I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing that day. I live eight miles from our nation's capital and I grew up in Upstate New York.
On September 9, 2001, I was laying in bed with my husband and newborn baby and the phone rang. It was my mother-in-law and she said, "Turn on the news." I turned it on just in time to see the second plane crash into the second tower. I was devastated. My little brother lived in Tribeca, right down the street from there. Then, my husband's cell rang. It was my brother-in-law. He was driving through Arlington, VA just a few miles from my home through a small tunnel that passed the Pentagon. He said,"Oh my God. I think I just saw a plane crash into the Pentagon. I just came through the tunnel and there was a lot a smoke." I used to take the metro to work. I just quit my job to stay home with my new baby. The place where I would catch the train was in the Pentagon. I had probably sat next to some of the people that died that day.
When I was a little girl, my father owned a couple of businesses in New York City and when we would drive into the city my father would always say, "Look Baby. There they are (The Towers)!" You knew you were headed to the Big Apple and your adventure would be starting. They were the welcoming arms into that city.
All I can say is that I think about that time and how it affected me. I watched our President and the mayor of New York and the firefighters, law enforcement and our military and I was proud that in all of that chaos, I found strength in watching the love and pride of our nation pull together. I found a new love for my country.
God Bless us all.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Food for the Soul ... just in time to wash away the pain.
I've had an interesting week. One filled with a lot of new and old family drama which means it should be a spectacular writing week.
It's time to pick up all the piles of dirty laundry and chuck them out the door. Memories are like old clothes and I'm beginning to realize that maybe the best way to heal old wounds is by taking the junk I’ve stored away in the deep recesses of my mind and systematically go through all of it and organize it. What get’s thrown away? What do I keep? Why am I keeping it. Why have I held on to it? And why am I just finding it now after all of these years?
I had a very interesting conversation with my sister and realized that my mind had blocked out so many things that happened to me as a child. I don’t know why that happens to some people. Is it God’s way of protecting a child’s mind until they are strong enough to face things? What I do know is that for some reason, I’m seeing things clearly and am looking forward to remembering both the good and the bad things that have happened. Now let’s hope I have the courage to find my way to the wardrobe that holds the answers. I can see the light at the end of that tunnel.
It's time for something to lift the spirits. Get it right and it will be light and airy. Get it wrong and it might sink but will still be tasty in the end.
So this week’s recipe is:
GRAND MARNIER SOUFFLE with help from Cook.com
1 c. milk
4 eggs, separated
1 tbsp. Grand Marnier
1/3 c. flour
1/3 c. sugar
Dash of vanilla extract
Bring the milk to a boil. Mix flour, egg yolks, sugar and vanilla extract in a bowl. Pour the hot milk into the egg mixture while whisking it. Pour back into the pot and cook at low heat, beating with a spatula until thick and smooth.
Beat the egg whites until they almost have soft peaks, then add one tablespoon of sugar, continuing to beat until peaks form*.
Gently fold the batter into the egg whites, trying to deflate as little as possible.
Place about 2 tablespoons of the souffle mixture onto the top half of the crepes and lift lower half over it (1 fold made). Then fold again to form the crepe into quarters (second fold made.
Place them on a cookie sheet and bake them in a 400°F oven for 15 minutes.
Sprinkle some confectioners sugar over the crepes when they come out of the oven and serve.
It's time to pick up all the piles of dirty laundry and chuck them out the door. Memories are like old clothes and I'm beginning to realize that maybe the best way to heal old wounds is by taking the junk I’ve stored away in the deep recesses of my mind and systematically go through all of it and organize it. What get’s thrown away? What do I keep? Why am I keeping it. Why have I held on to it? And why am I just finding it now after all of these years?
I had a very interesting conversation with my sister and realized that my mind had blocked out so many things that happened to me as a child. I don’t know why that happens to some people. Is it God’s way of protecting a child’s mind until they are strong enough to face things? What I do know is that for some reason, I’m seeing things clearly and am looking forward to remembering both the good and the bad things that have happened. Now let’s hope I have the courage to find my way to the wardrobe that holds the answers. I can see the light at the end of that tunnel.
It's time for something to lift the spirits. Get it right and it will be light and airy. Get it wrong and it might sink but will still be tasty in the end.
So this week’s recipe is:
GRAND MARNIER SOUFFLE with help from Cook.com
1 c. milk
4 eggs, separated
1 tbsp. Grand Marnier
1/3 c. flour
1/3 c. sugar
Dash of vanilla extract
Bring the milk to a boil. Mix flour, egg yolks, sugar and vanilla extract in a bowl. Pour the hot milk into the egg mixture while whisking it. Pour back into the pot and cook at low heat, beating with a spatula until thick and smooth.
Beat the egg whites until they almost have soft peaks, then add one tablespoon of sugar, continuing to beat until peaks form*.
Gently fold the batter into the egg whites, trying to deflate as little as possible.
Place about 2 tablespoons of the souffle mixture onto the top half of the crepes and lift lower half over it (1 fold made). Then fold again to form the crepe into quarters (second fold made.
Place them on a cookie sheet and bake them in a 400°F oven for 15 minutes.
Sprinkle some confectioners sugar over the crepes when they come out of the oven and serve.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
WTF Wednesday? Back to writing down the bones.
My home needs an entire overload. I can’t continue to clean up after four other people and maintain my sanity; I woke up this morning with a million things running through my head and came downstairs to chaos. Dishes were strewn all over the family room like trash along a run down highway. The kitchen looked like chicken enchiladas had a frat party and I wasn’t invited. So, I handed the scene over to my oldest child, told her it was a lesson in sharing the load, walked downstairs and started to type.
