About Me

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Jersey Shore, United States
In case any of my friends or family members actually read this Blog, please consider all Names, Characters, Places and Incidents to be the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are entirely COINCIDENTAL...Muaaah!! Now, really, about me: I bring the crazy wherever I go, so I've been told...I make fun of myself more than anyone else ever could. I hate: the awkward silence in elevators, watches with no numbers, picky eaters, Cancer and legalism. I love: coffee, stalking Hugh Jackman, my Spanx, COMMENTS, sarcasm and writing: Middle Grade, NA, YA Paranormal and Urban Fantasy.

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Monday, February 25, 2013

What's for Dinner?

What's for dinner ? Gah, that's  the never-ending question I stinking  hate. But will continue to get hit with day after miserable day.  It makes me want to scream. Children, please do not ask me at 7:00 a.m. what's for dinner tonight. Let me wipe the crusty crust from my eyes first. Allow me to drink at least one cup of coffee before you start asking me thinking questions. I don't even know what's for breakfast. Come back after I figure that out...

The Husband is the worst offender of this serial question. Sometimes that man  will ask me  what's for dinner while we are lying in bed the night before!  That drives me bananas.

You'd think I was safe, once I send The Husband off to work and the kids to school. No way! That nagging, annoying question still plagues me. Because here come my girlfriends. They will call me on their way to work or some will pop in on their lunch breaks. Others will just invite themselves over. (One of my girlfriends that lives down the street, once, while she was out exercising, smelled what I was cooking as she ran by the house. She walked in and told me, "Bitch, I don't know what you're cooking, but the air outside your house smells so good, I'm coming back for dinner later!" lol)  Fed up and tired of the question themselves but  still wondering if somehow I've magically come up with anything new and/or exciting they too will ask "Hey, what are you making for dinner?"

I  know my family and friends asking me this seemingly benign question should not irritate me half as much as it does. But  I can't seem to shake the annoyance and distress it causes me. Anyone else feel the same way as I do? Because now it's my turn to ask, what are you making for dinner tonight?

This is my favorite dinner. Simple, easy delicious. And it's cooked by my daughter, Faith :)

Friday, February 22, 2013

A Sweet Cover Reveal and General Bird's Nest News

Woo hoo. It's Friday and I am super stoked to be able to take part in the cover reveal for the most supportive blogger known to man: the one and only Ninja Captain, Alex J. Cavanaugh.

If you haven't had the pleasure of  meeting Alex, you must be either (1) new to blogging or (2) live under a rock. LOL Honestly, I don't think I could find the words to adequately describe the awesome that is Alex; I have that much love and respect for  him. I jumped at the opportunity to do this cover reveal and the chance to actually support him for a change. So, please take a minute to pop in and check out his blog  http://alexjcavanaugh.blogspot.com/  you won't be sorry. All the important dets you need to know about CassaStorm are listed here below- check it out:

Is this a sweet cover or what?
 CassaStorm by Alex J. Cavanaugh

A storm gathers across the galaxy…

Byron thought he’d put the days of battle behind him. Commanding the Cassan base on Tgren, his only struggles are occasional rogue pirate raids and endless government bureaucracies. As a galaxy-wide war encroaches upon the desert planet, Byron’s ideal life is threatened and he’s caught between the Tgrens and the Cassans.

After enemy ships attack the desert planet, Byron discovers another battle within his own family. The declaration of war between all ten races triggers nightmares in his son, shaking Bassan to the core and threatening to destroy the boy’s mind.

Meanwhile the ancient alien ship is transmitting a code that might signal the end of all life in the galaxy. And the mysterious probe that almost destroyed Tgren twenty years ago could be on its way back. As his world begins to crumble, Byron suspects a connection. The storm is about to break, and Byron is caught in the middle…

 
Release date: September 17, 2013
Science Fiction - Space Opera/Adventure
Print ISBN 9781939844002
E-book ISBN 9781939844019

 
Now- here is what's been going down at the Bird's Nest this week: 

On the writing front:
*I'm still plugging away in my revision cave. But it is SLOW going. I'll admit to being easily distracted. I'm going to try a lot harder to focus on finishing them up, next week.

