Last month, a friend persuaded me to take part in National Novel Writing Month or NaNo,
as it’s called by those who like to suffer. (Sorry, I’m joking.) While I love
writing, I feel a goal of fifty-thousand words in one month is unreasonable. It’s
a big deal to finish and miraculously, I finished. At first, I didn’t
think I could do it. Plus, I started three days late. Things looked hopeless.
Finishing however, had to do with the fact that I had a
story running around in my head, which had to get out. So, even though I
complained about the thirty-day deadline, in some ways I feel lighter. Free
from a heavy-duty tale about world peace. Half way through, the topic felt enormous. In the mornings I did research and, in the afternoons, I typed away. I had
to write like the Dickens to make sure my version of War and Peace came to a
resolution at fifty thousand words. And so, by the grace of God and of course His
legions of angels, who give me ideas and help me write, I completed my next
novel. Hooray!
Speaking of angels, it’s almost Christmas. A time to reflect
on the year, to remember others, and to share delicious snacks and special moments with
friends and family. It’s also a time that can be hectic and filled with
tension, traffic and old-fashioned traditions that seem overdone, almost
ridiculous. The best we can do is focus on what’s important.
Our mall Santa
Once we’ve tuned
out the mall-muzak, perhaps we can hear the little bells, the song of the bird
in the yard, the trickle of rain on the window. We will hear the excitement in
the child’s voice upon receiving a gift, a tone of gratitude in the shopkeeper’s
‘thank you for your business’ and the delightful sound of wrapping paper ripped
off packages.
I know it's hard to see the singing yellow bird in the middle of this tree but he almost looked like a canary!
Beyond the bustling crowds are families baking cookies in cozy
kitchens and elderly friends wearing bizarre sweaters, gathering for a social
at the Senior Center. There are childless couples, empty- nesters and those who
are alone but still volunteer and try to be part of the festivities. The
intangible gifts are everywhere. Every new day is a memory tomorrow—every moment
is yours. If you focus on what’s
important, (like I did with Nano) you can do anything!
Merry Christmas and
Happy Holidays to all my friends and family!
Thought I’d write a small Thanksgiving post about
mindfulness and gratitude. After all, I live in California, home to the
Hollywood lifestyle. A place where not too many people take things seriously
anymore. I look around at the way people dress for work or even church and it’s
obvious this is the land of casual living. We also know that Hollywood is the land of Max
Factor cosmetics, face-lifts and plastic surgery central.
I feel sorry for those
movie stars because even though they look slim, all they want to do is portray
regular humans like us. And we rock!! Yes us--the regular people with lives
filled with real drama. Real lives that have tension and excitement. Lives that
are impossible to duplicate. Let them try. We are originals. One of a kind.
First off, we have less troubles Probably less taxes. Under
those fancy clothes and all that makeup are zits and skin imperfections. Even
famous actors and actresses suffer from bunions, STDs and hemorrhoids. They are
imperfect humans. In fact, you—most likely—have less imperfections.
Make Every Day An Imaginary Movie
Turn on the radio. Try a classical channel. That’s the
soundtrack to your wonderful life. When you look out the window that is your
movie set. Your family is your cast and you are the director. How will you
approach this beautiful day? As the camera pans the neighborhood and the sound
technician picks up the barking sounds of the neighbor’s annoying pooch, how
will you respond to the cues? Will a telephone call pull you into a melodramatic
scene or will you attempt to keep things neutral until the final moments of the
day?
We all get the sad
texts or the shocking emails about plans changing. We all have those sinking
moments that create pain in our heart. Like commercials that blare into the
middle of a great show, they are expected. They are akin to the twists and
turns of a harrowing plot created by screenwriters and fiction authors. Except
your pain is real. What you feel inside your heart is the hardest thing to
describe. It’s your special emotion. Your salty tears, your real blood and your
family. Hopefully, the pain will pass quickly.
