Elizabeth Atkinson's Blog, page 4
February 15, 2017
2 B Alone or Not 2 B Alone
There is a stigma attached to doing anything alone.
For example, I relish my alone time up in the woods of Maine — away from any human interaction — but I’m always surprised by those who view it as sad, or even pitiful. Once in awhile someone (mostly other writers) will understand, but the majority of people frown and ask in a concerned voice, But aren’t you lonely up there?
As anyone who lives alone or works alone or simply loves alone-time will tell you, being alone is not more or less lonely than being with people.
Introverts are generally assumed to enjoy alone time, while extroverts are supposed to prefer interacting with people at all times… but it isn’t really true. I know plenty of introverts who are terrified of being completely alone, and I know confident extroverts who travel, dine, and attend events on their own all the time.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about what I love doing alone and what I never do alone… and why that is?
~ I’m fine going to a coffee shop or café alone, but I dread eating at a restaurant alone.
~ I almost always shop (for food, clothes, gifts) alone, but would never go to a festival or fair alone.
~ I love staying in a hotel alone (and getting room service in my sweats), but I wouldn’t stay at a small Inn or B&B alone.
~ I have no problem going to a conference alone, but loathe going to a party alone.
~ I love hanging out at the library alone, but I would never hang out at a museum alone.
~ I love flying alone, or taking any form of transportation alone, but I don’t like being on a trip alone.
~ I’m happy to go to a classical concert alone, but would never go to any other kind of concert alone.
~ I’m fine seeing a play alone, but have never gone to the movies alone.
~ I love taking a course or class alone, but I wouldn’t join a club alone.
Perhaps it’s all about the level of intimacy or closeness with which we “aloners” are comfortable… as if we’ve predetermined some imaginary point where our bubble of alone-ness might pop?
More than anything, I love hiking and walking and biking alone because:
1. I’m thinking-dreaming-imagining-mulling.
2. Being in nature is as close as I will ever get to a spiritual connection.
3. I love the freedom of going whenever and wherever I want to go.
Wanting to be alone is not a rejection of the people I love – in fact, I can only enjoy being alone knowing there are people I love in my life.
But I know I have to nurture myself in order to give myself to others. And that’s the real value of being alone.
For example, I relish my alone time up in the woods of Maine — away from any human interaction — but I’m always surprised by those who view it as sad, or even pitiful. Once in awhile someone (mostly other writers) will understand, but the majority of people frown and ask in a concerned voice, But aren’t you lonely up there?
As anyone who lives alone or works alone or simply loves alone-time will tell you, being alone is not more or less lonely than being with people.
Introverts are generally assumed to enjoy alone time, while extroverts are supposed to prefer interacting with people at all times… but it isn’t really true. I know plenty of introverts who are terrified of being completely alone, and I know confident extroverts who travel, dine, and attend events on their own all the time.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about what I love doing alone and what I never do alone… and why that is?
~ I’m fine going to a coffee shop or café alone, but I dread eating at a restaurant alone.
~ I almost always shop (for food, clothes, gifts) alone, but would never go to a festival or fair alone.
~ I love staying in a hotel alone (and getting room service in my sweats), but I wouldn’t stay at a small Inn or B&B alone.
~ I have no problem going to a conference alone, but loathe going to a party alone.
~ I love hanging out at the library alone, but I would never hang out at a museum alone.
~ I love flying alone, or taking any form of transportation alone, but I don’t like being on a trip alone.
~ I’m happy to go to a classical concert alone, but would never go to any other kind of concert alone.
~ I’m fine seeing a play alone, but have never gone to the movies alone.
~ I love taking a course or class alone, but I wouldn’t join a club alone.
Perhaps it’s all about the level of intimacy or closeness with which we “aloners” are comfortable… as if we’ve predetermined some imaginary point where our bubble of alone-ness might pop?
More than anything, I love hiking and walking and biking alone because:
1. I’m thinking-dreaming-imagining-mulling.
2. Being in nature is as close as I will ever get to a spiritual connection.
3. I love the freedom of going whenever and wherever I want to go.
Wanting to be alone is not a rejection of the people I love – in fact, I can only enjoy being alone knowing there are people I love in my life.
But I know I have to nurture myself in order to give myself to others. And that’s the real value of being alone.
January 23, 2017
But Then That Happened
About a year ago I began writing a new novel. When I write a novel, I pour my heart into every word.
I face my emotions – often buried, uncomfortable emotions – to better understand (and ultimately, express) our shared humanity.
I find compassion for every character in my story, in order to tell their story.
I make myself vulnerable by writing for our most vulnerable population: Kids.
