Wishing for Snow ~ Book Review

Wishing for Snow is quite a difficult story to read. It is Minrose Gwin's reflection and memories, and research on her mother's life. Her mother, Erin Clayton Pinter was a rare talent. A poet. An interesting and problematic woman.

Her written words are dark, emotional and touching. Raw and rare - as we experience them through her daughter's eyes.

My own emotions are too heightened to separate from the story. Having just spent some time with my own mother, I struggle to imagine finding writings of hers after she is gone (in the very distant future - I can only presume). And as a mother, to a daughter, I think to myself of what my daughter might find of me (in the even more distant future - G-d willing).

I think back to my emotional writings from my college days. The journals that I hold onto, for what? The emotions I experienced during a relationship. You know the one. The one you don't know why you're in and yet you're in it just the same?

Perhaps my daughter will read my blog. See the things I have written about her, our relationship, motherhood, my anxieties, my husband, our family, and so much more.

I am so moved by what I am reading that I am unable to say more. I am also unable to read it as quickly as I had thought. Such a short book. A daughter's reflection of her mother. Only a bit over 200 pages. How easy to read, I said to myself. How that must flow. And it does - but it doesn't. So that is why I am late with my review, and why I am not yet finished with the book. I promise to update once I have completed it, but please bear with me. For this story is a strong one, and a daughter learning more about her mother after she is gone than she knew when she was alive is not one to rapidly tear through. But one to feel completely and fully, with my heart, not just my head.
** I received a copy of this book from TLC Book Tours to facilitate my review. All opinions expressed here are completely my own. I was not compensated in any way for this review.

Revamped ...

There might be nothing worse than shopping for a dress you don't want to buy, except maybe bra shopping. That I hated more than much in life. So there I stood, thinking how I couldn't believe I let her convince me to go shopping. With her. We couldn't be more different. We couldn't have more opposite styles. She's thin, I'm not. She's tall, I'm not. She's beautiful - I'm - well, me.

I resisted for what seemed like forever, but I knew I'd need to cave soon. I needed a dress. The big day was rapidly approaching and I held off for as long as I could.

She was bossy and led the way. She wanted to drag me to that specialty store, the kind I'd never set foot into on my own. And so with her I went. I suppose that I would have followed her anywhere - she was my best friend, after all.

I trudged along, avoiding all mirrors. I could feel the sales women staring. You know the kind. The elderly ladies with their hair up in buns. The librarian glasses. Yeah. Them. How out of place I looked. Me in my Lane Bryant jeans, my tight black tee. My obviously larger than Double-Ds. They had to be whispering about me from behind those curtains. This frilly and fancy place. Knowing I didn't belong there.

We must have looked at a dozen dresses. Each one more horrific than the next. Until suddenly there was that one. That one dress that made a slight flicker of hope flash behind my eyes. And damn her, she saw it. She knew. She made me try it on.

And the freakin' thing actually fit.

I almost didn't want to show it to her. I wanted to tear it off, toss it to the side and pretend it could never be mine. But she wouldn't let me. She tore into that dressing room - so typical - and how I looked in that dress took our breath away. Brought tears to our eyes. The two of us. Standing there together. Sniffling idiots. Nothing left to do but cry. Or bitch. Or both.

I threw her out, but stood still for a moment or two. It really fit. I couldn't believe it.

And you know what else? It looked damned good on me. So there.

This is my revamping of the following post: A Spot of Dialogue as per this week's Red Writing Hood Prompt encouraging us to take a red pen to a Red Dress post we've done before. We've been asked to truly revamp it and turn it inside out and upside down to ready it to share with you all. Critique is welcomed.

And not forgotten

It is so easy to think that you can fix things. Sometimes love can make a person naive. No matter how young they are.

It is so easy to find yourself out on the street, shouting at your ex-boyfriend who is pissed at you because you were flirting with the bartender.

You find yourself screaming at him. His name? Maybe just "Wait!" ... as he tries to hail a cab on Sixth Avenue.

It's so easy to think that you must have done something really wrong, and there has to be a way to make it up to him. Even if he IS your ex.

So you stand there, after following him out. Despite how hot that bartender actually was.

And you wind up going home with him. Despite the screaming. Despite knowing in your gut it isn't going to last. It's like you don't even care.

And you're not even drunk. You're sober enough to remember every minute of it. Every moment standing out there watching traffic fly by on that hot summer night. Even all these years later.

So you go home, and you start over. Despite the amicable break-up that ended in combined tears. Despite the sense that this would not be forever, and you shouldn't bother wasting your time. Despite your best guy friend watching you rush from the bar with eyebrows raised, knowing it would be a round trip ticket.

You move forward. Summer turns to fall. You take a trip. If there were ever a window of time that you found yourself going through the motions this was it. Your flight takes off - headed home to NYC. You find yourself in tears. You know it's over. You knew it before it started again.

You find yourselves at work the next day. Waiting. Waiting for 5 o'clock. Closing time. A quick email. Or was it a phone call? Office to office. Wait... I was in a cubicle then. Let's meet at the park. We knew the one.

Did we walk there together? This much I forget, but I know we left separately ...

This time we used fewer words. Shed fewer tears. Good bye. For real. It was over. We were through.

Lesson Learned.

