A Thanksgiving Story for You.

Janie chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully as she perused the polished wooden table. She’d gone over it with Pine-Sol three times and rubbed it until it gleamed. To prevent scratching, she’d laid out a table runner down the center.

She eyed the color—plain orange—and frowned. She should’ve bought a new one, something more festive, more suited to the day. It was Thanksgiving, after all, and for the first time ever, her entire family was coming to her house.

Everything had to be perfect. Her mother-in-law would be there.

The smell of simmering onions assaulted her nostrils, distracting her from her work in progress. She spun on her heel and rushed to the kitchen. With a quick dash of sage and a peek at the potatoes, she went back to her table.

First, she topped the orange runner with plastic autumn leaves she’d found at Michael’s. Between Michael’s and Pier-One Imports, she’d gone way over their budget for the holiday, but she aimed to impress. Amid the leaves, went real corn stalks she’d gone to the Farmer’s Market for. She arranged them just so. She wished she had a cornucopia, but figured her idea would work just as well.

Oh! The sweet potato casserole! She had to pull it out of the oven before the marshmallows burned.

Quickly she rushed to the kitchen, placed oven mittens on her hands, and withdrew the lovely casserole. The marshmallows were only lightly browned.

Perfect! Everything was falling into place!

A glance at the clock assured her she had fifteen minutes left to finish the table. The pot full of stuffing was now sitting on a pot holder, soaking up the delightful juices and broth.

Janie added tiny pumpkins and squash and stepped back to view the wealth of color and vegetables now running down the center of the table.

Urgh! Something was missing, another color.

She snapped her fingers as an idea came to her and rushed back to the kitchen yet again. The purple grapes were in the fruit bowl just where they should be. Within seconds, they, too, graced the table.

She nervously wrung her hands in her apron and glanced around the kitchen one last time. Pots sat on the stovetop with lids on to keep their contents warm. Dinner rolls glistening with butter waited to set on the table as well. Aw! She needed the  placemats, plates, and glasses.

Feeling extremely proud of herself—she had spent a pretty penny on the new dinnerware—she made sure to place wicker placemats at each setting—eight of them. Wicker placemats! She was sure nobody else had done wicker before. Wouldn’t the family be impressed with this table?

On top of the wicker mats, she laid orange-and-white plates with a leafy pattern. She had hand washed each one the day before, lovingly drying them by hand as well so they wouldn’t have unbecoming spots.

But the pride of her collection were the new glasses. Why, they looked like grapes! With the grapes on the table, the glasses with their bubbled up texture looked right at home and just begged to be filled with wine—or cider for the mother-in-law.

The glasses made a satisfying clink as she placed them by the orange-and-white plates.

Once she added the silverware and napkins, her table looked perfect.

She wrung her hands in her apron once more, not sure what to do with herself now. “Harold!” she called up the stairs to her husband. “Harold, what time did you tell them to be here?”

Ding-dong!

“Oh, they’re here!” She patted down any possible flyaway hairs, smoothed her apron, and rushed to the door. “Mother! You’re the first one here!” Janie greeted her stern-looking mother-in-law with a peck on the cheek.

“Oh, the others are right behind me.” Mrs. Lancaster nodded in the direction of the driveway as Janie took her mink coat from her. “What a lovely table, my dear!” She gasped and placed her wrinkled hand on her breast. “Well, you really did go all out, and to think I doubted we should have it here, that you couldn’t handle it. I stand corrected.”

Janie gritted her teeth and was tempted to drop the mink on the floor and declare oops!, but she merely smiled and headed to the kitchen to grab the cider for her mother-in-law and the merlot for herself!

Just as predicted, the rest of the family—father-in-law, brother-in-law and his brood, and a cousin—marched in the door chattering and divesting themselves of their wraps within moments.

Harold finally joined the fray and amidst the laughter and talk, Janie pointed out who sat where and to her great surprise, Mrs. Lancaster began helping her serve the meal.

But just when all was ready and everyone was oohing and aahing, Janie realized what she had been missing all along. In her haste to make a perfect table, in her all her fretting and worrying about today, she’d forgotten one thing.

“Janie my dear, you’ve got a great spread, but where the heck is the turkey?”

Debonair Dyke by Roxy Harte

This was a very eye-opening book for someone who has never read about transgender issues before. It introduced me to a new world as far as the difficulties a person of transgender gender faces on a daily basis: how people perceive them, judge them, treat them, the rude questions. I mean, on some level, I know life isn't peachy for them, but just how far it is taken wasn't clear to me.

Danni left small town Kansas to get away from the hate and rules that were holding her back from being her. She lives the high-life in NYC, taking a new woman or women to bed every night by night and doing the college/speech/educating thing by day. Her goal in life seems to be 1. getting laid and 2. educating the rest of the world about transgender studies, etc.

But then she's called back to Kansas for her ill father, and it all comes crashing down, or does it? Maybe she was called there for a reason.

