charles Webb
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
The Group by Mary McCarthy
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J. K. Rowling
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad (TBR)
Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders by Vincent Bugliosi and Curt Gentry (TBR)
Henry IV, part I by William Shakespeare
Henry IV, part II by William Shakespeare
Henry V by William Shakespeare
High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon
Holidays on Ice: Stories by David Sedaris
The Holy Barbarians by Lawrence Lipton
House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus III (Lpr)
The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende
How to Breathe Underwater by Julie Orringer
How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss
How the Light Gets in by M. J. Hyland
Howl by Allen Gingsburg
The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
The Iliad by Homer
I’m with the Band by Pamela des Barres
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
Inferno by Dante
Inherit the Wind by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee
Iron Weed by William J. Kennedy
It Takes a Village by Hillary Clinton
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan
Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare
The Jumping Frog by Mark Twain
The Jungle by Upton Sinclair
Just a Couple of Days by Tony Vigorito
The Kitchen Boy: A Novel of the Last Tsar by Robert Alexander
Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini –
Lady Chatterleys’ Lover by D. H. Lawrence
The Last Empire: Essays 1992-2000 by Gore Vidal
Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
The Legend of Bagger Vance by Steven Pressfield
Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis
Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke
Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them by Al Franken
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens
The Little Locksmith by Katharine Butler Hathaway
The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott
Living History by Hillary Rodham Clinton
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
The Lottery: And Other Stories by Shirley Jackson
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
The Love Story by Erich Segal
Macbeth by William Shakespeare
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
The Manticore by Robertson Davies
Marathon Man by William Goldman
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter by Simone de Beauvoir
Memoirs of General W. T. Sherman by William Tecumseh Sherman
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
The Meaning of Consuelo by Judith Ortiz Cofer
Mencken’s Chrestomathy by H. R. Mencken
The Merry Wives of Windsor by William Shakespeare
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
The Miracle Worker by William Gibson
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
The Mojo Collection: The Ultimate Music Companion by Jim Irvin
Moliere: A Biography by Hobart Chatfield Taylor
A Monetary History of the United States by Milton Friedman
Monsieur Proust by Celeste Albaret
A Month Of Sundays: Searching For The Spirit And My Sister by Julie Mars
A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
Mutiny on the Bounty by Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall
My Lai 4: A Report on the Massacre and It’s Aftermath by Seymour M. Hersh
My Life as Author and Editor by H. R. Mencken
My Life in Orange: Growing Up with the Guru by Tim Guest
Myra Waldo’s Travel and Motoring Guide to Europe, 1978 by Myra Waldo
My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult
The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer
The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
The Nanny Diaries by Emma McLaughlin
Nervous System: Or, Losing My Mind in Literature by Jan Lars Jensen
New Poems of Emily Dickinson by Emily Dickinson
The New Way Things Work by David Macaulay
Nickel and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich
Night by Elie Wiesel
Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen
The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism by William E. Cain, Laurie A. Finke, Barbara E. Johnson, John P. McGowan
Novels 1930-1942: Dance Night/Come Back to Sorrento, Turn, Magic Wheel/Angels on Toast/A Time to be Born by Dawn Powell
Notes of a Dirty Old Man by Charles Bukowski
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
Old School by Tobias Wolff
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Opposite of Fate: Memories of a Writing Life by Amy Tan
Oracle Night by Paul Auster
Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
Othello by Shakespeare
Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens
The Outbreak of the Peloponnesian War by Donald Kagan
Out of Africa by Isac Dineson
The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton
A Passage to India by E.M. Forster
The Peace of Nicias and the Sicilian Expedition by Donald Kagan
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
Peyton Place by Grace Metalious
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Pigs at the Trough by Arianna Huffington
Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi
Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain
The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby
The Portable Dorothy Parker by Dorothy Parker
The Portable Nietzche by Fredrich Nietzche
The Price of Loyalty: George W. Bush, the White House, and the Education of Paul O’Neill by Ron Suskind
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Property by Valerie Martin
Pushkin: A Biography by T. J. Binyon
Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw
Quattrocento by James Mckean
A Quiet Storm by Rachel Howzell Hall
Rapunzel by Grimm Brothers
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
The Razor’s Edge by W. Somerset Maugham
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books by Azar Nafisi
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin
The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
Rescuing Patty Hearst: Memories From a Decade Gone Mad by Virginia Holman
The Return of the King: The Lord of the Rings Book 3 by J. R. R. Tolkien (TBR) – read
R Is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton
Rita Hayworth by Stephen King
Robert’s Rules of Order by Henry Robert
Roman Holiday by Edith Wharton
Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf
A Room with a View by E. M. Forster
Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin
The Rough Guide to Europe, 2003 Edition
Sacred Time by Ursula Hegi
Sanctuary by William Faulkner
Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay by Nancy Milford
Say Goodbye to Daisy Miller by Henry James
The Scarecrow of Oz by Frank L. Baum
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
Seabiscuit: An American Legend by Laura Hillenbrand
The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir
The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd
Secrets of the Flesh: A Life of Colette by Judith Thurman
Selected Hotels of Europe
Selected Letters of Dawn Powell: 1913-1965 by Dawn Powell
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
A Separate Peace by John Knowles
Several Biographies of Winston Churchill
Sexus by Henry Miller
The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Shane by Jack Shaefer
The Shining by Stephen King
Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse
S Is for Silence by Sue Grafton
Slaughter-house Five by Kurt Vonnegut
Small Island by Andrea Levy
Snows of Kilimanjaro by Ernest Hemingway
Snow White and Rose Red by Grimm Brothers
Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World by Barrington Moore
The Song of Names by Norman Lebrecht
Song of the Simple Truth: The Complete Poems of Julia de Burgos by Julia de Burgos
The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker
Songbook by Nick Hornby
The Sonnets by William Shakespeare
Sonnets from the Portuegese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sophie’s Choice by William Styron
The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov
Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach
The Story of My Life by Helen Keller
A Streetcar Named Desiree by Tennessee Williams
Stuart Little by E. B. White
Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust
Swimming with Giants: My Encounters with Whales, Dolphins and Seals by Anne Collett
Sybil by Flora Rheta Schreiber
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
Tender Is The Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Term of Endearment by Larry McMurtry
Time and Again by Jack Finney
The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
To Have and Have Not by Ernest Hemingway
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
The Tragedy of Richard III by William Shakespeare
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
The Trial by Franz Kafka
The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters by Elisabeth Robinson
Truth & Beauty: A Friendship by Ann Patchett
Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom
Ulysses by James Joyce
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath 1950-1962 by Sylvia Plath
Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe
Unless by Carol Shields
Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann
The Vanishing Newspaper by Philip Meyers
Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray
Velvet Underground’s The Velvet Underground and Nico (Thirty Three and a Third series) by Joe Harvard
The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
Walt Disney’s Bambi by Felix Salten
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
We Owe You Nothing – Punk Planet: The Collected Interviews edited by Daniel Sinker
What Color is Your Parachute? 2005 by Richard Nelson Bolles
What Happened to Baby Jane by Henry Farrell
When the Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka
Who Moved My Cheese? Spencer Johnson
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee
Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire – started and not finished
The Wizard of Oz by Frank L. Baum
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