I can be watching an exciting
movie and all of a sudden, they break for a long string of annoying ads. I am
jerked from the make-believe into the here and now. Do I have time to run and grab a bottle of
water? Go to the bathroom? Make some popcorn? Not usually—hurry up. Our film is
back and we feel relieved.
Tonight, you might want to set the stage for a lovely
evening. The sun is setting earlier now. I love those sparkly ‘faux’ candles
that use batteries and can’t burn down the house. We have solar lights lining a
pathway by the garden and twinkling lights throughout our home. A pot of soup
simmers on the stove, filling the air with a wonderful aroma. It’s also cooler
and we might have cocoa with marshmallows for dessert. Next week is Thanksgiving. A time that can be filled with family angst. Except this time:
The camera pans over the valley and zooms into the kitchen where you're helping with the holiday dishes. Make it sweet. Warm and cozy. It can be nice. Closeup on your smile. Remember, you're the star. Breathe.
Whether life is a romantic Hallmark movie, ending with a
kiss, or a comedy where everyone falls asleep on the couch. Keep in mind, you
are in charge. Make it a blockbuster, a bestseller. Make every day the best movie ever!
Bentley is a fluffy canine character in my latest novel, Penniless Souls. Usually a playful pup wanting to fetch a ball, until he bares his teeth and acts wild, as if he wants to kill the bad guys. In other words, he's a great little dog. The following snippet is when I introduce him in Chapter Four, which is written from Lani's point of view. Lani is Penny's daughter and she has allergies.
So cute, huh? My model's actual name is Bambi. He's exactly like Bentley.
From Chapter Four of Penniless Souls
“What?” Aunt Bess shrieked over Bentley’s continuous
barking, accompanied by Lani’s sneezes. “Bentley,” be quiet she shouted in a
kind-hearted way. Aunt Bess didn’t scold her dog. She treated the dusty mop
looking doglike a member of the
family.
“We’ll see
you on Tuesday,” Penny repeated, reaching towards Bess and giving her a hug.
The dog ran
around and around the dining room table like Secretariat at the Kentucky Derby.
A tiny pink tongue hung from his lips and drool flew in the breezes he created.
Aunt Bess gave Lani a quick hug and went back to clapping and yelling at her dog.
On Tuesday, Lani would begin a new chapter in her life--a life that included a
very rambunctious dog and two cats that might kill her. Her boat capsized on a
deserted island. She felt like a hostage, held against her will, a caged
captive, in a strange place filled with unusual wildlife.
Hope this short piece about Bentley makes you want to read more! Have a great day!
October 10th-Anniversary
dinner at Tresino’s Restaurant—26 years!!Whoops, sorry that was yesterday, but you might have
seen us walking along busy Catt Road on our way to deliciousness. I wore navy
blue lace and he had on a Quicksilver Hawaiian shirt and golf shorts. You'd think we were married in Hawaii! 😂
October 20th
I’ll be at the Diamond Valley Arts Council Festival of the Arts from 10 until 4pm on Harvard Street in Hemet. As far as I know, I'm handing out
brochures at the Diamond Valley Author’s table. Stop by and say hello!
October 27th
Is our regularly scheduled Diamond Valley Writer’s Guild Meeting from 9 am to 12
noon. It's held at the Hemet Library on Latham. It’s our last meeting of the year!
November 6th at the Vail Ranch Farmer's Market in Temecula
I'll be there from 1 to 4pm
That’s all for now. I’ll keep you updated. Will I be lucky enough to meet you?
This week, we took a short day-trip over to San Diego County
to visit the town of Julian. We haven’t been there in ages and wanted to see if
anything had changed. The last time we came, over ten years ago, we stayed to
watch a wonderful theater production of The Man of La Mancha.
Other than a few price increases, the California historical
landmark has stayed the same. It’s an old west town known for picking apples. They
also sell apple juice, hard cider and the secret reason for our trip—yes—delicious
pies.
