Fight or flight ...?

"I don't think this is working."

"What?"

"I don't think this is working."

"I heard you."

"Then why did you say what?"

"I couldn't believe that was what you said."

"Oh."

A beat. A breath. Open mouth. No words. Nothing came out.

"Are you going to say something?" Shrug. "I'll take that as a no?" Nod. "Okay then."

"Okay then?" My voice rising. My face flushed. "THAT's what you're going to say?"

"What should I say? What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Nod. "Okay then ..."

I couldn't breathe. I glared. My eyes were on fire. Did he see them? Did he notice? What was he thinking? Do I ask? What do I say? What do we do now?

I stood up. Put my mug in the sink. It was still full. I didn't want anymore coffee. I didn't want to be seated at the same table as him. Didn't want to be in the same room.

I felt him watch me walk upstairs. Heard him exhale as I took each step.

Once in my room, our room, I tore through it all. Is this his? Was it mine? What was mine before he came? Damn it! What the hell is this? I sorted. Thrashing loudly, I moved with intent. I paused. Listened. Nothing. He hadn't budged.

"Screw you," I muttered, under my breath. Why? Why was I whispering? He wasn't even within earshot. "Screw you."

I pulled socks out of drawers. Boxers. T-shirts. Pulled his button-downs off the hangers in my closet. MY closet. I lifted the pile, shuffled slowly. Stood at the top of the stairs and let them fly. One after another. And another. I shoved hard. I let everything slip out of my grasp.

"Here! Here you go! Make it work somewhere else. Get the hell out!"

"What?" He appeared at the bottom of the stairs, eyes blazing. "What the hell are you doing?" I watched him run his hand through his hair, an old habit I once loved. It gave him away.

"Are you kidding me? I cannot believe you're asking me that!"

"What are you doing?" He climbed the stairs. Swiftly. Barely noticing traces of his wardrobe on each step. I ran into the bedroom. "What are you doing?" Calmer now, his voice softened. A whisper, almost.

"What am I doing?" I laughed. It was loud. Crazy sounding. "I'm helping you pack." His eyes darted around the room. He stepped towards me. "Oh no." I shook my head. "YOU. You said it's not working. Isn't that what you just said?" He froze. Afraid? No. Not afraid. Sad? Was he sad? "Well?"

"Yes."

"I can't hear you."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. That is what I just said."

"That's what I thought," I answered, pulling out the drawer from his nightstand and dumping it on the bedroom floor.

"Stop." I kept going. "Stop!" His voice rising now. "For fuck's sake, STOP!" I looked over at him. Tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

"Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare. I didn't do this. I didn't DO this." He stepped towards me again. "No. Matthew, you need to go. Get the hell out of here. Go." He shook his head, I watched him reach for me as he moved closer.

That's when I hit him. Slapped him straight across the face. I'd never hit anyone like that in my life.

This post is in response to the Red Dress Club * fight * prompt for today. Constructive Criticism is always welcomed!

To learn more about these characters please click on the Story link provided here!

I have a confession ...

This has been a post that has been floating around in my head for ages. Certainly more than weeks, definitely months, and honestly, it may have been a year or so ago that I first thought of it.

I'm pretty open here on my blog. I don't have much to hide, and I like to share with my readers when I need to. Mostly because I know that writing things down makes me recognize and face them, which I want to do here.

So, onto my confession.

I have a small obsession. It's probably not that small, really, but when I say it it's going to sound like it's funny. Or like I'm trying to be funny. But for a split second, and bear with me, I'm not.

OK. So, I'm obsessed with my hair.

And I don't mean it in the way that you think. If you know me at all, IRL or through blognia, you know that I am not miss Prim and Proper, and the only haircuts I ever get are at SuperCuts. Yes, I'm still being serious here.

Anyway, my "obsession" as I am referring to it for a moment, is related to my anxiety. And if you know me at all you know I have loads of that crap.

So, I've been self-diagnosed. I'm qualified, I promise. I am the person that has known myself for 38+ years, and I know me better than most. Trust me on this one.

I believe I have a mild case what is called trichotillomania. The DSM-IV classifies this as an impulse-control disorder. Or in some references you'll hear it referred to as an aspect of OCD (I need not explain what that means, right? It's commonly referred to often enough, I believe).

So what does this mean for me, you ask? Well, I'm glad you have.

If you've never heard of this it's when someone pulls their hair out in various parts of their body. It's either a response to stress, or a behavior that is habitual and comforting, or loads of other official "medical" reasons I won't get into right now. It also can represent when someone tends to pick at their skin, as well. I'm not in that category, but when it comes to my hair/head/scalp, most bets are off.

I'm not one who pulls my hair to the point of having a bald spot, but I could probably create a small wig with the amount of hair I've pulled out when anxiety hits. I honestly don't think I'm pulling it from my scalp, but usually tugging at the random strays that are going to fall out anyway. Now, if you've seen me, you know I have quite the head of hair. And it's still there. The whole lot of it. ;)

But I tend to tug at it when I'm anxious. One of the most noticeable times is when I am a passenger in a vehicle of any sort. So you'll see me roll my window down briefly to toss a small twist of my now free strands out into the universe. See my most recent opening up post prior to this and you'll get that I don't drive. Now you see why I'm anxious when being driven around.

I think it started ages ago, when I had to take the bus to work from Brooklyn to NYC. I would honestly focus on my split ends. This was back in the day when I had WAY longer hair and haircuts were few and even farther between than they are now! I'd pick nearly every split end that the sunlight would shine on before we hit the Battery Tunnel.

And yes, I've gone so far as to become fascinated with an eyelash in my eye and then end up tugging a few too many lashes out. I've also never had my eyebrows waxed, but they're pretty in shape (for the most part) on their own.

So, that's my confession. It's not to the point that it impacts my life to any true extent, and I live with it as though it's just who I am, a habit, maybe? But I felt like I needed to say something. I'm not sure why, exactly, or what prompted me to do so right this instance - but it needed to be done. I'm not looking for help, or a solution, but just promoting awareness. You never know what people go through on the flip-side of things. You never know when someone is holding in anxiety that could tear them apart if they let it. And you never know what the best way is for someone who isn't you when it comes to dealing with things. So support them. Listen. Just be there. Sometimes that's all anyone really needs.