**I've caught dozens of books that I should have read, yet they somehow slipped by. I think a few may even be on my bookshelves. I'll add them to the never-ending to-read list. . .

Super Simple S'mores Bites

2013-05-14T07:49:00.000-04:00

These are so easy, we can't consider this a "recipe." Instead, let's call these "directions." Super simple directions. Like, you can train your kids to make these themselves directions.

But dang, these things are good.

Last Saturday Kiddo celebrated his last soccer match of the season with a party at the Springs. We were supposed to bring our own picnic, but since my hubby is the assistant coach, I thought it would be nice to bring an extra treat for the team.

Thursday night after work I combed through Pinterest for something super simple to make. Note: I did not write "bake." I haven't been getting home until nearly eleven p.m. and my Saturday morning was booked. Oh, and I needed to have all ingredients on hand. No time to hit the store.

Complicated was out — but cute was in.

I found several versions of these adorable little dudes. Call them S'mores Bites, S'mores Cookies, S'mores Treats—I call them delish. And so did everyone at the party.

Seriously, these things were a hit. I stuck them on a recycled catering tray. (NEVER throw a catering tray away. I reuse them for everything.) The ooohs and ahhhs hit immediately. The kids hovered around the tray, begging me to let them attack. Three dozen treats disappeared in two minutes. I barely snagged one.

All the parents asked me where I bought them. {giggle giggle}

Total crowd pleaser. These baby's are my new potluck go-to.

They are simple enough to make for an after school snack or late night attach of the munchies. THREE ingredients. I happened to have caramel-filled Hershey's Kisses in my freezer (leftover from some Christmas project, I think) and they worked perfectly, adding an extra layer of oozy-gooeyness to each bit. Heaven.

I also just so happened to have a biscuit cutter on hand to make the rounds. No idea why. I've never made or intend to make a biscuit from scratch. Ever. Cutting the graham crackers into rounds is not necessary (especially if you're making these for a quick snack) but it does make them appear a bit more professional. Just in case you want to impress the other soccer moms or your kid's teacher.

Kiddo helped make the first batch (without complaints!) and could have done the whole bit by himself. You can make four or four dozen in minutes. And if you're making a small batch, just pop them into the toaster oven—as I did just minutes ago.

Easy-peasy.

Super Simple S'mores Bites

makes 24 (but you'll want more)

12 graham cracker sheets (or 24 digestive biscuits)
12 large marshmallows
24 unwrapped Hersey's Kisses (the caramel-filled are PERFECT, but use any variety)

Using a round cookie or biscuit cutter, cut 2 rounds from each full graham cracker sheet.
Cut each marshmallow in half keeping the flat sides whole. (Put them in the fridge first. Makes much less sticky.)
Place graham crackers on cookie sheet. Top with marshmallow (cut side down).
Broil for about 2 minutes. Depending on how hot your oven gets, they could brown up quicker. I'd suggest checking every 30 seconds.
Take out of oven and immediately press a Kiss into the center. Make sure to press, because that's what glues it all together.
Cool. Enjoy warm or room temp!

*I based this off directions on Classy Cooking, but there seem to be many versions of these out there.

Review: Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline

2013-05-06T08:46:00.000-04:00

From Harper Collins: Orphan Train is a gripping story of friendship and second chances from Christina Baker Kline, author of Bird in Hand and The Way Life Should Be.