Downtown Julian
There are antique shops, crafts and specialty foods for sale on Main
street and plenty of hiking opportunities for the entire family.
I think that's the fire-station
We passed a
few campsites on the way, noticed some wineries and after we parked the car, we
took a stroll in the old Pioneer cemetery.
Resting under a lovely oak
From what I understand, there used to be a gold
mine around there, and it’s still open to visitors.
This place had some unusual antiques.
I knew if I went in there it would take hours to get me out.
We were lucky to be able to
go during the week, as I imagine it gets busy on the weekends.
My chivalrous knight in front of the pie place.
All in all, we
had a wonderful day and recommend it as a short getaway from the noise, stress
and general hullabaloo of the city.
Vegetarian not Vegan. (Learn the difference or you will be
embarrassed.)
Low Carb?
Mediterranean?
Low fat?
High Protein?
Atkins?
Raw Food?
South Beach?
Paleo?
Grapefruit diet?
Cabbage Soup?
Sirtfood?
Carnivore diet?
Eggs and wine diet?
Apple Cider Vinegar diet?
Cake cleanse?
Smoothie detox?
No.
No, and no.
Eating is harder to figure out then gender identity. But my new trans-
ition lenses help me see things clearer.
With over one hundred newly recognized genders this year,
there will be people celebrating.
Hooray! They will probably have cake!
I made this delicious walnut cake last week. Walnuts are very good for you. 😋 Maybe I'll post a recipe soon.
Anyway, dieting is something I’m supposed to be doing. (Seriously, I replaced white bread with croissants.)😍
The
more I read about the dangerous, long term consequences of dieting,
the more I rebel.
"Let me eat cake," is up there with Russian Roulette and cliff diving in Mazatlan. These are perilous times folks. I'm saying folks to be inclusive to everyone.
Husband can cut out one soda and
lose twenty pounds! Just like that! Poof! He misses one meal and looks like a haggard, homeless man.
Men. Yeah, it’s a gender thing and I’m not too keen on the way
they can brag about having great metabolisms.
Meanwhile, I’m swimming my heart out and walking our lazy pooches
all over the place. Apparently, I'd have to walk to the moon and back to burn all my calories.
They should have the Exhausted but I Can't Give Up Cake Diet. It could consist of three hundred calories of anything delicious three times a day. Maybe three generous slices of chocolate cake and a few carrot sticks to equal things out? Hmm.
It’s finally here!! My second book about Penny, and though
it’s a standalone sequel, Penniless Souls is the second half of a two-part journey called the
Lost
Compass Love Series. Follow Penny and John through the Mojave Desert to
Las Vegas, Nevada where old dreams and dark nightmares intertwine, colliding with the bitter truth. Is Penny up to the challenge? Is she willing to bet her last cent?
Here’s a snippet from Chapter
One:
“Can you trust me?”
Quietly, she nodded and placed her head back on his
shoulder.“I
have so far,” she mumbled without conviction.
It felt like a white flag of surrender. The type
of submission that reminded her of submissive
women in advertising campaigns of the fifties.Without a job or money,
she had only one thing left.Fortunately, it was something valuable, some-
thing called love.
Buy it by clicking here and don't forget to write a short review!
Not a flight of swallows or a murder of crows--not a siege of herons or a gaggle of geese....
Nor an exaltation of larks or a dole of doves but perhaps a plethora of roosters....
A month ago, we had a few roosters decorating our kitchen. I
have this idea that the rooster is an image of forgiveness. So much so, that I
wrote a short book about it, called The Fifth Commandment. In my short novella, rooster
symbolism abounds. If you haven’t read it, then please click here.
Originally, we had one big rooster on the top shelf that my husband
painted, and two old ones on the second shelf. Both of the smaller ones were gifts. Then, at
the end of July, my artistic friend Melodie gave me a gray, wooden hen. She
painted it with, what now I believe, are alluring red flowers. Guess these
roosters saw her coming, because a few days later my kitchen underwent a
transformation.