Thanks for listening/reading, whatever you're doing to take in my point, and for allowing me to use this space to get this little tidbit about me across.

A Thread of Sky ~ Book Review

I am going to make a confession. I am not yet done with this book. I'm really close, but I just cannot say that I have finished it and have any sense of completion when I have not yet reached that point.

You may think my review is worthless then, but I can truly say it may be more revealing than any other I have written and shared with my readers.

See, A Thread of Sky, by Deanna Fei is quite an intriguing read. The cast of characters is incredibly intense. We have Irene, the not quite matriarch of her family, who starts us off and appears to be the main character. Then we learn about her daughters. All three of them. And her sister. And then there's Ma.

We don't meet Ma right away, but she, SHE is the matriarch. She is the grandma, the ma, the character we observe silently and almost gloss over for much of the story. But she is the person the girls seem to respect more than anyone. And yes, I do include Irene and her sister, two grown women, while using the term "girls" there.

I am really enjoying this book and feel that I would do it a disservice to rush through the rest of it just to say I've finished, which is why I have not yet done so. I have enjoyed the details of their trip to China, and the memories of their past, their relationships, and so much more. Sometimes there is a little too much detail. I found that most in the chapters that cover Irene. I suppose she is supposed to be the most "boring" of the characters, in that we're trying to watch her recapture her family through this *vacation* she has pulled together. I'm just not sure about the flashes we get from her. They lead me to skim the pages a little bit.

So while I confess that there are certain parts I could do without, there are others that I enjoy, but find a bit confusing, as well. The interweaving of the characters is what is slowing me down a little bit, as the sisters (the younger set - of three, Nora, Kay and Sophie) are almost so overlapping that I am mixing them up with one another. So while each has their own scenarios and their own life, I am finding myself flipping back a bit to be sure that this one is the one who was engaged, sort of, and this other sister is the one with the body image issues, and so forth.

I suppose all of this represents great writing, and I think that is the case with this novel. So if you're interested in a read that is chock full of China's beauty, some history, detailed and told from the perspective of many different women from within one family, I recommend A Thread of Sky to you. While it hasn't been the quickest or easiest read for me thus far, it's definitely been one that has shown the most growth of character and family, and I look forward to turning the final pages to see where they all wind up.

Just wanted to add that I finished the book last night! (4-25) I was too tired to come update, but I actually really enjoyed the ending. The last chapters were the most succinct, and yet the most detailed. I think this book could have been done a bit shorter, with the same outcome, but that it's still well worth the read.


** I was not compensated in any way for this review. I was given a copy of this book to facilitate my review and all opinions expressed are strictly my own.**

Enough Already ...

Look in the mirror. There is nothing wrong with you.

You're a beautiful woman. A wife. A mother.

You are strong. You have been through so much.

You've seen buildings collapse. You've survived heartbreak. You've watched loved ones suffer and beat the beast. You've watched others succumb. You're incredibly strong, powerful, and an amazing woman.

So what is it that this holds over you?

It's time to let it out. Let it go. FACE IT. BEAT IT. Kick it to the CURB.

Dear Anxiety,

I am SO done with you. I'm SO done.

It's been so long and I think I finally need to tell you to shove it.

I mean, seriously. How much longer can I have this fear? How much longer will I let this keep me trapped in my own home? Keep my daughter home with me like this? Without an opportunity to grow and flourish in ways I never did.

Ha. I give you too much power. I do. Honestly, I know that I do. I just need to remember to stop. And that's hard. It's not easy at all. But you know what?

SCREW YOU.

I'm done. This is an official termination of our relationship. I'm taking your pictures off the wall. I'm throwing out the old journals with horrible memories. I'm taking back my life. I'm a year and a half away from turning 40. Forty! Imagine. Who would have ever thought that I'd be 40 years old and still not driving?

I'm anxious. I'm feeling it in my chest. My breathing labors as I contemplate the change. But I am doing it. I'm done with you.

I have reasons. I thought I'd have them years ago but I let you take over. I let you control me. I don't have to do that any more. I know it won't be easy, but you need to move on. Find some other sucker if you must, or just disappear into thin air, okay?

I know I won't immediately be able to forget you, but that's how you work. So I'll talk myself down. I'll walk through that fog and find my way without you by my side. And I'll make it.

It's time for you to leave now. You can find your own way out. I'm pretty sure you know where the door is. It's the same one you walked in through oh so many years ago.

And then. Then and only then. I'll get behind the wheel and I'll move. I'll hold the power and I'll push the anxiety in my head on its way. And I'll be doing it. I'll be driving.

Goodbye. Good riddance.

This post is in response to this week's Red Dress Club prompt to "write a formal complaint letter to your deepest, darkest fear."

Flower Craft!

Looking for the perfect craft for Spring? Mother's Day? Or just to keep your little ones busy enough and indoors (away from the real flowers that cause awful allergies - oh, is that just me?)? Here you go:

I wasn't quick enough to take pictures for this step by step tutorial, but I do have pictures of the finished product, so that has to count for something.

Materials needed:

- craft sticks
- tissue paper in a variety of colors
- glue
- scissors

Take the tissue paper and let your kids go crazy with the scissors. Safely, of course.

You can also use coffee filters (we did this craft previously) and markers to create your own fun and funky flowers. Pretty much whatever you have on-hand will work for these.

Dab some glue on the end of a craft stick, and fold up the freshly cut tissue paper to attach. Once attached, continue folding and snipping extraneous paper to create a *flower* that meets your liking! Or your child's liking. We did these together and had a lot of fun.

Basically that's it. A few quick steps to make your little one happy with a fun and simple craft. If you have a pretty vase you can use, pop your new flowers in there and pop them up on the mantle like we did. They really look pretty! Not quite as pretty as my floral arranger, but still ... pretty!