Penobscot Indian Molly Ayer is close to “aging out” out of the foster care system. A community service position helping an elderly woman clean out her home is the only thing keeping Molly out of juvie and worse...

As she helps Vivian sort through her possessions and memories, Molly learns that she and Vivian aren’t as different as they seem to be. A young Irish immigrant orphaned in New York City, Vivian was put on a train to the Midwest with hundreds of other children whose destinies would be determined by luck and chance.

Molly discovers that she has the power to help Vivian find answers to mysteries that have haunted her for her entire life – answers that will ultimately free them both.

Rich in detail and epic in scope, Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline is a powerful novel of upheaval and resilience, of unexpected friendship, and of the secrets we carry that keep us from finding out who we are.

My review:

From a historical standpoint, this book captured my attention. Before I read Laura Moriarty's The Chaperone earlier this year, I'd never heard of the "orphan trains." Between 1854 and 1929, thousands of orphaned and abandoned children were packed up like damaged goods, shipped from the East Coast to the Midwest, then passed off to any adult with an interest in a child. Didn't matter what that interest might be—older boys sometimes became field hands, older girls might end up (as in this book) as nannies or seamstresses. The infants and toddlers most likely went to families who actually wanted a child to become a part of their family, but often the older kids (I'm talking eight-ish and up) sometimes ended up as nothing more than free labor.

We know going into this, the now 91-year-old Vivian Daly must not have been one of the lucky children. After a tragic fire kills her family, she's shipped to Minnesota, and due to hear age and red hair, found hard to place. Life is hard—harder than almost any modern day middle class kids can imagine—as she's bumped between "homes" where she's treated not better than a slave. She's exposed to a life no 9-year-old girl should know. But things like that happened back then—and in some parts of the world today, they still do.

I almost wanted this book to be a middle grade or YA novel. Something about adult novels told by children and in narrated first person point of view throws me off. Several chapters in, I realized Vivian (then Niamh—her name is changed several times thought her childhood) is the same age as my son. And she was about a thousand times more layered, eloquent, mature, and verbose than he could aspire to be on his best day at age nine. But as the story is told in rotating present tense, every time Vivian had these profoundly beautiful thoughts, I stuttered over the prose a bit, remembering she's only nine. And her only education came by her poor Irish migrant mother teaching her some reading.

If I didn't currently have a kid this age, I don't know if this would have phased me, but...

Now Molly, the 17-year-old modern day foster kid, rang more true to me. Her voice was distinctive. There was a clear shift in point of view. Even though she was older than the young flashback Viv, she seemed far less mature, yet age appropriate.

I enjoyed the way Vivian and Molly's relationship grew together, and how by discovering their similarities, they discovered their strengths. Though the times described were often tough, this book was a short, easy, engrossing read. I couldn't help but be drawn into the story, knowing that since present day Vivian seemed not only wealthy, but content, things would eventually turn out for her—but how?

You'll have to read it yourself to find out.

Orphan Train is the She Reads May Book Pick.

To WIN ONE OF TEN COPIES visit SheReads.com.

Orphan Train
by Christina Baker Kline
William Morrow, 304 pages

Christina Baker Kline's Website | Facebook| Twitter

I'm building an ark...and filling it with books and wine

2013-05-02T15:01:00.003-04:00

I've been rather quiet here in the virtual world. The "real" world has become rather messy lately, and I've temporarily realigned my priorities. {ehem}

But don't feel neglected. I've barely touched my manuscript in weeks, though post-it notes filled with chicken-scratch edit ideas cover every flat surface in my house. Wonky work hours have forbidden me from sipping wine on weekdays (my back and neck are quite pissed off about this as those areas are now absorbing all my stress). AND reading has become an imagined bliss as far fetched as enjoying a massage on a Costa Rican beach.

Seriously. My wine shop must think I've died. It took me a week and a half to read the hilarious Stephanie McAffee's Diary of a Mad Fat Girl. A week-and-a-half. I should have devoured that book in one sitting, like a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia. I have no time to review it, but if you like funny, read it. That woman is a hoot. ( I met her in person at the UCF Bookfest a few weeks ago. HOOT.)

WITHDRAWAL ALERT

Let the shakes commence

Between those issues, my temp job, illnesses, funerals, pre-tween meltdowns, and a car in the shop for nearly two weeks so far (and possibly not ever coming out), I have the wits of a dried-up prison bitch. And without a few layers of makeup, the rings under my eyes make me look like one, too.

Oh, and did I mention it's been raining? I'm considering building an ark. Or at least blowing up the inflatable boat, just in case, since we sure as hell won't be needing it in the overflowing pool for a while.

Okay. Bitchfest done. Now for some humor.

Anyone listen to the old Bill Cosby records when they were kids? I'd imagine any child of the seventies had a few of them around the house. Laying on the avocado green shag carpet, I listen to the rain patter down while Bill Cosby told me stories from my red striped record player.

Every time I feel like I've been dumped in the heart of monsoon season, I think of Bill and his tale of Noah and the ark... What's a cubit?

If I build my ark, it shall be filled with pairs of books and wine. Forget the animals. Too messy. Too stinky. If the world is ending, I don't want to be shoveling zebra shit, I want my nose buried in a book and a glass of wine in my hand...with my loved ones by my side (preferably rubbing my back).