See that gray hen on the right?
Within a couple of days--as if they spent every night
awake--they reproduced! (Another friend brought us a box teeming with feathered
fowl.) Now, I have an entire farm of roosters and every time I glance up at
that shelf, I wonder. What just happened? Does this mean I'm forgiven?
The month of July began with a bang. We had the absolute cutest
family members visit us during the week of the Fourth of July. They chased Pinky
and Fiona and then jumped in the pool. It was non-stop fun and laughter. We even
went hiking in the Santa Rosas, played Jenga and took the dogs for walks. One
day, we visited an antique shop and a French soap maker in Old Town Temecula.
This was immediately followed with unlimited supplies of soft-serve with
toppings.
Pinky and me. I laughed my head off!
Chalk drawings on pavement, chess championships and a colossal
number of crayons kept everyone entertained. Pinky and Fiona received extra
belly rubs and forbidden, under the table snacks. Seems everyone did fine
without computer games, phones and hours of television.
Food was plentiful and
dessert went on forever: juicy watermelon slices, scoops of ice-cream and apple
pie. Not to mention oodles of hugs and kisses.
Then, after massive amounts of
giggling…goodbye.
The day my cousins left you could hear a pin drop in
Nebraska. Silence.
My people show how
much they love you by serving massive amounts of food. Then, if you don’t eat
several portions, they feel that you don’t love them back. It’s a common
disorder and painfully difficult to navigate. Let’s say I invite family from
far away. If we’re not going to a restaurant and the kitchen is available, they
will make themselves at home and prepare some delicious comfort food. Gigantic
vats of the stuff. During the meal they’ll keep checking my eyes to make sure I
love their creation. If I try and act cool, they will ask, “Do you like it?”
“Of course, of
course. It’s delicious,” I answer, knowing how hard it is to make a great
dinner. Plus, they came from far away and deep inside, I know, I should have
cooked. Of course, I thankfully slurp up every morsel of the meal, mainly because
I’m pretty easy to please, but subconsciously, I’m looking for a good reason to
overeat. How can I argue with home-cooked and mouthwatering? Forgetting my
doctor’s warnings about portion control, I inhale every fattening, delicious
calorie. I take seconds to prove my love.
The reason I didn’t
cook is, I’m not sure they’d like it. I guess it’s called experience. Everyone
has varied tastes these days. Honey and nut allergies, milk sensitivities, etc.
Few things can be as unsettling as rumors about how your fancy dinner caused a
family member to go into anaphylactic shock. Ever since, I have cooking
trepidation—there’s really a phobia—Mageirocophobia. (The fear of cooking). Fortunately,
it’s not a severe case and I don’t need treatment. When it comes to love, I’m
not a quitter.
The younger
relations wash sugar-free and fat-free down with copious amounts of craft beer.
Moments later, they begin a lecture about a new workout, while smoking. The
older ones prefer bland over spicy. Teenage girls are in a vegan phase, which
is a good thing but this usually lasts until they taste a brew-house burger. The
boys like barbecue, but they haven’t yet studied carcinogens in school.
There's also the internet educational system. It’s enough to make you choke. Suddenly,
everyone is a chef. Do I used grass-fed meat and range-free chickens? No, I use
what looks best at the supermarket and just like grandma, I rinse everything. Still, the dinner conversation can turn ugly. I must be out of
touch or cruel if I don’t watch those movie documentaries about the truth
behind our food. Don’t I know about the unethical treatment of animals? The
crowded chicken coops? The thrashed wheat?
Salad ingredients
seem to be controversial too. Especially the dressing. Too sweet—too cheesy—too
oily—too tart. Some don't like arugula, others hate cilantro. There's a romaine lettuce recall. Have I heard about it? Yup, I'm not serving it, am I? Help. And why do people pick fruit out of their salad? I’m back to casseroles. They seem safe enough
and contain a fair amount of vegetables.