I have decided that I will take a little time each day to write a personal journal. Hopefully through writing down the basics, I will find a way to open my mind and dig through whatever crap has been burying me from the inside out and by getting to know myself, I will get to know my characters better and teach them how to do the same thing.
There are a lot of things that are bubbling underneath the surface in my psyche and I just don’t know which hole to start digging first so I guess I’ll start from the most recent. Right this second, a chill is running up my spine and my eyes are starting to tear up. The fear of letting the emotions I’m feeling at this moment, whatever they may be, is starting to stifle me but I am going to try to write through the fear and see where it leads me.
My husband and I recently went through a tumultuous time. Not one that would lead to a breakup. I think it would take something of biblical proportions to do that. But circumstances in the lives of our children, specifically, the teens made us question ourselves as parents. We came to the conclusion that we are good parents but it took us having to ask for help to prove that. First we had to get over the obstacle that being a good parent sometimes means asking someone professional and on the outside to give you some useful tools. In the grand scheme of things, we did the right thing, I think, but it was hard. We came out of the storm a little stronger too.
Our oldest had a difficult time dealing with the prospect of growing up. It’s amazing how your teenager fights you at every turn wanting to be a grown up and when faced with the challenge of actually becoming one, they panic. It’s happened to us all even if we didn’t realize it then but when you are on the other side of it, having already done it, you fail to see the signs of fear and think of it as rebellion. I (having had a mother, well let’s just call her the mother of all mothers and leave it at that) am just glad that my maternal instinct, those feelings in our gut that we are born with and not taught, told me that it was not about me but about helping my children and that my husband was strong enough for the both of us to realize that we needed help.
Help for us came in the form of a therapeutic ranch in Utah and it came for our son and through some self-reflection while he’s been gone, it came for us as well. I wish we had known about it before our daughter reached eighteen but we did learn some tools to help her there as well. While worrying so much about the actions and lack thereof of our oldest, our son got a little lost in the shuffle which led to defiance, lack of motivation and into a descent that as hard as we tried, we couldn’t pull him up from. I remember taking him to the airport and wanting to see him off. I wanted to walk to the gate and watch him fly off even though part of me wanted to hold him and coddle him and tell him that everything would be alright only to get up to the gate and realize that the ticket agent forgot to give me a pass so I could get past security. I wanted to cry but couldn’t because I wanted to teach my son that he had the ability to go out into the world without having to have mom hold his hand. I also wanted him to know that I would be here to catch him if he fell. Funny thing is that when I got in the car that evening, I hadn’t realized that yet and I was livid at my husband because he made me do that even then I knew that wasn’t it and it took me going to visit him to realize that everything I was feeling at that airport gate was right. My instinct took over when my head screamed against it. I am so grateful for the man I married for loving our family enough to do what was needed to heal us and for my instincts for taking over when my heart was faltering.
As I sit here typing, I realize what is causing the fear and the tears to bubble up. First, it is the fear of how putting my inner most thoughts out there for the world to see might come back to bite me on the ass and yet I’m still going to do it. Then, there is the fear of digging through the emotions that led my life to where it is now and how all of that will affect my life and my writing and finally realizing that in order to get to where I want to go, I have to find where I came from and take the introvert that I strive to be and become the extrovert that I need to be in order to be a better me, wife, mother and writer.
So, let the journey continue.
I have decided that I will take a little time each day to write a personal journal. Hopefully through writing down the basics, I will find a way to open my mind and dig through whatever crap has been burying me from the inside out and by getting to know myself, I will get to know my characters better and teach them how to do the same thing.
There are a lot of things that are bubbling underneath the surface in my psyche and I just don’t know which hole to start digging first so I guess I’ll start from the most recent. Right this second, a chill is running up my spine and my eyes are starting to tear up. The fear of letting the emotions I’m feeling at this moment, whatever they may be, is starting to stifle me but I am going to try to write through the fear and see where it leads me.
My husband and I recently went through a tumultuous time. Not one that would lead to a breakup. I think it would take something of biblical proportions to do that. But circumstances in the lives of our children, specifically, the teens made us question ourselves as parents. We came to the conclusion that we are good parents but it took us having to ask for help to prove that. First we had to get over the obstacle that being a good parent sometimes means asking someone professional and on the outside to give you some useful tools. In the grand scheme of things, we did the right thing, I think, but it was hard. We came out of the storm a little stronger too.
Our oldest had a difficult time dealing with the prospect of growing up. It’s amazing how your teenager fights you at every turn wanting to be a grown up and when faced with the challenge of actually becoming one, they panic. It’s happened to us all even if we didn’t realize it then but when you are on the other side of it, having already done it, you fail to see the signs of fear and think of it as rebellion. I (having had a mother, well let’s just call her the mother of all mothers and leave it at that) am just glad that my maternal instinct, those feelings in our gut that we are born with and not taught, told me that it was not about me but about helping my children and that my husband was strong enough for the both of us to realize that we needed help.
Help for us came in the form of a therapeutic ranch in Utah and it came for our son and through some self-reflection while he’s been gone, it came for us as well. I wish we had known about it before our daughter reached eighteen but we did learn some tools to help her there as well. While worrying so much about the actions and lack thereof of our oldest, our son got a little lost in the shuffle which led to defiance, lack of motivation and into a descent that as hard as we tried, we couldn’t pull him up from. I remember taking him to the airport and wanting to see him off. I wanted to walk to the gate and watch him fly off even though part of me wanted to hold him and coddle him and tell him that everything would be alright only to get up to the gate and realize that the ticket agent forgot to give me a pass so I could get past security. I wanted to cry but couldn’t because I wanted to teach my son that he had the ability to go out into the world without having to have mom hold his hand. I also wanted him to know that I would be here to catch him if he fell. Funny thing is that when I got in the car that evening, I hadn’t realized that yet and I was livid at my husband because he made me do that even then I knew that wasn’t it and it took me going to visit him to realize that everything I was feeling at that airport gate was right. My instinct took over when my head screamed against it. I am so grateful for the man I married for loving our family enough to do what was needed to heal us and for my instincts for taking over when my heart was faltering.