*Most of you know that I am a giant chicken-like bird who is afraid to watch horror movies. I even avoid watching the news before bed because my wild imagination needs no encouragement to go all psycho crazy before I try and fall asleep. Despite my best efforts to avoid all bad news and creepy scary movies last night I fell asleep and had the mother of all disturbing dreams.

When I woke up, I thought, whoah, that dream could easily be the beginning of a super cool story. But then I thought, you can't work on that now, Jaybird, you have to finish all of your revisions first. Then again, I didn't want to wait, lest I forget anything. What do you do when presented with this type of situation? Do you flesh out the new story real quick, ditching the revisions? Or do you put it aside for a later time, once you have finished everything else you have already started?

On a personal front:

*The Husband and I locked horns over an important decision we had to make. It is something we both felt very passionate about and (of course) had opposing opinions on how to resolve.

Even though I absolutely HATE to fight and generally try to avoid conflict of any kind, if it's something I feel very strongly about, I will dig my high heels in and turn into the Queen of Stubborn. All day long, The Husband barks orders and expects them to be followed. Periodically, when he comes home and we argue, he forgets who he is talking to.  Gently, I remind  him to check himself before he wrecks himself watch his tone and remember who he's dealing with; I'm not some sub-ranking Marine OR  rookie cop he is used to bossing around. (Shortly after we got married he bought me a hot pink t-shirt that  read "Don't confuse your rank with MY authority- Marine Corps Wife" as a nice reminder of this. Incidently, I wore that shirt so much it fell apart)

So, when The Husband and I fight it strongly resembles this. Well, except for my ass. It's slightly bigger :)

                               
 
How do you resolve conflict, when both parties are not willing to give an inch? Do you admit it when you are wrong? Because after weeks of wrestling over this decision, The Husband  finally caved last night and ended our stand off - with this classic statement:

"OK Jen, you were right. And I guess, uh, I was less right."  HA!

Hit  me up and let me know what you think. (1) How do you resolve conflict? Do you find it difficult to admit when you are wrong? (2) Any tips on how to focus on revisions? (3) Would you start something new, despite having so many other projects hanging in the balance?  (4) And please don't forget to go show Alex's blog and CassaStorm some love!

Wishing you all a great weekend. PEACE out ~ Jaybird

Monday, February 18, 2013

Italian Family Traditions

Happy Monday! I hope everyone had a stellar weekend-I did. Although, I did not get any writing done, whatsoever. Instead, I  was too busy getting ready for Franchesca's 9th birthday party. Again. Yep, we had another 9th birthday celebration for my Franchesca on Saturday night.

Since my brother was traveling for work and some other members of the family were not able to make it to her indoor water park  extravaganza, we had another party for her at my sister's house. This may seem like overkill to most people, but in a large, close-knit, Italian family like mine, until every single one of you are available to sit down and eat cake together, your birthday is simply not considered "celebrated". Trust me, I've tried to skirt this tradition before and found the incessant phone calls and asking about "when are we having cake for .....?" will just not stop, until this ritual is performed. It's one of the things that I love (and hate) about my family. 

Let me explain. Growing up Italian, there are things that we simply accept as normal operating procedure that to any one else, would seem crazy. We take something as simple as meals, birthday celebrations and normal get togethers and turn them into monumental productions. We don't know how to do it any other way; it's just how we  roll. If  you invite twenty people over, you must make enough food to feed 100. Or else, God forbid, you might run out of food!?! That, my friends, is a cardinal sin. And the kind of embarrassment an Italian could never live down. No, it's always better to make way more than what you need, that way no one ever leaves your house hungry or empty handed.

