Lani Wendt Young's Blog, page 9

Going Global and FREE for 24 hrs

Hi everyone - a quick announcement,

To celebrate the Wellington Launch of 'TELESA:The Covenant Keeper', hosted by Victoria University and to thank you all for your overwhelming support - the electronic book will be available for FREE download from Amazon.com. This free promotion will last only 24 hours beginning at midnight tonight. It is our goal to take this Pacific story to as many global readers as possible, in a single day. If you have not yet got yourself a copy, I invite you to grab one now. If you're already a TELESA reader, then please share this promotion with all your contacts and via all your social media. Remember, you do not need to own a Kindle or e-reading device to download your FREE copy of TELESA. You can get the free Kindle Application from Amazon.com for your phone/laptop/PC/iPad and read TELESA any way you like. The following link will take you to the Amazon.com listing for Telesa.http://www.amazon.com/Telesa-The-Covenant-Keeper-ebook/dp/B005I3WD8Q/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1332236057&sr=8-1  
Thank you so much for all your book support and encouragement,
Lani Wendt YoungSleepless in Samoa

Dark and Dreadful Secrets AND When Water Burns - pg 77

I'm being forced to reveal some dark and dreadful secrets....they start with a piece of my next book 'When Water Burns' because I've been tagged for the Lucky 7 MEME by Lan at 'The Write Obsession'The rules are:1. Go to page 77 of your current MS.2. Go to line 7.3. Copy down the next 7 lines ( sentences or paragraphs) and post them as they're written.4. Tag 7 writers and let them know.Thanks Lan! ( I think.) 
So here's a piece from page 77 of 'When Water Burns'.
One of the most disconcerting things about being the ungifted daughter of a telesa, is having your mother grow old – and remain ageless. While an increasingly worn face and grey hair greets you in the mirror. As a taulasea, natural healer, Salamasina well knew all of the concoctions which the telesa drank to help retain their youthful looks and yes, there were years long ago when she too had brewed them for herself. For vanity's sake. But there is an ingredient for true telesa youth which could not be replicated. Power. Fanua ola. The life force of our mother earth. Every time a telesa called on her mother earth to unleash her gifts, that same power coursed through her veins with a rejuvenating effect. Renewing tired cells. The more a telesa used her gifts, the stronger she became. The older a telesa, the more potent her gifts. And the more hauntingly youthful was her beauty.
Which is why, when Salamasina answered the sharp knock on her door that morning, and saw the woman who stood there, it was like seeing a ghost from her past. A face unmarked by time. 
The face of her mother. 
Seven MEME Questions have to be Answered as well...1. What is your dream vacation? An air conditioned 5 star hotel with superb room service that's right next to a gigantic shopping mall and my Kindle loaded with all the latest books from my favorite authors. And not a single child anywhere. ( Sorry Fabulous 5. For some strange reason, you are never included in my perfect vacation dreams...I wonder why?)
2. Are you spontaneous? Or do you like to plan? I do like to write a lot of lists. They make me feel organized. But truthfully, I get all my bestest ideas for projects/events etc the night before. Or that day. Then I run around like a headless chicken on crack to make it all happen.
3. One thing you want to do, but don't dare do? Get a tattoo. Like a malu. And maybe something on the back of my neck. And on the inside of my forearm. Behind my left ear. On my lower back. I can dream, right?
4. What's your biggest phobia? Snakes. And attack dogs that bite unfit  fat chicks who don't run fast enough to escape them.
5. If you were stranded on a desert island, what 3 things would you want with you? (not incl yr laptop or family.) My Kindle, Diet Coke and Hermione's magic bag of camping survival tricks. 
6. Name three blessings in your life. My family. The sacred opportunity to be a mother. (Nothing tests me or teaches me more.) And my skinny legs. (they are great diversionary tools)
7. What was your nickname in high school? Mata lulu. Translation - Owl Eyes. (And trust me, there was nothing kindly, endearing, or cute about it...)
8. If you could meet the President of the US what would you say to him? You're amazing but I would really love to meet your wife. Is Mrs Obama around?
9.If you could be any literary character for a day, who would you be? Lady Macbeth. Just because she connects with my inner psycho fierce bad-a** self. 
10. A favorite quote?  "No person is your friend who demands your silence or denies your right to grow."                                             Alice Walker.Thank you Lan and Gossip Girl for the fun MEME. And now the funnest bit...tagging some more writers! If you dont have 77 pages yet then pick page 7...or 17...or 27...*TL Jeffcoat*Paige Kellerman*Sophia the Writer*Seti Matua at LeFolauga ( Come on Seti...I dare you! Just a few lines from pg 77...you can do it!)*Maryanne Pale ( I know you're not writing a book but would LOVE to have you share some of your poetry for this MEME feature...seven lines even?!)*Alica McKenna Johnson*Julianne Dodd (Hopefully the fun hot bits are on pg 77...) Have fun people!