My Experience with PPA

So many people talk about postpartum depression these days, and yet the awareness we all hope for is not even remotely close to existing. So how can I begin to imagine that same awareness for those of us who experience postpartum anxiety? Or can I?

Towards the end of my pregnancy I found myself awake at night, thinking and thinking. And thinking some more.

What is going to happen with this baby? Will s/he be okay? Will *I* be okay? Will childbirth go okay? What if my water breaks and my husband isn't home? (It did, but he was home soon after.) Is it going to be like in the movies? (It wasn't.) I think I have to pee again. Do I really have to pee again? So soon? Ugh. I wonder if something is wrong that is making me have to pee or think I have to pee like 900x a night. Is it normal? Is it possible something is the matter with the baby?

Damn, how is he asleep? How can he just lay there and sleep that way? So easily? Damn him. Closed his eyes and rolled over and that's that. It's his baby, too. He's going to have to take care of it. It. Everyone thinks he's a he. But I don't know. Should I know? Shouldn't I know by now, instinctual-ly or something like that? Don't most expectant mothers have dreams that tell them what their babies are going to be and aren't they almost always right? Why haven't I had that dream yet? Well, I guess I should know - I mean I'm NOT asleep. How can I be dreaming up the gender of the baby if I can't even close my eyes and fall ... I think I really do have to pee now. Sigh.

And so it went. Night after night until I suddenly realized I couldn't take much more of it. I wasn't sleeping. And if I did fall asleep and eventually woke up to go to the bathroom I could not fall back to sleep. It would take hours of my mind racing before I was finally able to shut it down. If only for a little while. I was exhausted.

I was a stay-at-home not yet mom, and I was so tired I could barely function. And I was having a healthy pregnancy. A really healthy pregnancy, with no issues at all. What was my problem? I didn't know - but I knew enough to decide that it was time to find out. I called my doctor.

Now, mind you, this was a few months before baby arrived. I was able to monitor my anxiety and manage things with a small dose of prescription medication. It was the right thing at that time for me. After baby was born I was on alert. Would I be exceptionally moody? Uptight? Angry? Overly-hormonal? A friend of mine who had suffered from pretty intense PPD after her second child called regularly. 'You're doing alright?' she would ask.

And my answer was always a resounding 'Yes,' as I felt I was doing alright. In comparison to what I experienced talking to her nightly into the wee hours of the morning during her postpartum experience, I was doing amazingly well. And I loved my baby. I never wanted to put her down. I rarely wanted to step away from her, but did enjoy the R&R provided by having family in town, as I knew that would soon end.

And then family left and headed home. My husband went back to work regularly. And my baby and I? We were home. Alone. Together. With our pets. And that was pretty much it. Holy crap! What now?

My anxiety didn't skyrocket as one would expect. It wasn't a level of heightened anxiousness automatically for me. But man, as soon as she hit that 3 month-mark of colic, reflux or whatever else that was combined, I hit that wall. And as she grew and started rolling and moving some on her own, I started climbing it. The wall - that is. Get her crawling and I was all about upping my meds. The anxieties increased. The nights of not falling asleep multiplied, as I was already a new mom. I was breastfeeding. And I was awake nearly ALL. The. TIME.

I used to joke about my experience being PPD-lite. Meaning I didn't have the mood swings and such that many a PPD mom will reflect on. I even coined the term PPA in my mommies' PPD support group, thinking I was the first to think of it. Ha. What did I know? I was a new mom, ya know?

Obviously I made it through those early days. I found a way to hang in there, to survive. There was so much going on, but having people to talk to - to count on - to listen, that's what made it pass so smoothly. And to remind myself of how strong I was, that helped make it all okay. But the interesting thing to me about postpartum anxiety is that it never really, truly seems to go away. Because - after all - you are ALWAYS postpartum after your child is born. At least that is my perspective, four years+ into motherhood. And so the story continues ... stay tuned.

Click ...

"What are you doing with that? Put that down!"

He smirked at me. A small smile. A twinkle in his eye.

"I'm serious. Don't touch that. Totally not cool." I tried slinking out of range as I slid across the floor. I tugged at my bag and pulled out my cigarettes. That smooth, slow tapping to get the first one out of the pack. Followed by a quick rap. And again. Success. I drew it out, lifted it up, and held it towards him. An offering. He shook his head. I shrugged in response. "Suit yourself."

I stood quickly, tugging on my shorts.

Click.

"Seriously, come on. Stop. I don't need anyone else seeing me like this." I watched him. He looked so satisfied. A flick of the tongue and a click of the shutter. Bastard. He turned me upside down. Made me quiver from across the room. I heard myself breathing harder.

I turned my back to him, lighting up and taking that first drag. Exhaling, my body relaxed immediately. I felt him approach, soft steps. His breath choppy as he got closer. Every inch of me tingled. I turned slightly. He stood with my camera in his hands. Lifted it up and aimed playfully.

"Fine."

I stubbed out the cigarette and tossed the lighter to the floor. Turned around and stood there. Exposed.

"This what you want?" I asked, bare but for the running shorts I had thrown into my bag last night. Dashed were my hopes of getting an early start this morning when he showed up.

Click.

"So ... Come and get me."

Click.

I flicked my finger up at him. He laughed.

Click.

I turned around, raised my hands to my hair and shook it loose.

Click.