When Did I Get Like This? ~ Book Review

The minute my copy of When Did I Get Like This? arrived at my doorstep, I knew I wanted to know Amy Wilson. I mean, look at the cover image. You see it? The picture above of the woman's legs sticking out from under a pile of neatly stacked diapers? Yeah, that's the one. I looked at that and said, I am pretty sure that I love this woman, but how on earth is she wearing those cute heels?

I had heard about her one-woman show, The Mother Load, and had thought she sounded like my kind of woman. My kind of mom. The kind of person I'd love to be friends with.

And as I turned page after page of her latest release I believed that more and more with each word she "spoke" ... From the sub-title sentence about Dinosaur-Chicken Nuggets to the 'There's something wrong with him,' about her first-born child.

I wanted to scream and get the attention of her new mom self and tell her about reflux, when in reality, she experienced it long before I even knew it existed in newborns. Long before I knew what it could be like as your child arched their back to touch the ceiling after a nursing session, and then proceeded to projectile vomit all over you, your couch and whatever else was nearby.

I wanted to copy the chapter on nursing and hand it out to each and every new mother attempting to breastfeed their first child. Nipple confusion, indeed! As a mother of one, and that one being a baby girl who rarely - if ever - drank from a bottle, I felt her pain. She was bonding with me through words, and I had no way to communicate in response. No way to comment in return.

Until now. This review. This book is fantastic. If you're a new mom, a fairly new mom, shoot, an expectant mom or even KNOW someone who is pregnant, you'd surely enjoy it. She's too funny. OK, fine, if you don't really like kids you might not enjoy it, but you might laugh at her humor just the same, and surely you will recognize things in mothers you know.

What was my final bonding moment with Amy was at one point while reading I pulled my book out of my knapsack (we had been traveling and I stuffed it in there with loads of stuff to entertain both, me and my 4yo) and there, right on the front cover next to the title, sits a Dora sticker.

I'm too lazy to take a picture of it, but I decided to leave the sticker there. At least until my child catches it and decides she must have it back immediately. Somehow Dora attached herself to my book, and I thought - look at this. When did *I* get like this, I wonder?

And there you have it. Amy Wilson is speaking for mothers everywhere, reminding us that she is real, and we are real, and we're all the same crazy, spit-up wearing, toddler-with-hand-in-pants reprimanding, dinosaur chicken nugget-buying types of moms. And if you need that validation, pick up this book. Today. Well, not today, as it's ... wait! It's the 19th, so YES, today!!! Go order yourself a copy tonight. I am quite sure you won't regret it. Or check out Amy's blog, where she links you up to someone giving away a copy. The winner could be YOU!

Oh, and if you're still not sure ... go here and start reading. You'll get a small taste of the book and can decide for yourself!

Have fun ... and lock yourself in the bathroom if you have to. That's pretty much how I finished most of the chapters in this book ... TMI, perhaps, but I'm being honest. And isn't that what you love about me most?

*I was not compensated in any way for this review. I did receive a copy of the book to facilitate my review but all opinions are 100% my very own.*

How to Knit a Heart Back Home ~ Book Review+Giveaway

I love reading books about knitting. More specifically, I love reading novels about knitting.

Because I kind of live vicariously through them. I mean, I know how to do your basic knit stitch, but that's pretty much it. Not much else going on there when all you can do is create a few pseudo-scarves because you don't know how to "end" them.

Oops ... where was I before I started going on and on about my lack of knitting talent. Ah, yes. Books. My stronger talent!

I recently read How to Knit a Heart Back Home, by Rachael Herron, and I loved it. It was light, but not fluffy, sexual, but not erotic, tense, but not stressful, emotional but not heart-breaking ...

The main character of Lucy was perfect in so many ways. She knits (!), she volunteers for her local fire department (!?) and she runs a bookstore (!!!). I would absolutely want to be friends with Lucy in real life. The description of her on the back of the book says, 'Her life is even-keeled and smooth, just the way she likes it,' and I like that idea. That concept. Of just life being life.

The every day for Lucy is so easy and relaxed. And then Owen returns to Cypress Hollow. Just the town's name alone leaves me in a soap opera setting mindset. But it's not. It's sweet, it's connected, and it's a lot of small town connections and relationships coming into play.

Owen is hot. Owen and Lucy save a friend's life [Abigail, from the first book of this series - that you do not need to read prior to reading this one, I promise!] as they reunite, but he does not know who she is. There is much more that throws them together as we make our way through this book and eventually, man, we see just how hot he is. Ms. Herron writes her sex scenes with tender words and a heated touch. We stumble through the development of their relationship, their connection to one another, and this town, and we learn more about each character with every page.

Now that I have your attention, back to the knitting. A small quote from the author on what knitting is like for her,

"Some knitters describe knitting as being like meditation. I think this is a lovely idea, but I've been doing it for so long now that it's more like breathing air. It's just something I have to do." ~ Rachael Herron

The knitting is the way this story stitches (forgive the pun!) together. Seriously. Every now and then I think, where's the knitting, and then it's there. There's a lot more to the novel, a found batch of notes and patterns by a famous knitter that both Owen and Lucy knew as children, their mothers knew her, Lucy's grandmother knew her. The knitting is there with this part of the story, AND the way that Lucy is doing just like the author says. She is knitting when she doesn't even realize it. Knitting saves her in so many ways. I'm jealous. I wish I had that ability in the worst way!

I'm lucky enough to have a two copies of this book to give to my readers, so please take a moment and leave me a comment to let me know you're interested in the book. Also, this giveaway will only be open to my current followers. Those who support me as I talk about my reading habits regularly and leave me supportive comments on my book reviews and love the whole book thing. So no offense to anyone else, I'd just love to give a copy of this fun (and possible beach read) book to someone (someones?) who loves books as much as I do.

Winner will be chosen one week from today.

*I was not compensated in any way for this review. I received a copy of the book to facilitate my review and will have two copies sent to the winner free of charge. All opinions shared are my own!**

Where is he?

I would never be able to accept the fact that Jonathan was gone. He was my best friend, in every way that mattered. It made no sense that he would take his own life. Not the least bit of sense.

The phone rang that morning and I saw his number on my caller ID.

