Since starting this blog I have received many wonderful e-mails and facebook messages offering support, encouragement and from time to time, asking questions. The two most common questions I get are, "What's your novel about?" and "Where do you come up with the stuff you write about?"
This video, more than anything I've seen and better than I could say myself, answers both of those questions. It was made by a member of the online writer's group I belong to. Her name is Dee Garretson, and she is a genius. Please pay special attention to the cupcake reference ... I have a scene very much like that in my novel.
Life & Art, Life & Art...
For more on Dee Garretson check out her website at http://deegarretson.com/
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
The Things We Teach Our Kids
When Dude was born someone gave me a card that had a poem in it. The poem was about how his little eyes would always be watching and learning from us ... kind of like a stalker (the poem didn't call the kid a stalker, that was me).
I didn't realize, then, how true that poem would be, how much the kids were, in fact, like little sponges, soaking up and taking in everything they see. At times, I can almost see the cogs turning in their little minds as they process that information. They are constantly observing and learning. They notice how people treat each other, the words that are spoken and the attitudes projected. That is both a wonderful and frightening thing.
Mr. Awesome and I spent some time over the holidays talking about the kind of people we are raising and where we might be missing the boat with the kids. We realised that if we want to raise the kids to be kind, generous and productive people then we have to be much more intentional about what we are teaching them. We have made some changes in how we spend time as a family, the TV shows we watch and the types of conversations we have. We have put more focus on building character rather than filling time with the kids and we talk about what kindness, acceptance and respect look like.
Yesterday I was watching some of the news coverage on the tragic shooting in Arizona. Crafty snuggled up with me to watch the doctors describe how they operated on and saved the life of the congresswoman who was the target of the attack. Crafty asked a lot of questions and we spent some time talking about acceptance and kindness.
As we talked the interviews on TV continued and after several minutes our conversation was interrupted by two people yelling at each other during an interview. Shocked, but not really surprised by this emotional outburst, I watched their exchange to try to figure out what the issue was. Crafty watched too and after a couple of minutes this was her observation,
"Mom, are they yelling and angry with each other because they want other people to stop yelling and being angry with each other?"
"Yeah, that's the gist of it."
"Don't they know that no one will ever respect what you have to say if you scream it rather than saying it with kindness?"
"It doesn't appear that way."
"But they're grown-ups"
"I know."
"That's ridonkulous." She slid off the bed and left the room shaking her head.
Yep Crafty, it is.
I didn't realize, then, how true that poem would be, how much the kids were, in fact, like little sponges, soaking up and taking in everything they see. At times, I can almost see the cogs turning in their little minds as they process that information. They are constantly observing and learning. They notice how people treat each other, the words that are spoken and the attitudes projected. That is both a wonderful and frightening thing.
Mr. Awesome and I spent some time over the holidays talking about the kind of people we are raising and where we might be missing the boat with the kids. We realised that if we want to raise the kids to be kind, generous and productive people then we have to be much more intentional about what we are teaching them. We have made some changes in how we spend time as a family, the TV shows we watch and the types of conversations we have. We have put more focus on building character rather than filling time with the kids and we talk about what kindness, acceptance and respect look like.
Yesterday I was watching some of the news coverage on the tragic shooting in Arizona. Crafty snuggled up with me to watch the doctors describe how they operated on and saved the life of the congresswoman who was the target of the attack. Crafty asked a lot of questions and we spent some time talking about acceptance and kindness.
As we talked the interviews on TV continued and after several minutes our conversation was interrupted by two people yelling at each other during an interview. Shocked, but not really surprised by this emotional outburst, I watched their exchange to try to figure out what the issue was. Crafty watched too and after a couple of minutes this was her observation,
"Mom, are they yelling and angry with each other because they want other people to stop yelling and being angry with each other?"
"Yeah, that's the gist of it."
"Don't they know that no one will ever respect what you have to say if you scream it rather than saying it with kindness?"
"It doesn't appear that way."
"But they're grown-ups"
"I know."
"That's ridonkulous." She slid off the bed and left the room shaking her head.