I shifted slowly back down to floor, the connection cooling my bare skin.

Click.

I shut my eyes. "Are you coming - or not?"

I could hear him gently place the camera down.

"Be careful with ..." I said, my voice soft, but stern as I opened my eyes. There he stood. Above me. Looking down. Watching. I could feel my body pulse. "What are you waiting for?" I whispered. He was still.

"Fine." I stretched. Reached up for him. The tips of my fingers felt hot against his flesh. I pulled him down with me. "Is that it? Were you just waiting for me to ask?" His breath hot against my ear. "To tell you what I..."

"Shut up," he growled.

His last words. His only words. He fell into my arms. My feverish grasp. His body on mine. Mouth on mine. Tongue darting in and out of my lips.

Click.


This post is in response to this week's Red Writing Hood Prompt over at The Red Dress Club where we were asked to write a fictional post in response to the picture shown above. How did I do?

South of Superior ~ Book Review

South of Superior was not a fluffy nor easy read. It was a bit of a heavy story of a woman, her family and extended family members, and an upheaval of her life - the second she experiences in a short window of time.

I truly enjoyed finishing this book. I also enjoyed reading it, but there were some sections that frustrated me, and I found myself wanting to skim. So I will start off by saying that I found it a little bit longer than it needed to be. And yet, at the same time, I'm not really sure what I would have cut out of it. I just know that it took me some time to get through certain parts as I felt like I was repeating parts of her journey.

That out of the way, it was a really enjoyable read. Our primary character, Madeline, is finding her way without the one woman who meant the most to her. Her mother figure gone, and her relationship feeling stagnant, Madeline gets the perfect opportunity to bail on life. On her day-to-day life, at least. But she relocates to help "family," and finds herself creating a new life of her own. No apartment, no job, no fiance' to depend on.

Madeline (sometimes I want to call her Maddie, but nobody does) takes on the role of assisting with care of Butte (Arbutus), an elderly woman who is like family to her extended family. That is going to make no sense, but between Butte and Gladys, Madeline is learning much about the ways of small town life. And while doing so she is learning much about herself, as well.

She learns about her tendency to jump to judgment. Her inability to truly grasp what sort of a world her ancestors grew up in. And yet she's trying. And we like her when she tries. We like her a lot. We're frustrated with her sometimes. But we're supposed to be. We're frustrated with Gladys, too. We just don't get it. We don't understand why Gladys keeps such secrets from Madeline. A woman who is there to help her, and seems to deserve much more than she is permitted. We question. We trust. We lose trust. We watch Madeline develop into someone who belongs. And that is what she, above all else, longs for. Longs to belong.

It sounds a little bit cheesy, doesn't it? But the book is not. Some of it may seem predictable (love interest - anyone?) but we can enjoy that just the same.

I'm glad I had the opportunity to read and review this book. Madeline's story was one that took me way beyond a setting I am familiar with, and I think that Ms. Airgood did well in describing and detailing the environment, and bringing us straight to it.

** I received a copy of this book to facilitate my review from TLC Book Tours. All opinions expressed are completely my own. **

Wordless Weds: Happy Birthday, Momma!

Rhythm Unrecognized

So many nights ... I sit by my window ... waiting for someone ... to sing me a song ...

My mom stands by the kitchen sink. Water running. Dishes clanging softly against one another.

So many dreams ... I kept deep inside me ... alone in the dark ... but now you've come along ...

I stand by the stairway. At the other end of the house. In between us the living and dining rooms. She doesn't even know I am there.

And YOU, LIGHT UP MY LIFE.

Her voice carried across the house. I had heard her upstairs. Peaking at just the right moments. Just the right words.

You give me HOPE. To car-ry ON.

And I know that she is thinking of her own mother. Who sang these same words.

You light up my DAYS.

Maybe doing this very same thing.

And fill my niiiights. With song.

Years later. The DJ calls her name. I walk over to her. She in a dazzling silver. Me in a fluffy white.

Rollin' at sea, adrift on the water.

I reach out, hold on tightly. Tears fill our eyes.

Could it be finally, I'm turning to home?

My mom looks up, sees her aunt sitting at a nearby table. Gestures for her to join us. She stands, walks over. We join arms, create a tiny circle.

Finally a chance. To say, HEY! I love you.

My mom motions to the top of her dress. Pulls out a small photograph.

Never again. To be all alone.

It's her parents. My grandparents. My great aunt's sister.

And YOU. Light up my life.

We all wipe tears from our cheeks.

You give me HOPE.

Hugs and kisses among us.

To carry ON.

I look up and think of my grandparents.

You light up my DAYS.

I miss them as they miss my special day. Special moments.

And fill my nights.

But I know they are here with me always.

WITH SONNNNG.

Years later I find myself standing at the sink in my own home.

It can't be wrong.

My daughter playing in the living room.

When it feels SO right.

The words come to me so easily.

And you ...

I hear my mother's voice.

You LIGHT. UP. MYyyyyyyy.

I look across the house, watching my own child, dancing around to the sound of my voice.

LIFE.

And the memories live on.

Rockin' The Baby!

This is one of the earliest pictures I have of me and my lil one. I can't seem to find the first ones in an electronic version from her very first day, but this one is from a day or two later and I love it. It brings back memories of exhaustion, anxiety, exhilaration and a whole lotta love.

