Thirteen Books of Awesome

A lot of things freaked me out as a kid. The thought that the Wicked Witch's guards were going to come for me in the night. That my sister was going to be eaten by monsters because she didn't sleep with blankets on. My inability to eat anything without burning my mouth. Law & Order's transitional "bump bum." Bugs of any kind. 

But never the number thirteen. 

You know why? Books. 

So many awesome series had a thirteenth book. More than enough proof that it was a worthwhile number. At least in my mind. 

In the hopes that it will be enough for you all as well, I offer the following list of favorites in order of my level of deep and abiding love:

13. The Mark on the Door (Hardy Boys)

12. Kidnapped! (Sweet Valley High)

11. The Case of the Soccer Camp Mystery (Clue Jr.)

10. The Bobbsey Twins in the Great West (Bobbsey Twins)

9. The Mystery of the Ivory Charm (Nancy Drew)

8. Snowbound Mystery (Boxcar Children)

7. The Case of the Midnight Visitor (Encyclopedia Brown)

6. Amelia Bedelia Under Construction

5. Piano Lessons Can Be Murder (Goosebumps)

4. The Abominibal Snowman (Choose Your Own Adventure)

3. The Computer Teacher From the Black Lagoon

2. Goodbye Stacey, Goodbye (Babysitters Club)

1. The Change (Animorphs)

I still remember exactly where I was sitting when I got to K.A. Applegate's thirteenth ending. Man, I love Tobias' story. 

In conclusion, thirteen is an awesome number. But if today hasn't been going your way, may I suggest one of the above titles? Crack open a book and have yourself a little kid night.* 

It'll turn your day around and start the weekend off right. 

* Best when paired with macaroni & cheese and dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets. 

Yesterdays of Tomorrows.....or something like that

I spent yesterday touring a historic house and last night watching a movie about a dystopian future. 

The tour was of the Bayard-Cutting Arboretum on Long Island. It is a "cottage" built in the late 1800s. You know, just one of those little summer getaways with a measly sixty-three rooms. 

It wasn't a planned outing. Just ended up there on a whim, paid eight dollars and took an hour long tour of the home. I listened to stories of the family shopping for entire rooms over in Europe and installing hoses around the inside of the house as an early fire safety system. Walking through the servants quarters and seeing the men's hall and the women's hall, both with locks on the doors at the end of them, I felt a bit like I was on the Downton Abbey set. 

As someone who writes, even though my stories don't tend to be focused on that time period, walking around the house was inspiring. It's more than just seeing original furniture or the old photographs that, from the lack of smiles, folks took slightly more seriously than our recent selfies.

Places of history have power. 

It's hard to feel alone when you're standing in one. I'm not talking about being surrounded by the ghosts of those who died there, though I'd be lying if I said I didn't wish a little that I was talking about exactly that. More, it's hard to feel alone when you're surrounded by proof that we last. 

As individuals we all have expiration dates, but together, we last. 

That house wasn't even old in the grand scheme of human existence. We have so many examples of our staying power all over the world. And I have no doubt that in each of these dwellings, people lived their lives with some worry as to the changes happening in the world around them. 

So, despite the popularity of movies with dystopian futures where it rains all the time and people have done away with dressing in anything but neutrals (watched Total Recall last night) or the fact that the 24 hour news cycle sometimes makes me feel like we're approaching the end times, historic sites give me hope. 

It's hard not to marvel at all the ways the world has changed when listening to stories of the past, but the more important thing may be what hasn't. We're still around and we're still interested in where we've been and where we're going. 

I'm sure a hundred years from now some kid will be saying, "They seriously drove on the ground?" - that's right, flying cars, haven't given up on you yet - but I'm not ready to assume he'll be saying that from Drab City, built in the rain clouds because the Earth is now just a mass of craters. 

We can't change that the past happened or that the future's coming, but perhaps the reminder that our only real legacy will be left by the whole rather than the individual will make present interactions with the world more important. 

After all, hundreds of years from now, Federation students may be learning about the peculiarities do twenty-first century life (you know, twerking and what not), but it's not like they'll know my name. Whatever I leave the world will be a group effort. 

Unless maybe I write a real universe changing tome. 

You know, I should really get back to work. 

On In the Line Mix Path Not Chosen Double Feature (Bad Movies/GoodParty Themes)

Hello all! It's been far too long since we've had a good party theme here. In the spirit of apologizing, I'm making this a double feature event.