As I sit here typing, I realize what is causing the fear and the tears to bubble up. First, it is the fear of how putting my inner most thoughts out there for the world to see might come back to bite me on the ass and yet I’m still going to do it. Then, there is the fear of digging through the emotions that led my life to where it is now and how all of that will affect my life and my writing and finally realizing that in order to get to where I want to go, I have to find where I came from and take the introvert that I strive to be and become the extrovert that I need to be in order to be a better me, wife, mother and writer.
So, let the journey continue.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Weekly Recipe - Food for the muse
Whilst I write this blog as food for my soul, I thought that I'd share actual food for the body. One of my favorite ways to relax myself is by cooking a really great meal. Cutting vegetables or a really nice piece of meat can be every bit as therapeutic as reading a great book or screaming to the top of your lungs. Admit it. We all need to escape from our hectic day. As a stay-at-home mom and even as a working mom, I at one time hated ...absolutely dreaded cooking. It was one more task I had to endure. Now, I realize that cooking a really great meal doesn't take as much time as I thought and if I look forward to it, not only does the food taste better but I am so relaxed afterward. It helps to have a great glass of wine and someone sexy, my husband, to talk to. Actually, hubby and I have a great time cooking together.
Well,let's get this dinner party started. This isn't hard to make and doesn't take an entire evening to make either. Prepare to dazzle your loved ones and feed your muse. It's delicious so let's dig in.
First, grab a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and pour two glasses. Grab your favorite cd and your favorite man.
Bacon-wrapped Cornish Hens with Raspberry Balsamic Glaze
adapted from a recipe in The Gourmet Cookbook by Ruth Reichl
serves 8 from start to finish: 1 hour
Preheat oven to 450*
2/3 cup seedless raspberry jam
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
16 bacon slices (about 1 pound; I use maple-flavored. It adds flair)
4(1-1/2 to 1-3/4)Cornish hens, rinsed and patted dry; Can also used full chicken thighs
salt and freshly ground pepper
Combine jam and vinegar in a small saucepan.
Simmer briskly, uncovered, stir occasionally with whisk, until reduced to about 1/2 cup.
Glaze thicken slightly as it cools.
Put a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 450*F
Cook bacon in batched in a large skillet over moderate heat until translucent and pliable. Bacon has to be flexible for wrapping. (I actually save time by putting bacon in a microwavable casserole dish. Cover with paper towel and cook about 1 minute per slice)
Transfer bacon to paper towel to drain.
With kitchen shears, cut out the back bone from each hen and discard.
Halve lengthwise and season with salt and pepper.
Arrange skin side up in large roasting pan.
Brush hens liberally with some glaze and wrap 2 slices of bacon around each half, tuck ends under or pin with toothpicks
Roast, brushing with pan juices and glaze after 10 minutes and then after 20, until juices run clear when thigh is pierced. 30-35 minutes total.
Discard remaining glaze.
Bon Appetite. With food like this, you'll be amazed at what other creative ideas fill you palette.
Well,let's get this dinner party started. This isn't hard to make and doesn't take an entire evening to make either. Prepare to dazzle your loved ones and feed your muse. It's delicious so let's dig in.
First, grab a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and pour two glasses. Grab your favorite cd and your favorite man.
Bacon-wrapped Cornish Hens with Raspberry Balsamic Glaze
adapted from a recipe in The Gourmet Cookbook by Ruth Reichl
serves 8 from start to finish: 1 hour
Preheat oven to 450*
2/3 cup seedless raspberry jam
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
16 bacon slices (about 1 pound; I use maple-flavored. It adds flair)
4(1-1/2 to 1-3/4)Cornish hens, rinsed and patted dry; Can also used full chicken thighs
salt and freshly ground pepper
Combine jam and vinegar in a small saucepan.
Simmer briskly, uncovered, stir occasionally with whisk, until reduced to about 1/2 cup.
Glaze thicken slightly as it cools.
Put a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 450*F
Cook bacon in batched in a large skillet over moderate heat until translucent and pliable. Bacon has to be flexible for wrapping. (I actually save time by putting bacon in a microwavable casserole dish. Cover with paper towel and cook about 1 minute per slice)
Transfer bacon to paper towel to drain.
With kitchen shears, cut out the back bone from each hen and discard.
Halve lengthwise and season with salt and pepper.
Arrange skin side up in large roasting pan.
Brush hens liberally with some glaze and wrap 2 slices of bacon around each half, tuck ends under or pin with toothpicks
Roast, brushing with pan juices and glaze after 10 minutes and then after 20, until juices run clear when thigh is pierced. 30-35 minutes total.
Discard remaining glaze.
Bon Appetite. With food like this, you'll be amazed at what other creative ideas fill you palette.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Stepping Up The Game, Redefining Elizabeth
I found my “I am woman! Hear me roar” façade, well maybe not façade … demeanor, that’s a better word, taking a header this week. The mother’s guilt started to rear its ugly head as I looked around the house and saw the clutter piling up. It seems that the people I love haven’t quite realized how serious I am and I have let them get away with it.
“Oh, Mom will get that. I have a movie to go to and if I slip out while she’s “writing”, she’ll never notice.”
“Gee, that Playstation game is calling my name, so what if I grab a separate glass every time I grab a new beer and they pile up, Sweetie can get it once she’s done with her little hobby. I’ve worked all day and want to relax.”