"Whattup, son?" I shouted over my blender's rumble. "You on your way?" Smoothies at eight. That's what we had said.

"Kayla, it's me," her voice came through, interspersed with the noises around me. This was wrong. Something was wrong. I couldn't answer her. I wouldn't. "Kayla? It's Margaret."

"Where is he?" The line went quiet. "I'm waiting for him." More silence. "What happened?" I asked, as I slid to the floor of my compact kitchen, banging my knee as I went down. "Sonofa-" I stopped. I never spoke that way in front of his mother.

"Kayla, honey. Kayla, he's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I wanted to... someone should have come to tell you."

"Wh-what do you mean ... gone?"

"I found him this morning. He - he - uh - he hurt himself, honey." A guttural scream. Was that me? Heavy sobs raked my chest.

"no. no. No. NO." I dropped the phone as I pulled myself up to the sink. I made it just in time. I splashed water on my face, embarrassed that J's mom had heard me retching. Then I laughed. Fuck it. He's gone. What the hell, gone? Seriously? "Sorry, Mrs. H. I - uh - I think - I have to go now." I hung up without saying anything else. Without asking about the service, what actually happened. I shut the lights in the kitchen, poured the now open blender into the sink. Turned the faucet on to wash it down. I would never make a smoothie again.

I curled into bed and never wanted to leave.

The days blended together, I don't remember much. The service. I went, I guess. My parents took me. My mother taking the time to comb my hair, like a child. She slipped my emerald green dress over my head. I couldn't wear black. I wouldn't. He hated black. He wouldn't want me to ... what the hell. He wasn't going to be there, why did it matter? But it did. It mattered. It mattered to me.

"Kayla, you really need to get a grip." I glared at my brother from the couch. "It's been a week," he stated, calmly.

It felt longer. I don't know why. I guess when you don't move things seem to be moving more rapidly around you.

"Fine, whatever. Stay here forever. Stay here every single day for the rest of your days. Do what you want. But take a shower, for godssake, would you? You reek." I tossed a pillow at him, knocking over a half-full bowl of old cereal in the process.

"Great." I stood up to clean things, to try to. I bent down and backed myself into something. "What the hell? What the hell is this?" I waved a batch of papers at my brother.

"Here, add to the piles. I brought you your mail." He tossed the batch at me, smirking as it scattered everywhere.

"Get out."

"Kay."

"Out. Now." He muttered mean things, but he left. Slamming the door behind him. "Men." I griped, to no one in particular.

I started picking up the stuff he threw at me. I probably should sort through the mail. Who knew what was in there. Fuck. This sucked. I grabbed a garbage bag and put it next to me on the couch.

Bills. Bills. Junk mail. I thought we took ourselves off that mailing list thing. Letter from Suzy telling me how sorry she was. What's that? I pulled out a postcard with a picture of a cat on a beach towel wearing sunglasses. A slight gasp escaped my lips. What? I turned it over. The handwriting was too familiar. Too real. Could it be? I shook my head and leaned in closer. What the hell?

I'm not dead. Meet me tonight at Guido's. Tell no one.

I burst into tears.

Lowcountry Summer ~ Book review

If you're a transplant, a born and raised Southern reader, or just interested in Southern families, this book is one for your *to be read* pile, without a doubt. You have to have the patience for this kind of story telling aspect, where you find out about the family and you walk through their situations in the slow Lowcountry of South Carolina.

I have to tell you that having finished reading it I kind of want to talk all Southern-like and say things like 'eah ... I reckon' ... and Lawamercy!

Now, mind you, this kinda talk is real Southern, and it isn't somethin' I hea' every day down here in NC. I think I just showed that to you since I can't even really type that way for too long!

Caroline is an interesting character who is a bit of a busybody, but in a good-hearted way (for the most part). She lives across the road from her brother Trip, at least it seems that they live across the way from one another. Their sprawling lots of land leave her traveling from one house to the other by way of golf carts!

Caroline often makes reference to her dear departed mama, who was a well known Queen in their community, and the inner voice we hear from her often questions exactly what Miss Lavinia would do when a situation comes to pass that makes her uncomfortable.

There are certain aspects of the book that dragged along for me, and I kind of wanted to skim over her flashbacks of the past, because I was so focused on the story in the present. I won't give anything away for those interested in reading this, as I am not a fan of spoilers, but there are some twists that are the heart and soul of the story for a section, and that part was some of the finest writing, in my opinion.

Trip and his not-yet-ex-wife Frances Mae have four daughters, and only one (Amelia) seems somewhat normal. Amelia and Eric (Caroline's son) are close, and their relationship seems normal and supportive. I love Eric and would love to see a spin-off story of his life and future. As for the other kids, Caroline is pretty harsh in her mind when dealing with those three. She's even downright cruel when it comes to Chloe, the youngest, who I felt loads of pity for, and honestly it turned me off from her character when she thought so rudely, harshly, and went against the Southern mentality she was trying to enforce on the girls, themselves.

As for the setting of the story, it's so well detailed I can almost picture it. The hospitality is incredible, and the way that the characters are always offering up food and welcoming people into their homes, that's beautiful.

Food was an integral part of this book, and I had hoped to find a recipe section at the end of it! I think had there been one, or had they been added to the story itself, it may have been a bit cliche', but at the same time it might have made the characters more real, and maybe made Caroline more human.

I will warn anyone who is a bit - ehem - prudish, that Ms. Caroline has some quite frisky (for lack of a better word) thoughts now and then, and though they were a huge part of her character and I didn't mind them, I'm not quite sure that they fit with who she was. I will add that I truly enjoyed Matthew and had high hopes for him from the get go.

And on a final note, the cover is so pretty. It really brings me to a dock off the land behind someone's home, with the boat ready to head out fishin'! And honestly, I only JUST noticed the sunhat on there - I think we could have done without it. It sort of blends in ... hmmn. Can't believe I missed that at first!

So while I won't say this was the best book I have ever read, I will say it was definitely enjoyable. I would probably pick up something else by the author. I will add that I have only just learned that this is a sequel to another novel [Plantation] by Ms. Frank, so I am not sure how that would have affected my reading experience had I actually known about or read it.