PicJumbo picture by Viktor Hanacek
And don’t get me
started talking about dessert. Let’s say, I spent hours baking, frosting and
decorating something amazing.But instead of appreciation, tell me why I'm being quizzed about
ingredients? Did I use flour? Did I use sugar? If I pull something ready made
from the freezer, “does it have artificial ingredients? Food coloring?” They
look at me as if I want to poison their children. “Yes, it has sugar. It’s
called dessert.”
But sadly, I’m back
at that casserole. I still worry when placing the big dish in the center of the
table. After all, I put my heart into it.
Speaking of hearts, it's aflutter. I
search their eyes while perspiration breaks from my temples. If they don’t
immediately look impressed, I’m all worried they won’t like it. If they don’t
take seconds, my day might be ruined. Scooping almost full plates of food into
the garbage pail, makes me want to cry.
You see, it’s a vicious
cycle, fighting a nation of fast food. But
a cycle of love. Someday, as my family DNA dissipates into the ether, there
will be other, worse issues than this one. I imagine my future descendants screaming
at each other about carbs, gluten and the Keto diet, which is also called the Caveman
diet. The cycle has progressed to the point that the Stone Age has returned. Clubs
have been replaced with modern weapons and hunting for the exact taste, the
perfect morsel of food to satiate immediate desire, is only one freeway ramp
away. And love.....Humans will have to find new ways to express their feelings.
As for my house,
there’s this persistent issue connecting food with love. The slow cooker is
simmering and the aroma is floating throughout the house. My husband is a great
cook and whether I like his masterful concoction or not, I’ll be taking
seconds.
Sorry to drag you along on my walks, but it seems walking
gives me hints for writing. Clues to the universal order or disarray of things.
Walking makes me question nature and makes me think about the status quo. I
walk—therefore—I am. Deep, huh? It’s supposed to say think and it was said by
philosopher Rene Descartes. In fact, he said it in Latin: Cogito ergo sum. And
walking, which is supposed to make me healthy, at least lets me philosophize.
So, here’s the scoop:
Crossing the road one morning, I found a puzzle piece
directly in the middle of the road. I racked my mind. What could this mean? My
inference radar thought of many different scenarios. Have you ever put together
a puzzle and found there’s one last piece missing? So frustrating. I’ve been
there.
But what message was the galaxy sending me? Was there something
missing from my life? For days I tried searching for answers. I tried
being introspective. Mindful. I hugged my husband. I read and review books. I
give, I volunteer. I assist when necessary. I looked at my improved diet and my
relationship with God. Wow, there’s always room for improvement, but after days
of reflection, I still couldn’t pin it down.
So, I took myself out of the picture and then it hit me. The
day. The piece. I was looking at it all wrong.
I found this puzzle piece the week of June 12, 2018. The day of
a famous summit in Singapore. A meeting about disarmament of nuclear weapons.
The universe communicated with a tangible form of an
important word. Without spell check but
maybe using autocorrect, this solitary puzzle piece appeared before me. Maybe
the rest of the pieces are on other streets, all over the globe, sending a
strong international message.
Say it. Say piece.
PEACE
Let’s not lose an important piece of our puzzling world.
A few weeks ago, I posted about unusual coincidences related to seeing things clearly. On my daily two-mile walk through our neighborhood, I found eye drops, bottled tears and reading glasses on three different occasions. One of the funnier comments received on my blog, suggested the neighborhood might not be as tidy as I may have thought. Since I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, I figured I’d post some pictures of our walk and let my followers see firsthand. (We also have a homeowner’s association that comes down on anyone wanting to be sloppy.)
Walking
inspires me in so many ways.
This may not look steep but it's a huffing and
puffing grade on the way home.
When it's chilly I jog down hill.