I find it really hard to work around mess. I have always thought that the way your house looks reflects the chaos in your life. Well, I had a theory that I was somewhat wrong. The clutter will always be there in one form or another but the burning desire I have to write is constantly growing as well. That is why I am forcing myself into keeping the promise that I made to have and to hold my hopes and my dreams until death I do part.
My husband is quite wonderful though and is struggling through his own insecurities, although deep-seeded, by working on getting to know the woman I am becoming and by helping me find the confidence that he says I always had but am now awakening. I’m starting to like this woman that I’m becoming even if she’s carrying around a little guilt, the guilt of putting herself first for once.
So in keeping my promise and as I self reflect and redefine who I am becoming, I am kicking the clutter aside and delegating duties to others. If by teaching myself that, maybe I can leave the impressions on my kids and loved ones that sometimes to find who you are, you have to help the people around you learn that sometimes the clutter we build together has to be torn down together. Take a guilt-free vacation by asking for help and delegating duties.
“Oh, Mom will get that. I have a movie to go to and if I slip out while she’s “writing”, she’ll never notice.”
“Gee, that Playstation game is calling my name, so what if I grab a separate glass every time I grab a new beer and they pile up, Sweetie can get it once she’s done with her little hobby. I’ve worked all day and want to relax.”
I find it really hard to work around mess. I have always thought that the way your house looks reflects the chaos in your life. Well, I had a theory that I was somewhat wrong. The clutter will always be there in one form or another but the burning desire I have to write is constantly growing as well. That is why I am forcing myself into keeping the promise that I made to have and to hold my hopes and my dreams until death I do part.
My husband is quite wonderful though and is struggling through his own insecurities, although deep-seeded, by working on getting to know the woman I am becoming and by helping me find the confidence that he says I always had but am now awakening. I’m starting to like this woman that I’m becoming even if she’s carrying around a little guilt, the guilt of putting herself first for once.
So in keeping my promise and as I self reflect and redefine who I am becoming, I am kicking the clutter aside and delegating duties to others. If by teaching myself that, maybe I can leave the impressions on my kids and loved ones that sometimes to find who you are, you have to help the people around you learn that sometimes the clutter we build together has to be torn down together. Take a guilt-free vacation by asking for help and delegating duties.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Promises, promises...
In an attempt to keep a promise to myself and friends, I have decided to try my hand at blogging again in a dire attempt to drag myself out of that precarious box that I've placed myself in once again. The box that I've hidden my dreams, my hopes and my desires to make room for the dreams and hopes of others. I have and will always share some of those dreams and hopes of others with them for I share some of those same dreams as well. But since some of them have come true, like marrying the love of my life and sharing my life, there are a few private ones that I have put on hold. They are crying to be released now but fear has been holding me back.
A lot has happened in my world. My kids are growing up and through a lot of hard work, hard talks and just plain truths, they are learning that actions have consequences. I've had to grow up along with them and make some harsh decisions for them. One of which was realizing that to be a better mom and wife, I had to become a little selfish instead of selfless. I realized that if I don't fulfill my own dreams then I can't teach them to fulfill their own and that by being afraid to reach for mine, I was teaching them fear too.
How did I do that? I'm still learning as I go but for starters,I did something that I never thought I could do. I left them. No, not as in walked out the door and abandoned them but I walked out the door and left them for the very first time as mom. And though, I was only a phone call and cab ride, eight miles to be exact, away I stood my ground and took some well-deserved mom time. I grabbed my suitcase and laptop, reserved a hotel room with a king-sized bed and went to the RWA,The Romance Writers of America conference.
My dream is to be a writer and to be able to let the voices in my head out so they can tell our story. No, I'm not delusional. When you have a dream and push it to the back of you soul eventually, it comes screaming for you to pick it up like a lost child who's looking for their mother.
So, in an attempt to making my dreams come true and with the help of my loving husband and some really great friends, these are the first steps:
Writing my blog, writing my dreams, stepping out of that box, facing my fears and being the best me that I can be for the people I love.
A lot has happened in my world. My kids are growing up and through a lot of hard work, hard talks and just plain truths, they are learning that actions have consequences. I've had to grow up along with them and make some harsh decisions for them. One of which was realizing that to be a better mom and wife, I had to become a little selfish instead of selfless. I realized that if I don't fulfill my own dreams then I can't teach them to fulfill their own and that by being afraid to reach for mine, I was teaching them fear too.
How did I do that? I'm still learning as I go but for starters,I did something that I never thought I could do. I left them. No, not as in walked out the door and abandoned them but I walked out the door and left them for the very first time as mom. And though, I was only a phone call and cab ride, eight miles to be exact, away I stood my ground and took some well-deserved mom time. I grabbed my suitcase and laptop, reserved a hotel room with a king-sized bed and went to the RWA,The Romance Writers of America conference.
My dream is to be a writer and to be able to let the voices in my head out so they can tell our story. No, I'm not delusional. When you have a dream and push it to the back of you soul eventually, it comes screaming for you to pick it up like a lost child who's looking for their mother.
So, in an attempt to making my dreams come true and with the help of my loving husband and some really great friends, these are the first steps:
Writing my blog, writing my dreams, stepping out of that box, facing my fears and being the best me that I can be for the people I love.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
"As if" A blog for all those struggling writers
Okay so I am still working on my novel. Yes! Still! Rome still wasn't built in a day, The Lord Of The Rings was not written in a moment and I want to put a fun and thought provoking story out not just a leave on the toilet lid book but a hide it from your husband because it turns you on better than watching Brad Pitt's butt cheeks in Troy book. I'm in a quandary with some of my writing techniques as are a thousand other would-be writers. Oops, strike that. There are no would-be writers. You are a writer as long as you continue to put your thoughts, ideas and dreams on paper.