Namaste. Cheers. Salute. Peace out.

10 thing to do today besides work on my query letter

2013-04-22T11:58:00.000-04:00

1. Practice drawing the perfect heart across my draft with a red pen. Switch to blue pen. Draw stars instead.

2. Search for a 'real' job because there is no way I'm ever going to sell this book. Build frustration level—I'm not even qualified to be a lingerie maid or sign spinner.

3. Contemplate a bike ride. Obsessively check the radar and decide the possiblility of a shower makes this a bad idea. Decide it takes too much effort to pump up my bike tires anyway.

4. Clean out every closet in the house. Oh, crap — did that last week. Kitchen cupbords?

5. Stalk agents on Twitter.

6. Ooohh, maybe I should bake something. For my family. There should be thousands of ideas on Pinterest...

7. Organize my notes from my first writer's conference last weekend. Search for all the speakers on Twitter. And Facecbook. Hell, maybe they're on Pinterest and have a great cookie recipe listed. Check.

8. Nap. Working this night temp job is killing me. I'll feel refreshed and ready to write after a nap.

9. Check the garden. Maybe another tomato ripened since earlier this morning. I'll bet my zucchini has grown a tenth of an inch already. I should investigate.

10. Reread every blog post related to writing queries. Imagine Nathan Bransford, Janet Reid, and Jane Friedman are my BFFs. Lurk through hopeless writers forums for snippets of wisdom and success stories. Disconnect internet and stare at blank page.

****SIT ON MY DAMN YOGA BALL AND JUST WRITE****

But, the pirates don't eat the tourists...

2013-04-17T08:34:00.002-04:00

While skimming my backlog of blog post this morning, I happened upon one about velociraptors and memory lane by the talented and wildly entertaining Joshilyn Jackson. {It's hilarious. Go read it. And add her blog to your reader. For reals.} I ended up writing up an exceptionally long-winded comment, so I figured I might as well elaborate some more and share my Jurassic Park memory with y'all.

Unless you live under a non-fossilized rock, you must know Jurassic Park is back on the big screen IN 3D. As much as the original is one of my favorite movies of all time and certainly up there with best book-to-big screen adaptations, I think I'm far too lily-livered to handle it in 3D. I need an airsick bag to sit through a 3D movie anyway, but all I can think about is:

That, and I still hear impact tremors on a regular basis. {*see below}

Flashback 1993: It was a hell of a summer. I was a pirate by day, rebel by night. Okay, technically I was a participant in the coveted Disney Internship Program. I worked 40 hours a week hocking plastic swords to tourists while dressed in an itchy and HOT polyester pirate costume. I was an 18-year-old minimum wage slave who knew everything and refused to appreciate the experience as much as I should have. (Please see the enlightening Hanging Mickey Mouse post.)

Don't laugh too hard. Told you the pants were horrid.

After my shifts (which could run until well after midnight) I'd eek out a corner in my overcrowded apartment and read. I can vividly remember sitting on the smoke-crusted couch reading Jurassic Park while my five roommates were all miraculously absent (work? partying? bleeding the kegs at work dry?). I was a stranger in a world where I was brainwashed to believe in make-believe. And that book scared the crap out of me. It was riveting. It was terrifying. It was bloody brilliant.

And I'm allowed to use the English slang, as one of my roommates was a Brit. Two were from France, another from Mexico, and one from Lima, Ohio, which seemed as peculiar and far away as all of the others combined. FYI: All the cast members in EPOCT's World Showcase are actually from the countries they represent on job internship programs (at least they were back then). If you participated in the restaurant management internship program, you sold Guiness at the U.K. beer stand. You looked cute and sounded authentic while spending the year in sunny Florida. What a deal.

I devoured that book faster than a velociraptor snarfed down a cow. I dragged my roommates to the ginormous movie theater at Downtown Disney opening weekend. The house was packed—full of tourists mostly.

Let me tell you, fear needs no translation.

I may still have some faint scars on my forearm from Ohio roommate's fingernails. There's something about hundreds of people from all over the world yelping and gasping in unison. It was like a perfectly composed symphony of screams, as if we just all flocked together like those veggie-eater dinosaurs running through the plains. Remember: this was in the days when we still felt safe in a crowded movie theater, when we believed the terror was all make-believe.

I know the moment I cried out the loudest, the quote that dug it's claws into my psyche.

Nope, not when the T. rex tried to eat the kids in the car, or when the raptors chased down spunky Laura Dern, or even during the electric "must go faster" scene.

At one point, that sexy, snarky geek Jeff Goldblum might as well have pointed his finger to me in the audience and dragged me into the film:

John Hammond: All major theme parks have delays. When they opened Disneyland in 1956, nothing worked!

Dr. Ian Malcolm: Yeah, but, John, if The Pirates of the Caribbean breaks down, the pirates don't eat the tourists.

I couldn't escape my indentured servitude at Pirates of the Caribbean even during my brief periods of repreive. They knew I was there, watching. And if that much of my real life was invested in the story, well maybe, just maybe dinosaurs could be real too...

No. Not possible. Beyond even the most brilliant geneticists imaginations, right? Right?