Yep Crafty, it is.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Fiction Friday - Rooms by James L. Rubart
When I first picked up Rooms I was intrigued, partly because I love the feel of a new book in my hands and all the possibilities that invites and partly because of the questions the cover invokes. A large coastal home nestled among trees; cloudy skies and choppy water frame the picture. Mysterious. I tried to ignore the fact that many of the blurbs compared Rooms to The Shack, and dove into the story head first.
In a nutshell, Rooms is about Micah Taylor, a successful Seattle software designer, and the choice he has to make between worldly success and knowing God. Micah receives a letter from his long deceased great uncle that catapults him into a world of supernatural encounters, small decisions leading with major consequences and shifting realities. With each step Micah takes closer to God he loses a piece of his success leading him to face the question what will a man give in exchange for his soul?
Rooms is a well-written, solid Christian suspense novel. The gist of the story is very compelling and Rubart creates some very strong moments of suspense and emotion. I did feel that at times the pace of the story suffered because of the amount of description and detail he wrote in. For example I found it very difficult to relax into the plot at the beginning because of all the brand names Rubart used to describe the lifestyle of Micah, and later I skimmed over descriptions of the sea, forests and weather to get to the meat of the scene.
Despite some scenes of forced emotional intensity and a rather awkward final page or so, overall I think this is a good read. Rubart successfully pulls the reader along Micah’s journey while challenging them to search their own hearts and ask what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world yet loses his soul.
**This is a book review I wrote for the website http://www.manitobachristianonline.com/ If you are interested in reading more of my book reviews click on the link and scroll to the bottom of the page. A new review will be posted every couple of weeks.
In a nutshell, Rooms is about Micah Taylor, a successful Seattle software designer, and the choice he has to make between worldly success and knowing God. Micah receives a letter from his long deceased great uncle that catapults him into a world of supernatural encounters, small decisions leading with major consequences and shifting realities. With each step Micah takes closer to God he loses a piece of his success leading him to face the question what will a man give in exchange for his soul?
Rooms is a well-written, solid Christian suspense novel. The gist of the story is very compelling and Rubart creates some very strong moments of suspense and emotion. I did feel that at times the pace of the story suffered because of the amount of description and detail he wrote in. For example I found it very difficult to relax into the plot at the beginning because of all the brand names Rubart used to describe the lifestyle of Micah, and later I skimmed over descriptions of the sea, forests and weather to get to the meat of the scene.
Despite some scenes of forced emotional intensity and a rather awkward final page or so, overall I think this is a good read. Rubart successfully pulls the reader along Micah’s journey while challenging them to search their own hearts and ask what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world yet loses his soul.
**This is a book review I wrote for the website http://www.manitobachristianonline.com/ If you are interested in reading more of my book reviews click on the link and scroll to the bottom of the page. A new review will be posted every couple of weeks.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Today is a Good Good Day
Today is the day I have been waiting for, longing for, dreaming of. Today the kids went back to school!
We had a lot of fun over Christmas break and I certainly enjoyed the sleep-ins, lazy days and random weirdness of Dude, Crafty and Mischief but I am also thoroughly enjoying these solitary hours. I did normal things this morning without refereeing, bribing or yelling. I went grocery shopping, browsed through a bookstore and got myself a cup of coffee. I tidied the kitchen and living room and now, an hour later, they are both still clean!
And despite their protests I know that the kids are all glad to be back at school, too...mostly.
Crafty and Mischief need NEED to be with other people. Mischief needs to run and jump and talk and talk and talk to someone other than his sister and poor Crafty needs to be a girl. She needs to chat about girly things, do crafts and play with dolls (without the doll being in constant mortal peril of kidnapping and death by NERF firing squad). They need to interact with people who are not related to them.
I have been working on a theory for a while, let me know what you think. After watching my kids interact with each other, with very little input or stimulation from the outside word (over holidays and school breaks), I am sure there is such a thing as Sibling Interaction Mental Defect Syndrome (SIMDS). Its the warping of humor and increase of general weirdness when people who are closely related spend copious amounts of time together.
Think about the things you did and the conversations you had with your own siblings when you were a kid, think about the strange antics your kids get up to when left with little supervision or outside interaction. You'll see, I'm right.
Anyway, all theories aside, I'm just glad that school is back in session and that my house is calm and quiet...at least until 4pm ;-)
Sip, sip, silence...ahhh!