The reasoning behind the title of this blog is.... WTF? I like many people have joined one writing forum or another where people share their critiques and opinions about others work. Key word "opinion". So why did I allow others opinions of my writings get in the way of my actual writing for months. I've spent the better part of a few months re-reading and editing my story because someone told me that I overused the phrase "as if" to describe something. I just started reading a New York Times Bestselling author's new book and realized that she uses that phrase far more than I do so let me get the hitch off my back and finish what I've started.
Now while this may sound like I can't take criticism from others that is not where I'm coming from. I can take it. Just ask my seven year-old when she winces at the taste of something I've made for dinner. Yes, I can take it from every one. I just am having issues with self-critiquing but slowly and steadily, I'm learning to get past that. Hell, I see a great character coming from this AS IF I'd been standing at the edge of the faltering cliffs in my mind and realized that as long as I tied myself to a tree I could jump. I've found a way to catch myself so watch out world I'm diving.
The reasoning behind the title of this blog is.... WTF? I like many people have joined one writing forum or another where people share their critiques and opinions about others work. Key word "opinion". So why did I allow others opinions of my writings get in the way of my actual writing for months. I've spent the better part of a few months re-reading and editing my story because someone told me that I overused the phrase "as if" to describe something. I just started reading a New York Times Bestselling author's new book and realized that she uses that phrase far more than I do so let me get the hitch off my back and finish what I've started.
Now while this may sound like I can't take criticism from others that is not where I'm coming from. I can take it. Just ask my seven year-old when she winces at the taste of something I've made for dinner. Yes, I can take it from every one. I just am having issues with self-critiquing but slowly and steadily, I'm learning to get past that. Hell, I see a great character coming from this AS IF I'd been standing at the edge of the faltering cliffs in my mind and realized that as long as I tied myself to a tree I could jump. I've found a way to catch myself so watch out world I'm diving.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Party like a rock star but do it with thanks
This is the year I stepped out of my box and took a giant leap. Most people that know me personally, know that though I may seem bubbly and upbeat most of the time, I really masking the fact that I am painfully shy. Yep, that, as some have described me, Ice Queen appearance I present is a facade until you get a glass or two of wine in me. LOL
Well, on February 29, 2008, I had the amazing opportunity to see a wonderful artist, American Idol alumni Bo Bice, perform in a very private setting and I took it. I had shut myself off from the world in a way because of my shyness. But thanks to a fantastic young woman, Lecia and her family. I was blessed with the chance to meet a truly genuine and sweet person and a true success story. He is a man who was given an opportunity and with much added work on his part, he is able to do what he loves, stay a genuine person and make a living at it. I also had the chance to meet some really phenomenal ladies. All of whom, I met through Bo Bice. I am proud to have met them all and now, I can truly call them friends. It is amazing the kind of people you can meet if you just open yourself up to it.
So, in conclusion I guess the motto of this blog is to say thanks for gestures both big and small because what you have been given is a true treasure.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
What am I doing? Am I crazy for doing it?
So what, I'm still working on my first novel? Why is it that the people who have no interest in doing anything but sitting in front of their television sets or searching the Internet for mundane articles about celebrities who are even more pathetic than they are the first to ask you questions like....So are you published yet? Are you STILL writing that book? Geez, I thought you'd be done by now. .....As if I'm just sitting in front of a television watching static. Sometimes the static is inside my head. My characters are trying to live their lives inside my mind while I'm trying to live mine outside. Only a writer would understand my quandary.
Rome wasn't built in a day. Afraid of rejection, you might ask? Hell yes but I'm more afraid of disappointing myself. The story has to work for me first. I am my own biggest critic. A perfectionist who is not satisfied with the mundane. My goal is to finish this book by the end of April. Then I can send it to editors and then maybe, I'll get published so that all those couch potatoes can come from behind the television screen and computer monitors and widen their imaginations through mine. In the meantime, since you're on the computer check out my website: www.etatejohnson.com I just added a short story. One of my characters decided to take a detour.
Now, it's time for me to get back on that track.
Merry Christmas!
My world, my blog......
Rome wasn't built in a day. Afraid of rejection, you might ask? Hell yes but I'm more afraid of disappointing myself. The story has to work for me first. I am my own biggest critic. A perfectionist who is not satisfied with the mundane. My goal is to finish this book by the end of April. Then I can send it to editors and then maybe, I'll get published so that all those couch potatoes can come from behind the television screen and computer monitors and widen their imaginations through mine. In the meantime, since you're on the computer check out my website: www.etatejohnson.com I just added a short story. One of my characters decided to take a detour.
Now, it's time for me to get back on that track.
Merry Christmas!
My world, my blog......
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
LIfe Lessons learned from senselessness
Eventually I will get to blogging about my mundane life. Well, a life that is becoming less mundane. I'll be back to writing and living life and sharing it with you but first, I have to address a profound sadness. It's just such a solemn day here in my hometown so this blog post is dedicated to The Redskins Nation.
In Memory of Sean Taylor, 21
This is such a bittersweet day for me personally and a devastating day for the entire Washington, DC metropolitan area. One of our brightest stars, I mean that literally because he shined, has died out. Sean Taylor, just twenty-four years of age was shot and killed in his home. He wasn't just another young black man killed like so many young black men are for making poor decisions. He was a young man rebuilding his life, shot down while trying to protect his family in his home. IN HIS HOME!!! A home that he worked hard, whether it was through playing a silly game or making it through college and dealing with the issues that men twice his age have not. I would hope that his death will make at least one young man who thinks it's better to pick up a pen, a book or a ball than to be so selfish and angry at a person for working his way to success that they would kill them.