An Italian house party, (if you've never been) is simply something I think everyone  must experience, at least once in their life. Allow me to recount the same speech I used to give to my "white" friends, whenever I was preparing them to come home and meet the family. (I'd been to most of their houses, and  didn't think it fair, to just throw them to the wolves like that, without any preparation of what to expect.)

Here's my list of Italian House Party Do and Don'ts:
(1) Know it will be loud.  At any given time, two or three people will be talking over each other, and at you, all at once. They will ask you non-stop, inappropriate, nosy-ass questions they don't really expect you to answer. If you feel you must answer them, then direct your answer to the oldest. That will be respected.
(2) Even in the dead of winter, that house will be HOT. Do not wear a sweater. Don't believe me? Fine, check the windows while you are walking up, they will be sweating just as much as you will be if you don't heed my warning. The heat can't be helped. The ovens have been on for at least two days and with that many people, it's impossible to keep the house cool.
(3) Prepare to be groped. You will be passed around, embraced and kissed incessantly. Just grin and bear it, it will all be over soon. Well, at least until you want to leave. Then it will start up all over again.
(4) If you are allergic to animals of any kind, make sure you take an allergy pill. Not only does the house you are entering have pets, at least two or three party goers will bring their own with. DO not attempt to pet anything without permission. Most of these animals have gone deaf or have lost their ability to bark, but all of them are taught to bite strangers.
(5) Do not eat or drink anything 24 hours prior to arrival. And whatever you do, whenever they ask, deny being hungry. You will thank me for this. Because no matter how many times you deny being hungry, the absurd amount of food and drinks that will still be pressed up on you from the time you arrive to the time you depart will leave you not wanting to even think about food for weeks afterwards.
(5)Wear soft, stretchy pants. This is for your comfort and safety. If you choose to wear jeans or a tight skirt, not only will you be ridiculously sorry and uncomfortable, you will be forced to open the top two buttons on those jeans and/or ditch the panty hose, in order to make it safely through to dessert.
(6) There WILL BE a cousin there who wants to "hook you up".  No matter how hard he tries to convince you what a great deal it is he's giving you, for the love of God, DO NOT buy anything from him. No matter how "sweet" he seems, know this, he is ripping you off.  If you go through with this sketchy transaction, it's on you. I warned you and will take zero responsibility when are whining to me about how the authorities confiscated your brand new merchandise as Exhibit A, since they were finally able to trace back whatever it is my cousin  jacked this time, back to you.

Oh, my list could go on and on. But no amount of warnings could fully prepare my friends for what they were about to witness, unless they saw it firsthand, for themselves. Even still, half of them didn't believe me. It wasn't  until my friends and I would be leaving, that they would start shaking their heads and shouting in disbelief (they would be shouting at me not because they were angry, but because their ears were still trying to recover from the dangerous noise levels they just endured, and like a concert, it leaves them temporarily deaf for a day or two)  "Oh my gawd Jen, I can't believe it.  I thought you were just exaggerating!"  But alas,  I was not.

Despite their initial reservations and feelings of being a fish out of water, they were only "strangers" once. It always amused me to see how my friends transformed themselves while hanging at my house. Their normal, uptight control thrown out the sweaty window, as they stuffed themselves to the gills with cheese and meat like a giant ravioli. How they started to anticipate and look forward to spending more and more time at my house for parties and holidays. I watched in awe as they learned to bribe the animals not to bite them anymore with little pieces of salami. It warmed my heart to see how they began to cherish and look forward to the hugs and kisses my family lavished on them. And man, it always killed me when out of nowhere, they would ditch their manners and insecurities and start shouting out their opinions, so they could be heard over every one else. My Aunts and Grandmother giving them a nod and  a wink, encouraging them on.

So, although the Italian house party is a loud, hot, over the top and monumental production, I find myself continuing these traditions I grew up with in my own home. Honestly, I wouldn't do it any other way. What are your family traditions like? Do you continue in the ways of your parents and theirs? Why or why not?