If you want to join in on the Rockin' the Baby link-up just click the button below and head on over to Shell's place to see the hundreds of mamas doing that very same thing. And click on some links while you're there. Cause there might be nothing more beautiful than a momma and her new baby. Not a single thing!

Sunday Night Blues?

Every now and then I start feeling kind of meh. In the winter it's all about staying warm and wearing layers. In the summer it's too dang hot to do much of anything. Spring and fall are lovely, but they seem to disappear so quickly down here in NC.

So I think to myself, what can I do to make me feel better? Buying myself something fun, flirty and pretty helps. So does pampering myself. And at EdenFantasys you can find something to work for both of those ideas.

One thing I love about their pretty and flirty outfits is that they have choices in many sizes. So you don't have to be super tiny to look and feel sexy! Check out this beautiful mesh babydoll with panty and it's only $25.99! That's so incredibly affordable it shocks me.

And if you want to spend a bit more and go a little bit more high maintenance, check out his bow mesh corset ensemble here! That is just beautiful. I'm not sure I'd be able to finagle my way into it, but what's that matter, right? It's down right hot!

If you're feeling a little dull because you haven't gotten ahold of your summer tan yet, a little shimmer cream will help you shine a bit and make you sparkle as you get ready for a fun night. It's actually good for your skin, too! The description explains that it has both, vitamin E and carrot oil to revitalize skin. So you get all sparkly, too! So if you're in the mood for some discreet shopping, follow any of these links and head on over to the EdenFantasys website. You'll find all these products and more for your enjoyment!

* I have not yet been compensated for this post, but was promised an EdenFantasys giftcard if my post meets the blogging requirements. I am not reviewing their entire website here, or any specific products, I'm just promoting what I think might be some great products to purchase for a good ole' gal like me! (And some of my readers, too!)*

Future Ex-Husbands: Cause they're HOT!

I'm so excited. I am linking up with Only Parent Chronicles today for FEX. I am so excited. Have I mentioned how excited I am? I mean, I get to post pictures of hot celebs, just cause. Seriously. Why not, right?

The only problem was, I just couldn't decide. I really couldn't. I had to pick more than one. I just HAD to. And the person I wanted to pick and told Kristin over at OPC that I had to link up with, I can't even find a yummy picture of yet! So I may have to save him for another day. [Ack. I found him. Keep scrolling and you will see who I mean!]

In the meantime - enjoy the eye candy, compliments of Photobucket.

Bradley Cooper

Jon Stewart

Anderson Cooper

Chris O'Dowd

* This last image was obtained from this website here and an article on how adorable he was in Bridesmaids. OMG, he was just completely delicious, yummy and sooo cute.

The Red Dress Cub: My Shoes

Matt and I walk into the waiting area of the doctor's office and I am still in shock. Am I really here? Is he really with me? I find myself slowly shaking my head as the receptionist encourages us to find a seat. I look around. The room is packed.

There are so few spots with two chairs, so we maneuver our way over towards the side wall. The woman sitting there smiles at us. I think I smile back. I'm honestly not sure.

I sit down, holding my stomach carefully. Could there be a baby in there? I look down at my hand. What am I doing? I don't even know. I keep looking. G-d, I love these shoes. I wonder if I'll still be able to fit into ...

The woman next to us says hi. I answer, and turn back to my shoes. They're so sparkly. So pretty. Not quite comfortable, but just enough that I can walk in them. They're sexy, too. Reds and pinks and ... what? What is she saying now? I look over at Matty and he is trying to be nice. I know that look. That smile. It's so apparently void. To me. Not to her. What is she saying? She asked when we're due. What kind of ...

"We're not sure yet," she's floored. "We're here to find out." I drown out her voice with the slight humming in my head. Matty reaches for my hand, gives me a slight squeeze. I wink at him, shifting my gaze back to my feet.

Will my feet swell? Isn't that what happens to pregnant people? People! Ha! Women. Pregnant women. It's not all people who can get pregnant. Though there was that one dude ... what? Did she just ask me what I hope I'm having? Are you kidding me, lady?

I find myself muttering something in response, and then looking around as if to find the cameras that must be aimed in our direction, because if this pregnancy isn't a part of a Punk'd episode, then this woman we're sitting next to must be.

She keeps going. Breastfeeding? What the hell? I don't even know if I am pregnant. How on earth does she expect me to know what I plan to feed this child? "I, uh --" I think I start muttering again. Stumbling over my words.

I look over at her as if to ask her who she thinks she is. But I'm trying to be nice. I'm trying to keep quiet. I lean into Matt, tug on his hand and stand up. He follows. We both have smiles plastered on our faces.

I take timid steps towards the back wall of the waiting area. My shoes clicking beneath me. G-d, I love these shoes. They really do make me stand so much taller. I feel powerful. Like I can handle anything. And yet - what is coming my way? I honestly have no clue.

I can hear the woman huffing a bit. She's not thrilled we walked away. But what does she know, anyway? Let her try to walk a mile in these ...

=====================

Some of this may sound familiar, because, well, it is. Some time back we were prompted to write about a certain kind of character, and so I did, but I did not link this up to my "story" until I knew for certain that I was going to reveal that Em thought she was pregnant. You can read the other side of this scene Here.