I write to let them know their individuality is beautiful, no matter how scared and insecure they may feel now.
I write to help them develop empathy for other individuals who are traveling on a different path, sometimes more difficult and challenging than their own.
I write because I feel it’s my calling — and every adult’s responsibility — to empower all kids with hope.
But then November 8th happened. And I stopped writing. Because, for the first time in my life, I’d lost hope.
It had nothing to do with a particular political party or ideological choices or conservative values.
It had to do with morality.
How could children believe they mattered after adults had anointed a bully to lead and represent us? A man who revels in humiliating others. Who openly degrades and mocks individuality. Who appears void of unconditional love or empathy. Who permits only those like him to have hope.
But then January 21st happened. And as I stood in moral solidarity with millions of women, men, children, teens, and all those in between — from every corner of this small planet we ALL share — I found hope again.
And I’m back pouring my heart into every word.
I face my emotions – often buried, uncomfortable emotions – to better understand (and ultimately, express) our shared humanity.
I find compassion for every character in my story, in order to tell their story.
I make myself vulnerable by writing for our most vulnerable population: Kids.
I write to let them know their individuality is beautiful, no matter how scared and insecure they may feel now.
I write to help them develop empathy for other individuals who are traveling on a different path, sometimes more difficult and challenging than their own.
I write because I feel it’s my calling — and every adult’s responsibility — to empower all kids with hope.
But then November 8th happened. And I stopped writing. Because, for the first time in my life, I’d lost hope.
It had nothing to do with a particular political party or ideological choices or conservative values.
It had to do with morality.
How could children believe they mattered after adults had anointed a bully to lead and represent us? A man who revels in humiliating others. Who openly degrades and mocks individuality. Who appears void of unconditional love or empathy. Who permits only those like him to have hope.
But then January 21st happened. And as I stood in moral solidarity with millions of women, men, children, teens, and all those in between — from every corner of this small planet we ALL share — I found hope again.
And I’m back pouring my heart into every word.
January 3, 2017
What Were Yours?
I often ask people what they’ve read or watched or heard or attended lately as I rely on personal recommendations far more than any “professional” reviewer.
And I’ve found the best discoveries are often the most affordable… like everything offered by my local library and free waterfront concerts in Boston!
The past year has been filled with bizarre highs and lows, so it was more important than ever to walk out that front door and explore. Below are some of my favorite things in 2016 ~ I’d love to hear yours!
MUSIC: I cannot get enough of this group (recommended by my son last spring) and I recently heard Bonnie Raitt say the same thing about them…
MOVIE: Of the few releases I saw in 2016, nothing bowled me over with the exception of JOY, because it introduced an up-and-coming extra (and my good friend), Nancy Crochiere! Nancy appeared in JOY something like 10 times? And she’s obviously carrying this scene between Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper…
(Look for Nancy in more Boston-based major motion pictures to come!)
TRAIL: Short but so sweet. What a thrill to come across this gem of a trail in Vermont with my daughter last April, complete with serene poetry stops…
TELLY-VISION: So I never saw Mad Men when it was popular, but started watching a few months ago in 2016, and I’m hooked! Veep and Silicon Valley are still my two current favorites, but my vote for best 2016 debut series is…
MEADOW: Nothing makes me melt the way a soft meadow can — 3000 miles west and nearly 10,000 feet above my home in Massachusetts lies the most breathtaking one I’ve ever seen…
Dana Meadows
RESTAURANT: Lots of trendy restaurants open up in our part of the world every year, but there’s just something about this one in Amesbury, appealing in every way…
BOOKS: My two prolific writing pals, Holly Robinson and Edith Maxwell, both came out with terrific new novels in 2016! Check out FOLLY COVE by Holly and DELIVERING THE TRUTH by Edith. And one of my best picks of the year — which I read at the beginning of 2016 and can’t stop thinking about — is this historical novel…
MUNICIPALITY: Hard to believe I’d never been, as I’ve visited Manhattan and Queens many times, but after visiting my son in his new apartment last year, I fell in love with…
EVENT: Not only is this an incredibly fun way to spend an evening, but it’s cheap too! My husband and I were treated by our daughter to the…
So what were some of your favorites in 2016?
(Photos: Courtesy of Google Images and The YouTubes)
December 8, 2016
Fly Me to the Moon
If I’ve learned anything as I get older — which is very little — it’s that living life in the moment yields the greatest results, love is the true source of all happiness, and looking up at the moon before bed guarantees a better night of sleep.
So this is the time of year when I take deep breaths… and remind myself to cherish the present and those I adore and that sweet face in the sky.