Friday, February 15, 2013

Romance Week: Episode Four Bad Romance

Now that Valentine's Day is over  I thought I'd pick Bad Romance for today's topic. We all know how awesome love is when things go right. But when it goes bad, OY. Look out!
Sometimes, Cupid can be a douche.
If you ask me, it's starts early. Right from the first meeting. Everyone has a choice. A choice to be honest about their feelings, who they really are and what they want from the relationship. If more people started things off honestly wouldn't it save so much heart ache?

Recently I had the opportunity to hang out, observe and chaperon my daughter's class (a bunch of 11 year old  tweenage boys and girls). What a trip they are to watch! Some girls have already discovered the act of flirting while others (like my daughter) have no interest or clue. Some of the boys are already working on their  "game" and others, Lord have mercy! One boy in particular just cracked me up.

He arrived to school, in a suit,  with a ginormous cup of coffee and a donut in one hand, and his I-phone in the other.  As soon as he got there he made the rounds. He threw out a lot of hooks but it was painfully obvious none of the girls were interested in taking the bait. After he struck out royally he proceeded to come over and sit down next to me.  I had to be all chaperoney Jaybird so I  said,

"Dude, you know you are not allowed to have that phone in here. And what's with the 50 ounce cup of coffee?"

This little boy,  bless his heart, looked around to see who all was listening. Then in  all seriousness and in a very loud voice so everyone could hear him, he said, "Sorry Miss Jen, but I need the caffeine. I was up all night on the phone with my girlfriend in Canada."

Bahahaha! Oh my gosh it took everything in me not to loose it. I had no idea the whole  "girlfriend in Canada" lie was still in circulation. It's like the twenty-something equivalent of  "This is only temporary, because he's going to leave his wife for me" lie. Why oh why can't people just be honest?

So, the day after Valentine's Day I have to ask- What's your  Bad Romance story? Any other widely circulated cliche "bad romance" lies come to mind?  What do you think is the main cause of  bad romances?

*I think I've been pretty forth-coming when it comes to sharing a bit about some of my bad romances. (See my "First Loves" or my "If I Let You Go" Blog Hop entries below if your interested in reading a little more on that) Bottom line, if either of those guys would have been honest, right up front, it would have saved me a whole lot heart ache. ~Jaybird

If I Let You Go
 
There really is no one like you. Your long golden hair all wind-blown from your sail. And your eyes, those crystal clear blue eyes. I could get as lost in their depths, as you could in the deep blue sea surrounding us. Despite all of the guys standing on the dock waiting for you, you reached out and pulled me close. Naturally, we started to dance. As you twirled me around, I thought, my God, you were my sun! But I, I was just one of the many planets that revolved around you.
  
Oh, how desperate I was to loose myself in this moment. I wanted to close my eyes and breathe you in and not care. I wanted to kiss those salty, beautiful lips and pretend they didn't spew forth falsehoods. I wanted to keep our bodies pressed together and go on dancing with you forever. I never, ever, wanted to let you go. It's killing me knowing what I must do. It will sting when I walk away and for that, I am truly sorry. But unlike me, you'll recover. Another planet quickly moving in, filling up my empty space.
 
Your eyes twinkle with mischief as you twirl me again and suddenly, I'm knocked off my feet. We fall in a tangled heap of limbs and laughter onto the sand. As I catch my breath, you smile and stare into my eyes. Slowly, gently, you brush the hair away from my face. You tighten your grip around me and press your body even closer to mine. When you look at me like that, everything else around us just falls away. For a moment there is only us in the entire universe. Your deep voice is so fierce it comes out sounding more like a growl, when you say, "I love you". And in that moment, I almost believe you. Then I can't help myself from tasting those lips, one last time. Unable to resist the siren sounds of your friends and the sea calling any longer, you jump up and take off down the beach.
 