Tattoo Time: Brad Tavares

Back by overwhelming demand and fighting out of the CENSORSHIP corner...I'm happy to present Tattoo Time! Where we studiously examine the artistry and cultural significance of some Polynesian tattoos and (more specifically) the Polynesians who rock them. Today's feature is Brad  Kaipo Tavares from Hawaii. Brad is an American professional mixed martial arts fighter who competes in the middleweight division.  If any of you watch UFC  then you would have caught his tattooed self in the 2010 season of 'The Ultimate Fighter.'  (I cant say if he was any good on UFC because I never watch sports where grown men beat the stuffing out of each other. Unless its rugby. And somebody's having a wardrobe malfunction.)
So how and why did Mr Tavares' tattoos catch my attention? Some of you know that there's a new character introduced in my second TELESA book. His name is Keahi. He's from Hawaii and he has a teensie bit of an attitude problem. He's also a student of 'Lua' which is the traditional Hawaiian martial art...so in the name of research, I turned to Google ( the fountain of all wisdom and knowledge) and Tavares' tattoos were most intriguing. At first I thought Tavares might have some Samoan in him BUT we asked him on Twitter and he graciously replied, "No." (It's okay, we won't hold it against you.) Brad was born in Kailua, Hawaii in 1987 and his fight specialties are muay thai and wrestling. He currently fights out of Las Vegas.
He has a half-sleeve and chest tattoo on his left arm. (You might see it better if he puts his arms up, like so...)
And here it is again, this time in action in the ring.  And here it is with flames. Because everything is better with fire, right? 
And running down his right side is some more ink. This time its his name. (and yes, we have mentioned this point before when discussing SBW's ink...umm, why do you need your own name tattooed on your body? Are you worried you might forget it?) Nevertheless, it is a beautiful piece of tattoo artistry...
 Isn't it so annoying how abs and definition can get in the way of appreciating the tattoo?! 
Tavares also has ink that runs the full length of his right leg which is a first for our Tattoo Time feature.
You can see more of Tavares' tattoos on You Tube here: http://youtu.be/tg_eXUrJFr8 and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-Z4VC6cT3A
And one last time...those tattoos ( HELLO, QUIT LOOKING AT ANYTHING ELSE!)
So there you have it. Tattoo Time with Brad Tavares. Just sharing some of my hard work research efforts with you as I continue on my endless quest to 'Find Keahi.....

Who's Pregnant/Doing Drugs/Getting Wasted Everyday/Running Away?!

A while back, Big Son was in a weird mood.  "You know I'm going to be seventeen soon? And then I'm going to finish high school?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, seventeen is soooo old! What have I really done with my life? What have I achieved? Where am I headed? It all seems so meaningless right now, you know? I don't know what to do. I'm so confused."

His angst was freaking me out. I went into "No-nonsense-Mother-Mode." (Embedded in my psyche from years with my own mother.) "Is this where you tell me you want to quit high school?"

"No."

"Is this where you tell me that you're doing drugs? Getting wasted at school?"

"No!"

"Okay, Is this where you tell me that your girlfriend is pregnant?"

A very emphatic, "NO!"

"Okay, well you know if any of those were true, I would still love you and I would hit you over the head if you didn't talk to me about it. So what is it then?"

"Nothing. I'm just questioning my life and the path I'm on. High school is nearly over and  it feels like there's nothing left out there for me. Im so old and I havent achieved anything meaningful."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh puh-leeaze. You're only seventeen. Way too young to be freaking out over what you think you have and haven't achieved. Get a grip. Go do your homework. And clean your filthy pit of a room while you're at it. The mold growing in there is doing bad things to your brain."

Fast forward to now. I'm thinking about my upcoming birthday next month. Deep sigh. I confide in Big Son. (Because who else am I going to talk to?! The neighbor's cat that scrabbles through our garbage?)  "I don't want to be one step closer to forty. It's soooo old. I don't feel really old. I feel like I havent even started living yet, you know? I mean, what have I really done with my life? There's so many things I havent achieved yet, so many things I should be doing. I don't want to have another birthday. And  time is running out. And I'm in a capital L for Loser place in my mind, you know?"

He raised an eyebrow at me and said, with a completely deadpan face. "Is this where you tell me you're on drugs? Getting wasted every day when we go to school?"

"Huh? No."

"Is this where you tell me you want to quit being a writer, quit being our mother and run away to be a plus-sized supermodel in a KMart catalogue? Or a professional Ryan Reynolds stalker?"

"No!"

Then he looks worried. For real. "Is this where you tell me that you're going to have ANOTHER baby? And I'm going to have to babysit and look after ANOTHER little brother who steals my stuff or ANOTHER little sister who hogs the Xbox?"

"Hell no!"

A shrug. "Okay, well in that case - puhleeaze, you're only 38 mum. Way too young to be thinking about what you have and haven't achieved. Get a grip. Just hurry up and finish writing your next book already."

I'm miffed. "Thanks for nothing. That's not a very nice thing to say to your mother when she's having an inner crisis."