** I was not compensated in any way for this review. I received a copy of the book from TLC Book Tours to facilitate my review. All opinions expressed are truly my own. **

Happy Anniversaries!

So, today actually IS my anniversary.

My husband and I have been married for nine years. Yeppers, folks, nine whole years.

Yesterday my daughter and I watched my wedding video.

**Note to self, be prepared with extra tissues when watching your wedding video so soon after losing a close family friend. Sigh.**

Anyway, the child was rather intrigued with Daddy. Daddy in glasses, Daddy's baby pictures, Daddy dancing with -- oh, yes. Mommy!

Mommy, you have a big dress.

Yes, Yes I do.

It's pretty.

Thank you.

I want a big, white dress.

Oh-kay.

Maybe I can have a big, white dress and I can marry Daddy.

Hmph.

I am, of course, teasing. I don't mind the endless love she has for her daddy. After all, I have it, as well. I just don't - what's the word? - Glow from it every minute of every day. I don't run to the door and scream Daddy! when he gets home from work, though believe-you-me, I want to!

I love my husband with all my heart. I'm truly lucky to have a man like him who has let me sit on my arse for four-plus years, not driving, and yes, I am home with our daughter, but he could have kicked me into high gear and behind the wheel of a car before I was ready. I mean, if he really REALLY wanted to.

So, yeah, he's a bit of a saint that way, if Jewish people believed in saints and all. Which we don't, but just the same, he IS one. Totally.

And last night when I said Happy Anniversary before crawling into bed, he said something along the lines of -- Aw, man. The husband is supposed to say it first.

Huh? Okay ...

So it shows he remembered.

This is where I should have thrown a pillow at him. But I said, Okay, honey. Happy not anniversary. Or something like that.

And we move on to another fun year.

Also? Just in case you're wondering ... the plural in my title actually represents my 'hood here!

On April 10th, 2009, I clicked Public and opened my blog up to you peeps. I had been posting for like a month or so, but I was too nervous to do it before then. And here's a link to my lame-O very first public post: OK, I did it.

Pretty non-exciting, ey? But search around there - before - after - wherever you'd like. You'll get to see the young and innocent blogging version of me. I am pretty sure I haven't changed much, but hey, you judge for yourselves, okay?

And btw, just cause I feel like it, here's a picture of me in my pretty white (big!) dress. You know, If i had picnick all those years ago I might not have hated my wedding pictures as much as I did. Don't mind the #42 in the corner, it was a proof I scanned back then. And happens to be one of my favorite numbers. Which is a story for another day.


Thanks for listening ... Ciao for now!

p.s. I am linking up with Pour Your Heart Out today, because, well, I kind of just poured my heart out a little bit. Or, okay, a lot. And I puffy heart Shell. So head on over there, wouldja?

Growing up in Brooklyn in the '70s and '80s was a wonderful experience.

If you've ever seen images of children running through a fire hydrant I'll tell you straight away that that was not me. Not my brother. And not our friends.

We were lucky. We were lucky because we had a pool in our backyard.

It was an above ground pool, 4 feet in depth, and bright blue. Do you know the kind? You have to have seen it. That blue outside and the even brighter blue inside? The water bluer than both of them together.

The white ladder and small step right before you jumped right in.

It always shook. It was so rickety. Never quite steady enough to be fully attached. It never stopped us. Me. It never stopped me.

I'd climb up that ladder without a care in the world.

"Don't run!" I heard my mother's voice.

"Okay!" I would shout back. I couldn't see her, but she was probably roasting on a lawn chair out of my line of sight. Slathered up in oil without a trace of SPF. The scent of coconut gave her away. That's the way things were back then.

My dad? My dad was either in the pool waiting for me, or on the other side of the yard standing at the BBQ. And I don't mean gas grill, either. It was charcoal and lighter fluid or nothing else for us back then. There's nothing like the smell of charcoal heating up before it hits the flames.

Back then I ate whatever was put in front of me. I ate hot dogs, hamburgers, with cheese, without. I can't imagine that grilling back then was anything like the ensemble my parents pull together now on the gas grill on their porch. Sausage pinwheels, chicken or turkey (which is all I eat as a grown gal). Slathered in sauces. There's even a brush!

But when I was a child there was my dad, standing in his swimsuit, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, flipping burgers with a spatula and a fork.

Clean up was full of paper plates with grease marks, leftover buns we'd toss to the birds, just in time to make way for watermelon.

Watermelon. The juice dripping down, spilling all over us. Paper napkins sticking to our unblemished and sun-kissed faces. Sticky hands. We'd tear right through it and ready ourselves for more time in the water.

"Wait!" We'd stop. Freeze. Me, ahead of the pack, the oldest. My brother hiding out in the basement. My cousins right behind me. Our slender bodies ready to jump again. Dive. Play Jaws. Looking over at my mom. My aunt. My dad finishing his cigarette.

"Mom!"

"30 minutes," she'd shout from her spot in the grass. Sitting up, sipping water, I could see the lines of the chair imprinted in her skin.

"Really?"

"Yes," a chorus now. All the adults would chime in together.

We'd make our way down the ladder. Backwards.

"Oh-kayyyy." A chorus in return. Young voices, listening to their mothers.

We'd make our way around the outside of the pool, glancing over with longing. Heading down to the basement before we could come back out, rinse off our feet with the hose at the steps and dive back into a world of total blue.

** This is a response to this week's Remembered prompt over at The Red Dress Club. **

Post It Notes on a Monday ...

It's mine, I want it back.

Feel free to introduce yourself to these characters by reviewing previous prompts they appeared in when you click here: Story.
=====

The coffee warmed my insides, but something seemed wrong. I rolled it around my tongue and swallowed. It had a metallic taste. Coffee tastes like metal? Maybe something really was wrong with me. Isn't metal tasting an issue when you have problems with iron? I shook my head. Not another tirade of the 'what's wrong with me' kind. I was fine.

I looked down into the mug to see what was missing.

"Did you put milk in this?" I asked. Matty looked up at me from across the kitchen table and nodded. "Sugar?"