As I watch you go, I grab a fist full of sand and try to hold on. But it slips through my fingers, like time.

My First Love
 
The relentless August sun was burning the top of my dark head. I was trying not to panic, but I was lost, late and completely drenched with sweat on the first day of classes. I've always been a bit of a spaz, and I distinctly remember thinking, "Way to go Jen, great way to kick start your college career!" A light breeze picked up and carried tiny droplets of water from a nearby sprinkler.

I closed my eyes and turned my face into that wind, truly delighted by it's unexpected coolness. When I opened my eyes, he was there. He stood stock still and perfect before me, like some sort of ridiculous bronze sculpture. Why would this perfect man, be staring at me? I had to be sure. I turned around and looked over my shoulder, just to see if there was some hot blond coming up behind me. I could tell he was slightly amused by this. In two giant strides, he closed the distance between us. Then he smiled at me. I had thought the sun was brilliant today, but it was nothing compared to that smile.

"You're a Freshman, right?"
"Um yes." Was my patheticness that apparent?
"You have that lost look." Guess so!
"I, um, uh, need to find a building. I mean A-building, not "a building". I need to get to Western Civ." Duh! I answered him with all the eloquence of Mr. Bean. I couldn't believe how bad I was blowing this.
"My next class is in A-building. I'd be happy to walk you there."

The way he was looking at me, man, no one had ever looked at me like that before! I knew I should walk away. I screamed at myself, look away, look down, look anywhere but up into those amazing green eyes. But for the life of me, I could not. Something in his eyes, held the power to leech my will and hold me back. It wasn't until he reached out his hand, and I accepted it, my body could move again. I should have instinctively known, right then and there, his influence on me was not natural. I suspect deep down inside I did, but I just didn't care.

My first love was as hot and relentless as that August sun. It completely consumed me. When it was over, I was left with the realization that I would never love anyone with that much reckless abandon, ever again. He stole a little piece of my soul, the very first time I looked into those eyes. And I have never gotten it back.


Thursday, February 14, 2013

Romance Week: Episode Three What's Really Sexy

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!! Hope you are all enjoying my little romance mini-series. Today's
topic is What's Really Sexy?

OK, this post will probably contain TMI about Jaybird, but this is the Bird's Nest and y'all should know by now that's how I roll... What's really sexy? What does "romantic" mean to you? When you think about romance do you immediately picture a bottle of  nice wine and an intimate dinner for two by candle light? I used to.  Now, not so much.
Instead of us spending a lot of money to go out to eat tonight, my little Faith offered to re-create this yummo dinner
The Husband and I had at a wedding. Gotta love that kid!!

I'm going to be perfectly honest. Whenever I try to be sexy or romantic, it turns into a fast disaster. For example, when I first got married, I bought this "sexy" Victoria's Secret lacey teddy thing that cost me a fortune. (Still can't believe that little scrap of material that barely covered my who-haas cost so much) Anyway, I really wanted to try to look sexy for my man. In the short while I was waiting for The Husband to come to bed, that stupid expensive lace started to itch. And itch. And itch.  That dumb teddy gave this Bird a rash so freaking bad you would not believe. It felt and looked like I had poison ivy. The itching was insane!! The only thing that helped was covering all of my affected "areas" in an inch thick layer of cortisone cream. How sexy is that?  There have been other incidents over the years, that ended equally disastrous. I'll spare you the details.  My point remains the same, whenever I try to be sexy, no good ever comes of it.  Fifteen years into my marriage and if there is one thing I've learned, there's no need for me to try to be sexy.

If I am covered head to toe in flannel feety pajamas, have a zit the size of Texas on my forehead or am nine months pregnant and ginormous, nothing stops The Husband from coming after me. He will chase me around the house humming the "Benny Hill" theme song until he catches me. I  consider myself a lucky Bird.  I know TheHusband loves me and wants me, no matter how bad a hot mess I am.
This is for all of you too young to know who Benny Hill was, and what I'm talking about.