And for the rest of Matt and Emmalynn's story, you can click here as I now have a page that I have them posted in order: Matt and Em's story.

Capture the Everyday: Our Island

This is the perfect shot of part of our every day life, especially after my PYHO post from yesterday. [Here's that link, but wait til you finish reading this to go read, or read it and be sure to come back, OK? PYHO!] See how I mentioned that so much of my days of late is me trying to (or wishing I could) turn our house into a cleaner and less cluttered place?

This is our kitchen island. And oddly enough, the place I have started with is my kitchen. I am reading a book right now, or parts of it on and off, where they say that if you have anything in your kitchen that does not relate to eating, serving or cooking food get it OUT of there. And so I am trying. So this picture is a bit old, but the island is not yet clear. Interesting how I have half of it with bowls of cat food (never mind that this shot actually captured the cats, that's a whole other aspect of our every day life!) and the other half is clutter.

That's cause I'm trying to get that crap off my kitchen table. And counters. And somehow the island is still fair game. But I'll get through it. Somehow. Eventually. Soon. Or I'll die trying. Not really. But it sounds so serious, heavy and dramatic to say so, doesn't it?

Anyway, that's my shot. That's my every day. With a little picnicking to slap some creative drama into it. And my "watermark" or something. Aren't our sweeties beautiful though? The gray and white one is Angel. She's our only girl. And the other one is our fatty Clyde. He's a feral cat from the streets of Brooklyn. As in NYC. As in one of my peeps. We saved him and he doesn't even let us get close. Remind me to talk sometime about the scene we had in our house when we got all four cats to the vet a while back. Hilarious. Household comedy at its best.

But for now, well, there's my island. Half covered with arts & crafts paper, flashcards, newspaper, coupons and probably some artwork that didn't make it onto the fridge. You can see that in the background. And if you've gotten this far thanks for reading and not just stopping at the picture, Because it is pretty cute. Despite the mess!

I'm Capturing the Everyday today with my friend Melissa from Adventuroo, but for some reason I can't seem to copy over her button coding without ending up with a box around it so I'll skip that and just link back. If you want to join in and share your household piles feel free to do so by heading to her place to link up.

Pour Your Heart Out: This is my home

I told some friends today that sometimes I wished that I could just take everything out of my house and put it all back in the way that I want it to be.

From the huge chest that is in my dining room that we don't use to dine, to the toys that live in my living room but should be upstairs in the playroom, or in the non-dining room, anyway. To the way that my bedroom could be in so much better shape, and how badly I'd love to tear up all of that carpeting and help myself and my allergies.

To the way I wish I had a laundry fairy, and a bed-making fairy, and a bathroom (especially shower) cleaning fairy, and so on and so forth.

But this is my home. I live here. It's where I have my day to day, it's where I sit and write, it's where the clutter grows around me, no matter what I do to try to stop it.

I'm hopeful that a garage sale in August will help me rid myself and my family of some of our unnecessary items. I'm not sure it'll happen, but a girl can dream, right? I surround myself with papers and books, boxes, baskets and bins, and so much more that is supposed to help me organize, but does not.

Why, you ask? Ha. I don't know. I ask myself the same question nearly every single day.

I'm hopeful that the garage sale will force me to get rid of and make money off of the Jumperoo that hasn't been used since the child was about 1, maybe one and a half, at the most. What else? The toy lawn mower, the bins of clothes I CAN let myself get rid of, despite feeling like I must hold onto everything she's ever worn, and everything she never got to wear. You know those items. The ones with the tags still on? Yeah, those.

Sigh. Sometimes I wish I could just hit my house by storm and run through it in such a way that I could turn it into exactly what I wish it could be.

Oh, and the books! Let me not forget how I hold onto books like they're a lifeline. Some I can afford to let go of, so those will go along the ways of the garage sale pile. I gave many away. I donated some, I donated more. And yet I still have book upon book. Upon more books. How to part with the stories that meant so much to me when I read them the first time? How to let those characters leave my life before I try to reunite with them once again?

I need to just do it. I need to just pass them along, sell them, swap them. Make room in my life, my home and my heart for more characters. More things that are essential to today for my life. For my home and my family. And someday these things, too, will move on without me. Leaving nothing but memories behind.

Post It Note Tuesday: Marina!

What are you reading?

So I checked out my list of "summer reads" that I posted back in May and I have loads more to add to them.

Here's the list in its original format:

* Ten Beach Road, Wendy Wax - READ
* Life's a Beach, Claire Cook
* The Wednesday Sisters, Meg Waite Clayton
* The Beach Trees, Karen White - READ
* The Peach Keeper, Sarah Addison Allen
* South of Superior, Ellen Airgood - READ
* Hello, Goodbye, Emily Chenoweth - READ
* Saving CeeCee Honeycutt, Beth Hoffman - READ
* Little Bee, Chris Cleave
* Bossypants, Tina Fey
* The Opposite of Me, Sarah Pekkanen
* The Girls, Lori Lansens
* Flirting with Forty, Jane Porter

I still plan on reading what I haven't hit yet there, and a handful more I'm listing below. Because what is summer for if not to catch up on your reading, right?