What better way, I ask you, to spend an evening of bad movies and good parties that with two gems from the early 2000s. It was a wonderful time. If you were anything like me, you were rocking a boxy school uniform and hair that was far too long, while obsessively taping old episodes of Early Edition on VHS for after you finished your report on Lynne Reid Banks. Or, you know, you were doing other things. Regardless, it was a glorious period of cultural history.

How do I know that for a fact? Because the first five years gave us not only On the Line, starring Lance Bass and Emmanuelle Chriqui, but also In the Mix, starring Usher Raymond and...Emmanuelle Chriqui.

In addition to sharing punchy titles and a leading lady, these movies also have two main characters who both have shades of the actors who play them. Lance Bass' Kevin used to be part of a band, but now works in advertising. Usher's Darrell went from being a success in the music business to a job as a bodyguard.

This is what you'll be asking of your guests. Have everyone show up dressed as themselves had they chosen a different life path, zigged instead of zagged.

Rather than explaining to people who they are now, every attendee should write down on a piece of paper what their new profession is and throw it in a bowl. For the rest of the night, ask each other any question - with the exception of all derivations of "what's your job?" - and see how many can be guessed before the night is over!

In terms of prizes for anyone who manages to figure it all out, may I suggest used copies of the movies' soundtracks? Anyone who's ever felt nostalgia for the early twenty-first century will thank you. Anyone who hasn't....probably won't appreciate being on the invite list for this party. Leave those nice people alone.


Tagline (On the Line): She's one in a million. His chances of finding her again are a million to one.

Tagline (In the Mix): Everyone wants a piece of his action.


Crackerjack dialogue to look forward to:
      - "I just want to be able to walk down the street without a ten woman pileup."
      - "Love may not make the world go round, but it makes the ride worthwhile."
      - "Italian people put red sauce on their macaroni."
      - "You're like the poster boy for the romantically challenged!"

Can you guess which are from which?


For an On In the Line Mix Path Not Chosen Double Feature of your very own, here's what you need:
      - On the Line (2001)
      - In the Mix (2005)
      - Container for guests' career confessions. This is where you get to scoff at everyone who laughed at you for holding on to the tins from your Altoids Tangerine Sours (or whatever early 2000s candy you favored). And they told you that was a waste of space...
      - Prizes for winners. Like I said before, soundtracks work well. Or you could just give them a piece of paper with pictures of Lance Bass, Usher and Emmanuelle Chriqui taped on, for them to doodle hearts around. Your call. (I know I'd appreciate either.)
      - In terms of food, I think pizza is the way to go seeing as the movies take place in Chicago and New York respectively. Plus, this opens up the conversation to which style of pizza is better, and there is really no truer way to know a person than answering that question.
      - A contingent of Emmanuelle Chirqui groupies and/or folks who love to wonder about what could have been and/or anyone who's ever hummed along to N*SYNC or Usher - which means you pretty much have to invite everyone you know. Hope your place is roomy!

Creativity Off the Page

Not surprisingly, my favorite creative outlet is writing. That being said, sometimes - particularly during the story drafting process when all my ideas are at best tangential to anything making sense - I need to take a step back from the notebook. I can not, however, just do nothing. Something about an object at rest staying in rest. Every moment I spend sitting on the couch staring at the wall breeds yet another similar moment.

So, I've found some other things I enjoy doing that keep me busy, but still leave part of my brain free for idea finessing. Here are my top five non-writing-related creative outlets:

1. Scrapbooking

I love photos and despite the ease of storing all of them digitally, sometimes I want to have some hard copies. I figure rather than just sticking them in a box, I might as well have some fun in displaying them.

2. Canvases

As my painting skills are not exemplary, I basically use these as hang-able scrapbook pages. Plus, living in an apartment with all white walls, splashes of color are always welcome.

3. Diaper cakes

There have been an influx of tiny humans in my life over this past year. And in preparation for their arrivals, I've attended a number of baby showers. I had never heard of a diaper cake before this year, but have found that they are a lot of fun to make. Plus, the rolling of diapers is the perfect mundane activity to keep my hands busy, but my mind moving. I've had a number of story epiphany moments while working on these bad boys.

4. Baking

Sorry folks, no pictures included here. Even when what I'm experimenting with turns out well, never in my life have I been able to get a flattering photo of it. Suffice it to say that right now I'm very into pies - specifically peach berry.

5. Event planning

Whether it's birthday parties or baby showers or really bad movie nights, I love planning parties. Mostly because it's like envisioning a scene for a story and then making it happen. Have the possibility of a bigger event percolating in the old brain pan right now. I'll let you know if it comes to fruition.

In the meantime, what are your creative outlets?