*Twenty years later, I live just close enough to the theme parks to occasionally hear a distant rumble. It's barely audible, and I only notice it on spring or fall nights when the windows are open and the air fluctuates to just the right density to carry the deep rolling sound. Each time, my ears perk up, my book goes down, and force myself not to say aloud, "You hear that? Impact tremors."*

As if somewhere in the wilds of suburbia, a T. rex roams in search of dinner. (Hey, wait a minute...didn't they do that in Jurassic Park 2 or 3? Ugh-oh.) At some point my deluded sense of reality kicks in and I realize it's just distant summer thunder or the faint booms of theme park fireworks.

But no one can say I have a bland imagination.

I'd say that book and movie left a lasting impression. Thank you Michael Crichton and Steven Spielberg. Your creations will prowl the border of my suspension of disbelief forever.

Maybe Jurassic Park would be worth the nausea to watch in 3D. Should I take the kiddo? All kids need a complex, right?

Betty Goes Vegan: Curry and Wild Rice Soup

2013-04-10T07:30:00.000-04:00

Last week I told you about my dalliance with VEGAN cooking via the Betty Goes Vegan cookbook. {Check out the full review HERE. Trust me, it's worth it.} Again: I'm NOT vegan. The Limoncello Bundt Cake baked like a science experiment—and yes, by some miracle of food processing chemistry, I can bake a cake with powdered egg replacer. Who knew?

The next day I was sick and craving soup. While perusing the 500+ recipes I spied Curry and Wild Rice Soup. This authors proclaimed the recipe was "one of those soups people expect in a vegan cookbook." It called to me. I had all of the ingredients on hand after a weekend trip to the farmers market.The recipe contained for no faux meat (scary), but was loaded with fresh veggies and antioxidants (woo-hoo!). And garam masala turns me on—the scent alone can make my heart flutter.

As advertised, the finished product was easy to make and pretty awesome. Not particularly hot or spicy (but that’s just my taste—some people definitely would have zinging tongues). And it was even better the next day for lunch.

See that gorgeous pot pictured above? This recipe marked the debut of my *new* vintage Cousances Dutch oven, graciously passed down from my grandmother. I'm in love with it. Each time I use it, I imagine the dishes my grandmother prepared in it as she traveled through Europe years ago.

CURRY AND WILD RICE SOUP

from Betty Goes Vegan: Over 500 Classic Recipes for the Modern Family

Makes 4 to 6 bowls (made 3 to 4 lunch sized bowls for me)

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
4 cups Better Than Boullion vegetable broth, made per package instructions
3 1/2 teaspoons of garam masala curry powder
1/2 cup coconut milk
1/2 cup frozen peas
2 cups cooked wild rice
1 cup raw broccoli florets
1 red bell pepper, sliced
1 teaspoon crushed black peppercorns
5 large fresh basil leaves, chopped
1 teaspoon lemon zest
2 teaspoons lemon juice

In a large stewpot or Dutch oven, heat the olive oil over medium heat until warm. Use a whisk to blend in the flour. Once the flour and oil have made a paste, add the broth and continue to whisk your soup until the flour has blended in. Add the curry powder and coconut milk and continue to whisk until the curry powder has blended into the soup.

Toss in the peas, wild rice, broccoli, and bell pepper and simmer until the vegetables are tender. With a large wooden spoon, mix in the black pepper, basil leaves, lemon zest, and lemon juice.

Serve warm and often.

Full Book Review HERE

Betty Goes Vegan: Over 500 Classic Recipes for the Modern Family
Annie & Dan Shannon
Grand Central Life & Style
$26.99 (hardcover), $10.67 (Kindle) 480 pages

MeetTheShannons.com/Facebook/Twitter

Betty Goes Vegan: Limoncello Bundt Cake

2013-04-04T08:35:00.000-04:00

AM NOT VEGAN. Nor do I have any intention of becoming a vegan. But the whole concept of Betty Goes Vegan: Over 500 Classic Recipes for the Modern Family intrigued me, so I reviewed it for Bookshelf Bombshells.

How can Betty Crocker, the BFF of every pearls-and-apron wearing 50s housewife be cool—and vegan? In a few words— if you are vegan, you need this book. If not—it's clever, loaded with comfort food (even vegan venison! eek!), and full of enough geeky Star Wars references to make anyone laugh. {Check out the full review HERE. Trust me, it's worth it.}

I don't know about you, but bundt cakes aren't a staple in my home. I do have a pretty cobalt blue bundt pan—purchased once upon a time to make some chocolate rum cake, I believe—but I only break it out every few years. Plus every time I hear the word "bundt" I think of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. (You remember, the scene where fiance Ian's (John Corbett) WASPy parents bring a buntd cake to the very Greek parent's massive party and the Greek mom puts a flower arrangement in the center of the cake...)

I am also NOT a good baker. Why I chose a from-scratch cake recipe to try (opposed to my normal Betty-in-a-Box route) I don't know. Wait—I do know—LIMONCELLO.

I figured, even if the cake turned out nasty, I could drown it in limoncello and no one would care. But the cake was NOT nasty. It was actually pretty good. Now, lemon cakes don't pack the oomph of a decadent death-by-chocolate masterpiece. But they're steady, solid, and if you're a lemon fan like me, almost a comfort food. This cake was dense and moist. Since it is my first vegan cake (and my first scratch cake in a while) I'm not sure if that was me or the recipe. This had a density more like a donut.