That said, I wish I could give a warm hug to every supportive friend and reader. As anyone who works as an artist knows, choosing a career of creativity is a tricky path… and it takes a village of kindness to keep us on it.
As a very small thank you…
Book Giveaways are currently running on Goodreads for:
* 3 signed copies of THE SUGAR MOUNTAIN SNOW BALL (2016 Gold Moonbeam Award winner) HERE from Dec 6th – Dec 13th!
and
* 3 signed copies of THE ISLAND OF BEYOND (New York Public Library Best 2016 Kids & Teens Books list) HERE from Dec 8th – Dec 16th!
~Happy Holidays~
Here’s to our one little life, love, and looking up…
So this is the time of year when I take deep breaths… and remind myself to cherish the present and those I adore and that sweet face in the sky.
That said, I wish I could give a warm hug to every supportive friend and reader. As anyone who works as an artist knows, choosing a career of creativity is a tricky path… and it takes a village of kindness to keep us on it.
As a very small thank you…
Book Giveaways are currently running on Goodreads for:
* 3 signed copies of THE SUGAR MOUNTAIN SNOW BALL (2016 Gold Moonbeam Award winner) HERE from Dec 6th – Dec 13th!
and
* 3 signed copies of THE ISLAND OF BEYOND (New York Public Library Best 2016 Kids & Teens Books list) HERE from Dec 8th – Dec 16th!
~Happy Holidays~
Here’s to our one little life, love, and looking up…
Photos: Google Images
November 22, 2016
Random Gems
I’m sure this happens to most people.
Once in a while, an experience – no matter how brief or insignificant – becomes permanently lodged in your memory and can be envisioned at any time.
Like a grain of sand caught inside an oyster, I like to think of these memory bits as mind pearls.
My earliest mind pearl involves a mundane Mr. Bubble bath at the age of three with my pink elephant bathtub scrub brush.
I can also easily recall, around the same year, the exact moment I dramatically caught a neighbor’s horse in our front yard.
Some mind pearls are upsetting, like the second I saw my dog break through ice on the lake. Others are baffling, like a colleague (decades ago) who showed me a New Yorker cartoon at my desk… inexplicably stuck in my head forever.
The best mind pearls are the ones I treasure and make me smile. Like the time I traveled to a big city book conference and got lost.
I had taken the subway from the airport, but hopped off one stop too soon. And the GPS on my cell phone couldn’t locate anything between the tall buildings.
A woman hurrying toward me glanced up and caught my eye, so I asked for directions to such-and-such avenue.
In her lovely, lilting accent — revealing her foreign roots — she pointed back and forth and left and right, but could see I was confused. So she generously offered to turn around and show me the way.
During the past two weeks, the turmoil in our country has worried me… but I’ve thought of that woman’s kindness often, and notice I’m smiling more at strangers, holding doors wider for strangers, hoping to find the way forward together.
Once in a while, an experience – no matter how brief or insignificant – becomes permanently lodged in your memory and can be envisioned at any time.
Like a grain of sand caught inside an oyster, I like to think of these memory bits as mind pearls.
My earliest mind pearl involves a mundane Mr. Bubble bath at the age of three with my pink elephant bathtub scrub brush.
I can also easily recall, around the same year, the exact moment I dramatically caught a neighbor’s horse in our front yard.
Some mind pearls are upsetting, like the second I saw my dog break through ice on the lake. Others are baffling, like a colleague (decades ago) who showed me a New Yorker cartoon at my desk… inexplicably stuck in my head forever.
The best mind pearls are the ones I treasure and make me smile. Like the time I traveled to a big city book conference and got lost.
I had taken the subway from the airport, but hopped off one stop too soon. And the GPS on my cell phone couldn’t locate anything between the tall buildings.
A woman hurrying toward me glanced up and caught my eye, so I asked for directions to such-and-such avenue.
In her lovely, lilting accent — revealing her foreign roots — she pointed back and forth and left and right, but could see I was confused. So she generously offered to turn around and show me the way.
During the past two weeks, the turmoil in our country has worried me… but I’ve thought of that woman’s kindness often, and notice I’m smiling more at strangers, holding doors wider for strangers, hoping to find the way forward together.
November 8, 2016
#ImWithPuppies
While the whole world worries about today’s election – wondering if Americans could possibly choose to elect a bigoted, misogynist, narcissistic, rude, crude, tyrannical buffoon with zero qualifications to head a school committee, let alone lead a country – I thought it might be a good time to offer a much-needed distraction.
You know how the best surprises come when you least expect them and need them most?
Well, a couple of weeks ago — when my husband and I were driving to our Airbnb rental in Yosemite National Park — I was definitely expecting the worst.
