Week in Pictures

Not much has been going on around here. Just edit, edit, edit. Oh my gosh, I hate my book right now. I love it and I hate it. So happy it's with my editor, Summer, and out of my hands. Now I can clean the house and think about other things. Give me a few weeks and I'll love it again, but not now. Definitely, not now. 

I did have a chance to take the kids to the nature park down the road, and of course I brought my trusty little camera. Glad I did, because some of these shots are my favorite so far. Hope you enjoy them, and have a beautiful day!

The moon and the morning star

Trees with a view

Peanut brittle ice

Shadow path

Hansel and Gretel

Boots and stripes

The slope

Forest girl

The Altar

Ice Stream

Cloud ice

Thanks for stopping by!

My week in pictures

I'm proofreading and all that, so not much out of me these days. Plus I've had two kids with the stomach flu. Stressed. Breathe. Just, breathe. But I did have time to take a few photos.

Have a great Friday and a wonderful weekend!

Thanks for the love!!

I always feel a little needy when I get happy over these things, but oh well, I'm needy. And happy. A couple of really kind reviews have come in for The Soul Seekers, and it pleases me to no end. I'm happy because you never know if someone's going to like your book. In fact, when I went over the final galleys, I was convinced that I had written the worst book ever. I was worried people would find it boring, and cliche, and mostly it was those damn commas!!!! Where do the commas go?! I'd forgotten, because I was completely panicked. Thankfully I had the kind and supportive voice of Karen over at WiDo to keep me from going nuts. And my wonderful editor, who told me the book was very good.  Hearing her say that meant so much to me. At that moment I allowed myself to step back and say, "This is not mine anymore. Good or bad, it's going to be published and some people will like it, and some won't. That's just how it is." All along, I liked my book. The story. It entertained me, and carried me to another world every time I did a rewrite or edits. So I knew there would be people out there who'd enjoy it. And man, am I thankful for all that love!

One thing that keeps repeating is people wanting to know more about the characters—what happens after the book ends? Well, lucky you, I am currently working with WiDo again for the second book The Time Seekers, which basically follows Emma and William into the next year of their life as college students. There's love, time travel, danger and, of course, books. Once again, it's all the stuff I love set in an encapsulated world between two people who love each way too much. Will that love carry them through the worst? Or will it end?

Who knew back in the summer of 2009 that I'd start something so difficult and yet so rewarding that would lead to all this? That would thrill me, and bring joy to other people? I guess that's the power of giving a tiny part of yourself and allowing it to extend to other people!

Alright, it's getting mushy in here. Thanks for stopping by and here's to a great Wednesday!

Brrr x 1,000,000,000

School was supposed to start today, but we're stuck in this Polar Vortex thingy which is best described as walking outside and having a Wampa rip your skin off. Yes, it's that cold. Cars aren't starting, people are dropping homeless pets off at shelters. It's quite the event. We're not really prepared for these type of things, are we? Kansas has had some fairly mild winters these last few years, but anyway who's ever heard of a Polar Vortex? Geez. This is when, as a human, you come to understand the reason for body hair. Real body hair. Not strips or landscaped edges. Everyone's shaving it all off the time, but man, who cares about smooth legs or chests (for the men) when it's -10 outside? Not me, that's for sure.

Liam just woke up, stuck his head in the doorway and said, very tousled and sleepy looking, "Mama, we have school today," like, What the heck are you doing on the computer? I broke the happy news and he ambled off to the living room without comment. Every day he asks, "Do I have school tomorrow?"And if I say YES he lowers his head and looks sad, and if I say NO he let's out a big YAY! But even he has to admit that this Holiday Break deal has gone on long enough and that we all must pay the piper, i.e., go to school and, gulp, learn stuff.

Henry goes out and checks the possum hole, sniffs the 'winter' perimeter of the yard, which is a shortened tour of the vicinity due to increment weather, and then barks at the door. If I'm on the toilet, he barks louder and louder until I rush through the house to let him in. Where were you? he asks, rushing past to find a squeaky toy to rip apart. On the toilet, I say. Oh, you mean that huge water bowl that I'm too short to reach and drink out of? Yeah, that's the one. Then he barks at me to throw his toy, and then doesn't bring it back afterwards. Henry is lousy at fetch.