I may seem angrier than I should but I am speaking as a person who survived the same exact injury. I was not shot but fourteen years ago at the very same age that this young man lost his life, I myself had my femoral artery severed while fending a knife-wielding assailant off. Because I was in shock, I don't remember the pain and my only hope is that Sean did not suffer either. I'm telling this intimate detail about myself to make a point. I am not a victim. I refuse to be because I am still alive. Sean is forever gone. There is no explanation good enough for me that answers the question of why he was taken at so young an age. Children are mourning, fans and teammates are mourning and a little girl is without her father. There by the grace of God it could've been me, I thought. But it wasn't. God must've needed an angel, a guardian up there and he must've had other plans for me.
So, I guess the motto of this rant:
Life is so fleeting. It can end in seconds and for the people left behind, live it and live it well. Live it and live it with kindness. That's what Sean did. He played every game to the fullest and toward the end, he lived his life the same way. I hope that the youth of this world will learn that same lesson.
In Memory of Sean Taylor, 21
This is such a bittersweet day for me personally and a devastating day for the entire Washington, DC metropolitan area. One of our brightest stars, I mean that literally because he shined, has died out. Sean Taylor, just twenty-four years of age was shot and killed in his home. He wasn't just another young black man killed like so many young black men are for making poor decisions. He was a young man rebuilding his life, shot down while trying to protect his family in his home. IN HIS HOME!!! A home that he worked hard, whether it was through playing a silly game or making it through college and dealing with the issues that men twice his age have not. I would hope that his death will make at least one young man who thinks it's better to pick up a pen, a book or a ball than to be so selfish and angry at a person for working his way to success that they would kill them.
I may seem angrier than I should but I am speaking as a person who survived the same exact injury. I was not shot but fourteen years ago at the very same age that this young man lost his life, I myself had my femoral artery severed while fending a knife-wielding assailant off. Because I was in shock, I don't remember the pain and my only hope is that Sean did not suffer either. I'm telling this intimate detail about myself to make a point. I am not a victim. I refuse to be because I am still alive. Sean is forever gone. There is no explanation good enough for me that answers the question of why he was taken at so young an age. Children are mourning, fans and teammates are mourning and a little girl is without her father. There by the grace of God it could've been me, I thought. But it wasn't. God must've needed an angel, a guardian up there and he must've had other plans for me.
So, I guess the motto of this rant:
Life is so fleeting. It can end in seconds and for the people left behind, live it and live it well. Live it and live it with kindness. That's what Sean did. He played every game to the fullest and toward the end, he lived his life the same way. I hope that the youth of this world will learn that same lesson.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving to all. What are you thankful for?
In this commercialized world, what has happened to the meaning of Thanksgiving? Is it just me or has Thanksgiving been diluted to just another reason to save at Wal*Mart? Well, I think it has.
I was not allowed to celebrate holidays like most of the world. I was raised a Jehovah's Witness and because of my parents, well mostly, my dear mother's misplaced religious views, I think I missed out. But, I am thankful even for that because I now realized what true joys I've missed. Not the joys of shopping, scrounging through the storage shed for holiday ornaments and the sometimes agony of putting up the Christmas lights but the simple things. For example, the look on my little girl's face when she sees her Great-grandmother for the first time or when she bites into a mouth-watering cookie that comes from a recipe that was handed down from women of her line from the very beginning. And now, I have the knowledge that I, having not known those joys myself, I have a wonderful, generous husband who has shown them to my children and me and that hopefully the joys will continue to pass on.
Reality hit me in the nose this week. An altercation happened between two people who are very dear to me. An argument that could have turned violent because one of those people was not thankful for what they had but jealous over what the other did. Juvenile when you think of it isn't it? Two people who have known each other their entire lives could have ruined their relationship for years to come.
So, I guess the motto of my rant is this.....
Be thankful for the little things and cherish every moment tomorrow because taking one day for granted is the beginning of taking everyday for granted.
I was not allowed to celebrate holidays like most of the world. I was raised a Jehovah's Witness and because of my parents, well mostly, my dear mother's misplaced religious views, I think I missed out. But, I am thankful even for that because I now realized what true joys I've missed. Not the joys of shopping, scrounging through the storage shed for holiday ornaments and the sometimes agony of putting up the Christmas lights but the simple things. For example, the look on my little girl's face when she sees her Great-grandmother for the first time or when she bites into a mouth-watering cookie that comes from a recipe that was handed down from women of her line from the very beginning. And now, I have the knowledge that I, having not known those joys myself, I have a wonderful, generous husband who has shown them to my children and me and that hopefully the joys will continue to pass on.
Reality hit me in the nose this week. An altercation happened between two people who are very dear to me. An argument that could have turned violent because one of those people was not thankful for what they had but jealous over what the other did. Juvenile when you think of it isn't it? Two people who have known each other their entire lives could have ruined their relationship for years to come.
So, I guess the motto of my rant is this.....
Be thankful for the little things and cherish every moment tomorrow because taking one day for granted is the beginning of taking everyday for granted.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Guess what I found?
Me. I found me.
I have been fast at work writing and creating my web page. Within the last year, I taught myself a lot about me. I found that, although, I can be a major procrastinator, if I focus and stop running around like the proverbial chicken sans head, I can actually accomplish a lot. You know the type of person that's always running around looking like they are doing a lot but they are actually running around in circles doing nothing but wasting precious time? Yep, that was mwah. I had to stop, catch a breath and reevaluate what I was doing.
I've learned that as a mother, it is okay to put oneself first. Actually, it's a definite must. I have alway put someone's needs before my own but you know what?.....if you don't put yourself first sometimes, you can lose yourself and then you're no good to anyone.
That was my first lesson in the next step of my life. Maybe it's because I just celebrated a birthday. I'm not sure but I've been asking a lot of questions as I head into the next level of my adult life. Like, how does one juggle being a stay-at-home mom and starting a sometimes scary thing like stepping out of one's box and learning new tricks. I'm not sure but I'd going to do it anyways.