We had just left San Francisco where several people had expressed concern over our choice of lodging in the park: a rustic Airbnb cabin (that may or may not have an adequate source of heat) located 25 winding miles south of the Yosemite Valley entrance.
Adding to the doubters, we had heard that it had recently snowed throughout Yosemite and that some of it was still closed, including the Tioga Pass over to Lake Tahoe where we were driving next.
To make matters worse, our Airbnb host had been incommunicado all week when I tried to contact him about the aforementioned concerns.
In the past, I have always had excellent experiences with Airbnb hosts. I look for the 4 and 5-star reviews and read a lot of the comments. Like all the others, this particular Airbnb host (I’ll call him Jasper) had great ratings, so I was completely baffled by his lack of communication.
Jasper had not replied to a single one of my emails, and when I called the cell phone listed on his profile, the automated voice mail message informed me that his message center had not yet been set up.
Finally I tracked down a family landline number (through some googling) where I left a rather desperate message informing whoever lived there that we were just a few hours away and would very much like someone (anyone) to call us back.
About 45 minutes before our imminent arrival, and despite very spotty coverage, my cell phone rang. Jasper! I was so relieved to hear his voice… until he actually started to talk.
To put it simply, Jasper sounded somewhat “dazed and confused,” barely increasing my confidence in the pending accommodations. However, he was able to confirm that the cabin existed, that we could still stay there, and that there was a working propane heater.
Forty-five minutes later, we pulled up to Jasper’s house where he told us to meet him. Of course, no one was home. We knocked and rang and peeked in the unlit windows, but nothing. The sun had already set and it was starting to get cold, so we followed the only sound we could hear… a leaf blower off in the distance.
Lo and behold, it was Jasper blowing away pine needles in the woods.
He was tall and lanky, with wide eyes and a full beard – and not surprisingly, he seemed surprised to see us.
After introducing ourselves, Jasper led us to the bottom of the hill to show us our rental. To our utter amazement (and enormous relief), the tidy cabin was toasty warm and fully equipped, with a huge deck and a gorgeous view.
Because of the recent snow, the nearby river was rushing – an added bonus, Jasper told us, since it had been dry since the end of July.
Suddenly, our host had an idea. Would we like to take a night-time walk along the rushing river at that very moment?
Why not, we thought. We were freezing and starving and needed to unpack the car, but the moon was full and the air was sweet.
As we stepped outside, Jasper asked us to wait a minute while he ran back to his house to get his dog, who hadn’t had a walk all day. That was fine with us as we love dogs and were missing our own.
So we sat down on the lovely deck and waited for Jasper to return.
A few minutes passed, then 5 minutes, 10 minutes… 15 minutes. We began to guess what could have happened:
a) Jasper got hungry and decided to make a hamburger.
b) Jasper turned on the TV and got sucked into a rerun of My Favorite Martian.
c) Jasper noticed he hadn’t finished the Sudoku puzzle in the newspaper and was working on it at the kitchen table.
Just as we gave up, stood up, and opened the door to our cabin, we heard a peculiar whimpering noise through the trees. I squinted into the dark as my husband shined a flashlight up the dirt driveway…
All at once, a stampede of eight tiny puppies tumbled down the hill, followed by their mom who was herding them forward. Pulling up the rear was Jasper.
“Everyone wanted to come,” he called, “but it was hard to get them all organized!”
You know, you really haven’t lived until you arrive in the quiet forest of Yosemite National Park as the sun is setting and the water is rushing and the full moon is shining and 8 puppies remind you just how truly spectacular the world can be.
Another 5-star Airbnb rating for Jasper and his awesome cabin in the woods.
You know how the best surprises come when you least expect them and need them most?
Well, a couple of weeks ago — when my husband and I were driving to our Airbnb rental in Yosemite National Park — I was definitely expecting the worst.
We had just left San Francisco where several people had expressed concern over our choice of lodging in the park: a rustic Airbnb cabin (that may or may not have an adequate source of heat) located 25 winding miles south of the Yosemite Valley entrance.
Adding to the doubters, we had heard that it had recently snowed throughout Yosemite and that some of it was still closed, including the Tioga Pass over to Lake Tahoe where we were driving next.
To make matters worse, our Airbnb host had been incommunicado all week when I tried to contact him about the aforementioned concerns.
In the past, I have always had excellent experiences with Airbnb hosts. I look for the 4 and 5-star reviews and read a lot of the comments. Like all the others, this particular Airbnb host (I’ll call him Jasper) had great ratings, so I was completely baffled by his lack of communication.
Jasper had not replied to a single one of my emails, and when I called the cell phone listed on his profile, the automated voice mail message informed me that his message center had not yet been set up.