I see things I’ve never seen, almost every time. I
meet neighbors, breathe fresh air and notice patterns in nature. I frequently see
lizards, rabbits and squirrels. From our home, we can walk to a grocery store, hair salon, dentist and dangerously delicious places such as: donut shops, pizza parlors, taco or burger joints and gourmet restaurants serving local wine and craft beers. (Walking is a wonderful way to drink without driving. But I have heard that texting and walking can be hazardous, so be careful.)
Walking has many benefits, most importantly, exercise.
Did I mention flowering trees, blossoming hedges, daffodils, tulips, lilies and roses? Climbing vines, clematis and bougainvillea? This is the best time of year for observing the colors of nature and if you're a photographer, grab that camera and zoom in, before the heat of summer takes some of the pizzazz away. (If you are allergic to pollen there are many over the counter allergy medications that can help you cope.)
Learn
If you're a writer, stop imagining the rose petals and how they curve around each other when you can see them with your eyes. The clouds, the weather, the chill in the air. Later, your prose and poetry will benefit from the experience.
The point is to put down the tablet, computer game and maybe your Smart phone and forget about technology for part of an hour. It will recharge your cells, your thoughts will sharpen and the ideas might flow. Try it and observe. Justify the walk. What did you see that you haven't seen before? What made the walk unique?
Take your dog.
Did I mention our pups Pinky and Fiona enjoy walking too? In fact, they LOVE it.
Oh, and we live about five miles from a large body of water called Lake Elsinore, thus explaining the cute visitor in the photo below.
“The gold in one’s heart is far more precious than the gold in one’s
purse.” --Confucius
While doing research on fortune cookies, good luck and fate
for my upcoming novel, I came across some interesting tidbits about the I
Ching. First, I learned it’s the most influential book in China. Most families
have a copy of the revered book of wisdom because they feel it brings them good
health and prosperity.
The I Ching, also called “The Book of Changes”can be traced
back as far as 7,000 B.C. when a sage by the name of Fuxi (please don’t try pronouncing
his name if you’re in an office full of people.) had many lessons to share
about fishing, hunting and marriage. He began to use mystic symbols that
represented positive and negative situations with long and short bars called
yang and yin. He devised something called a Pa Kua which later evolved into a
group of 64, six-line figures called Hexagrams.
The most fascinating part of all of this is two-fold: Not
only is the I Ching the oldest book in the world, but the binary system using
those ancient hexagrams is the basis of modern electronic computing.
Oracle bones predate recorded history
After carving a story, they would put it into the fire.
The cracks were the messages from the past.
(Wikipedia-Creative Commons)
While I wish I understood the numerical breakdown and the
practical applications that even attracted famous minds, such as the Swiss psychologist
C. G. Jung and Swedish physicist Niels Bohr, I am in awe of the collective
opinions of experts who admit the predictions seem divine and above human
understanding.
In my humble opinion, the mathematical sequences and patterns
are repetitive, in the same way, that history repeats itself. Do you think we
can find our own luck by studying our past?
“The answer you seek is within you, but it may be hard to find.” --Confucius
Dance like the
butterfly you are. You have been released. Free of the binding chrysalis, you are no longer captive. Even the sluggish old caterpillar memories are flitting
away.
Maybe you’re a bumblebee with a
field of flowers spread in front of you like carpet from the hills to the sea.
All you have to do is select a petal for landing. The bee has to make these decisions
alone. It can’t blame anyone if there isn’t enough pollen or the hive is too
far away. They study the colors, scents and watch for intruders. They take
important things into consideration before making a choice. The opportunities
are endless. Where will you go?
Pour
Wite-out over the bad parts of your life story. From today forward, you can
start a fresh new chapter brimming with hope. In fact, imagine filling a
printer with blank sheets of white paper. Add some color to your story and watch the pages
swirl with energy, displaying a happier you.
Clocks, timers and alarms are great
for getting us somewhere else. Focus on where you are now.
When it comes to reading, I enjoy a little variety. After all, isn't it the spice of life?