"Yep. Why? What's wrong?" I shrugged. "I may not know how to make coffee, but I know how to treat it." I laughed.

"I know. I know." He lifted his mug to his lips. Ah, those lips. I missed those lips. I made myself shift my focus to the mug in his hand. I started to laugh. He looked to see what I was laughing at.

"Oh, man. I can't believe you still have this."

"I know. I guess I just don't let go of things that easily," I heard my voice go soft.

"Yeah," he whispered. Not much of a response, but what did I expect him to say?

"Remember when your mom ..." I trailed off.

"Yeah," he whispered again.

We were cleaning up after that morning's brunch. Dishes in the sink, on the table, in the dishwasher. Where to begin.

"I'll wash, you dry?" Matt walked around the house, dancing to whatever song was stuck in his head at the moment. "Matt?" Dance, dance. Hum. Hum. "Matt? Hello? Matt?" He looked over at me. "Can you help me with these?"

"Sure." He came up behind me as I stood at the sink. "Got enough soap?" I rolled my eyes, my hands submerged beneath a layer of bubbles. He stood close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His lips brushed against me. My skin tingled at his touch.

"Matt, come on. We'll never get this place cleaned up ..." I moaned in spite of myself. "Matthew. Seriously. You need to stop that right nowwww ..." I sighed.

"You were saying?" He lifted my arms and turned me to face him. We were eye to eye, mouth to mouth. Breathing together for a few minutes. It was me who broke our focus.

"I'll tell you what, as soon as we clean up this disaster area, we'll take care of business, okay?"

"Oh, business. Is that what I am to you now?" I laughed. "Fine."

"Great, go get me the coffee mugs, would you?" I splashed a handful of bubbles at him. He swatted my behind with a dishtowel. "Be careful with those!" I ordered, as he piled them up in his arms, one on top of the other. He handed me one at a time, slowly, carefully. I placed them in the sink. I'd be happy to just let them soak if it meant getting back into his arms more quickly. I counted as I placed them in the sudsy water. "One is missing."

"What?"

"One is missing."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I just counted. One of them is missing."

"Which one?" I went through the dirty water thoroughly. "The one you made for me. The one with the crooked handle, the painted ceramic one. The one ..." my voice trailed off. I sighed.

"What?"

"The one your mother was drinking out of." He heard the exasperation in my voice.

"You can't mean to tell me that you think my mom stole our coffee mug?"

"MY coffee mug. And yeah, I'm going to go out on a limb and say she did."

"Seriously? A coffee mug. Why would she take it?"

"Why? Why does your mom do anything? She wanted it, she took it. We have to call her, Matty. It's mine, I want it back."

"Seriously, babe. Come on." I wouldn't budge. "I'll call her first thing in the morning. Let's enjoy the rest of our Sunday." I shook my head, moved towards the phone. "Baby, please."

"Matt, come on, I want it back."

"I'm sure she's taking good care of it, IF she has it."

"If?" His gaze drifted. "If? Do you really think she doesn't have it, hon?"

He shook his head. "She has it. I'm as sure as you are." He sunk down to the floor. Head into his hands. "I don't know why she does these kinds of things. I don't know how to stop her."

"You can't. You don't have to stop her, you can't. You've tried. But we have to get that back. We have to, Matt. I'm sorry." I lifted his face from his hands. "Do you want me to call her?" He shook his head. "Okay."

"Just give me a few minutes, alright?" I nodded. Leaned in, kissed his forehead, his cheeks, made my way to his mouth.

"You'll get it back for me?" I whispered. He smiled, nodded. "You can have more than a few minutes."




This post was written in response to this week's Red Dress Club Prompt: Someone has stolen something from you (or your character). Something of tremendous value. What will you do to get it back? Or will you give up? As always, constructive criticism is welcome!

Fashionably Late to the Ultimate Blog Party

Okay, so I'm going to follow my friend Single Mom in the South and take her lead by jumping in at the Ultimate Blog Party before it's too late.

So here goes ...

Welcome to my 'hood, everyone. If it's your first time, let me show you around.

Sometimes I need to remind myself that I am amazing:

She wants to be like me

or that a kick in the pants wouldn't hurt in the least:

A Letter To Myself

And sometimes I like to remind other moms that they're not alone:

You know you're a mom when ...

Being a mom means

And I have to admit that I often feel like I'm in a rinse, lather, repeat mode. Anyone else ever get that way, too?

I'll also confess that there are moments I'd truly like to find myself Walking Away ...

But for the most part motherhood is incredible and I love sharing the day to day with my readers. Along with a few books I've enjoyed reading. Okay, a lot of books I've enjoyed reading. I love books. I can't help myself. See that tab up top there? It's called Reading with Redneck for a reason.

I've also got a giveaway going on right now. Jaclyn has created these incredible jewelry items in honor of her brother and you're not going to want to miss a chance to check them out.

Joey's Hot Dog Necklace and Bracelet giveaway

So sit back, relax, and get to know me better. And please leave me a note to let me know you came by!

Cup of Chai, anyone?

Wordless Wednesday: Christmas Tutu

Would YOU like to attend the Southern Women's Show?

If you're in the Triangle area, or anywhere near it, I've got a great deal for you ...

I'm pairing up with the Southern Women's Show in Raleigh to give away tickets!

And yes, it is this weekend, but don't worry - they'll hold the tickets at will call for you if you happen to enter and win here with me.

And it's so super crazy easy to do.

First, let me tell you a little bit about the event!

The Southern Women's Show is going to be held at the NC State Fairgrounds on Friday, April 8th through Sunday, April 10th.

Address for the Fairgrounds: 1025 Blue Ridge Road, Raleigh, NC 27607

You'll line up with people like this:

And then you'll walk through crowds like this:

And you'll find yourself searching through incredible options like these!

There are loads of exhibitor coupons on the website here, and you'll save on deals at vendors such as:

~ River Expeditions
~ Passion Parties by Patty
~ Scentsy
~ Judy's Gifts & Jewelry, LLC
~ Harvest Time Foods, Inc.

And many more.