But donuts are GOOD, so we didn't care. In fact, we had an overabundance of desserts in the house, so we ate much of this baby for Sunday breakfast. (It's okay. I paired it with yogurt and fruit. And it's vegan anyway, so that's all like health food, right? Well, minus the liquor...)

LIMONCELLO BUNDT CAKE

from Betty Goes Vegan: Over 500 Classic Recipes for the Modern Family

by Annie & Dan Shannon

Makes one bundt cake

CAKE

Baking spray
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup margarine, softened
1 tablespoon applesauce
1 tablespoon Ener-G egg replacer, just the powder, not made per the instructions on the package
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon crushed pink Himalayan salt
1 (14 oz.) can coconut milk
2 tablespoons lemon zest
3 tablespoons limoncello

GLAZE

1/2 cup margarine, softened
2 cups powdered sugar
2 tablespoons lemon zest
1/4 cup limoncello (best homemade recipe HERE)

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Spray a fluted tube cake pan with baking spray.

In a large bowl, blend your sugar and margarine with a handheld electric mixer on a high setting until it is smooth and fluffy. Blend in the applesauce and egg replacer.

In another bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt until completely blended. Add the flour mixture to the margarine mixture a little at a time, alternating with the coconut milk. Each time you add flour or coconut milk, use your mixer to blend i tin completely. Once your flour and coconut milk are completely blended in, add your lemon zest and limoncello and blend on a medium setting for 2 to 3 minutes. You want your after to be fluffy and smooth.

Pour your batter into the pan evenly. Use a spatula to spread it out to make a nice even layer. It's important to make sure the batter is even because the cake will be sitting with the rimmed ring on top. If you see any ridges or clumps, make sure to smooth them out now.

Bake for 45 to 50 minutes. Now, not every fluted cake pan is the same, and some are deeper than others. So start checking on your cake at around 330 minutes. Use a bamboo skewer to test if your cake is done. If you can poke the bamboo skewer in a few times and remove it cleanly, you're done. Once you've pulled the cake out of the oven, immediately poke it several more times—like 15 times—with the bamboo skewer. You only want to go in about as deep as a fork would go. You're releasing the moisture from the cake to help it cool and also to help release it from the pan. Let your cake cool for 20 minutes and then turn your cake pan upside down on a large serving dish to cool to room temp.

While your cake is baking, make your glaze. In a saucepan, melt your margarine over low heat. Once your margarine is melted, use a whisk to blend in your powdered sugar. Then blend in the lemon zest and limoncello. The glaze is pretty sweet. If you taste it an you are, like, "This is too sweet," just add a little more melted margarine and lemon zest until you get the flavor you like. You're going to want to keep your glaze warm till you drizzle it over the top of the cake.

Once your cake is cool, drizzle your glaze over the top. In the springtime, it's really nice to decorate those lemon cakes with edible flowers and completely worth hunting them down.

Full Book Review HERE

Betty Goes Vegan: Over 500 Classic Recipes for the Modern Family
Annie & Dan Shannon
Grand Central Life & Style
$26.99 (hardcover), $10.67 (Kindle) 480 pages

MeetTheShannons.com/Facebook/Twitter

Review: And Then I Found You by Patti Callahan Henry

2013-04-02T07:55:00.000-04:00

Katie Vaughn runs a successful boutique in South Carolina. When she finds an engagement ring in her boyfriend's drawer, she goes into panic mode, realizing she must confront her past before she can move forward. You see, Katie has a secret that has weighed on hear heart for over a decade—a secret which can open up a world of joy or condemn her to more heartbreak.

Flashback: On the first day of spring, thirteen-year-old Katie falls in love with Jack. From their first kiss under a lazy Southern moon they believe they're meant to be. College parts the couple, then law school for Jack. When Katie finds meaning as a counselor for troubled teens in the wilds of Arizona, Jack feels abandoned. He doesn't understand her need to be so far away and pleads with her to return. She keeps telling him just a few months more...a few too many times. On their last visit together, Jack announces he's moving on without her. Emotions run hot, and the couple has one last night together...a night with consequences that will echo for the rest of their lives.

Back in Arizona, Katie discovers she's pregnant, and that Jack has married someone else. She bravely decides to give their daughter, whom they nickname Luna, up for adoption. And they go about their lives, trying to forget, but yearning to fill the empty aching places inside.

Now, thirteen years later, Katie (now calling herself Kate) impulsively decides to track down her first love in an attempt to figure out how it all fell apart, hoping she can mend her heart. She sets of a chain of events that will change them forever.

*********

I loved this book. I'd been meaning to pick up some of Patti Callahan Henry's other novels, so I was overjoyed when She Reads announced And Then I Found You was the April book pick. Now I must go back and read her previous books while I deal with the guilt of having missed yet another fabulous Southern Women's Fiction writer.

This is a sometimes heartbreaking novel of love and loss, but it's not one to have you crying or feeling sorry for the characters throughout. Kate is pretty tough, closed off and protective even, and feels she did the right thing when she placed her daughter up for adoption. Even though she was twenty-one at the time. Even though she was close to her supportive family—a family who offered to raise the baby for her, who begged her not to give away their first grandchild. She hand picked the family she wanted her daughter to have, with two parents who loved each other and wanted a child more than anything. Her Jack was married, and his commitment lay with his new family.