My husband is a pretty good-looking guy. Especially in his uniform. A lot of women find him  attractive and like to tell me "he's hot". Although I agree, he is handsome, I'll tell you this: he NEVER looks more sexy than when he is washing the dishes. Now, that's hot. Bow chicka wow-wow hot. Because when he helps do the mundane things around the house, it shows me how much loves me, much more than him handing me two dozen roses, a box of chocolate or buying me an expensive dinner out.

So, again,  I have to ask: What's sexy mean to you? What is your definition of romance? And single people, what is your take on what's really sexy?

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Romance Week: Episode Deuce, Anything For Love

In honor of  Valentine's Day, I decided to do a little mini-series on the topic of romance. If you're interested, yesterday was Episode One, the topic Do Opposite's Attract?

Today I'm back with Episode Deuce:  I'd Do Anything For Love, But I Won't Do That.  Before I get into it, I just wanted to thank Tamara from One Magic Bean Buyer for gifting me with this Premio Cutie Pie award. Thanks so much for the award and shout out on your blog Tamara!! It was very much appreciated.

On to today's topic.What would you do for love? Where do you draw the line? What's the craziest, funniest, scariest or most outrageous thing you ever did for love? Maybe you know a  story about someone who went to great lengths to land someone they love? Cause, um,  I may have one or two...

I know a certain boy (let's just refer to him as Justin) who had a ginormous crush on this girl. Unfortunately, she was the beautiful mean kind of girl who always had multiple guys she was stringing along. I kept telling Justin, she was not really into him, she was just taking advantage of his sweet, naive nature and using him. Justin refused to believe me or hear anything I had to say about her. So, she continued to take advantage of this crush on multiple occasions. She kept Justin on a short leash. Everyone around him knew that he was being played, but he refused to believe it. Until one night, after she blew Justin off to go out WITH ANOTHER DUDE, she was driving home in a remote and kind of  sketchy part of town at 2:00 a.m. when her tire blew. Guess who she called? Yep.  Justin. And that sucker jumped up and drove an hour to go "save" her even though he had an important meeting at work and needed to report in early the next day. Imagine his surprise when he arrived on the scene and there was some random dude, sitting in the car making out with his girl!! By the time he got home from "saving" her, he was crushed, pissed and totally spent. The next morning, Justin slept straight through his alarm, never did quite make it to his meeting on time and got fired-all for love :(

Once, a very loooong time ago, I had just met a guy at school who asked me out. I never even went on one date with the guy when I received a random collect call from him. Apparently, he used his one phone call on me. Not smart. He starts hollering at me that  I needed to come right down to jail and bail him out  because it was all my fault he was there  in the first place. Really Not Smart. And, uh, what? I barely even knew this guy. Why was he blaming me for getting locked up? He proceeded to tell me it was all my fault he got locked up because he couldn't afford to take me out and buy me nice things, so he had to do something dirty. YEP. That was his excuse. Needless to say, I did not  bail him out.

So, what would you do for love? Have any stories for me?  Let me know what you think.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Romance Week: Episode One, Opposites Atrract

Keeping in the spirit of Valentine's Day- and me actually having the nerve to call myself a romance writer, I thought I'd do a little mini-series on the topic of romance. Every day I will (hopefully) stir up a discussion  on romance and invite you all to join in.

First up for discussion: Do Opposites Attract? What's your perspective on the validity of this statement? Do you have any experience you'd like to share, negative or positive, dating an opposite?

Our wedding day. Notice The Husband's giant Shrek fingers, covering mine :)

Here's my "expert" opinion/experience on the topic:

The Husband and I are exact opposites. He is everything I am not. But I believe it's one of the reasons  I was so attracted to him in the first place. Even though I am forced to recite The Disclaimer every time we meet new people (My disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed or implied by the Individual a/k/a The Husband are not necessarily those reflected of The Network, a/k/a Jaybird.)