We had a lot of fun over Christmas break and I certainly enjoyed the sleep-ins, lazy days and random weirdness of Dude, Crafty and Mischief but I am also thoroughly enjoying these solitary hours. I did normal things this morning without refereeing, bribing or yelling. I went grocery shopping, browsed through a bookstore and got myself a cup of coffee. I tidied the kitchen and living room and now, an hour later, they are both still clean!
And despite their protests I know that the kids are all glad to be back at school, too...mostly.
Crafty and Mischief need NEED to be with other people. Mischief needs to run and jump and talk and talk and talk to someone other than his sister and poor Crafty needs to be a girl. She needs to chat about girly things, do crafts and play with dolls (without the doll being in constant mortal peril of kidnapping and death by NERF firing squad). They need to interact with people who are not related to them.
I have been working on a theory for a while, let me know what you think. After watching my kids interact with each other, with very little input or stimulation from the outside word (over holidays and school breaks), I am sure there is such a thing as Sibling Interaction Mental Defect Syndrome (SIMDS). Its the warping of humor and increase of general weirdness when people who are closely related spend copious amounts of time together.
Think about the things you did and the conversations you had with your own siblings when you were a kid, think about the strange antics your kids get up to when left with little supervision or outside interaction. You'll see, I'm right.
Anyway, all theories aside, I'm just glad that school is back in session and that my house is calm and quiet...at least until 4pm ;-)
Sip, sip, silence...ahhh!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Off the Naughty List
Over Christmas break, this Random family spent a week at my parents house. Luckily, we have a very good relationship with my folks or ten people living in a four bedroom house for nine days would have been unbearable. As it was, the week seemed like an exercise in insanity some days, most days -- not the straight-jacket, gnashing of teeth, heavily medicated insanity but the more benign and gentle insanity that invites everyone to go happily mad together.
Because my brother-in-law works nights, my sister and their nearly three year old daughter, Bizzy, were also staying at my parents' place for the balance of the week. You already know my views on three year olds but I have to say Bizzy is the exception. The kid has a wicked sense of humour, loves to tease and is generally in a good mood. Lately though, Bizzy has been trying my sister's patience.
We were witness to a couple of melt-downs and more than a few power struggles between Bizzy and her parents. On evening in particular, my sister and Bizzy were duking it out upstairs while my mom and I were in the living room. We couldn't help but hear the exchange between them. After a few minutes of hearing Bizzy stubbornly cry that she was not going to obey and recognizing the growing frustration in my sister's voice my mom turned to me and said, "I want to go up there and rescue poor Bizzy!" I laughed and said, "I want to go up there to rescue poor Bizzy's mom!"
Eventually, my sister won.
The next day, I was in the family room with the kids. They had made a bit of a mess and I asked them to clean up before dinner. My kids whined and denied any part of the mess-making while Bizzy got up and quietly went about the room picking up toys and dropping them into the bin. Reluctantly, Mischief and Crafty helped her finish the job. When I deemed the room clean enough the kids took off to wreak havoc in another area of the house. Bizzy, with her short legs and toddler waddle wasn't quite as quick as the big kids and was left behind.
"Bizzy."
"What?"
"You did a good job cleaning up, thank you!"
She beamed back at me and rubbed the imaginary dust off her hands, "Then I'm off the Naughty List!" with that she toddled around the corner to join the other kids.
Yes, you are Bizzy, but pace yourself...Christmas is still 355 days away!
Because my brother-in-law works nights, my sister and their nearly three year old daughter, Bizzy, were also staying at my parents' place for the balance of the week. You already know my views on three year olds but I have to say Bizzy is the exception. The kid has a wicked sense of humour, loves to tease and is generally in a good mood. Lately though, Bizzy has been trying my sister's patience.
We were witness to a couple of melt-downs and more than a few power struggles between Bizzy and her parents. On evening in particular, my sister and Bizzy were duking it out upstairs while my mom and I were in the living room. We couldn't help but hear the exchange between them. After a few minutes of hearing Bizzy stubbornly cry that she was not going to obey and recognizing the growing frustration in my sister's voice my mom turned to me and said, "I want to go up there and rescue poor Bizzy!" I laughed and said, "I want to go up there to rescue poor Bizzy's mom!"