So in order to enter just leave me a comment here and let me know how many tickets you would like and who you'd bring with you to the Southern Women's Show this year if you win.

And for an extra entry, follow me on GFC.

** I have not been compensated in any way for this post. The Southern Women's Show is going to grant my readers free tickets in exchange for my posting this information! I'm not even 100% sure I'm going to make it to the event, myself. I hope my winners have a blast. Thanks so much! **

Meet Me at the Cafe ...

I'm not sure what it is about that banner I chose to go with this post today, but it just makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. So I figured I'd choose it and focus on a few warm items over at EdenFantasys tonight.

Like this heart-shaped warmer, for starters. Indicated as a great *toy* it has also been described as great for cramps, wonderful for warming your hands and feet, basically it's like a mini hot water bottle in a tiny sized heart. I wonder if it can also be used as an ice pack for sore muscles?

And another search of "heat" on their website brought me a wonderful (and affordable!) basket of love, filled with goodies like edible body paint, body heat massage lotion, and two or three more items, for only $15.99!

So as you wait patiently for the weather to warm up, why not check out the EdenFantasys website for some heat inspiring products to get you through this damp and chilly spring?

** At the time of this post I have not been compensated in any way. However, I should be receiving a code for a giftcard in exchange for posting about EdenFantasys.com. I was not required to discuss any of these products for my post, but figured I'd pick out some items that might be of interest to my readers. **

The Hundred Secret Senses ~ Book Review

I just finished reading this book by Amy Tan, and I really enjoyed it. The main character of Olivia, who tells the story to us, was interesting. We truly got to know her through the people that surrounded her and I liked her. I can't say she was the most passionate character I've ever read, but it's likely that it was supposed to be that way. She wasn't supposed to be extremely passionate, perhaps so everything around her seemed to stand out more.

The character I absolutely adored was Kwan. Kwan is Libby-ah's half-sister. Kwan is the girl with the yin eyes. Or, in translation, she sees dead people.

In the present times, Olivia tells us the story of her life. Of how she met Kwan, of growing up with a half-sister who didn't fit in, who made her not fit in, who told her stories every single minute she could about her past lives and the people she lived them with.

That's where I got lost along the way. Not once, not twice, but a few times. I just didn't get the stories about Kwan as other people. I understood the history, but for so long I just didn't get the need for it. It was enough for me that Kwan saw people who had passed - I believed it - I didn't need the whole reincarnation aspect while turning the pages. I just wanted to see how Kwan would try to get Libby-ah back with her not-yet-ex-husband. She seemed to feel they belonged together, absolutely know they belonged together and worked hard at convincing her sister of the same.

I enjoyed the details on Olivia's relationship with Simon, then and now, the memories, the struggle, the sadness. I enjoyed the family details and history. But I have to admit that I did skim a few flashbacks into Kwan's past lives. Not all of them, but sometimes I was just thinking, come on already.

And then we draw closer to the end. We head to China with them, we learn about Kwan's family, friends, her village. We want to learn more. And eventually we do. And that's when the history falls into place. The past lives finally MEAN something to us, the reader. I'm sure many have read this and knew straight away that they would be important, but for me I struggled with that.

And then I kept reading. The way the stories weave together. How everything ties together and the words, the words are incredible.

This was not an easy, fly through in a day or two kind of read, but it is well worth it, in my opinion. If you're looking for something new, something different, it's worth picking up a copy and taking your time to devour it. Definitely!

**I was not compensated in any way for this review. I did receive a copy of this book to facilitate my review. All opinions expressed are completely my own.**

An interview and giveaway with Jaclyn1423

Let me start with a small piece of relevant information. April is Autism Awareness Month. The United States uses the month of April to educate the public about Autism and the Autism community -- Autism-Society.

Now, let me introduce you to Jaclyn.

Jaclyn has a beautiful shop over at Etsy, called Jaclyn1423, where she makes both, beautiful and funky jewelry that you'll absolutely want to add to your collection.

And let's face it, women? When it comes to accessories? We probably DO have a collection. Guilty here - without a doubt. I'm already eyeing several pieces in her store, but I can't tell you which ones, because some of them may not have extras in stock. [I'm sorry - but that one is mine!]

I'm most especially eyeing this mommy necklace, which is made to order and everyone can get their own special stone and initial on it. Don't you want one now? You know you do. I know I do.

So I decided to take a different approach than just doing a giveaway and I interviewed Jaclyn so I could learn more about her. So here goes!

1. What got you into designing jewelry?
My friend Kathleen does chain maille jewelry. That kind of tedious work with jump rings is not my bag, but all of her containers of gorgeous beads definitely was. I've always loved jewelry -- my jewelry box is a piece of furniture in and of itself -- and once Kathleen showed me the tricks and let me play with her beads, I was hooked. It started as something to pass the time, and then became, "Um, I have a lot of jewelry laying (lying? I'm terrible at that one) around. I should try to sell it and make room for more!"

2. Have you always been creative? Any other talents?
I guess I have been creative! I remember winning a few of those grocery store coloring contests for Easter and Halloween. I love writing and knew since I was about 15 that I wanted to be a reporter. I'm a features writer for a newspaper. I love the creativity that affords me. I can also raise my eyebrows independently of one another.

3. What has been your favorite piece you have ever made?
Oh, I definitely don't have just one. I'd say my current favorite piece in my shop is these pair of earrings: http://www.etsy.com/listing/69491038/bridal-earrings-elegant-freshwater. I adore the pearl cluster, and I think it looks so dainty and elegant with the sterling ear wire. I can so see these on a bride with her hair done up in gorgeous curls.

4. What is your favorite way to unwind?
Making jewelry definitely unwinds me after work. Reading does wonders, too. I like having my nose in a book while the beau is absorbed in an NBA game.