Though I've never been to Spain, I understand they eat dinner with small, tantalizing appetizer-type plates called tapas. A little plate of olives, another of cheese and a plate of cold-cuts or fish, alongside a basket of bread, a plate of marinated peppers, capers and sun-dried tomatoes, with a serving of chilled Sangria. In other words, a little something for everyone. Yummy.
That's what I love about The Diamond Valley Writer's Guild. No, I'm not talking about their cooking, although that might be good too. I'm talking about the amazing variety of creative books they write. Books available not just to members, but to the general public through Amazon! Yes, you too can share in the feast of their labor by clicking under the book covers below. Taste this, my friends--these are my first selections--from this talented group. Hope my little reviews will have you salivating and asking these authors to hurry up and write some more! Buen Gusto!
Kameleona is a well-written
and sensitive book about island life on Molokai. You will feel and smell the
flowers and taste the fresh Ono. The author will pull you into a forest reserve
for a hunting trip or back to an idyllic beach on the other side of the island.
On Sunday’s you’ll go to church, because that’s what the residents of
Kaunakakai do. They bury the old and baptize the new. Most of all they love
each other and they also love living in paradise. Hawaiian culture, quilting, wood carving, fishing and family
lore are infused into what amounts to an exciting story. Beginning with Jack
Metzger, throwing a man off a cliff; not just any man, but the new Pastor of
the Good News Church. There are shady characters like Joe Obregon, Frank
Soriano and tough as nails Charlene Harper whose lives intersect with excellent
characters such as Malia, Leilani and Keanu. There’s also George Kapule the
Chief of Police. George is no slouch when it comes to solving crimes and
keeping the peace. He listens to the war stories carried in on tropical breezes
and follows every lead. He’s also friends with Paul Kanga, the Pastor at the
Good News Church. But wait a minute, the Pastor? Is it a mystery or a story of
redemption? Read Kameleona to find all the answers. It’s truly an enjoyable and
sensational story in a magnificent setting.
There’s a bit of dialogue
that sums up this novel: “When does a person ever get old enough to have
everything figured out? “ “Never, I hope.” Karen wiped her eyes. Because then where’s
the magic?” Lynne Spreen’s book will take you on a magical journey from
South Florida, into Georgia up to North Dakota and even to Spain. Her main
character Karen Grace is searching for balance. In other words, Karen wants to
be successful at her new business but she wants love too. Plus she has new
rules. Can it happen? Hard to say-- Frieda might say that “Life is to be
lived.” Good advice, especially for someone young like the other character
Jessie, who happens to be tangled into domestic abuse with her boyfriend Lenny. Spreen is one of the coolest writers I’ve seen for a long
time. She has characters that use I Pods, develop Apps and take Segway tours.
Instead of pouring a Chardonnay or glass of white wine, she merely writes, “a
crisp cold white.” Though romantic and filled with juicy love scenes, the
writing is hip and memorable. It’s today’s feelings not some old-fashioned
panting, slowly working around a bunch of petticoats and a bustier. His eyes
weren’t just blue but “blue like some alpine lake.” Will Karen Grace find the balance she’s looking for, or is
she “probably a cranky old woman with Chihuahuas”? Read Key Largo Blues and
find out that Frieda was right all along.
If you enjoy books that grab
your heart and take you on a journey, you’ll enjoy The Turnaround by Karen
Robertson. Armchair travel, as in reading a good book, is one of my favorite
ways to go, and this excellent story doesn’t disappoint. The colorful
characters like Leroy and Pete made me smile while others, such as Jerry and
Madeline made me mad. The well written descriptions of sights, sounds and even
the odors, made me feel that I too was there, suffering along with the main
character Grace, who seems to have fallen into a destructive whirlpool during a
bus trip to Vegas. The exciting plot builds tension, testing Grace up to the
very last page. Meanwhile Phil--Grace’s husband--has to make some choices—some
big enough to change his life forever. Will he pay the ransom or has it already
been paid? Climb aboard the The Turnaround bus and find out!
