The first kiss. So much anticipation, so many possibilities…
Sweet. Romantic. Fun. Flirty.
Awkward. Toothy. Slobbery. Waxy.
Yes, waxy. That’s the first word that comes to mind when I think of my first kiss. Not all first kisses are good. In fact, mine was not good it was GOO. As in, Hello, Madame Tussauds.
But on the plus side, that bad kiss was the easiest sign ever that he was not the one for me (good thing, because as Taylor Swift might say, he was trouble when he walked in.)
Anyway, I consider my first kiss like a first pancake. Sometimes that first pancake doesn’t look like the rest of the batch. For whatever reason, it doesn’t turn out golden.
Not all pancakes turn out the way you want them too.
Luckily, there’s always room for a do-over. Same goes for kissing.
But is it possible to prevent a bad kiss in the first place?
Well, I found LOTS of advice on Ye Old Internet on how to avoid
a bad kiss the first pancake syndrome.
Awesome + Awesome = More Awesome
You need great ingredients. Once you have them, mix them with care. The key to combining ingredients is tenderness over toughness.
Make sure you have the proper amount of heat. According to The Pancake Handbook, “If they dance in a sprightly way for a few seconds, you’re good to go.”
Other experts say the heat level should be so hot that it almost smokes.
Beware of the drool
Moisture level is crucial. It can make or break your pancake. Moisten but then wipe away the excess before your first pancake. You’re aiming for a golden, “greaseless experience.”
Don’t Rush It
Once you’ve got your pancake going, keep the following in mind:
Peek at your own risk.
Resist the impulse to press and flatten.
Moving too much may cause it all to fall apart.
Don’t stress over your first attempt. You get better with practice.
And keep in mind, there are many kinds of pancakes. Lots to choose from. For instance, the French have their own version.
But let’s leave crepes for another day.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
What are your thoughts on first kisses? How do you celebrate Valentine’s Day? What’s your favorite pancake?
For more posts about kissing, be sure to check out the INDIE-KISSING BLOGFEST over at the INDELIBLES!
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Today’s topic: Reading.
Mission: Find a quote that highlights the awesomeness of bookish pursuits.
“Reading, after a certain age, diverts the mind too much from its creative pursuits. Any man who reads too much and uses his own brain too little falls into lazy habits of thinking.”
“Books are a uniquely portable magic . . .
If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.”
I’m not feeling the genius quote.
I love to read. Last year I read 95 books. They didn’t zombify my brain. At least not in terms of creative pursuits. In 2012, I managed 72 blog posts, first drafts for two different stories, one second draft on another, and final edits on my debut YA contemporary novel, Come Back to Me. I also painted, glued, glittered, and tried to take some photographs.
Diverted mind? No, not in terms of creativity, anyway. I wish Einstein had looked into theories on doorways and the brain. How many times have you walked from one room to the next only to wonder what you went there for? It’s got to be those crafty door portals. They divert my thinking every time.
Evil, mind erasing portals.
But I will give Al some props for the lazy part. Because I have to admit my house now qualifies as a National Dust Bunny Preserve. Maybe even international. But hey I’ve been too busy being creative (okay, maybe I also watched a horrifying amount of TV).
Mostly though, I agree with Stephen King. Because I also believe books are a uniquely portable magic.
And because I’ve read Misery, you don’t go up against a writer who hobbles authors in his books.
What do you think? Are books a portable magic, or an outlet that diffuses creativity? Can you see the wisdom in both?
Have a spectacular week!
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Last week my husband was at the Consumer Electronics Show in Vegas. He geeked out over Ultra HD televisions, the Tesla all-electric sports car and other beeping, laser thingamabobs.
In the midst of all this excitement, my gadget-loving design engineer stopped to get me a photo of a celebrity.
He figured it might be something I could use for my blog.
So he got in the line, elbow to elbow with photographers from Popular Mechanics and Reuters, and ended up standing there for over an hour to get me this photo:
Love gets me some Snookie.
Gotta love him. My husband knows very little about reality TV star Snookie or The Jersey Shore. To put this in perspective, it would be like me going to his office and taking notes for him on a meeting called, How to Choose the Right Plastic (this is a real thing). I’d have to drink A LOT of coffee to keep my mind focused on that subject. A lot. I can’t emphasize that enough. Especially considering the damage I’ve probably done to my brain after watching The Jersey Shore.