Finally I tracked down a family landline number (through some googling) where I left a rather desperate message informing whoever lived there that we were just a few hours away and would very much like someone (anyone) to call us back.
About 45 minutes before our imminent arrival, and despite very spotty coverage, my cell phone rang. Jasper! I was so relieved to hear his voice… until he actually started to talk.
To put it simply, Jasper sounded somewhat “dazed and confused,” barely increasing my confidence in the pending accommodations. However, he was able to confirm that the cabin existed, that we could still stay there, and that there was a working propane heater.
Forty-five minutes later, we pulled up to Jasper’s house where he told us to meet him. Of course, no one was home. We knocked and rang and peeked in the unlit windows, but nothing. The sun had already set and it was starting to get cold, so we followed the only sound we could hear… a leaf blower off in the distance.
Lo and behold, it was Jasper blowing away pine needles in the woods.
He was tall and lanky, with wide eyes and a full beard – and not surprisingly, he seemed surprised to see us.
After introducing ourselves, Jasper led us to the bottom of the hill to show us our rental. To our utter amazement (and enormous relief), the tidy cabin was toasty warm and fully equipped, with a huge deck and a gorgeous view.
Because of the recent snow, the nearby river was rushing – an added bonus, Jasper told us, since it had been dry since the end of July.
Suddenly, our host had an idea. Would we like to take a night-time walk along the rushing river at that very moment?
Why not, we thought. We were freezing and starving and needed to unpack the car, but the moon was full and the air was sweet.
As we stepped outside, Jasper asked us to wait a minute while he ran back to his house to get his dog, who hadn’t had a walk all day. That was fine with us as we love dogs and were missing our own.
So we sat down on the lovely deck and waited for Jasper to return.
A few minutes passed, then 5 minutes, 10 minutes… 15 minutes. We began to guess what could have happened:
a) Jasper got hungry and decided to make a hamburger.
b) Jasper turned on the TV and got sucked into a rerun of My Favorite Martian.
c) Jasper noticed he hadn’t finished the Sudoku puzzle in the newspaper and was working on it at the kitchen table.
Just as we gave up, stood up, and opened the door to our cabin, we heard a peculiar whimpering noise through the trees. I squinted into the dark as my husband shined a flashlight up the dirt driveway…
All at once, a stampede of eight tiny puppies tumbled down the hill, followed by their mom who was herding them forward. Pulling up the rear was Jasper.
“Everyone wanted to come,” he called, “but it was hard to get them all organized!”
You know, you really haven’t lived until you arrive in the quiet forest of Yosemite National Park as the sun is setting and the water is rushing and the full moon is shining and 8 puppies remind you just how truly spectacular the world can be.
Another 5-star Airbnb rating for Jasper and his awesome cabin in the woods.
(Organizing everyone in Jasper’s truck after the walk)
October 25, 2016
sweet surrender
Most of us cling to something we’re never without… like chapstick or tissues or (most obvious of all) a cellphone.
Only one thing causes me instant anxiety as soon as I discover it’s been left behind.
In fact, “anxiety” may be an understatement as I usually break out into a panicked sweat as soon as I realize it’s not within immediate reach. After all, I often haul around enough of it to sustain the average person for a week.
What is it?
When I signed up to teach in China a few summers ago, my only concern was the accessibility of drinking water at all times.
During the various meetings before the trip, people inquired about the pollution levels, the language barrier, the school schedule, the intense humidity with temps regularly over 100…
Not me.
“Will we have constant access to drinking water?” I would ask every chance I got.
The person replying usually frowned, and their answer was never reassuring.
Every year for many years, my birthday and xmas lists have included Another New Water Bottle
as if it’s normal to collect them… such a fun hobby!
But I’ve rarely ever received one as a gift, as my family has tried hard to ignore my water fixation.
That is, until last year when my daughter gave me what she believed to be the perfect present… one that would end my obsession with personal H2O storage once and for all: A magical, self-filtering water bottle with a cartridge powerful enough to purify a puddle on Pluto!
The problem was, despite the label’s marketing claims and EPA certification, I didn’t trust the magical water bottle. Completely illogical, I know, but my natural instincts are almost always opposite of common sense.
So my daughter’s thoughtful gift sat in a kitchen cabinet collecting dust for months, until my husband innocently inquired one day if he could bring it along it on motorcycle trip “just in case” he needed it.
Soon, he was taking it on every lengthy excursion — during a day of boating or even to a three-night rock concert in Tennessee. I have no doubt he dipped that filtered container into any old water source.
It began to bother me, his casual relationship with H2O, but at the same time I envied him. I wanted to believe in the magical water bottle too.