Eventually, my sister won.
The next day, I was in the family room with the kids. They had made a bit of a mess and I asked them to clean up before dinner. My kids whined and denied any part of the mess-making while Bizzy got up and quietly went about the room picking up toys and dropping them into the bin. Reluctantly, Mischief and Crafty helped her finish the job. When I deemed the room clean enough the kids took off to wreak havoc in another area of the house. Bizzy, with her short legs and toddler waddle wasn't quite as quick as the big kids and was left behind.
"Bizzy."
"What?"
"You did a good job cleaning up, thank you!"
She beamed back at me and rubbed the imaginary dust off her hands, "Then I'm off the Naughty List!" with that she toddled around the corner to join the other kids.
Yes, you are Bizzy, but pace yourself...Christmas is still 355 days away!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The Magic of Coffee
We had a death in the family this week. Our coffeemaker died.
If you know me or have read my blog at all you will know that coffee is the fuel that keeps me going, it is my best friend on harsh early mornings, my comfort during times of stress and a life saver to my children on most days. In fact, Dude has a rule - Mom must have two cups of coffee before lunch time because no coffee equals a grouchy mom!
I knew the coffeemaker was in trouble before Christmas but hoped with a week off to rest it would feel better but alas that wasn't the case. On Saturday night before I went to bed I set the coffeemaker up, hoping for the welcoming smell of the freshly brewed goodness in the morning. Instead I awoke to Mischief barging into our room rambling on about 'coffee pee' all over the floor. When I finally stumbled my way down the hall into the kitchen I could barley comprehend the horror before me. The sweet, precious liquid gold was bubbling and pouring out of every conceivable place on the maker.
I spent the rest of the day trying to fix my poor coffee buddy. I tried making coffee again several more times but every pot ended in disaster. I had to accept it, my coffeemaker is dead. I have struggled through the last couple of days with frequent trips to Tim Horton's with several cups of tea in between coffee runs but this morning I think I sunk to an all time low.
In desperation, this morning I dismantled the coffeemaker. I took the piece that holds the filter, loaded it with coffee and poured boiling water into it while I held the steaming contraption over my favourite mug. This is where Mr. Awesome found me when he came home for lunch, huddled over the kitchen sink 'making' coffee. He took one look at the contents of my cup and said it looked like diesel fuel.
Diesel fuel or not, it is mine and it is precious and it is magic. After that first cup I made myself another, got dressed, cleaned the kitchen and am now writing. Coffee is the magic that makes my world go round. Cheers!
If you know me or have read my blog at all you will know that coffee is the fuel that keeps me going, it is my best friend on harsh early mornings, my comfort during times of stress and a life saver to my children on most days. In fact, Dude has a rule - Mom must have two cups of coffee before lunch time because no coffee equals a grouchy mom!
I knew the coffeemaker was in trouble before Christmas but hoped with a week off to rest it would feel better but alas that wasn't the case. On Saturday night before I went to bed I set the coffeemaker up, hoping for the welcoming smell of the freshly brewed goodness in the morning. Instead I awoke to Mischief barging into our room rambling on about 'coffee pee' all over the floor. When I finally stumbled my way down the hall into the kitchen I could barley comprehend the horror before me. The sweet, precious liquid gold was bubbling and pouring out of every conceivable place on the maker.
I spent the rest of the day trying to fix my poor coffee buddy. I tried making coffee again several more times but every pot ended in disaster. I had to accept it, my coffeemaker is dead. I have struggled through the last couple of days with frequent trips to Tim Horton's with several cups of tea in between coffee runs but this morning I think I sunk to an all time low.
In desperation, this morning I dismantled the coffeemaker. I took the piece that holds the filter, loaded it with coffee and poured boiling water into it while I held the steaming contraption over my favourite mug. This is where Mr. Awesome found me when he came home for lunch, huddled over the kitchen sink 'making' coffee. He took one look at the contents of my cup and said it looked like diesel fuel.