* The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott, Kelly O'Connor McNees
* Traveling with Pomegranates, Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor
* Folly Beach, Dorothea Benton Frank
* Sing You Home, Jodi Picoult
* 29 Gifts: How a month of giving can change your life, Cami Walker
* The One That I Want, Allison Scotch Winn
* The Last Girls, Lee Smith
* My Fair Lazy, Jen Lancaster
* Voluntary Madness: My Year Lost and Found in the Loony Bin, Norah Vincent
* I See You Everywhere, Julia Glass

Now I know I have big eyes, and I have to admit that I honestly don't figure I'll read all of these books before September, or before fall is fully upon us, but I like to have wishful thinking when it comes to books, so you get a larger list than I actually intend to get through!

Have you read any of these? And if so, which were your favorites? And if not - what's on tap for you this summer? Fill me in and happy reading!

Stream of Consciousness: It's Random

Did I dream? I don't think so. It's all random. I kind of felt like I dreamed about my ex-boyfriend. And my former best friend. And Jason from General Hospital. But who wouldn't want to dream about him, right?

I think that wasn't part of my dreams until I came home. But forgive me, I forgot to tell you where I was. I did a sleep study last night. I was hooked up to all these fun wires as I snore like a banshee, if banshees snore, that is. And I spoke to my doctor about it and so that was that. She said I could do this, or go to an ENT, of course when I got there last night the woman asked if I had a cold and I told her about my perpetual stuffy-ness and she thought I should go see an ENT. I don't know. And what stinks, aside from her tearing that tape and those "things" off my head and face in a raw-ing fashion, (sorry - I paused as I was typing so quickly I had a typo or two, not a part of the rules, but shoud really bothered me!), and is that I left this AM and she couldn't tell me much of anything. Ah,w ell. Wonderful.

The child is watching Max and Ruby (she is quite the b!tch - isn't she? Poor random Max. Sigh.) right now while eating the identical lunch to my own. I was so ready to enjoy mine and there she was, deciding she wanted a thin bread (flatbread? those round pepperidge farm circles. you know the kind, right?) and turkey slices, with american cheese and avocado, too. I know, it sounds good, you want some right now, also, and who can blame her? Not me. was ready to offer, until she wanted MINE. Argh. Kiddo, go make your own. I mean, seriously, you're four. You can use the sharp knife for the avocado, can't you?

I kid - I kid. I made her one, too. But does anyone else just want the one you make for yourself and does it make you selfish or a touch of OCD to think, well, I'll make her a different one as this one is MINE.

I don't think I went over the time limit, and I'm not even sure if I reached it, but my child just said: "More, more, please please!" so she is obviously starving and in need of a second sandwich. Heck, maybe I am, too. When food is good, it's good, right?

Hope you're joining Fadra today for Stream of Consciousness Sunday. If you don't know what that means, click the button below!

I have no title ... My Red Dress post

Ava stood up and walked closer to the altar. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like her wedding day was forever ago. She held her breath, stopping briefly to cross herself and close her eyes in prayer.

That simple movement, that single moment, one she'd done so many times before. And yet - this time - it meant so much more.

She glanced around, surprised at how few people had stayed after the service. Was it because she was there? Was it because of what happened? She shook her head softly, as if to brush away something. Those intrusive thoughts, perhaps. Or something else. The feeling that had been with her since the accident. That gnawing sense that someone was with her at all times. The reason that she turned around so often, open and expecting. Only to find herself alone, just as she had been moments before.

She continued to walk up the aisle. Spread out in front of her like blood, a red scroll of carpet lay leading her to the front of the church. She stepped timidly. Staring down at her white shoes. The rug leaped up at her, as if a splash of liquid. She flinched quite often, stopping to lean down to touch her shoes. To check and make sure she was imagining things.

And she was.

Wasn't she?

She made her way to the candles, each flickering in prayer for someone in pain. Someone hurting. Someone losing a battle with life. Each candle an example of someone who loved them. Someone who thought enough and hurt enough to stop and take a moment. She felt nervous. Anxious. Overwhelmed with the non-existent scent that wafted up from them. This was wrong. Shouldn't candles have a flavor to them? She felt herself smile. That's what they'd always said.

She leaned over to light one quietly. Quickly. But not quick enough.

"You don't belong here," she heard. A voice booming from the back of the church. Her skin prickled. She turned around to face her accuser.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll go."

Eyes just like his stared back at her. Brimming with tears. From behind those, a second set. Different, and yet the same. Softer. More welcoming. Flowing tears, streaming down cheeks. Her brother-in-law. He put his arm around his mother and turned her into his embrace as they began to walk away.

She wanted to run after them. She had so much to say. She wiped her eyes with her hands. Her nose. And there it was. The blood. Again. Just like that morning. She took a deep breath and felt her body give out from under her. But then strong hands, arms, pulling her back. Keeping her from falling.

"Father ..." she whispered, as he led her to the pew.

"I'm so sorry, Ava. I'm so terribly sorry for your loss."

"I know," she whispered. "I know." Shaking her head she tried to form a sentence that would make sense. That would relieve her from this horrible pain. "It's all my fault," she cried out. "It's all my fault." Her sobbing drowned out anything he said in response. She did not want to hear his reassurance. His sympathies. His support. It was all her fault.

This week's Red Dress Club Prompt encouraged us to write about what we DON'T know ... and so ... I did.