And then last week we traveled to Yosemite National Park for our 30th wedding anniversary.
My husband suggested we pack the “you-know-what” for our hikes, but I smugly reminded him that water wouldn’t be running in Yosemite this time of year, especially as CA has been suffering a drought.
However, as soon as our plane landed in San Francisco, the skies opened up and it poured for days. By the time we arrived in Yosemite, the replenished rivers were flowing once again from the snow-capped peaks — unlike any precipitation people had seen in a long time.
Fresh…
Clear…
Mountain Water!
On our last day, we were driving over the Sierra Nevadas at an altitude of nearly 10,000 feet when I reached for my nearby water bottle. I noticed it was almost empty, so I twisted around to grab another on the back seat.
“Hey! Where are the 7 others I filled before we left this morning?”
“I don’t know.” My husband smiled mischievously. “Did you forget them?”
“No,” I stammered and began to sweat. ” I mean they were… but I must have… at least I think I –“
Suddenly, he pulled over on the side of the road near a roaring waterfall beneath a jagged, snowy cliff. Then he reached under the car seat and pulled out the magical bottle.
“This will be the best water you’ve ever had,” he said. “I promise.”
#bestwateriveeverhad
Now if I could only find a filter for my dark chocolate habit…
Only one thing causes me instant anxiety as soon as I discover it’s been left behind.
In fact, “anxiety” may be an understatement as I usually break out into a panicked sweat as soon as I realize it’s not within immediate reach. After all, I often haul around enough of it to sustain the average person for a week.
What is it?
When I signed up to teach in China a few summers ago, my only concern was the accessibility of drinking water at all times.
During the various meetings before the trip, people inquired about the pollution levels, the language barrier, the school schedule, the intense humidity with temps regularly over 100…
Not me.
“Will we have constant access to drinking water?” I would ask every chance I got.
The person replying usually frowned, and their answer was never reassuring.
Every year for many years, my birthday and xmas lists have included Another New Water Bottle
as if it’s normal to collect them… such a fun hobby!But I’ve rarely ever received one as a gift, as my family has tried hard to ignore my water fixation.
That is, until last year when my daughter gave me what she believed to be the perfect present… one that would end my obsession with personal H2O storage once and for all: A magical, self-filtering water bottle with a cartridge powerful enough to purify a puddle on Pluto!
The problem was, despite the label’s marketing claims and EPA certification, I didn’t trust the magical water bottle. Completely illogical, I know, but my natural instincts are almost always opposite of common sense.
So my daughter’s thoughtful gift sat in a kitchen cabinet collecting dust for months, until my husband innocently inquired one day if he could bring it along it on motorcycle trip “just in case” he needed it.
Soon, he was taking it on every lengthy excursion — during a day of boating or even to a three-night rock concert in Tennessee. I have no doubt he dipped that filtered container into any old water source.
It began to bother me, his casual relationship with H2O, but at the same time I envied him. I wanted to believe in the magical water bottle too.
And then last week we traveled to Yosemite National Park for our 30th wedding anniversary.
My husband suggested we pack the “you-know-what” for our hikes, but I smugly reminded him that water wouldn’t be running in Yosemite this time of year, especially as CA has been suffering a drought.
However, as soon as our plane landed in San Francisco, the skies opened up and it poured for days. By the time we arrived in Yosemite, the replenished rivers were flowing once again from the snow-capped peaks — unlike any precipitation people had seen in a long time.
Fresh…
Clear…
Mountain Water!
On our last day, we were driving over the Sierra Nevadas at an altitude of nearly 10,000 feet when I reached for my nearby water bottle. I noticed it was almost empty, so I twisted around to grab another on the back seat.
“Hey! Where are the 7 others I filled before we left this morning?”
“I don’t know.” My husband smiled mischievously. “Did you forget them?”
“No,” I stammered and began to sweat. ” I mean they were… but I must have… at least I think I –“
Suddenly, he pulled over on the side of the road near a roaring waterfall beneath a jagged, snowy cliff. Then he reached under the car seat and pulled out the magical bottle.
“This will be the best water you’ve ever had,” he said. “I promise.”
#bestwateriveeverhad
Now if I could only find a filter for my dark chocolate habit…
October 12, 2016
Have you heard?
Despite the fact we’re all overloaded with information these days, I feel more out of the loop than ever.
My social media news feeds have grown so narrow, the same dozen people continuously repeat.
Links to other sites have become so manic in their delivery (plus those pesky pop-up ads) I usually skip over them.
TV headlines are so sensational, my nerves are shot by the end of the first story.