I've never been a stickler for schedules. I've always flown by the seat of my pants but after looking around my home at the clutter my family has accrued, I realized that I maybe I should try living by one. Through that, I have been able to actually free myself up to be available more. I know, that shocked me too.
For my birthday, my husband bought me iLife for my Mac and upgraded Photoshop. Yeah, it might not seem like a big deal but it was one of the greatest gifts he's given me because, within the last year while finding myself and learning new things, this woman who thought her life, though full of love, seemed mundane. I discovered my life wasn't mundane, I was just living it that way. Sometimes I need a kick in the ass.
Last year, I starting thinking about the fact that I was once a vibrant, creative woman who could paint, draw, write and do whatever I wanted even without parents who thought I could, but that's a different story. Well, this year, I realized that woman was still here. She was inside me screaming for release. Well, be prepare world, here she comes.
Check out what else I learned how to do at my new website that I created myself after teaching myself how.
http://www.etatejohnson.com
And thanks to a special friend, Miss Laura Haines for helping me get over my fear of photoshop and giving me pointers.
I have been fast at work writing and creating my web page. Within the last year, I taught myself a lot about me. I found that, although, I can be a major procrastinator, if I focus and stop running around like the proverbial chicken sans head, I can actually accomplish a lot. You know the type of person that's always running around looking like they are doing a lot but they are actually running around in circles doing nothing but wasting precious time? Yep, that was mwah. I had to stop, catch a breath and reevaluate what I was doing.
I've learned that as a mother, it is okay to put oneself first. Actually, it's a definite must. I have alway put someone's needs before my own but you know what?.....if you don't put yourself first sometimes, you can lose yourself and then you're no good to anyone.
That was my first lesson in the next step of my life. Maybe it's because I just celebrated a birthday. I'm not sure but I've been asking a lot of questions as I head into the next level of my adult life. Like, how does one juggle being a stay-at-home mom and starting a sometimes scary thing like stepping out of one's box and learning new tricks. I'm not sure but I'd going to do it anyways.
I've never been a stickler for schedules. I've always flown by the seat of my pants but after looking around my home at the clutter my family has accrued, I realized that I maybe I should try living by one. Through that, I have been able to actually free myself up to be available more. I know, that shocked me too.
For my birthday, my husband bought me iLife for my Mac and upgraded Photoshop. Yeah, it might not seem like a big deal but it was one of the greatest gifts he's given me because, within the last year while finding myself and learning new things, this woman who thought her life, though full of love, seemed mundane. I discovered my life wasn't mundane, I was just living it that way. Sometimes I need a kick in the ass.
Last year, I starting thinking about the fact that I was once a vibrant, creative woman who could paint, draw, write and do whatever I wanted even without parents who thought I could, but that's a different story. Well, this year, I realized that woman was still here. She was inside me screaming for release. Well, be prepare world, here she comes.
Check out what else I learned how to do at my new website that I created myself after teaching myself how.
http://www.etatejohnson.com
And thanks to a special friend, Miss Laura Haines for helping me get over my fear of photoshop and giving me pointers.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
You said it's your birthday. It's my birthday too, yeah!
Yep, I just turned one year older on November 6th. It was my wedding anniversary too. That's right. I got married on my birthday. My thirtieth to be exact. That was eight fabulous years ago. I think it was my way of not facing the fact that I was getting older.
It didn't work.
The good news is that I am happily married and my husband doesn't care how old I'm getting. He leaves me to fret about that all by myself.
Well, I'll get to the point of this blog. That being, there is no point to it. As my father once said, and he died at ninety while I was thirty-three, "Age is nothing but a number. Numbers can't hurt you but as time goes on if you don't make good use the time you have wisely, by the time you reach the end, you'll be nothing but a zero."
Thanks Dad for putting a burr under my butt.
Back to my goals. I have now taught myself how to create my own website. That's a huge success for the technically-challenged person that I am but hey, I love challenges. That's why I am going to get my rear end in gear and challenge myself to finish Nano this year. Wish me luck and check out my website.
http://www.etatejohnson.com
It didn't work.
The good news is that I am happily married and my husband doesn't care how old I'm getting. He leaves me to fret about that all by myself.
Well, I'll get to the point of this blog. That being, there is no point to it. As my father once said, and he died at ninety while I was thirty-three, "Age is nothing but a number. Numbers can't hurt you but as time goes on if you don't make good use the time you have wisely, by the time you reach the end, you'll be nothing but a zero."
Thanks Dad for putting a burr under my butt.
Back to my goals. I have now taught myself how to create my own website. That's a huge success for the technically-challenged person that I am but hey, I love challenges. That's why I am going to get my rear end in gear and challenge myself to finish Nano this year. Wish me luck and check out my website.
http://www.etatejohnson.com
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Unedited Excerpt from First Dance by E. Tate Johnson
Thursday, July 6, 2006, Mount Vernon, Virginia.
Black leather seats in a black vehicle were not a good idea given this kind of heat. Though, the air conditioned seats and recyclable air helped. It wasn’t the smell of morning dew that met him as he stepped out of his Navigator and into the haze filled air.
“I should’ve never listened to that damned car salesman. It’s only a quarter after seven for Christ’s sake,” he muttered.
A warm breeze carried the thick smell of death across the Potomac to meet him. He took a handkerchief to his brow and wiped the sweat away then held it to his nose to cover the stench. Lukas Marks made his way toward the riverbank. His steel gray eyes roamed his surroundings. A nerve pulsed at the base of his neck. It tugged tight like a needle on thread. Utter chaos and the day had just started, he thought. A woman wearing snug pink running shorts and matching tank top sobbed uncontrollably nearby. Stroking her flaxen hair, the man with her tried his best to comfort her while maintaining a tight grip on the raging German Shepard. The two uniformed cops that were first on the scene were still in the process of losing their lunch.