Hello, Goodbye ~ Book Review

I finished reading this last night, which is why my review was not up at midnight as I usually try to do. This book was so moving. So powerful, and yet so subtle at the same time.

It touched me beyond what my own words can say, but I'm going to try.

Emily Chenoweth writes about a family here. Abby, the teenage girl. Helen, her mother, and Elliot, her father. But then the family extends to Abby's parents' closest friends.

Helen is sick. She's sick when we first meet her, but the way Chenoweth dives into the illness is graceful. It's a sudden burst, and then we are confused. But so is Helen. It is then revealed slowly, and then suddenly again.

Elliott does not reveal all to Abby. Nor does he tell Helen everything. This is something one might question, but the story itself walks us through the reasoning and we get why. Or at least I did. Our heart aches for Elliott and the life, and the wife, he once knew.

The story culminates in a week long vacation and celebration at a fancy hotel in New Hampshire. Abby is there, among the grown ups, and going through her own - what is the word I am looking for? - growing pains, perhaps. Although she has been in college and come into her own, she hangs onto her high school boyfriend because she doesn't know how not to. She rebels against the clothing her mother made her for much of her life, while borrowing outfits and accessories from girls she's just met. This week she meets a waiter. What does she want from this? She has no idea. And then there's Vic. There isn't much I can reveal about Vic. He is a return character from a past we never knew. And the entire family knows him. What a small world.

Helen is the quietest character with the fewest "chapters" throughout, but the character we watch the most. Through eyes of others, and sometimes through her own.

It's hard to say much more without giving parts of the story away, and without becoming overwhelmed with my own emotion. I cannot begin to imagine watching my own mother become as fragile as Helen was, and yet from my own personal experience that chance could have been there. But thank G-d, was not.

I think that Hello, Goodbye will rank right up there for me with Still, Alice and The Middle Place (although that was a true story and this is *mostly* fiction) as one of my favorite reads for the year. I have a strong heart, but sometimes a story sweeps me up in the emotion and I get lost in it. This book did that and I just kept on reading. There was no putting it down. If you're up for a story of family and love, and strong enough to handle the frailty of life, then Hello, Goodbye is a good pick for you.


** I received a copy of this book from TLC Book Tours to facilitate my review. All opinions expressed are completely my own. **

Wordless Wednesday ... Asheville

Why I wanted to go ... Part II.

So, a final post about Type A Conference. I mean, I could go on and on and on. And I have. And I could keep going. But I won't. For now, anyway. But here's a recap of what was most important to me. The PEOPLE. See some of them below, and check out my Who I Met at Type A Twitter list for more!

If you haven't read Part I about why I wanted to go, check it out here. It's a focus on one important aspect of the conference for me. Which I continue with here.

I wanted to go to meet all the incredible people I talk with every day. And some of the newer friends I was only just connecting with. AND even better, the new friends I made AT the conference, the ones I talk with more often now than I'd expect!

So, here are a few pictures of some fun and incredible peeps. Find them on Twitter and get to know them, their blogs, who they are -- because I said so. And because they rock!

@blueviolet - - As wonderful and sweet IRL as she is online. She also made sure that my roomie and I added stat counters to our blog for future use. And told me I could make mine invisible. Perfection.

@mommybknowsbest - - I am so lucky to have met her as randomly as we did. I may have inadvertently spent the rest of the conference stalking her on accident. I swear.

@highimpactmom -- Little did I know I had "met" her via email before the weekend. I had the luck of connecting with her as she did her magic coordinating the volunteers to help make this conference a flawlessly executed event!

@CatalinainLA -- I am so glad I stayed out a bit for that last patio party!
Otherwise I would have never met and connected as well as I did with Catalina! She didn't even flinch when I asked her where she lives. Duh!

Of course I also got to hang out with some of my more local NC peeps.

Like my four carpooling buddies and the lovely Frelle ...

@allthingsfadra

@adventuroo (not sure what happened to my border there ...)

@notthecar

@frelle

So overall the conference was a huge success for me on a personal level. But you must know that already. It was just important for me to re-state it for you all so you know how important the PEOPLE are. The people make it what it is. Whether they are pictured here or not (mostly not because I didn't get to stalk them enough for a photo opp!) they are awesome-sauce. And you know how much it pains me to use the word awesome. I'm not a big fan of the sauce, either. But whatever works.

Thanks so much Kelby (@typeamom) and the entire Type A Con crew. It was an amazing time and I look forward to returning again next year!

p.s. I promise I wore more than one outfit. I think most of these pictures were taken on the last night - when it hit me how few pics I'd taken and how many people I wanted to "capture" with my camera.

Happy Fourth of July!

Happy July 4th, everyone!

We caught some fireworks the other night (I still have to load my pics, stay tuned for them on Wordless Wednesday this week!), and have a BBQ to head to later today, but I figured I'd grab some pictures that represent the Fourth to me.

Kiddo last year at a festival (way too hot this year!)

Some shots in NYC from several years ago. Post-9/11, and pre-living in NC.

Taken a few weeks ago at the top of the Empire State Building.

Obviously to me NYC represents a lot of what America is, but that is mostly because that's where most of my flag pictures come from! I could have done LOADS of baseball pics, as that IS America's past-time, after all, but I decided to hold off on those and maybe save them for another post to tell you some more about me. Can't fit everything into one day, right?