In-depth radio reports leave me so weary, I worry about everyone involved for days.
Buying a “paper” newspaper makes me feel so guilty… but I can’t manage to navigate the virtual versions online.
Consequently, I’m constantly asking people what’s happening: Where is the hurricane now? When are we flying people to Mars? What did North Korea do yesterday? Is that trial still going on? Who was seen with Brad Pitt? Why are we still watching debates? How did that whole clown thing start?
Sooo……….. just in case I’ve slipped from your radar (intentionally or not
) below is a quick round-up of my recent book news!~ THE SUGAR MOUNTAIN SNOW BALL (“the perfect holiday book”) won a 2016 Gold Moonbeam Award this month, a Top Choice Award from LitPick, surpassed 1000 views on youtube, and will be reviewed in New Hampshire Magazine in November! More info HERE
~ Newly released THE ISLAND OF BEYOND continues to collect wonderful reviews & ratings from around the world! Including this recent review by the fabulous middle grade author & teacher, Luke Reynolds:
“I read this book in two bursts, finishing with tears in my eyes and hopes that all my 7th grade students would read it. It is a beautiful rumination on acceptance, complexity, and embracing who we really are. I highly recommend it!”
More info HERE
~ Award–winning I, EMMA FREKE, now has over 1700 ratings on Goodreads! And did you know a variety of audio formats of EMMA F can be found, including a CD version by Recorded Books, Audible on Amazon, and the ITunes download – listen to a one-minute sample HERE
~ My debut novel, FROM ALICE TO ZEN, was recently read to the entire 5th grade of Amesbury Middle School by their teachers which made for a wonderful author visit! It continues to be used for anti-bullying programs throughout the country! More info HERE
Fall CALENDAR
If you’re in the area, I hope you’ll join me for these upcoming public events:
– October 27 (Thursday 6:30pm) — GAR Memorial Library (West Newbury, MA) “Slightly Scary Readings!” with the Nevertheless Writers: More info HERE
– November 12 (Saturday 10 – 3) – Central MA Children’s Book Festival (Gardner, MA) on the campus of Mt Wachusett Community College: More info HERE
– November 18 (Friday 7pm) – Newbury Public Library with the Nevertheless Writers: “Gratitudes & Etudes” featuring readings accompanied by classical guitarist, Scott Ouellette: More info HERE
– December 6 (Tuesday, 7pm) – “Hiring a Professional Editor” Hamilton-Wenham Public Library with authors, HOLLY ROBINSON, EDITH MAXWELL and ELIZABETH ATKINSON: More info HERE
My school visit schedule is filling up! Find out more HERE — and don’t forget, my Skype visits are free!
September 28, 2016
The more things change…
A couple weekends ago, the book club to which I belong — and lovingly refer to as The Divine Yu-Yus — drove up to stay with me at my cottage in Maine. This group of bright, opinionated, funny, fascinating women formed more than 20 years ago. And over the years, we’ve spent many weekends together. These trips are always a wonderful chance to grow even closer, support and cheer each other on, and share our stories.
Last weekend, the motorcycle club to which my husband belongs — and I lovingly refer to as The Hot Chocolate Gang — drove up to stay with him at our cottage in Maine. This group loosely consists of any middle-aged man with a motorized two-wheeled vehicle who’s anxious to get away from it all for a few days. It’s a wonderful chance for these men to play freely like prepubescent boys, make disgusting noises without fear of retribution, and pretend they’re immortal.
If you peeked into the kitchen during the Yu-Yus’ stay, you would find a wide variety of organic fruits & vegetables, farmers market cheeses, freshly baked breads, authentic pasta, homemade granola, Greek yogurt, a delicious blueberry crisp, and four kinds of dark chocolate.
If you peeked into the kitchen during the Hot Chocolates’ stay, you would find a wide variety of chips & munchies, steak, onions, eggs, bacon, peanut M&Ms, ready-made garlic bread, sour cream, bagels, and store-bought pies.
If you listened to the conversation during the Yu-Yus’ stay, you would hear women concerned about the state of national politics, the educational system, and social media, as well as discussions about relationships, children, books, movies, food, yoga, travel, and our aging bodies.
If you listened to the conversation during the Hot Chocolates’ stay, you would hear men talk about their motorcycles, football, motorcycles for sale, the fire in the fireplace, motorcycle accessories, aches and pains, potential future motorcycle trips, and cars.
Over the course of our weekend, the Yu-Yus hiked, swam, dined out, stargazed, played charades, and attempted slumber party games just like the ones we played when we were girls.