5. Tell me a little bit about yourself (long or short, if you prefer, three words works, too!)
I'm a 27-year-old (28 on the 14th!) who has lived all over the Midwest (born in Illinois, grew up in southern Ohio, college in northeast Ohio, back to Illinois, now in Indiana) and is dying to get out. I could end up here ... just not yet! I love to travel. San Diego is the most beautiful city I've ever seen in real life. I WILL go to Italy before I turn 30. I love to eat. When I imagine living in a house like a real adult, the only room I see clearly is my library. I don't like lending out my books because if you break the binding or dog-ear a page, I'll twitch. I don't like borrowing books because my to-read pile is HUGE, and I may not get to your book for something like three years. I'm playing bridesmaid to two friends this year.

6. Can you tell me about why you started creating the pieces we are giving away here?
My brother Joey, who is 21, has autism. I make the pieces to raise money for Autism Speaks. When I debuted the Joey's Hot Dog necklaces last April for Autism Awareness Month, I wrote up this blog post http://scracklep.wordpress.com/2010/04/01/joeys-hot-dogs-are-here/ that really gets into the why, if you're interested. This year for Autism Awareness Month, I'm debuting Joey's Hot Dog bracelets. I received a custom order for them from a friend's coworker -- she had on her Hot Dog necklace, and the coworker asked about it. Then she placed an order for six bracelets. I'm also debuting a slew of new colors. And, like last April, 25 percent of all sales in my shop in April will go to Autism Speaks, in addition to $5 for every Hot Dog jewelry.

Jaclyn's giving away TWO items in my 'hood. She is going to be giving away a bracelet and a necklace! If you missed the link about how she came up with Joey's Hot Dog jewelry, please take a moment to check it out and let her truly touch your heart by clicking here.

So, here's the giveaway details! Our first place winner will get to choose between the necklace and the bracelet, and our second place winner will get the remaining prize. Both tailored to your choice of stone color, and initial, obviously. Here's what they look like:

And here's what you need to do to enter!

MANDATORY ENTRY:
** Head on over to Jaclyn's Etsy store and let me know one piece you'd absolutely love to have that I have not mentioned here.

EXTRA ENTRIES: (be sure to post a separate comment for each - 1 entry)
** Follow Good Girl Gone Redneck via GFC
** Subscribe to Jaclyn's blog here at Snap, Crackle, Pop

** Follow me and Jaclyn on twitter @goodgirlgonered and @Jaclyn1423 and tweet about this giveaway using the following:
I just entered to win Joey's Hot Dog jewelry from @Jaclyn1423 over @Goodgirlgonered #Giveaway You can, too! http://bit.ly/facUO5

** Go shopping! Leave me a comment telling me what you bought over at Jaclyn's store and she'll confirm it.

** Tell us why you want to win one of these particular pieces. Has autism touched your life or the life of someone you love?


And if you want to buy one of these for yourself or someone special, Jaclyn will be making a donation for each Joey's Hot Dog item purchased to Autism Speaks. Thanks so much to Jaclyn for letting me participate in such a special giveaway!

Winner will be chosen on April 14th!

**I have not been compensated in any way for this giveaway. I offered to help Jaclyn promote her etsy store and was thrilled to offer to host this April giveaway to promote Autism awareness.**

The Doctor's Office

Sigh, there's like nowhere to sit in this place that isn't already occupied. I mean, can't these people find a babysitter before they come to their appointments? I kind of like sitting in the waiting room with a book and some time to myself.

Oh, there, I can sit right there ...

Ugh, this chair is just awful. You'd think with all these pregnant women in here that they'd at least find some way to have better and more comfortable chairs.

Great. Great. Here comes one of those couples who do everything together. They're going to sit right next to ... Smile. And nod.

She's got her hand resting on her belly. I wonder how far along she is? What's he doing here, anyway? Is there really a point in him coming?

"Hi," I say. I'm so bubbly when I meet new people.

"Hi," she responds. She turns back to him. How rude.

"This your first?" She nods. "Fun time." Another nod. "My third," I say, rubbing my own not yet visible baby bump. "When are you due?"

"We're not sure yet," she responds softly.

"What?"

"We're here to find out."

"You really don't know? How could you not know? Wow. That's, uh, interesting, I guess." She smiles at me, he reaches for her hand. Blech. "Boy or girl?" I ask. She looks at me quizzically. What's so hard to understand? "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

"We really don't care ..." her voice trails off. She cares. She totally cares. Everyone cares. But they always give that same old same. Healthy and happy baby ... blah blah blah.

"Are you going to nurse?" I think her eyes widen. Well, she hasn't thought of that one yet, has she. Perfect. I will convince her now! "Breast is best. It's very important that you consider breastfeeding your baby. You'll be thrilled you did once you realize how important breast milk is to help the kids fight ear infections, and allergies, and all sorts of things. Did you know breast milk squirted in a baby's nose can help reduce congestion?"

"I. Uh ..." she stops. Looks at him. I'm waiting for him to say something. Let me teach them a thing or two.

"And they have all these amazing covers now, so your breasts don't get exposed in public. You should SEE some of those women." I make a motion towards my blouse, as though I'm going to open it. He coughs, clears his throat. What could he possibly have to add to this discussion? Has he nursed two children through colds and teething and so much more? Doubt it!

"Who is your doctor?" I ask her. Why is she looking at me like that? Oh! Lipstick! I must have some on my teeth. She could have just told me. I reach into my purse for my compact. Hmmn. Nope. Nothing. No food. She may just have a staring problem. These young ones, they have so many things wrong with them these days.

"You're not going to want Dr. D. He's a bit new age. Talking about water births and stuff like that. I'm all for the breast is best, but when it comes to birthin' my babies I'm totally for a hospital. I mean, drug me up and cut me open. Seriously no other way."

She stands up, he follows.

"Oh, did they call your name? Because I was here before you so I would think that they would call my name first ..."

She shakes her head. Is she going to cry? Wow. This woman is a mess. Poor thing. Bless her heart.

"Excuse us," he says, softly.

"Sure. Sure." I tuck my feet beneath my chair to make some room. "Sure. Have a great day. Good luck with your new baby!"

They walk towards the back of the room. Find other seats.

Hmph. Well. That was rude!

This week's assignment was to think of someone - it could be a fictional character, a public figure, someone you know - who gets under your skin, and write a piece from his or her perspective. As always, constructive criticism is welcome!