Not sure if we'll see some fireworks tonight, but we've had our fill and have some sparklers to play around with (carefully) tonight if we want. We also did a stop-over at our local firehouse to drop off some 4th of July decorated cupcakes (not homemade, it's too dang hot!) for the men and women there who risk their lives to protect ours. You might consider doing the same. It's an amazing feeling and also is a great way to teach your children gratitude. If you're looking for something like that to do, anyway. Today's as good a day as any. We did it last year, too, and each year the highlight is meeting their House's dalmatian, Angus. Our kiddo just loves him.


Wishing you all a safe and happy Fourth! Stay cool!

Stream of Consciousness: It's Sunday Y'all

Last Sunday at this time I was not yet in bed. Or maybe I was. I honestly forget the time frame. But this Sunday I am avoiding bed, as usual. It's been quite the week. And I'm quite exhausted. I'm happy to be back home, but I am still in woosh mode after the Type A Parent Conference. I know - I know - I can't stop talking about it. I promise it'll just be one more post after this. I mean it!

Anyway - as 1AM rapidly approaches, I must write about something totally different for my Stream of Consciousness post.

Wal-mart.

We did a quick stop at Wal-mart tonight, at around 11:00, and wow. It was packed. And it's not so much that it was packed, after all *I* was there, too, right? But I'm talking about people with cartload after cartload packed, AND. Ready? Get this.

People on line were buying barbecues. As in GRILLS. At ELEVEN PM.

What the fletch?!?

Seriously, people? Grills at eleven o'clock at night? I was buying dog biscuits (poor dog hasn't had any in days), a loaf of bread, two Starbucks frappucinos (for the morning) and frozen pancakes (also morning). Oh, and I picked up a copy of All You magazine, or something like that. With the $50+ worth of Qs in there that make up the few bucks I spent on the mag itself.

Anyway, I think my five minutes is almost up but seriously people. If you want a grill, trust me, it's way better to do your comparison shopping earlier in the day. Even if it IS July fourth weekend.

** This has been a post for linking with All Things Fadra's Stream of Consciousness Sunday. I was supposed to take five minutes and just talk - which I did. Believe it or not I started at 12:55 and ended at 1AM. And on that note - to bed I go!

Love, Mom ...

It's been a while since we've seen Em. I'm happy to bring her back this week for TRDC prompt as seen below. For more info on her character, relationships and previous posts about her story, see here ... STORY ... you will likely see this post first, and then the remaining parts of the story in reverse-chronological order.

====

I looked over at Matty. He slept, slouched in the old leather chair that used to be my father's. I focused as I glanced at the shredded trim of his jeans. So relaxed. How could he sleep that way? He'd surely wake up with a crick in his neck. It'd be impossible not to. As if he'd heard my thoughts he shifted slowly and sighed.

I slid out of bed. Made my way to my closet. I knew it had to be in there. The journal I kept when we were together. I needed to find it. I used to keep track of things. I used to try. But since we ended I totally forgot. There was no reason to. Not anymore.

I grunted while pulling my college knapsack out from behind the bins of ratty old tee shirts. I just couldn't get rid of them. I don't know why, but I couldn't. Memories, I guess.

I tore through that bag until I found it. Wrapped up in an old shirt I had stolen from Matt when we first started dating. I held it up to my face and inhaled. It still smelled like him. Why I bothered doing that when he sat just a few feet away in my bedroom I couldn't say. Routine, I guess. Soothing.

I opened it and read ... Today I met the man I think I'll marry.

I laughed. Had I been that naive? I flicked through pages, flashing back at each one. Dates. Memories. Moments. A card slipped into my hands. My breath caught. My mother's handwriting. It'd been so long. I opened the envelope carefully. Slightly smiled back at the black and white kitten on the front.

I wiped a tear from my cheek and started to read.

Em,
I know you don't want to hear this, but there is so much I still need to say to you. Please let Matt know how grateful I am that he is here to support you through this. Please be sure that you don't push him away in your grief. You'll need him, Em. You'll need him like I've needed your father. Don't force him to fail you the way I did your dad.

I paused, unsure if I could continue ...

Someday you'll be a mother, too, Emmalynn. You'll know what it's like to hold your baby in your arms and want to protect her with your entire being. Your heart and your soul. And your body. My body is failing me now, baby, and I wish it were not so I could be there for you always. So I could see the day you bring your sweet baby home. Hold her in your arms, hand her gently over to mine. Although my arms won't be there before you, know I'll be beside you always. Guiding you. Reminding you.

You'll never have to protect your child from Matt. You'll never have to guard your heart. I just know this. I know he'll be there, no matter what. He as much as told me so that day we picked you up at the airport together. It seems so long ago now. But I know it's true. He promised. And Peter's boys never break their promises. Trust me on that.

I started to cry, a deep and heavy sobbing. I wiped my eyes. My nose. Most of my face with my sleeve. My body shook and I couldn't control it.

I hadn't heard Matt step to the door of the closet. "Em?" His eyes flickered with fear. "What's wrong?" He sat down next to me, hand on my shoulder, my cheek, my chin. Tilting my face towards his. Wiping the tears.

I sniffled.

"I think I'm pregnant."



You or your character find a forgotten letter or card from someone important in your life--whether good or bad. What does it say? How does it affect you or your character? What is done with it?