Over the course of their weekend, the Hot Chocolates rode their motorcycles on the road and off the road, fixed their motorcycles, visited a motorcycle museum, used their motorcycles for practical jokes, and raced each other on their motorcycles just like they dreamed about when they were boys.
Leading me to believe…
The more things change,
the more they stay the same.
(Photo Credits: some personal, some from Google Images)
Last weekend, the motorcycle club to which my husband belongs — and I lovingly refer to as The Hot Chocolate Gang — drove up to stay with him at our cottage in Maine. This group loosely consists of any middle-aged man with a motorized two-wheeled vehicle who’s anxious to get away from it all for a few days. It’s a wonderful chance for these men to play freely like prepubescent boys, make disgusting noises without fear of retribution, and pretend they’re immortal.
If you peeked into the kitchen during the Yu-Yus’ stay, you would find a wide variety of organic fruits & vegetables, farmers market cheeses, freshly baked breads, authentic pasta, homemade granola, Greek yogurt, a delicious blueberry crisp, and four kinds of dark chocolate.
If you peeked into the kitchen during the Hot Chocolates’ stay, you would find a wide variety of chips & munchies, steak, onions, eggs, bacon, peanut M&Ms, ready-made garlic bread, sour cream, bagels, and store-bought pies.
If you listened to the conversation during the Yu-Yus’ stay, you would hear women concerned about the state of national politics, the educational system, and social media, as well as discussions about relationships, children, books, movies, food, yoga, travel, and our aging bodies.
If you listened to the conversation during the Hot Chocolates’ stay, you would hear men talk about their motorcycles, football, motorcycles for sale, the fire in the fireplace, motorcycle accessories, aches and pains, potential future motorcycle trips, and cars.
Over the course of our weekend, the Yu-Yus hiked, swam, dined out, stargazed, played charades, and attempted slumber party games just like the ones we played when we were girls.
Over the course of their weekend, the Hot Chocolates rode their motorcycles on the road and off the road, fixed their motorcycles, visited a motorcycle museum, used their motorcycles for practical jokes, and raced each other on their motorcycles just like they dreamed about when they were boys.
Leading me to believe…
The more things change,
the more they stay the same.
(Photo Credits: some personal, some from Google Images)
September 12, 2016
holding on
I often wonder why simple summer experiences gave me such pure joy as a kid?
Why was it so thrilling to walk barefoot in the sand? Or eat an ice cream cone? Or run through a sprinkler? Or search for gold in a brook? Or discover a chocolate Easter egg behind the couch in August? Or turn cartwheels all the way across a field?
Probably nothing delighted me more than slipping into small, secret spaces, like a tent or a tepee or, best of all, an indoor fort . . . which involved sheets and blankets strewn across tables and chairs. And if I got to spend the night in my fort — that magical portal into a parallel universe — my life was complete.
I remember building a particularly elaborate fort with a friend one summer evening, with designated rooms including a “kitchen” area stocked with illicit snacks. But in the middle of the night, when we were sound asleep, our fort suddenly collapsed. The effect was so startling (horrifying really), it was if a balloon had popped while inside the balloon! The magic instantly vanished. From then on, I always double-checked every corner of my fort to make sure it was secure.
I can still detect sparks of childhood bliss occasionally when I speed downhill on a bike, or spot a tiny toad in the woods, or soak in a thunderstorm on the front porch. But in some ways, like a kid in summer, I’ve never stopped trying to create the perfect fort . . . a secret refuge that never fails me, where my imaginary world is cozy and safe, and full of endless possibilities.
Why was it so thrilling to walk barefoot in the sand? Or eat an ice cream cone? Or run through a sprinkler? Or search for gold in a brook? Or discover a chocolate Easter egg behind the couch in August? Or turn cartwheels all the way across a field?
Probably nothing delighted me more than slipping into small, secret spaces, like a tent or a tepee or, best of all, an indoor fort . . . which involved sheets and blankets strewn across tables and chairs. And if I got to spend the night in my fort — that magical portal into a parallel universe — my life was complete.
I remember building a particularly elaborate fort with a friend one summer evening, with designated rooms including a “kitchen” area stocked with illicit snacks. But in the middle of the night, when we were sound asleep, our fort suddenly collapsed. The effect was so startling (horrifying really), it was if a balloon had popped while inside the balloon! The magic instantly vanished. From then on, I always double-checked every corner of my fort to make sure it was secure.
I can still detect sparks of childhood bliss occasionally when I speed downhill on a bike, or spot a tiny toad in the woods, or soak in a thunderstorm on the front porch. But in some ways, like a kid in summer, I’ve never stopped trying to create the perfect fort . . . a secret refuge that never fails me, where my imaginary world is cozy and safe, and full of endless possibilities.
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