Maybe this gesture isn’t exactly romantic. It’s not a helicopter ride or a picnic overlooking a glacier like they do on The Bachelor. But sometimes we don’t have to shout so loud to say I’m thinking of you. You matter.
From scraping the ice from my car window, to bringing me a cup of tea when I’m working late . . .
And this too.
. . . I love the little things. They fill up my heart.
What do you think about love and the little things?
Have an amazing week!
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Each week I aim for optimism in my posts.
But some weeks I feel like gloomy Eeyore. I doubt the positive message. I feel like a poser, or a Pollyanna. I wonder if you’ll think,
Who is this woman handing me these rose-colored glasses?
Because sometimes behind that optimistic message I feel defeated, frustrated.
These were supposed to be stars and other assorted cut out cookies.
This past week was no exception. There was a moment where I found myself jumping up and down because I was so excited (news for a future post!), and then there was one where I cried tears of frustration.
Now before you write me a prescription, this wasn’t one big massive mood swing (although can’t say I’m immune to those either). This week it was two unrelated things.
And way more frustrating than a crappy batch of cookies.
Enough to make me feel like I suddenly had no business writing about optimism.
Then while perusing the food blogs in my Google reader (never underestimate the power of a pretty picture of monkey bread), I read some posts from a blogger who recently gave birth to her second child. In between posts on yummy confections she updated readers on the ups and downs of getting to know her infant. The sleepless nights, the tricks that work and don’t work, and the worry.
The opening notes to The Beauty and the Beast of Motherhood.
And in her story, I recognized myself and my daughter, how our first night home from the hospital (many, many moons ago) my daughter cried and cried no matter how many times I changed her, fed her, swaddled her, held her. I remember staring at her and thinking (and crying), just tell me what you want.
But we don’t always get the answers. Sometimes after life shifts, or plans derail, it takes time to figure out what works. Eventually I figured out that my daughter loved her swing and white noise. She’d sleep and so would I. Then that would pass and there would be something new and equally exhausting to figure out.
My daughter, the gift. She also inspired me to write songs with lyrics like, Please go to sleep.
And as I thought about the new baby posts and the super cute photos of this tiny new baby girl and her mother’s face glowing with happy exhaustion, I remembered the joy. Eventually, light seeps through. We learn to deal.
It reminded me that my current confusion will pass too. Maybe I haven’t figured it out yet, but at least I know I’ve done it before.
And I hope that by focusing on the light seeping through each week, maybe I can inspire someone else to remember the joy too.
A big thank you to Kristan over at Confessions of a Cookbook Queen and her tiny new daughter. Their story was the one I needed this week to remind me to keep on keeping on.
Oh and just in case you’re wondering, this is what I did with that funky batch of sugar cookies:
Cookie dough truffles.
Where do you turn to get a dose of optimism?
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Kids, do not try this at home. All stunts performed by a
free-spirited professional tour guide.
With the new year upon us, I want to send out an extra special thank you for stopping by and sharing in this adventure with me. You all add heaps of sparkle to this journey and I am SO grateful.
So here’s to getting the most out of life. Whether your adventure agenda for 2013 includes dangling your legs over the Grand Canyon or making room in your day for afternoon tea (yes please), here’s to a happy, healthy, successful and peaceful new year.
Wishing you all the best,
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This weekend I baked.
Cream cheese cookie dough
Chocolate dipped cream cheese cookies decked out for a Chanukah party.
I remember my mom making Cream Cheese Leaves for me to bring to a Girl Scout meeting way back when. She dipped them in semi-sweet chocolate and then nestled them in a wax paper lined coffee can.
This is my mom’s recipe.
I think they are now her official Christmas cookie. My mom says she called them Cream Cheese Leaves because of the way the dough rolled off the spoons when she first made them. She pinched each and every one to make them look more leaf like.
My mom has great patience when baking.
Sometimes I do. But not this weekend. I used my handy-dandy cookie scoop to make precise dough balls.
Besides I was too occupied being a moving target.
And I wasn’t stopping at my mom’s cookies. I needed to try some new ideas for a cookie exchange party.
Next up, Compost Cookies!
Makes great dirt–not cookies.
These cookies have a funny name, but they are super easy. You start with your favorite chocolate chip cookie dough recipe. It can be vegan, gluten-free, whole grain–whatever you like . . .
It doesn’t have to be homemade. This works too–just let it soften at room temperature first.