“Great. The day’s getting better already.”
A sigh escaped from deep within his chest. He hated dealing with emotional crap and this was going to be one of those fucking days. He just wanted to do his job, find the perpetrator and go on to the next case. His head throbbed in anticipation of the coming shit storm this case was guaranteed to include.
He motioned for a uniformed officer but Detective Mike Rivera’s bright red face was the first to greet him. His eyes were as black and as dilated as pools of crude oil. Rivera’s massive hand encircled Lukas’. His wooly eyebrows rose inquisitively. Any other man might’ve flinched at the strength in the hand shake but Luke’s eyes showed no sign that there was any amount of discomfort.
“Well, Mike what have we got?”
“Hey Luke,” he sighed. “Looks like we’ve got another one.”
The nose plugs he wore to dull the smell would’ve looked funny if the situation weren’t so damned serious thought Lukas.
He looked like an angry bull. A faint smile crossed Lukas’ lips as the thought if he flares his nostrils anymore duck. He might just put someone’s eye out, he thought.
“Same MO?” asked Luke as he drew his hand back.
“Yeah and Jesus, it’s bad. I thought the last one was rough but this, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m not certain. I mean Jesus Fucking Christ. You can’t tell what’s what but I think it’s her. It looks like some kind of animal got hold of her,” he said as he rubbed his hands over blood shot eyes.
“Well, we won’t know for sure until the ME gets here. Did anyone bother to call CSI and could somebody shut that fucking
dog up?” barked Lukas to no one in particular.
He wiped his palms dry with his handkerchief before slipping latex gloves on. He hated wearing the damn things in this heat.
One of the sweat-laden young officers perked up and nodded toward Lukas. Lukas wiped his face and plastered on his best professional smile before making his way toward the distraught couple. He hadn’t meant to sound so terse but it was early. Exhaustion still lay buried in his chest and now he’d have to endure the dreaded forlorn look he was sure to receive from the deceased’s child’s family followed by the heightened press and the weight of upper brass on his back. This perp had killed five little girls in as many months.
“Dr. Johnson’s team is on their way. In the meantime, I took the liberty of getting a statement from the couple who found her. Neither of the witnesses saw anyone or anything. They came across the remains while jogging with their dog. I don’t think anyone could miss that smell though.”
A pine tree branch snapped back at Lukas hitting him in the face as he made his way beyond the yellow tape. He looked with the eyes of a man who’d seen far too much death. Though disturbing, it just was not as hard to look at anymore. The smell would’ve been horrendous even for the nose of a normal man but it was the sight that made his stomach churn.
The milk-coated glass stare of four year old Rebecca Chambers still dressed in her pink Sleeping Beauty nightgown looked up at him. Only the poor kid wasn’t even human anymore. Not corporeal, but a mound of tattered pale flesh and broken bones. Her neck was splayed open. No, not splayed, he thought as he bent down and took a ballpoint pen out of his pocket. The sound of congealed flesh sloshing against the pen made his stomach tighten.
“Sorry kid,” he murmured.
Sometimes the fairy tale monsters were all too real. Of that he was certain. He knew because he was one, a full-fledged werewolf, born and bred. It had all the makings of a newly made wolf but something was very off. Something smelled different this killer. He couldn’t place his finger on it but for now, he’d treat it like any other rogue wolf. He’d hunt him and kill him. He had to protect the sanctity of the pack. His alpha would demand it. But for now, he had to treat it like every other human crime until he found the sick fuck that was doing this and put him down. His kind had to stay under the radar. We wouldn’t want to scare the poor skin walkers now would we? Humans were never able to except that their might be true monsters walking amongst them and yet, it’s funny how quick they are to think the worst of themselves. Though, he’s seen his share of what an actual human monster could do. Still, they had nothing on his kind. If a wolf had a deceased mind, there was no stopping him. A true wolf doesn’t hunt humans, not like this at least and not innocents.
Copyrighted by Elizabeth Johnson November 3, 2007
Friday, October 13, 2006
On writing.......
So, I've decided to put my fantasies, desires, dreams and the other entralls within me to good use. I am going to put it all on paper, cleanse my soul and hopefully write a story compelling enough that people will want to enter my mind and go along for the ride. I have decided to join Nanowrimo.org this month. That's National Novel Writing Month for those of you who aren't in the know. Talk about a challenge. Writing can be like homework. You hate it sometimes and have to force yourself to get through it but, by God, when you see that "A", the accomplishment, it was so worth it in the end. Nano challenges you to the very core. Competition Baby!!!!! When you see that someone else out there in cyberland has written more words than you it is off to the races. Winner takes all. I am so ready for it.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
The Time Has Come Today.
Thanks to my favorite American Idol....okay, I know to some of you it might be kind of cheesy but Bo Bice just released a new rendition of an oldie but goodie from The Chambers Brothers (and yes, you should check it out) The Time Has Come Today. Well, that song has brought new meaning to my life. I was a once vibrant young woman, I still am even if my kids don't think so, who has been a stay-at-home mom for five years. FIVE YEARS PEOPLE!!!!! Okay, there is nothing wrong with that but to be honest, if I watch Elmo and Big Bird one more time...Well, you get the picture. Now that my youngest is in school, I find that ...well, to be honest, I felt this way from the moment she was born...I have a lot going on inside of my head. So much so that I've found a whole new universe swimming around in there and I felt the overwhelming need to share what's been shaken loose within the cobwebs of my brain. I've begun writing. There is another personality within this skull of mine and her name is Isabel, the heroine of my new novel. I hope you all get the opportunity to meet her one day. She's one hell of a woman.
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