For The Benefit of Future Generations

So, I've been going through some things from my childhood. Cleaning out the old homestead. Because, there comes a time in every lady's life where she has to decide if she really needs to hold on to those root beer bottle caps from '96. Not that I'm not sure the beverages in question were delicious.  I mean, seriously, it's root beer. What could go wrong? But is it necessary for me to commemorate my drinking it? That's the question.

And the answer is, probably not....but maybe....hold strong, Johnson, hold strong....No. The answer is no. I don't need that. 

Of course, there have been a few gems that will be truly hard to part with. For instance, this notebook from the late '90s:

I know what you're thinking, Of course, you can't throw out such a bitchin' ice cream cone notebook! And you're not wrong, but this little pad is so much more than that. It is a detailed, if poorly spelled, record of information vital to the survival of human culture.

 

Simple and to the point. Perfect for passing

information along to future generations. 

 Hopefully those future generations won't be so 

dependent on spell-check that this mistake

makes the record indecipherable.

"Scruffy looking nerf herder" would have also

been acceptable. 

 

 I believe the descriptor here was meant to be 

"Crafty." Unless "Crafy" is Bespin slang.

Listing a Wookie's age seems more likely to

make him angry than the whole beating

him at chess thing.

Cibor, huh? It's just....so....close.

 He's a simpler fellow than that C-3PO guy.

 Wow, Past Kelly, a "Spoiler Alert" would have

been nice. 

Both objectivity and spelling took a bit of 

a hit here. 

 It just seems like there may be more dashes

here than absolutely necessary.

Just for clarification purposes, Yoda's species 

has always been listed as "unknown." 

Don't know what this "Green Dwarf"

business is about.

Apparently the rage over these "jerks" manifests

in the devolution of spelling.

Nope, sorry. Scratch that last observation. Friend

or foe, spelling is clearly not a priority.

With the wisdom that comes with age, I can now

admit that perhaps Mr. Fett's story was a bit

less black and white than I originally thought.

As such, "jerk" might be a little bit strong. 

That this descriptor was thought to be necessary

seems a bit speciesist. Just saying. 

 If you're wondering when Wedge got this mispelled

promotion (which you're not), Past Kelly was

just giving you a little taste of what the

extended universe has to offer.

Hence the inclusion of this one character who 

appears only in the books.

 The final proof that these insane ramblings were

not ultimately meant for me, but rather for some 

studier of maniacal tendencies. Unless I thought

there was a chance I might forget I was indeed

female. Because the whole Star Wars thing

was clearly going to stick. 

It just seemed wrong not to share these with you all. Where exactly would the justice be if you were not all informed of the kind of person you're cyber-hanging out with?

Also, if the anthropologist for whom I wrote this is out there and has been wondering why it's taken so long for these observations to see the light of day, I apologize deeply for the delay. Please let me know if you need further clarification on the aforementioned observations. 

I will await your response. 

Summer Reading List

Hello all!

It's been far too long, I know. Things have been a bit wacky. In the last few weeks, I've completed the international leg of my summer travel, been given a beautiful nephew by my brother and sister-in-law, and fought off the demon virus gnomes that thought they could defeat me. Silly fools. I have squashed their virus gnome bodies beneath my Velcro-laden sneaker.

Anyway, I am back in both the USA and good health, so huzzah!

To that end, I should be posting a bit more frequently before getting back to regular business this fall. No more of this month between writing nonsense. That's for the birds.

You know what's pretty great about travel? I mean, beside the whole seeing awesome places thing.

Reading time.

The past three months has been an awesome reading extravaganza. Being that it's vacation time, the material has been weighted to the romantic, but a few other genres have made appearances.

Here's what I've read so far:

• The Nightmare Affair (Mindee Arnett)
• Bolted (Meg Benjamin)
• Soulless (Gail Carriger)
• Graceling (Kristin Cashore)
• Man in the Empty Suit (Sean Ferrell)
• Hooked (Liz Fichera)
• The Best Man (Kristan Higgins)
• Love Irresistibly (Julie James)
• Practice Makes Perfect (Julie James)
• Jilted (Kelly Jamieson)
• Again the Magic (Lisa Kleypas)
• Secrets of a Summer Night (Lisa Kleypas)
• Shrapnel (Stephanie Lawton)
• Just One Kiss (Susan Mallery)
• Hitched (Erin Nicholas)
• It Had to Be You (Jill Shalvis)
• Double Play (Jill Shalvis)
• Slow Heat (Jill Shalvis)
• Busted (Sydney Somers)
• Poison (Bridget Zinn)

And next up:

• The Pericles Commission (Gary Corby)
• Unveiled (Lauren Grimley)
• OCD Love Story (Cory Ann Haydu)
• False Memory (Dan Krokos)
• Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman (JB Lynn)
• A Trace of Moonlight (Allison Pang)
• Divergent (Veronica Roth)
• Code Name Verity (Elizabeth Wein)

So, what have you been reading lately?