Then mix and match 1 cup of your favorite add ins:
Candy bars, nuts, cereal, butterscotch chips, dried fruit, pretzels–whatever you want. Even leftover cookies, although that seems a tad cannibalistic.
Then drop and bake according to your recipe.
Up next, A Sprinkle of Fortune Cookie.
You take a basic sugar cookie dough (again, your tried and true favorite) and add in some freshly grated orange zest. After baking and cooling, dip them in melted white chocolate.
Then you can sprinkle crushed fortune cookies and colored sugar on top.
If you like extra sprinkles, then you’re a SPRINKY DINK, according to Urban Dictionary.
What is your favorite cookie? Are you a Sprinky Dink?
And to all those celebrating this week, warm wishes for a Happy Chanukah!
Today I am happy to have a very special guest here: Alarna Rose Gray. Alarna describes herself as an aunt, animal lover, and writer. To me she is also a new friend.
AND she has a brand new book!
Hello Pepi: A Toy Dog is for Real
There was a little puppy
With a coat of raven silk,
A lightning splash upon his chest
And paws of peppered milk…
Hello Pepi is the first book in a wonderful new series for children young and old. It is about the special friendship between a toy dog and his most important person. The verse is smart, sweet and wonderful to read aloud. The illustrations make me nostalgic for the picture books from my childhood. In short, the books made me smile.
Pepi is also based on a true story.
Here is that inspiration in Alarna’s words:
Hello Pepi is a collection of memories that form a fictional narrative of the life of one small dog.
But not just any dog.
Pepi was a dog that burst onto the scene of my life in a most unexpected way.
Pepi, Age 1
I had no intention of getting a dog. My flatmate at the time had suffered a terrible loss and wanted to get a puppy. Although between us we already had four cats!
We took a long drive across the city to the other side of town, and it was as we stood in the living room of a European lady that the magic happened.
He was a tiny black and white fella who made gentle cooing noises as I held him in my palm.
My flatmate had chosen his brother, the runt of the pack, and not wanting to separate the two, I made a snap decision to take the puppy home. Who can resist the cuteness of a little dog who quacks at the sight of you?
And this is where the reason for my writing the series came about.
It’s a common story. We fall in love with pets because we’ve bred them to be cute for us. But sometimes we don’t realise what that decision means.
At the age of eighteen / nineteen, having a dog, in particular, made me feel grown up and independent – that idea of being responsible for another living creature who you take out into the world with you.
Then the reality comes in. They need to be fed. Walked. Bathed. Cleaned up after. Trained. Not to mention all the very costly vet bills.
Little dogs, in particular, are quite high maintenance. They might be small, but they make up for it in energy, and (quite often) noise!
I’m a very quiet person, and can also be impatient. So the two together meant that I was in for some ride with Pepi!
Pepi, age 2
It really wasn’t until someone close to me pointed out how clever he was, that I truly began to appreciate his energy. And that’s the bittersweet tragedy of having pets. I don’t think we always appreciate how much they know, or what they give us… until it’s gone.
He suffered something similar to a stroke at fifteen. Even at that age, people in the street thought he was still a puppy, because he was so small, and full of energy. But he was never quite the same after that. He started slowing down. He got dementia. That’s when I decided to chronicle his life and spirit in verse.
He loved having the story read to him. He was a very musical dog, and the rhythm of the rhyme made him jump up in excitement. He knew it was about him, and he’d talk back as I read aloud.
And that’s it, really. I wanted to share the joy of the experiences I had with him, as well as the lessons that I learned. My puppy parenting was far from perfect. But he always knew he was loved, and never held that against me. Except when I forgot to give him treats. Then he held a grudge .
Little dogs are also much maligned. People think they are stupid, or blame them for provoking their bigger dogs into a fight. But there’s a lot more to them than that. It just requires us to see the world a little through their eyes…
Beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing your story Alarna.
The first three ebooks are available on Amazon here. But in celebration of the launch of her new series and the wonderful spirit of Pepi and friendship, Alarna would like to gift the first book to YOU.
So if you’d like an ebook of Hello Pepi #1, simply leave your email in the comments before Monday, December 10th.
Have an amazing weekend!
It’s Reader Paparazzi time.
It’s research, not stalking.
Reader Paparazzi is my Q & A series spotlighting YA readers (if you missed any previous interviews, click here or on the tab in the header above). I spend a lot of time inside the mind of fictional teens–writing and reading, so it’s great to get a little real YA world perspective to help with character inspiration, or to learn what holds a teen’s interest, or simply find a new book to read.