Enter gossip, hate crimes, discrimination, love, and self doubt. Run the garage? Date Jessica? Make a stand? Stay in po-dunk, hateful Kansas where she doesn't feel she can be herself or go back to NYC where she can? But can she leave some things behind? After all, one has to go back and face the trouble to heal from it, right?

"I've studied, I've theorized, I've lectured, I've educated. I'm seeing it now. Just now. That was all practice runs. This is the real deal. This is the part of the world that I need to be talking to, educating, changing."

She stays and she makes a difference, but like anything that really makes an impact, it's not easy. A shocking secret is revealed in the end, a misunderstanding is corrected, and though it has a happy ending, it's clear the path isn't paved in gold for Danni or Jessica.

The story really resonated with me for many reasons and it was incredibly well-written. I do have one quibble though. Two. 1. I didn't really get the strap on. I've never read a book in which a woman wore a strap on and will be the first to admit I'm ignorant and a poor judge, but what really confused me was Jessica. She couldn't be with Danni at first because of the strap on ("I don't like boys.") so her suddenly begging for it the second time around was strange and unexplained. I felt there was something psychological there I was missing. My second quibble: I felt all the women constantly throwing themselves at Danni was odd and slightly preposterous. It was instant. Immediate. I mean, just saunter into the garage, tear your pants off, and beg her to you know...immediate. *arches brow*

Four bikes.

Have Books Turned Your Brain?

There was a time they said this...

Pendant bought from Jewelry Designs by Lula

Thoughts? Yes, I had to buy this... :)

Becoming Clementine by Jennifer Niven

Blurb:
After delivering a B-17 Flying Fortress to Britain, an American volunteers to copilot a plane carrying special agents to their drop spot over Normandy. Her personal mission: to find her brother, who is missing in action. Their plane is shot down, and only she and five agents survive. Now they are on the run for their lives.

As they head to Paris, the beautiful aviatrix Velva Jean Hart becomes Clementine Roux, a daring woman on an epic adventure with her team to capture an operative known only as "Swan." Once settled on Rue de la Néva, Clementine works as a spy with the Resistance and finds herself falling in love with her fellow agent, Émile, a handsome and mysterious Frenchman with secrets of his own. When Clementine ends up in the most brutal prison in Paris, trying to help Émile and the team rescue Swan, she discovers the depths of human cruelty, the triumph of her own spirit, and the bravery of her team, who will stop at nothing to carry out their mission.


Review:
Absolutely loved book two, Velva Jean Learns to Fly and so was super excited about this. So excited I broke my price rule and spent 9.99 on the Kindle edition.

But...if you're expecting lots of flying, you'll be disappointed. The story starts with her landing in England, then she crashes a plane and later steals a plane, but most of the book is her acting like a spy. I say "acting" cause really, she doesn't any real spying. I'll get to that.

She crashes in France, which in under the Germans so she's in enemy territory. Still searching for her brother, she insists on joining the resistance. She's mighty brave. I still love her. She ends up in Paris and has all these Resistance friends, even a French lover, but despite being surrounded by these people and making big plans, she does nothing.

She wears fancy lipstick, eats a map, PLANS to save a girl from prison, but gets arrested herself, wears knife bobby pins, but really, never once does she deliver pertinent information to anyone, just runs around with the Resistance. She can't even take credit for saving the girl in the end, because she didn't bomb the train and Eleanor is capable of escaping herself.

It's isn't until the very end of the book that Velva Jean aka Clementine does something worthwhile. Though I must give her credit for not caving under interrogation.

The beginning and ending was great, but the middle really dragged for me. As I said, she just runs around with these important people and spends time in prison.

So compared to Learns to Fly, it didn't wow me. But then again, that was more up my alley as I love aviation.

Three bikes.

Ruff Love by Deadra Krieger

If you only buy one book this year, make this one. It will make you laugh, cry, gasp in surprise, chuckle, and you just may learn something too, about animal rescue, about caring for a rescued pet, about ruff love.

First, I want to share this bit from the beginning of the book:

"The stories within this book are all true accounts. Each and every single tale within this book is the story of an animal adopted out during my time with Kat's Kennel and Rescue. The majority of the profits generated from this book will be donated to said rescue as a gesture of thanks for the inspiration I received while working there and as a way to help keep the home fires burning."

Now, a bit about the stories.

There's a horse, lots of cats, a turtle, and as can be expected, plenty of dogs. Each story made me feel a different emotion.

I cried over the German Shepard and the wheelchair. (I think that one is my favorite of all.)

I chuckled over the chocolate lab and the pilot.

I gasped at the cats and the snakes. (Sadly, not all these tales are happy, but that's life, and having pets is a very REAL thing and responsibility  I love how this author tells us the good and the bad. Animal abuse should not be swept under the rug.)

I felt the author's frustration over the man who said "come get them or they'll be in my swimming pool, learning to sink or swim." *not a direct quote*

I clapped with glee over the Shitzu with seizures. (No, I'm not being mean. You read it for yourself and you'll see why I ended up happy.)