This is the eastern section of the backyard, taken to give you some idea of the snow pack we have, and that—even through this PV thing—the sun is still shining. The tracks in the front of the picture are from Liam, but the ones that run along the fence going all the way to the back are Henry. Notice how they're 'body length' with no paw prints to break it up. That's because he hopped. I do see little paw tracks going past the apple tree, though. Looks like he walked his way out there, got cold, and decided it was faster to hop back. I remember one time Henry went out in the snow and got stuck in a huge drift. He was so cold and the snow was so thick that he just gave up and laid down. I was at the back door, and when I saw him give up like that, I ran out there to snatch him up. You really have to watch your pets, folks. We think they're infallible, but they're not. 

It's hard to imagine anyone leaving their animal friends outside in weather like this. Unfortunately, I know some people who would. My previous neighbors had two large dogs that they treated like lawn ornaments. They never went out there to play with them, they never took them for walks, and they never let them inside. I'd talk to the dogs through the fence because they were so starved for attention that they would literally run over every time I walked out my back door. They even started to dig under the fence, which the owner closed with a brick to stop progress. But the dogs found their way out several times anyway in another part of the fence, and who do you think they came to? That's right. I'd have to go knock on the neighbor's door, with two dogs yanking on a makeshift leash the whole time. I couldn't open a locked gate that had a 'we shoot' sign showing a human target on it. No one would ever answer. Finally, after one too many escapes, animal control talked to the owners, and just in time, because a huge blizzard arrived two days later. But then those people moved, taking the dogs with them. I can only imagine they are in a similar situation, with no pesky neighbors to worry about knocking on their door to complain.

I joked about the Wampas in Star Wars, but really it's the humans who are cruel. 

Mirrors and lenses

I feel all sepia today. Really should be cleaning, but I'm distracting myself with stupid things like this. 

This is how I usually dress. Tank top and skirt or sweats. My hair's up in a bun because it's really thick and I need to style it. 

A close-up. My freckles are really showing. 

From freckles to polka dots.

Me, looking slightly Victorian.

Lace and . . .

my curry skirt. 

Hair's done. But I need to clean the mirror! My kids fling every bit of water on it and I'm sick of cleaning!!!! But I will do it eventually . . .

One of my favorite dresses in black and white. I love the pattern because it reminds me of the sixties.

And that's it. Windex, here I come.

~In the clouds~

Every morning I get up and let Henry out so he can chase possums, then I feed the cats and hit the bathroom before eventually getting my Folgers going. At some point I find myself staring out the back door to contemplate the sunrise. Like snowflakes, each one is different. They're earth shaking events, silent, and yet they fade so fast. Sometimes I lean out the open door to take a picture, but if it's cold—and it's been really, really cold lately—I'll take a shot through the glass. I, um, do believe it's time to buy another bottle of Windex! 

But anyway, my camera isn't doing these things any real justice. I mean, they were lighting up the kitchen with salmon and bright red or orange and these photos only half captured what I was actually seeing.

Thanks for stopping by. Take care of yourself and everyone you meet, today and always! Peace xx

A New Year—2014

So here we go again. Did you accomplish everything you wanted in 2013? Did it sneak up and flip you on your back? It did me a little bit. I'd say the first half was horrible in some ways, the midsection got better, then great, then okay, then bad, then back to being just okay. Summer was beautiful. I loved every second of it. I wrote a lot, read a lot, hung out with the kids and just lived and breathed a wonderful, happy existence. In the fall I felt the anxiety comeback, but found a way to deal with it through meditation, yoga, positive thinking and lots and lots of walks with Henry.

~the best friend a person could ever have. faithful to the core. a gentle spirit and a heart of gold~

The ball will drop tonight--er, haha. That always sound so sick. Well, if it's gonna drop, it's gonna drop.  So, anyway, we move into a year with an even number, which is always a good thing in my book.  I think after a year of lessons, we all need a year of joy and happiness. Bring it on!!! 

I'll be working on the sequel to The Soul Seekers, and numerous other projects, too many to list here. And I'm super happy about that! I like to keep busy, and I like routine. So bring it all on!!

May 2014 be blessed for you and yours. We'll get through these snowy months that bring us into despair. And in the spring we'll plant our gardens and bask in the sun. Through it all we'll have great hope and spirits. Take care, everyone, and thank you for being your kind and beautiful selves this year. 

Peace,

amy

Monday Morning Sky

Looks like  The Soul Seekers is free for Kindle download over at  Amazon for the next few days, so if you don't have it yet, here's your chance to snag yourselves up a copy. I'm nervously awaiting edits for the sequel but have to admit it was nice not having to worry about writing during the holidays. Though I'm getting to that point where I miss my characters—always a good sign. There's nothing worse than hating your book, every single part of it, but having to push through anyway. We've all been there, but yeah, it's nice to be on the good side of things when it comes to work, and not the bad.