I wanted to like Jack more than I did. It vexed me how he never told his wife about Luna (even after they divorced), how he dumped everything on Katie. They had such a rich history. He was a lawyer by then, not just some poor loser boyfriend. But he was married to someone else. He and Katie exchanged letters once a year on Luna's birthday, and that was it. Then when Katie did show up on his doorstep, he still kept that wall up.

The tension between the two pulled me as if I was on a stretcher. Add in the tightness between Kate and her current beau, Rowan, and I was just frustrated with all men. At times I didn't know who I wanted her to end up with, as I fluctuated between liking and wanting to kick both of the men in her life.

Then there is the whole adoption issue. I don't want to include spoilers, so I'll just say this: the emotions of everyone involved were beautifully written. The angst, the unknowing, the excitement, the desperation, the pure love...it was all there, feeling so real I just wanted to reach out and hug some of the characters. It was not at all surprising to learn that this novel was based on a true story. I only hope the real version worked out so well.

And Then I Found You isn't a tearjerker, but it is a sweet story of love, loss, the need to feel wanted, and ultimately asks if we can open our souls to recapture what was once lost.

Read it. {Read an excerpt of And Then I Found You HERE}

Did I mention that Patti Callahan Henry will be featured at one of the author panels at the UCF Book Festival? (I'll be getting my copy signed for sure.) If you are anywhere near Orlando on April 13th, you won't want to miss this event where book lovers and writers unite. If you're going, drop me a line—I'd love to say 'hi'!

Aaannnddd...as mentioned before, And Then I Found You is the She Reads April Book Club selection. Head over there and comment for a chance to win one of ten copies of And Then I Found You!

And Then I Found You
Patti Callahan Henry
April 9th, 2013, St. Martin's Press
272 pages

Patti's Website | Facebook | Twitter

Review: Heart Like Mine by Amy Hatvany

2013-03-19T10:26:00.000-04:00

When a young mother dies under mysterious circumstances, those she leaves behind begin looking for answers in the past—and find a long-buried secret they could have never imagined.

"I winced a little when she said this, as though she meant that a heart like mine was something defective because I hadn't had children. I didn't think of myself as less able to feel love. But her comments made me question myself and wonder if by missing out on motherhood, I was missing out on something that would make me a better person."

********

After basically raising her younger brother and growing up without a strong mother-figure, thirty-six-year-old Grace doesn't want her own kids. Not that she's heartless—she runs a social service program helping battered women rebuild their shattered lives. She just doesn't think she was born with the "mother" gene, and that's okay.

Then she meets Victor, a charismatic restauranteur—and divorced dad. But Grace thinks she can handle the part-time stepmom thing for the right man. Victor's kids, Ava and Max seem nice enough. But just days after Victor pops the question, this ex-wife, Kelli, is found dead. Grace is suddenly thrust into the position of full-time stepmom to the grieving children.

Thirteen-year-old Ava has been taking care of her younger brother and unstable mom since her parents' divorce. She runs their daily lives, doing anything in her power to keep her damaged family afloat, because family is everything... and then everything comes crashing down.

We flashback to Kelli's troubled childhood, to her strict life she struggled to escape. Kelli is by far the most damaged of the three women (or soon-to be women) in this tale, and we discover that much of what she told of her past was lies. Who was this woman Victor married, who loved her children more than anything, who disintegrated before their eyes?

The hardest character to sympathize with was Victor. While he was a wonderful man who loved both his fiancee and his kids, his dedication to his career—his restaurant—often drove him from those who desperately needed him. It's a struggle typical of men, attempting to balance the demands of a more than full-time career while physically and emotionally being there for his family. Like the women in the story, I wanted him to be there more.

Heart Like Mine is a wonderful character-driven novel. Hatvany manages to create three distinct women's voices to narrate the story. I identified most with Grace—even though I am the opposite of a childless career woman. I admired her strength, her open-mindedness, and her honesty with herself, even when times got tough. Ava could have become a stereotypical teen girl, but she reveals her many layers as she wrestles with her beloved mother's death and her entire world turned upside down. At times I felt sorry for Kelli, by far the weakest woman in the story, yet at other times I wanted to smack her. A life of lies—even those told with good intentions—never ends well.

I found it interesting how there were no heroes or villains, just regular people, each somehow damaged by their pasts, struggling to do what's right. As the perspectives switched, my loyalty followed each woman/girl as she shared her tale.

Heart Like Mine is a compelling story about finding love, family, and acceptance.

Rating: BUY IT.

Heart Like Mine

by Amy Hatvany

Washington Square Press

March 19, 2013

Amy's Website | Facebook | Twitter

Someone tell me about the BIRDS and the BEES...

2013-03-12T09:34:00.000-04:00

The time is drawing near.

I won't be able to deflect the questions much longer.

How did you approach THE TALK with your kid(s)?

Last weekend I was thrilled to meet up with an old high school/college friend when she came to town to do Disney. She met my "boys" and I met her darling son and hubby. Oh, and she was visibly pregnant with number two (yay!). Knowing I had gone through a rough patch dealing with secondary infertility a few years back, she broke her good news to me gently. Exceptionally considerate of her, but while I am over the moon happy for her, I am beyond baby lust at this point. Way beyond. As in: that ship hasn't just sailed, it was attacked by pirates and sunk. The thought of diapers and potty training and sleepless nights and...panic attack central.