But it’s not only teens reading Young Adult novels. The popularity of YA spans the generations. Wikipedia says the typical age range is from ten to twenty-five, but I know plenty of adults are reading it. Plus, the categories of New Adult or Upper YA throw off the typical range also.
More than half of the eighty books I’ve read this year have been YA. Although I guess I don’t count since I also write YA–and because I’m just barely over twenty-five.
Anyhoo, today I bring you an interview with a college student. Ancient, I know. But Amanda is a prolific YA reader. She blogs about the books she reads over at her site Born Bookish. Check it out. You can find great reviews and segments like Breathtaking Book Covers and Wordlover Wednesday.
A big Reader Paparazzi hello to Amanda!
Amanda, what book are you reading right now?
You actually caught me in-between books! I started The Rise of Nine by Pittacus Lore a couple of months ago but have been so busy with review books I haven’t been able to finish it. Next up, is Social Suicide by Gemma Halliday.
I am a fan of The Number Four series! Of course, every time I go to your blog, I find new titles for my to-read pile!
Okay, now let’s get serious. What did you eat for dinner last night?
Macaroni & Cheese. Not the kind out of a box, I actually went out to eat and got fancy schmancy Mac & Cheese.
Yum! What was your favorite book when you were younger?
I can only pick one? Wow, that’s hard. I’m going to go with Abby: South Sea Adventures series by Pamela Walls.
What do you hope you will be doing five years from now?
I hope that I will have a job in the field of Graphic Design, one that I will enjoy doing everyday.
What are you most looking forward to right now?
My trip to London that I’ll be taking over Winter Break!
Sounds amazing. London is definitely on my bucket list.
What would you like to learn how to do—that you don’t know how to do?
So many things . . . American Sign Language is something I’ve always wanted to learn–and how to play violin.
What fictional character would you most like to meet and why?
I have to think about this one for a minute . . . Cammie Morgan from the Gallagher Girl series by Ally Carter because she is a spy, and what girl didn’t dream of being a spy when she was little?!
Yes, but all that intrigue can make a spy girl hungry!
So back to food. What is your favorite comfort food?
Chicken and stuffing
Top 3 songs playing on your iPod?
Small Bump- Ed Sheeran
Red- Taylor Swift
The Writer- Ellie Goulding (I just bought concert tickets for an Ellie concert tonight! I’m SO excited!)
You have a great blog segment on book covers—how important is the cover to you when choosing a book to read?
So important! If a book has a great cover it is pretty much guaranteed that I will at least pick it up, read the synopsis and decide from there. If I dislike a cover I won’t even bother reading the back. I know that’s horrible, but it’s the designer in me. I just can’t read a book if I hate the cover.
If you could Skype with anyone—who would you pick?
Does Perry the Platypus count? No? Okay. Then I would choose Taylor Swift.
Perry the Platypus is ready to Skype.
Quick fire fill in the blank:
I fear: Heights
I need: Chocolate
I love: Family
I am inspired by: Nature
Favorite word from your Wordlover Wednesday series: Lollygag
As in enough of. Got it.
Thank you Amanda!
Now, because Reader Paparazzi gets me feeling extra stalkerish and curious, tell me, what did YOU have for dinner last night?
I did NOT have Halloween candy for dinner.
Have an awesome week!
It’s National Novel Writing Month and I’m participating again. It’s so exciting starting a brand new project.
Although, I have to admit, I’ve never juggled this many writing projects at one time. I’m thinking about buying brand new outfits–one for each story. Then I could just change wardrobe when I open a different Word document (I assume my brain will make the transition as well).
Totally makes sense, right?
Even without the new outfits, I’m having fun. This NaNoWriMo quote sums it up for me:
“Thirty days and nights of literary abandon”
Literary abandon. For me that means locking my inner editor in the tool shed outside–and really enjoying the fun of just making something up.
Last year I blogged about my NaNoWriMo inspiration–about how my brother inspired me to not only pursue my writing, but really enjoy my life. The information still applies. So here’s that post.
Life is for Enjoying
I first heard about NaNoWriMo five years ago, and used the general principles to write my first middle grade story. I’d been filling notebooks with stories for years, but I did it strictly for the fun of it. But I wanted to do more, and NaNo seemed like the perfect way to launch that spark. So I started writing with more of a purpose. The only person I told at the time (other than my husband) was my brother. I remember him being fascinated by the idea of writing a thousand plus words a day. He was a creative type–he drew, wrote, cooked (even went to culinary school), so he was the perfect person to understand the need to do a writing marathon in a month.