So, Kansas has turned cold again with a nasty wind to go along with it. Little miss Julia and I both had the flu over Christmas and there hasn't been much of going outside lately. Just a lot of movie watching and hanging around the house. I took this picture from my kitchen window this morning, inside, where it's warm.

My camera failed to pick up the deep red tones, so red they spilled into the kitchen and made my  morning coffee a crimson experience. What's that old saying, "Red sky at morning, sailors take warning . . . ?" Though I'm sure the sailors in Kansas will be just fine today.

A few weeks ago I saw a very pregnant looking possum cross by the back door and then go under the back steps. Ever since then Henry has been on a mission from God, checking the stairs, sniffing in crazy halting patterns. You open that door and he shoots out into the yard. Why, oh why, did a preggo possom have to choose my backyard for her birthing center? I haven't encouraged it in the least. No scraps or water or anything, but I did leave all those tomatoes on the vine and that could be the appeal. Just great . . . possums are such ugly creatures, don't you think? Mean little faces with squinty eyes and huge rows of snaggy teeth. And they're always hissing at you. Well, anyway, at least Henry's keeping busy. He hasn't rolled in stinky mysterious yard goo for a good two weeks now. Gotta appreciate that.

Thanks for stopping by! Take care of yourselves. Peace.

Shots of Snaps

Having written so much these last few years, I've finally found something else to take my mind off the act, whereas writing used to be what I'd do to take my mind off everything else. I'm not great at taking pics, just okay enough to enjoy it as a lark. Always kind of loved the idea of capturing things in weird angles and shadows and such. I've been thinking that when things gets a little warmer I might go around town, or to nearby towns, to capture this crazy world of ours. Just a thought though. May not happen. 

Here I visited a local man who decorates his entire yard—front and back—with Christmas inflatables. There's no way to capture the entire thing in one shot, but I hope you get a good enough idea from the  picture. He's even got an inflatable tv screen above his garage—something that seems excessive at first but really clever the more you think about it. A great way to find the house if you get lost!

This here's the secret entrance to the backyard. Personally, I decided not to travel the secret portal. Something about those penguins' beady little eyes . . . very ominous if you ask me! 

I call this one 'December Ice.' Because of the ice. And it's December. 

The view from the front lawn of the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City. No inflatables, but a huge shuttlecock—which is almost the same thing.

A wider view of the front entrance. FYI, the placid and beautiful water feature used to be a parking lot, now everything's underground and costs money. You could just park in the water for free—save yourself the five dollars. Wouldn't recommend it, but I'd love to see someone try!

Inside a stereoscope with a lively French scene in sepia. I believe the stereoscope's predecessor was the nickelodeon—a fun gadget where you slipped in a nickel and got a crappy movie. Nickelodeon . . . hmm. Look closely and maybe you'll find Spongebob on the bridge.

An up-close view of some awesome wall art. It makes me think of a million jelly sandwiches.

A British serving set gifted to a very American coffee company called Folgers. I like the shadows it creates, like lace. What a tea set has to do with coffee, I'll never know. Guess we were too nice to say, 'Helloooooo, we make coffee here!' Looks like no one actually used it. 

Sometimes, my morning view. I have a red plasticine panel against the window, and everything turns crimson at dawn in that little corner. On the other corner is a green panel. I don't know why. 

And that's it. I hope everyone had a wonderful, beautiful Christmas this year. Thanks for stopping by! 

The Importance of Being Permanent

photo credit: AlicePopkorn via photopin cc

With the recent shooting at a Colorado high school I'm left wondering what is happening in our society that has led to such destructive and violent tendencies. Why are people turning to permanent answers to what otherwise seems like innocent problems? This last shooter—a young man—was angry at his speech coach for kicking him off the team. Everyone raise your hand if you think shooting other people and then killing yourself is a good answer to that kind of problem? Right. It's like one of those greater than, less than problems in math class. Which one is greater? Draw the arrow. Yep. Death and murder is a greater problem than not getting what you want at school. Duh.

So why?

Because people have begun to think all problems end in violence. They can't see a greater solution, and they can't say they're wrong. People are so overcome with the here and now that they are resorting to 'all or nothing' solutions. First is a lack of confidence, then a lack of self-control. You need both in this world, and if you don't have it, find it. Work on it.