The Husband, unlike me,  holds nothing back. You always know right where you stand because he'll tell you. For some, his brutal honesty would have been a huge turn off. When I met him, I had just ended a four year relationship primarily due to a lack of honesty and trust. Right away, I knew The  Husband was different. He was not afraid to tell me the truth, even if it hurt my feelings. And I loved that about him.

My husband is ridiculously strong, confident, rough around the edges, outspoken, able to keep calm in a crisis. He can make/fix or MacGyver absolutely anything, he's athletic and agile, he's always willing to take the lead and is so freaking sure of himself, all the time. Reverse that list and, yep, you have  ME.

All of the hobbies and activities The Husband excels at like: scuba diving, flying helicopters, sharp-shooting/sniper, outdoor survivalist, camping, hunting, deep sea fishing, I'd rather stick needles in my eye than attempt. And my ideas of fun, like reading, writing or going to the beach and  just chilling in the sun, bores him to absolute tears.
The Husband's favorite reading material. No where close to mine :)

Now, his type A, Alpha Male, testosterone-filled personality may not make him the most popular or PC guest at cocktail parties, but he is again, something I'm not. A survivor. You see, I am certain, like the cockroach, my husband will survive any kind of apocalypse thrown at him... The post-apocalyptic husband would adapt. He would hunt, live off of whatever he could and he would SURVIVE. Whereas, I would crumble. Completely. Especially without refrigeration, Internet service, coffee...or any of his emergency survival kits, LOL

We've been married for 15 years and although it hasn't always been easy blending our two types of opposing personalities, I have relied on the strength of The Husband for so long now, sometimes I wonder whether or not I could actually survive without my opposite. He is my backbone, my greatest protector, loyal advocate and biggest fan. Whatever weaknesses I have, he sees as his job to fulfill for me. And whenever he puts his foot in his mouth, way oversteps his bounds or knocks somebody out, it is my job to pick them back up, apologize and smooth things over. (Good thing I worked in Public Relations as long as I did. It has certainly put my skills to the test and come in handy since  I married the client from hell. )

Together, these opposites make a great team! Or an outrageous, ridiculous and often hilarious, reality show. (We were  actually approached about doing a reality show a few years ago, after sitting next to a couple in the industry at a wedding. The entire table tried to convince us to say yes. Ha!) *true freaking story*

In my opinion, YES, Opposites do, in fact, Attract. Please, tell me, I'm dying to know, what do you think?

Friday, February 8, 2013

T.G.I.F. for reals.

No, I'm not trying to pimp a mediocre restaurant. I am just over the top excited that this stinking week is finally over. Hmmm, how can I sum up the kind of week I've had? Let me put it to you this way: it was one of the worst weeks I've ever had that didn't involve an episiotomy.  Yep. I believe that sums it up nicely. 

On a much more positive note, (cause I always like to look on the bright side of things), I was thrilled to find out that Kyra Lennon, from Write Here, Write Now picked me as her winner of the Imaginary Friend Blog Hop!! I was super stoked. That particular tidbit of glad tidings couldn't have come at a better time to lift my spirits. So, great big thank you Kyra! You have no idea how genuinely happy it  made me, in this week from hell, to find out I won.  Big congrats to Nick Wilford, who also won. He was co-host Annalisa Crawford's pick and had a really creative entry.  Way to go Nick!

Sooo, in light of the awesome week I just had, I am looking forward to this weekend with borderline manic elation. OK, maybe not borderline. More like main line. But you say tomatoooo, I say tomatoe. And all that fun stuff. Not quite sure what I plan on doing because I just listened to a weather report and found out we are expecting a big snow storm to hit. Brilliant.

Anyone have boss plans for this weekend? Did any of you suffer through a craptastic week like me?  Either way, feel free to jump in on my toast with Faith- T.G.I.F. for reals and cheers to this week finally being over!!