Diesel fuel or not, it is mine and it is precious and it is magic. After that first cup I made myself another, got dressed, cleaned the kitchen and am now writing. Coffee is the magic that makes my world go round. Cheers!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Post Apocalyptic Disaster
Santa visits our house on Christmas Eve morning. By special arrangement he takes a detour from his Australian route and zips over to central Canada to fill the stocking of three, though not extraordinarily well behaved, very well meaning children. He does this so we can have a little Christmas celebration with just the five of us before we pack up and head to The Grandparents Place for a week of Holiday Cheer.
The Wee Ones woke us just before 8am, did their annual Christmas play and then we opened gifts. By 10am we were in the van and heading toward the in-laws. This incredible feat of packing and organization left a few casualties in its wake, though.
I had stayed up late for a week doing laundry, making gifts, wrapping and trying to clean up everything along the way. My plan was to leave the house clean so that when we returned home all we had to do was unload the van and relax. My plan was in pieces by 9am on Christmas Eve.
The kids tore through their gifts and instead of opening a few small things to take with them they went for the big ones. As I was running around zipping up suitcases and packing up snowsuits, Mr. Awesome was loading the van and searching for the tortoise (she was let out of her tank and no one kept an eye on her as she wandered around the basement). This left the kids unsupervised.
Bad idea.
When the van was stuffed to capacity, Mr. Awesome tracked down the kids and jammed them into the van between pillows and gifts and the tortoise tank. I was going from room to room shutting off lights when Mr. Awesome stopped me in the kitchen.
"We're good to go. The kids are in the van, we're just waiting for you."
"Okay, I'm just going to check the living room and then I'll be out."
"Its good. I checked. Just get in the van."
"I'll be there in a minute. I want to turn off Cloris (my frog lamp) and close the blinds."
"Trust me, its better for everyone if you just get into the van."
A wash of cold dread came over me as I pushed past Mr. Awesome and entered my living room, my kid-free, no TV sanctuary. My clean, comfortable grown-up space was now a disaster. There was Lego and Duplex and Playmobile and tea sets and Slinkies and markers and colouring books and Skittles and Life Savers and pony-tail holders and Barbies and card board and plastic and bows and wrapping paper E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E!
"Its a disaster! A the-world-has-come-to-an-end-we-must-eat-the-wounded-to-survive kind of disaster! Its like the apocalypse!"
"Nope, its just Christmas. Leave it, we're going to be late for my parents. The mess will be here when we get back."
And it was.
The Wee Ones woke us just before 8am, did their annual Christmas play and then we opened gifts. By 10am we were in the van and heading toward the in-laws. This incredible feat of packing and organization left a few casualties in its wake, though.
I had stayed up late for a week doing laundry, making gifts, wrapping and trying to clean up everything along the way. My plan was to leave the house clean so that when we returned home all we had to do was unload the van and relax. My plan was in pieces by 9am on Christmas Eve.
The kids tore through their gifts and instead of opening a few small things to take with them they went for the big ones. As I was running around zipping up suitcases and packing up snowsuits, Mr. Awesome was loading the van and searching for the tortoise (she was let out of her tank and no one kept an eye on her as she wandered around the basement). This left the kids unsupervised.
Bad idea.
When the van was stuffed to capacity, Mr. Awesome tracked down the kids and jammed them into the van between pillows and gifts and the tortoise tank. I was going from room to room shutting off lights when Mr. Awesome stopped me in the kitchen.
"We're good to go. The kids are in the van, we're just waiting for you."
"Okay, I'm just going to check the living room and then I'll be out."
"Its good. I checked. Just get in the van."
"I'll be there in a minute. I want to turn off Cloris (my frog lamp) and close the blinds."
"Trust me, its better for everyone if you just get into the van."
A wash of cold dread came over me as I pushed past Mr. Awesome and entered my living room, my kid-free, no TV sanctuary. My clean, comfortable grown-up space was now a disaster. There was Lego and Duplex and Playmobile and tea sets and Slinkies and markers and colouring books and Skittles and Life Savers and pony-tail holders and Barbies and card board and plastic and bows and wrapping paper E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E!
"Its a disaster! A the-world-has-come-to-an-end-we-must-eat-the-wounded-to-survive kind of disaster! Its like the apocalypse!"
"Nope, its just Christmas. Leave it, we're going to be late for my parents. The mess will be here when we get back."
And it was.
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