I hate to tell the younger generation this little fact, but I have to: Life gets harder after high school. Your problems are more complex, more draining, they involve more people and usually have a deeper emotional impact. High school ain't nothin'.

But you know what else?

Life also get better after high school. Your problems are more complex, but your joys are way more rewarding and tend to last longer.

But let's go way, way back to the beginning . . .

You're born. Yay! You only get one of these so use it wisely. Life is the only thing you're ever really owed—did you know that? You're not owed a cool house, cool parents, nice clothes, a fast car, a sweet sixteen birthday party, good teeth, great friends. Nothing. Only your life.

At first you'll have to learn how to do everything just to survive, and it's really, really frustrating. But if you don't learn, you lose out on opportunities. So, suck it up and learn. Success comes with failure and persistence. Don't blame others along the way. Again, nobody owes you anything. Don't hate other people because they're seemingly more attractive, or richer, or have better cars than you. Hating others makes you ugly. The real kind of ugly.

Learn to deal with your anger. You have no right to walk around being mad. I don't care if you've had bullies, mean teachers, crappy parents—it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is how you react to the problems in your life. I've had bad days where I thought tomorrow would never come, but tomorrow did come, and I faced it, and I survived.

You're only as good as your worst day. 

Violence and anger are never justified in any situation. The second you entertain those thoughts, you are the bad guy. As long as you keep your cool and rise above the worst of it, you are the good guy.

Do you want to be the good guy, or the bad guy?

Good guys are much stronger than you think. It's hard to be the good guy. Good guys get stepped on, road raged, spit at, laughed at, rejected, hurt—but they rise above it and move forward. Good guys are heroes. They are the real-life Superman.

I'm telling you this because apparently everyone is too busy. Your parents, your teachers, your friends. Maybe they're too afraid to tell you. Maybe they don't know how. Maybe they've never learned.

It starts with self love. I know that sounds like a load of crap, but it's the truth. If you don't have love and respect for yourself, you won't have it for other people. That doesn't mean you are better than anyone else, it means that you understand the value of your life and how you want to be treated. And when you have that, you treat other people the same way. It's all about respect and value of life.

Yours, and other people's.

This is so corny, but I have to say it. I love you. And I want you to do better. Think better, react better. I want you to live long and achieve much. I want you to be healthy and have a happy existence with a home and a family and many, many good years. I love you, because no matter where you came from or how you grew up or what you look like, you are this amazing creature called a human being. And human beings are beautiful.

Have you ever thought about how these conservation groups try to save animals from going extinct? But then when it comes to us, the humans, it's like there's so many of us that no one even cares anymore. Well, that needs to change. We humans are just as beautiful; we are rare exotic creatures. Maybe someone should come and observe us and put us all in a zoo. They could throw tacos and pizza for feeding time, and then an iPad for play. The point is, we are worth it. Humans are no less valuable on this earth than anything else. We need respect, we need care and conservation, we need to survive.

Remember when I said life is all you were ever owed, and so use it wisely? I meant that. But I was wrong. You are also owed love. Everyone deserves love, and dammit, if it feels like no one around you is doing a good job, then you need to be the one who changes that. Show them. Be an example. Live love. Be love. Eventually they'll know so well that they'll love you back.

See how that works?

Never give up on life or love. Never let stupid problems take away your greatest gift. Find ways to rise above. Deal with your anger in a positive manner. Never resort to violence. Don't let negative thoughts control you. Every thought in your head is an action. Think bad stuff: bad stuff happens. Think good stuff: good stuff happens. It's simple.

But . . . sometimes you gotta wait for it. Good stuff takes its time. When it finally comes around, it's awesome.

Lastly, don't spend so much time on the internet. People lie and say the worst things. If you believe half of what you read, then man, you're in trouble. Consider the source. That's what one of my best friends tells me. A lot of the people on the internet are cowards and they're really, really afraid of being judged. So they judge others. They judge you. But they don't know you.

You are beautiful. How do I know this? Because you're reading this post. And damn, it's long. Something in you cares deeply about, not only what happens to you, but everyone else in this world. That's amazing. Everyone should be like you.

So . . . when you are in your worst moment, remember that: how beautiful you are.

And that you are loved.

Now, keep that thought.

The Christmas Heart

I had just opened a letter from my bank: overdraft. Only by a few dollars, but it was Christmas money and any presents I'd intended to buy were now stalled. It depressed me. I sat in my decade old maroon Chevy Cavalier and tried not to cry.