I can't imagine going back to the baby business because my thoughts speed towards standardized testing, bullying, online safety, kids and cell phones, and...explaining sex to my 9-year-old.

Last night at the dinner table—immediately after my husband excused himself—my son popped the question. Technically questions.

Him: Mama, your friend was pregnant, right?

Me: Yup.They're so excited.

Him: (pause—fussing with napkin) So, how do women get pregnant? And how do women KEEP FROM getting pregnant?

Whoa! Panic! Panic! Sound the alarm. Call in the flying monkeys. Swoon? Am I raising a feminist or a Casanova?

Somehow I managed to just spear another bite of salad and play it cool. (All those years of acting paid off.)

Me: That's an excellent question. But we don't have time to answer that right now. Want a cookie? (crap, crap, crap, crap...where the hell is my husband...crap, crap...) How about two cookies?

Is nine (and a half) too young? Should I keep pushing it off? Too old? Just right?

We forget sometimes how blissful it was to revel in that naivete. But this childhood innocence lasts for such a short time now. I mean, my kid's favorite song (though I tried, so help me, I TRIED to deter it) is Gangnam Style. Yes, he and his little buddies dance around singing "Hey....SEXY lady..." at the bus stop. It's like a runaway train. Once this this growing up business begins there's no hand brake—we all just hold on for dear life and try to find a way to steer so we don't crash too hard.

My kid is smart and perceptive, but he doesn't question things too often. We watch the news together and I usually don't get pummeled with questions when stories about gay rights or sexual abuse in the church or Zumba prostitution rings come up. Of course, I choose those moments to butt in with a question about school or Legos or the color of frog poop (as our friend says, "Look! A dirigible!"). But I actually have my answers prepped for those questions, so of course they haven't come up.

The sex talk is another story. I'm clueless.

So, parents...how did you break the news? Anyone have any advice? Books to buy? I could always just set him down in front of prime time TV and he'd figure it out pretty quick, but I'm thinking that's not the right way to go...

I'll keep putting THE TALK off as long as possible, but I need to be prepared. The Girl Scout in me is in panic mode. Help?

FLASHBACK: A little Salt-N-Pepa encouragement

photo credit: oleyography via photopin cc

Review: The Possibility of You by Pamela Redmond

2013-03-07T09:02:00.001-05:00

Present day: Cait travels the world reporting on tragedies and social issues, suffering from an incurable case of wanderlust. While aiding in the search for a missing child, she gives into a moment of emotional turmoil and sleeps with a fellow journalist—who happens to be married. She gets pregnant. Though her adoptive parents have always been wonderful, she wrestles with feelings of abandonment, and realizes she must discover why her birth mother gave her up before she can decide if she is every capable of loving her own child. The clock is ticking.

1976: Billie's father has just passed away. While cleaning out his house, she discovers a box of letters from a grandmother she's never heard of. Without any money or prospects, she travels with her best friend and recent college grad, Jupe, to New York to meet the only family she has left. What she finds blows her mind. As she gets to know her new family, she falls into a deeper relationship with Jupe (a bisexual African American) and falls pregnant.

1916: Bridget, fresh of the boat from Ireland, works as a nanny for former showgirl and current socialite Maude's young son. When the child suddenly dies, Bridget stays on to help snap Maude out of her depression until she leaves to follow her heart and marry her love. War breaks out, her husband disappears on the front, and Brigit cannot afford to care for her child. She turns to Maude, and everything changes.

I have to say, I didn't see this book coming. It showed up with a lovely batch of novels I won via She Reads Book Club and Gallery books, and I just happened to pick it up the other day, not sure what I was in the mood to read next.

I'm so glad I did. THE POSSIBILITY OF YOU is a fabulous read.

Spanning three generations of women, the novel delves into all the dirty challenges that go along with potential motherhood. Far too many women forget that not every pregnancy is welcomed and not every woman is emotionally, physically, or financially prepared to be a good mother. Even the most virtuous of women can make a mistake and end up wrestling with consequences.

Each of the three main characters make reckless decisions. I had a bit of trouble sympathizing with Cait in the beginning, as I have little respect for women who knowingly sleep with a married man. But her prickliness was a part of her character, and many people are selfish—the greater question became would Cait, adopted herself, keep the baby that relationship created or give into her self-doubt. Her adoptive mother—I just wanted to reach out to her. I can only hope real life adoptive mothers are so wonderful and supportive.

Redmond deftly carries the story between the generations. Though the way all the women were connected was no great surprise, I enjoyed the way the plot rolled out. The varied time periods were clearly defined and distinctly colored. The choices women must make—from different classes and generations—still shoot straight to the heart.

This book is far more than just a story of women's struggle with reproductive rights. Honestly, I didn't read any particular pro-choice or pro-life agenda, though a woman's right to birth control is pretty damn important. The consequences of terminating a pregnancy, giving a child up for adoption, and abandonment are complex for all involved.

This would make a wonderful selection for any book club.

THE POSSIBILITY OF YOU
by Pamela Redmond
Gallery Books, 377 pages

Pamela's Website / Twitter / Facebook