Out with the Old, In with the More Logical

All right, folks. It’s question time.

Do you ever have one of those days where for some strange reason you can not get a rather inane query out of your head? Just to be clear, that’s not actually my question. Just one of those annoying rhetoricals that regardless of how you answer can not keep me from blabbering on.

The point is, I had one of those days today. And it was a question that has haunted me similarly on past such days. A question I do believe will continue to irk my brain until we do something about it.

Why, in the world, are we still calling the garment we place on our lower halves a “pair of pants?”

Why?

Not why we did originally. That makes sense to me. Pantaloons were made up of two unjoined legs. You wanted your whole lower half covered? You needed a pair of them. Great.

But why are we still doing it?

I’ve received varying answers over the years when I’ve railed at whoever would listen.

“It’s just what we’ve always called them.”

Hey, I love traditions as much as the next gal. Believe me. But it seems we didn’t care quite enough about it to keep calling them pantaloons. So if your argument is simply that we are slaves to custom, then you really shouldn’t be half-assing it. Tell me that you’re going out to pick up a new pair of denim pantaloons and I might put more stock in this statement.

“People are too used to it. It’ll never change.”

Really? Laziness?

Humans not only created the original leg coverings, but then later on decided, “You know what? This whole two separate things held together by a belt is annoying. Let’s just add a piece on top and make it one thing. Maybe then I’ll stop misplacing that damn right pantaloon,” and made it happen. And then they went further and made these mystical objects in a wonderful variety of materials. Corduroy! Denim! Linen! Velour! Let’s make them really flared on the bottom! Nope, sick of that. Let’s make them so tight on the bottom that it’s hard to wear even ankle socks! How about a few regularly cut ones for the rest of us? We can make those too? Perfect!  

Humans can do all that, along with a couple other things over the course of history, but we don’t have the get-up-and-go to alter the way we talk about something?

For shame.

Of course, even this excuse is better than the one that I receive the vast majority of the time:

“Well, you’ve got two legs, don’t you?”

Let’s, for the sake of expediency, put aside the bizarre implications of this statement if we extend it out to why in all of hell we refer to our lower undergarment as a “pair of underwear.” Well, expediency and the fact that I’m not actually comfortable asking if any of you have more than one ass.

So, yes, I do have two legs. I also have two arms, which are often covered by sleeves. However, the garment the sleeves are attached to is called a shirt. Singular. I don’t get up in the morning and pull on my shirts. Well, I mean….I do if I’m layering, I guess. But you get what I’m saying.

Now, for the ladies reading, let us consider our upper undergarment. Yes, there are two cups, but when sewn together, they become a bra. Again singular, despite also being able to boast that it covers something of which I have more than one.

And for today’s final example of why this argument is the height of ridiculousness,* I offer you a picture of me this past Christmas:

Yes, envy and awe are the correct emotions with 

which to view this photo.

This garment covers everything with the exception of my hands and head. Despite this, we refer to in the singular. Further, we are so enamored with the marvel of this singularity, we have built it right into the name.

The onesie.

And if we can do that for this article of clothing, taking into account all it covers, I do not ever again want to hear that they are called pants because I have two legs.

Now, I believe in us, as a people. Together, we can effect change. We can ensure that our great-grandchildren aren’t still having this conversation.

And we can start today.

Well, maybe tomorrow. It’s getting kind of late over here and I need to put on pajamas.

No!

Procrastination is the enemy!

Forget pajamas. I’m going to put on a sweatpant!

That’s right, folks. I said it.

So, what are you doing to help the cause?

*Bold statement to make in light of this entire post, I know. But I’m sticking by it. 

Traveling Tunes: Ireland

Good morning, folks! Well, it's actually afternoon for me. And it's night in Australia....

So, maybe I should just stick with "Hey there!"

I am still knocking around the Emerald Isle, song in my heart as I go. Thought it only right to share some of them with you. And, so, my traveling soundtrack grows...

To begin with, I must include some musicians who I've actually seen in person:

I mean, the music is beautiful enough. But add in the balancing act? That's just impressive.

Try to listen to this next song without at least tapping your foot.

If you managed it, you've much more will power than I.