At least I had gas in the car. I drove to my friend's house in our old town, a town so small that you'd miss it if you blinked, and pulled into her drive. She lived with her parents but would leave for college in the fall—a feat I admired and coveted. College was about as likely for me as finding a five dollar bill in my coat pocket. Believe me, I'd already checked. I crushed a cigarette out in my car's overfilled ashtray, slapped on some lipgloss and looked in the rearview mirror. Pale, irish, red hair, nose too big. Me.

She was there to greet me at the door. Renee was a gentle person, very giving and welcoming. She possessed a booming laugh and seemed to love the way I entertained her with my endless string of sarcastic comments and stories. Though sometimes I imagined the real reason we were friends was because of her dream of getting a psychology degree. I was a nut case. Depressed, total lack of confidence, unresolved issues with both parents, and I was desperately in love with a dead rock star. One time Renee invited me to a class at the local community college and dared me to impersonate a British exchange student. So I did. For a full hour the teacher asked questions about mental health care in the UK, and I told a load of lies with a slightly undone accent. The whole class listened and believed. Renee held in the laughter, and then later when we shared a smoke in the student courtyard she said, "You're insane!"

What I was, was unloved. Oh sure, I was loved. But I didn't feel loved. I felt alone. Oh my God, so freaking alone. Never pretty enough to date or to even exist in the world. It would take me years and years to get over all that. You know that story about the ugly duckling and how it later turns out to be a swan? Well, I was smart enough to know I wasn't a swan. So what the fuck was I? I didn't know.

I walked into her house and saw the whole family was there. Her mother, her father, and her little sister—a beautiful dark-haired girl with a gritty disposition. They were Puerto Rican but very Americanized. Her mother loved Elvis, her father worked construction. Although the food remained authentic to their heritage: tortillas, chile sauce with pork, cactus, fried tacos, refried beans, fresh salsa, and sweet tea in the fridge. For me, it was heaven. I would gorge myself on this wonderful food and then sneak back to my own house of boxed meals and strict Catholicism.

"We're making tamales," Renee said with a look of warning.

I'd interrupted a tradition. They made tamales on a secret night in December and then passed them out to family and friends.

"Should I leave?" I asked.

"No. You stay and help. It's hard work."

I took off my coat and joined the production line at the kitchen table. My job was to spread the masa onto pliable corn husks, the person next to me added cheese, then the next person meat, with the final set of hands tying off each bundle. Each batch went into a steamer to cook.

With all this hard work I forgot about my overdraft at the bank. All I knew at that moment was working with a happy family, and Christmas music, and the hot bright smell of jalapeño.

Afterwards, I was invited to join them in delivering the tamales. We piled into Renee's father's truck and shivered as he drove because the heater didn't work. We went through our small town, across the highway, over the bridges and into the lights of the city. Then we entered an apartment building and went up to the third floor. Renee's grandmother answered the door.

"Mija!" she sang out to the girls. They gave her the tamales and everyone made small talk. There was a tiny aluminum tree in her living room with a picture of Jesus above it. I stayed back so I wouldn't intrude family talk. My troubles entered my head again. How would I tell my mother? She was so hard on me sometimes—the youngest. I failed and failed, and each time, felt her displeasure.

"What is it?" Renee asked, coming over. "You're so quiet tonight. You haven't made me laugh once."

"Oh, I made a stupid mistake on my account and went overdraft at the bank. It's nothing."

"Mistakes happen," she said. "I'll loan you a few dollars." Renee turned and looked over her shoulder. "Grandmother asked if you'd join me and sis in the back room. She's giving out presents. She does it every year."

"No, I can't."

"She wants you to."

So we went back there, into her Grandmother's apartment bedroom with plants everywhere and macrame ropes on the ceiling, and stood around her bed. And waited. Out came a box of jewelry. Renee's grandmother dug through it with round and tanned fingers. Careful, oh so careful she picked. "Mija," she said to the little sister, "hold out your hand." A ring.

"Thank you, Grandmother."

Then Renee. "For you, mija." Silver earrings.

"Thank you, Grandmother."

Then she dug in the box one more time, and turned to me. "And for you too, mija."

I bent down so she could place a gold chain around my neck with a matching gold heart dangling from the end. My fingers went up to touch it.

We left a while later, back out into the cold. Back to her father's loud truck with the broken heater. My fingers just couldn't stop touching that heart.