I hooted about the cat that was "spent enough time being mistaken for a female."

Mint to Be....OMG. If there's one story that is both happy and sad, this one is it. I was not aware of the symptoms of bleach poisoning and this chapter not only made my heart ache, but educated me. Thankfully, I am not a bleach user.

Every single pet, every single story, happy or sad, really touched me in some way.

I'd also like to quote another food for thought from the book. This is especially important for those of you who have balked at having your pets spayed or neutered: It is cheaper to have your pet spayed than it is to let them have litters every year.

It's a short read with a huge wallop. Though I read it in an hour, the stories will stay with me for a lifetime. As I said before, if there's one book you buy this year...

Five bikes. And I'd like to end this with one last quote.

"A rescued animal who has been through a situation of abuse or neglect requires more than an animal who hasn't."

Have heart. Those of you living close enough to Illinois, considering contacting Kat's Kennel either to donate or check out their pets available for adoption. http://www.petfinder.com/shelters/IL236.html

My Mother's Story

Many years ago, my mother hand breast cancer. I will never forget seeing the words on my VCO phone and the fear that struck my heart. I remember telling myself to stay calm, to merely sound supportive, not panicked. That's what my mother needed, to know I would be okay. Because that's a mother's first concern: her child.

My mother survived and when the trauma and radiation was over and years went by, she told me her main worry was what I would do, how I would react, who would take care of me if she didn't make it. Even though we were miles apart, she supported me in so many ways.

And she told me how the relay operator said, "I'm so sorry" before relaying the message to my Voice Carry Over.

This touched me all over again and when I heard about anthologies seeking donations of stories about surviving cancer, I wrote Telling Tatiana. In a way, it's my mother's story. I changed names, but kept the basic story, the sister, the fish tank, the fear and thoughts she had. I also eliminated the VCO phone though as it required more explanation than I was willing to put in a short story, and this isn't about my hearing impairment, but my mother.

Anyway, I'm pleased to say the story in an anthology put together by Dawn Colclasure. You can download a copy here. Profits are being donated to an organization that helps children of cancer patients.

And here is an excerpt from my story:

“Ella, come on back here.” Dr. Smith’s voice was gentle as he waved me through the door. I looked back to my sister who slowly stood from the chair, wincing as the skin on her legs unglued itself from the plastic. All three of us filed down a long hallway with pictures of mountains and calming rivers and creeks adorning the walls. I was surprised when he led us not to an exam room, but an office with a cluttered desk and two chairs facing it. A fish tank full of exotic fish stood where most doctors would have a shelf of books.  

            Shit. This can’t be good. I borrowed some of my sister’s vocabulary as I sat down in one of the chairs. Bethany sat next to me and mumbled something about wearing shorts to doctor’s offices. I gripped the sides of my own chair and offered Dr. Smith a weak smile.

            “Ella,” he adjusted his tie nervously, “Dr. Cole called today regarding the spot on your mammogram.” I felt Bethany’s hand over my own. I felt a tightening in my chest and had a sudden shortness of breath. I’m going to die of a heart attack only to find out the spot was nothing. Sorry, Tatiana.

            I nodded at the doctor to continue, struggling to appear calm. My hands were not shaking here either. He cleared his throat and his blue eyes met my own. “It’s cancer.”

            The world went black. I couldn’t breathe. Bethany gasped. I heard an “oh no!” but I’m unsure if it came from me or from her. How do I tell Tatiana?


Thank you for your time. Is there someone in your life who has survived? Give them a hug today. Seriously.

Empowering Girls Through Clothing

I first found out about this company on Yahoo a few weeks ago. I was immediately impressed by the story. To quote the Yahoo article...

"...instead of venting to his friends or vowing not to buy the shirt, the single dad decided to do something about it."

Let's backtrack. The dad is Kevin Wagstaff. The shirt that offended him into action said "I'm Too Pretty To Do My Homework So My Brother Has To Do It For Me." 

Now, me, I would have ranted, raved, FB'd my outrage, but never would I have thought of making my own T-shirt company to retaliate and make a difference. HUGE thumbs up to this guy who created a line of T-shirts that EMPOWER GIRLS, rather than puts them down or belittles them.

I immediately bought a shirt. You can buy yours too. Here's the site: (Also, 10 percent of every purchase this month goes to Hurricane Sandy victims.)
https://keiraskollection.com/

Keira is his daughter and the inspiration. Even if you don't want a shirt, just read the quotes and be inspired. The one I bought says Be Strong, Be Inspired, Be Present. I put it on right away and reminded myself to be strong, be inspired, be present the entire time I wore it. I even wore my shirt to vote.

I'm also impressed with a quote another Yahoo article led me to: "There's nothing wrong with being girly," Melissa Wardy (owner of Pigtail Pals, another empower girls clothing collection designer) says. "I'm not anti-pink. I'm not anti-princess. I'm anti-limitations." 

I just had to share.