This trip is my first time hearing this next song.

Absolutely beautiful and also, nice to know that the love of Elvis spans oceans.

I would be remiss in this list if I didn't include at least one song in Irish.

If you're interested in a translation, check it out here!

To tie things up, here's another tune that, if you're anything like me, is going to get you clapping before you realize it.

And, now, I must go and learn to play a tin whistle or bodhran or fiddle or something.....

Spider Vs. Slasher

So, I mentioned yesterday that there was a spider who horned in on my alone time.

Now, I don't want to say that I'm scared of spiders. Not that it's not true. I just feel like an idiot saying it. So, let's just go with, they make me uncomfortable. In a slightly maniacal fashion.

This guy was big. Like maybe half dollar sized. Weirdly enough, this made him a bit more tolerable because the big ones tend to be, in my experience, more lethargic, not possessing the creepy ass speed of their smaller brethren. So, I thought, maybe we could coexist peacefully. I proposed a deal to the arachnid: He didn't move and I would pretend like the fact that I was a million times bigger meant I wouldn't scream like a tiny baby child if he touched me.

To keep him from thinking I was too soft, I employed a Dread Pirate Roberts attitude as I scurried past the beast on my way to the bedroom.

"Good night, spider. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

But the spider kept to his web and slowly I relaxed. And by relaxed, I mean that I only looked over to make sure that the spider was staying put every ten minutes rather than seconds. See? Easy breezy.

In those moments of calm, it occurred to me that my definitively embarrassing behavior as a result of the aforementioned arachnid was not far removed from that of characters in horror movies. I would run up the stairs quickly (I know, I know, NEVER go up!) and in the back of my mind I kept picturing the spider grabbing my ankles through the open staircase. I would hear the house settle and jump, thinking maybe it was from the weight of spider movement.

I imagined myself as that babysitter who calls the police about getting a bunch of weird calls and is told "The calls are coming from inside the house." The serial killer is coming up the stairs toward me.

And here's how the scene played out in my head - me, still on the phone with the dispatcher, having the following conversation:

Okay. Okay. I can hear him coming up the stairs. Please send the police quickly. I'm going to hide under the bed. Oh....Oh hell no. 

**bloodcurdling scream** 

What? No. No he's not up here. You think that was for him? Are you kidding me? There's a spider under my bed. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. You know what, sir? I'm going to take my chances with the slasher. Don't tell me to calm down! A SPIDER is under MY BED. A SPIDER. What are you not understanding here?? 

**Slasher busts through door** 

Fantastic. Just what I need right now. Yeah. It's him. He's in the room. You know what, man? It's all yours. Oh, and the sickle. Really subtle. And you look like an idiot in that clown mask. You wanna scare people? Dress like a spider. Yeah. Yes, sir, I'm still on the phone. Don't you swing that sickle at me. No, sir. Why in the world would I be saying that to you? Yeah, I get it. Police on their way. Great. Will you stop worrying about this clown? If you swing that sickle at me one more time, I am going to shove it so far up where the sun don't shine I can't even tell you. Do I look like I'm kidding? You wanna kill something? Great. How about starting with the monster scurrying under the bed? You know, make yourself useful for once. Sir, stop yelling about the police! You really want to help?? Just send over a good exterminator!

I am sorry to say that, in the end, the cottage spider could not keep to his side of the deal. Not only did he make his move, but he made it in the direction of my bedroom. And that is behavior for which a lady can just not stand.

Being a hermit has its upsides...

Hello again, folks!

Quick update on my first couple of weeks in Ireland.

Short story: They were pretty damn awesome.

Slightly longer story: I got to stay in a fantastic cottage.

With this view:

Complaints? There are none. Well, okay, there was one. You see, there was this spider.... But, you know what? That's a story for another day.

My parents joined me for the first week and we explored the lovely countryside. And it was seriously lovely.

And then for the second week, it was just me and I got to play the hermit. No internet access. Very little phone service. At best a handful of television channels. Just me, a pile of notebooks and an iPad full of stories to read. Got to revise my WIP and read twelve books. That's right TWELVE. In seven days. Hello, heaven.

Plus! It was cool enough to make use of the wood burning stove:

The week was perfection, but despite loving my short stint as a recluse, it turns out I like talking to people. Who knew, right? So, I'm quite happy too now that I've moved on to an apartment closer to Galway city. And I have the internet again! Which, let's face it, I did miss. This also means that I can start research for the next story I'm working on whilst my beta readers have at the ol' WIP.

My summer of travel has served me well, thus far. But I am missing all of you. So, what have you been up to?