As a lifetime student of
human behavior, I’m always interested in stories that discuss relationships.
Why do people choose to be friends or partners? This Young Adult novel explores
the relationships between artistic best friends Amanda and Kristin and how they
interact with the male characters Brandon, Matt and Charlie. The Butterfly I
See is like a thesis on teenage development. The author covers social
networking, body language, psychology, role-playing, facing harsh realities and
letting go. Woven into an entertaining story, the author describes abstract
art, symmetry, jealousy and intuitive thinking all while making excellent
points about the creative process. And in a genius move, Suzanne Saunders makes
the reader want answers, resolutions and closure, only making us realize, we
might need to grow up.
Last night, I sat down to
read a few poems from a book called The Water Jar and while it wasn’t at all
what I expected, I have to admit, I couldn’t put it down. The first story
reminded me of one of the Letters written by Paul, in the New Testament. The
scholarly, well-researched writing mimics the tone and voice of characters that
once lived in ancient Jerusalem and Bethany. Eleazar is a young man who carries
water in a large jug. He grows up to be a monk, but first there are important
lessons to learn from Yeshua the Nazarene. All the stories seem to have a faith-based connection weaving
through the words, as well as a good deal of research. In Brave New World, the
author delves into technology, touching on important issues related to the
future of war. My favorite story, called Knights before Christmas, brings
together two pilots, during WWI; one British, and the other German. While shot
and hanging in a precarious situation, they both communicate and reflect on the
meaning of Christmas. I especially loved the quote from his grandmother that
Leftenant Brian Goode recalled, about snow covering evil at Christmas, to keep
Christ from being offended. I don’t want to ruin the plot by giving more away,
but it’s an enjoyable read. Interspersed with these incredible tales are a few poems. My
favorite one is titled, Elsinore Oak, and as my eyes moved down the page, I
could almost imagine those vaqueros, driving the cattle through the stifling
hot valley. A place that today...could use a hefty Water Jar.
Many years before Columbus
sailed towards the New World, the Incan’s built the city of Machu Picchu. After
one hundred years, the inhabitants disappeared, leaving mysterious ruins
behind. While all of this is intriguing to the main character, Jerry, it also
makes for a breathtaking setting for this novel, which consists of a
fascinating journey. Imagine traveling vicariously to temples hidden deep
within humid jungles to see sacred shrines used for ancient rituals. But wait,
this is a romantic comedy sprinkled with travel warnings, tips and even advice
about how to handle high elevations, hangovers and motion sickness. It’s a
travel book with several threads, connected by real love. For many reasons, but especially because she loves him,
Jerry’s wife gives him a ticket for a cruise to Peru. Meanwhile, his wife’s
friend, Rhonda marries Karl the avocado farmer and they unknowingly buy tickets
for the same cruise. (Though an enjoyable stand alone novel, it should be
noted, that this talented author has another book, a sort of prequel to this
one titled: Wrath of Rhonda, which paves a tropical forest path to this read. ) Follow the frustrating pratfalls and one-liners associated
with Jerry’s friend Max. Marvel at the author’s clever characterizations of
George, Brenda and Inga. George is Karl’s attorney. Brenda is a private
investigator from Temecula. (Oh dear, maybe I’ve said too much.) The character
development is so thorough that you’ll think you know these people; or at least
you’ve seen them in the vegetable section of the supermarket, hemming and
hawing above green bananas. The tour guides Buck and Fletch are unique to each
other and even the pet parrot, Basil has a distinct personality. The language
is colorful and the locations are teetering on a cliff exciting. Read Road to
Machu Picchu and if the leaf-cutter ants, scorpions and snakes don’t get you,
you might die laughing.
Guess you can tell I enjoyed reading, rather devouring these, and I hope you will too.