 

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

IWSG Entering the Revision Cave

 
 
I don't know about you but I feel like January just started- yet my calendar says it's the first Wednesday of the month of February and it's time for another IWSG post! Yikes. Time is just whizzing by in my personal life. With respect to my writing, not so much.
 
 
I've entered the revision cave. And hit a wall. Revising. Um, yeah, not my strong point. Although I have made some progress (far beyond where I've ever gone in the past)  it's only because of the support of some really amazing CPs and Betas. They are patient, kind and have helped me tremendously already. They have been nothing short of wonderful. Somehow, these ladies  actually admit to liking my story and where it's going. Overall, their critiques have been very positive. This giant stall, my friends, has nothing to do with them. Nope. Once again, it's all ME.

As soon as I get inside that revision cave, my insecurities go berserker and I begin to seriously doubt  my ability to write. I know, I know, I'm the world's worst broken record. I keep repeating the same old tired song, over and over again.   I can't seem to help myself. Because as soon as I look back, I start tearing myself and my story apart. All of a sudden,  everything I liked about my characters, disappears. I hate them. They are all flat and uninteresting. My plot is suddenly played out, stupid and trife. And my pacing, forget about it! The whole story needs to be scrapped. Who am I kidding when I call myself a writer? I am a  giant can of Chef  Boyardee instead of my Nonna's home-made ravioli. I'm a poser and no where near as good or tasty as the real thing. UGH.

Anyone else ever feel like a giant can of Chef Boyardee? Cause I could really use a few lessons in how to open up a can of whoop butt- instead of sitting here in the revision cave drowning on some seriously unsavory insecurity sauce, getting no where fast.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Imaginary Friend Bloghop

 
 
I was really happy when Annalisa and Kyra announced the theme for this blog hop. I  love that I wasn't the only crazy chicka who had imaginary friends growing up. (Hmmm, I wonder if it's a writer thing ?)
 
My favorite imaginary friend was one I named Johnny Appleseed.  Johnny was a country bumpkin and kind of ignorant. He did everything backwards and/or wrong and I blamed him for absolutely anything I did not want to take responsibility for. I remember telling my mom (very seriously) that Johnny was the one who drank all the milk and then placed the empty carton back on the refrigerator shelf, just to prove to her that he was real.... (LOL)
 
Now that I'm grown and have my own kids, I should have known all of the imaginary friend antics I pulled on my mother would come back to haunt me. You know, karma and all that.. 
 
On that note, allow me introduce you to my daughter Franchesca's imaginary friend: His name is Jean Pierre. JP for short. Unlike my imaginary friend, he's a grand boulevardier! He hails from Paris, but if he gets nervous or upset, he will forget to speak English. Franchesca started asking The Husband and I to pay for  French lessons a few years back, so she could communicate with him better. (LOL)
 
Here is a picture my daughter drew of good old Jean Pierre, mon Dieu!!
JP always wears his black beret, red sweater and black pants. He stuffs his pockets full of food, because he loves to eat lots of chocolate truffles, cheese and croissants. Don't ever leave any of those things lying around the house, because he will steal them right under your nose. (*true story*)

You see, he's a bit of a trickster, and he will pull funny pranks. For instance, he will steal socks out of the dryer so you can never find a matched pair!  But JP's pranks are all harmless, he's very kind at heart and likes to laugh a lot.  JP's got a chubby belly like Santa "because all his favorite foods are really fattening and stuff". Oh, and of course, grown ups can't see him, only kids : )

 
 
JP started appearing right around the time Franchesca discovered Bemelmans' Madeline books...
Hmmm, I wonder if that's a coincidence? LOL
 
Can't even begin to tell you all how much fun it is to listen to Franchesca chatter on and on about JP. Some of her tales about his life in Paris are pretty hilarious. Now I'm off to hear  all your stories of imaginary friendship. Au revior!