When I finished that first draft, I put it away to read it at a later date with fresh eyes. Then, when the time came to go back to it, I decided I didn’t really want to write. So I went out and got a job, leaving the story behind.
I was afraid. Afraid to read the rough draft. Afraid of what it would mean to move forward with my writing. So I went about life and work without it.
And then a couple of months later, my brother died.
It was sudden–a brain aneurysm. He was 31.
My brother was so funny. He did the best Chewbacca impression ever. He was also incredibly kind. Maybe it’s the sharp finality of death that smooths away the rough edges of a life, but I truly can’t remember him ever being anything but nice to me.
But I think he was hard on himself. He had unrealized dreams. He had physical obstacles, like when he stopped working in restaurants because he couldn’t be on his feet for that many hours (he battled Type 1 diabetes starting from the age of 11). But I think maybe some of his biggest struggles were more internal. He got bogged down by dark moments, the kind that show up to shadow your plans and leave you filled with self-doubt and fear.
I know that fear. I think we all do.
I have one of my brother’s journals. In it there’s the beginnings of a story, some sketches, and some personal notes he wrote to himself. One of those notes stays with me:
“Write damn you! Write! Anything, something, Please!”
My first instinct is to feel sad at that personal plea to his self, but then I realize that goes against what he wrote. Because he didn’t want to get stuck in those paralyzing fears.
In fact the first line in the journal he wrote is: “Life is for enjoying.”
I remember my aunt said at his funeral that she was sad because she couldn’t learn anything more from him and I get that because I would love to know what he would have thought of the LOST finale (our last conversation happened to be about the beginning episodes of season three and the oh so random subject of peanut butter). I also am curious what his thoughts would be regarding Twitter, the Kindle or his take on the whole new world of publishing. I would love to hear his opinion on all of this crazy writing stuff I’ve been pursuing. Plus I wonder if he too would be blogging, putting his writing and drawings out there. Tweeting.
My brother Daniel
But then again I know now, five years later, that I am still learning from him.
I am learning not to be afraid. I am learning not to worry about regret.
And I am learning to enjoy my life, from random peanut butter moments to marathon writing months.
What are you enjoying this week? Are you participating in any of the creative marathons this month? Do you think I need to go shopping to keep my writing projects straight?
Have a great week!
I used to say I wanted to be a writer when I was a kid. Out loud.
I even brought my stories to school for my fourth grade teacher to critique. I proudly wore, then displayed the button she gave me. I still have it.
My kid badge of courage.
Sometime after high school, that courage deflated a bit. I still wrote, but I filed it all away in a large Rubbermaid container.
Part of it was a lack of direction. Part of it was fear.
Because it takes courage to put yourself out there–whether you are making new friends, trying something new, or setting goals toward your dreams. Maybe you hesitate, fill in all the unknown factors with worry, or maybe you paralyze yourself with fear, imagining your hopes floating unattached, like the fluffy bits from a dandelion.
What happens when you put it all out there?
Sure, there are scary things, like rejection.
But, you also leave room for opportunity.
This past week I got the chance to be a literary judge for a local elementary school’s PTA Reflections program. They were looking for a writer. My dandelion bits made their rounds (thank you Andrea!), and they asked me.
I don’t think it had anything to do with my once upon a time literary connections.
Hobnobbing with Babar in the 80s.
The opportunity presented itself because I put myself out there.
Ask the barista at Starbucks to write your dream on your next cup. I dare you.
It’s not always easy to be open, but YAY for new opportunities!
But wait–what does a children’s literary judge wear?
Something classic, maybe Suess-ian or Potter-esque?
Or, perhaps someone more inspired, more representative of Life and the Great Quest . . .
I found Waldo. In my own backyard.
Then I settled down to read the reflections of future artists. The theme this year is Magic of a Moment.
Reading the stories and poems reminded me how much courage abounds in the young.
So, of course, I carefully swept the “magic of a moment” essence off those papers with my unicorn tail hair brush. That sort of pixie dust is akin to the Fountain of Youth.
So if you’re looking to reclaim some of that gutsy kid attitude, I’ve left some on a dandelion in the Jungle of Nool.
Waldo will lead the way.
What are you mustering courage for this week? Are you more of a TRUTH, or DARE person? If you could dress up as any literary character, who would you be?
Let me know in the comments!