Another shrug. "Just doing it your way." A huge smile. "How does it feel?!"

I scowl. "It sucks. And you forgot the bit where you tell me that you love me no matter what. I think I'm going to go do drugs now. And get wasted. And quit being your mother and run away to be a show-dancer in Vegas. But first, I'm going to have twins so you can have ANOTHER little brother and sister to drive you nuts. Ha! You're going to be soooo sorry that you weren't more sympathetic and helpful to me in my time of need."

Big Son didn't look worried at all. Or even the littlest bit regretful. "Whateverrrr mum."

I think I'm going to talk to the neighbor's cat next time I have a pre-mid-life crisis. Talking to one's children is highly overrated.

Jordan Kwan - A Creative Force from Samoa

One of the things I'm particularly enjoying about being a self-published author, is the opportunity it gives to work with amazing Samoan creative talents. Like photographer and designer - Jordan Kwan. Me and Jordan first 'met' via this blog. He stumbled upon it a long time ago, had a read, and then emailed me his thoughts on it along with an offer..."If you ever need a photographer, I would love to work with you." Last year, cover model Ezra Taylor was passing through Auckland during Rugby World Cup time and there was a window of opportunity to get some pics of him and the print book. Together. A few frantic calls and emails were made and VOILA, Jordan pulled his team together to do a photoshoot AND he discovered a stunning model for 'Leila' named Faith Wulf AND he did a film interview with Ezra for the Samoa book launch. (I felt bad though because we told Mr Taylor that the photoshoot would be very quick and then it took four hours and he had to cancel his man-date with Quade Cooper. Sorry Ezra.) The results have been breathtaking (in my humble and very biased opinion). The TELESA book trailer and promo pics have gone viral and are massively helpful with capturing reader's worldwide.  And it all came about via the wonders of social media...because I have yet to ever meet Jordan, Ezra or Faith in person. (It's also another example of how useful a blog can be when you're trying to be an author...)
It's a privilege to have Jordan share his creative talent with the TELESA series and I look forward to what he dreams up next.  If you're an author looking for a cover designer OR book trailer producer, then you can find Jordan at his FB page: https://www.facebook.com/JkwanPhotography
Here's a newspaper article about Jordan, written by Leone Samu.
                                             Jordan Kwan - A New Creative Forcen October 2011, an epic video trailer for author Lani Wendt Young's latest novel was released on YouTube and immediately clocked up over 1,000 hits in the first 24 hours. It has since been viewed many thousands of times worldwide, aired on Samoa's local television stations as well as on US book review websites and shown at all TELESA book launch activities. The response has been overwhelming with one fan admitting, "I watch the trailer every morning. I love it." Yet the trailer was not the work of some highly paid professional, but rather a young Samoan student studying Geography at the University of Auckland, Jordan Kwan.
 
Despite having no formal training, and limited to pursuing his creative outlet in his spare time outside schoolwork, Jordan's burgeoning talents in the areas of photography and digital media are rapidly gaining him fans and admirers online. Jordan's work has gained invaluable exposure though the power of social media, with Facebook users sharing and giving enthusiastic feedback about his TELESA trailer as well as his photography portfolio. Having established a Facebook page for Jordan Kwan Photography with the original intention "to show my friends and family the projects I'd been working on lately", his following has grown beyond his personal network of friends and people he knows to complete strangers.
 
Jordan is the son of Emma Kwan and comes from the village of Moto'otua. Born in New Zealand, he grew up in Samoa attending Church College of Western Samoa, going on to UPY for his Foundation year and is due to graduate from university studies in May 2012. His passion for photography  and 'playing around' with digital images was sparked in high school. His Computer Studies teacher Lalomanu Moors remembers him as a gifted digital arts student. "He was one of my best students, always working on the computer, trying different things with photoshop." Jordan himself  remembers having an afterschool job during Year 13 at an internet cafe and coming across some guys his age who would come in regularly and use computer programs like Adobe and Photoshop. "I was fascinated and decided to get into myself" . Fast forward a few years and Jordan has made serious investments in camera equiptment, continued to hone his skill, and develop his portfolio. He looks to the award-winning, critically-acclaimed VOGUE photographer Annie Liebowitz as his source of inspiration admiring her signature style and especially her ability to run with an off-the-cuff idea that might completely depart from the original plan but turn out to become yet another innovative, singularly iconic Liebowitz image. 
 
While friends and family have been all too willing to offer their services as models for Jordan, local businesses in Apia have come calling, eager to take advantage of Jordan's skills. He's shot an advertisement for Keli's House of Goodies that airs regularly on TV; dabbled in fashion photography for design store Planation House; done promotional work for Amanaki Hotel and worked as the resident wedding photographer at Maota o Samoa in Vaitele. All of this on top of a growing list of bookings as the word spreads about this talented up-and-comer in high demand ready to capture his clients' special moments.  

Jordan Kwan is a quiet creative force to watch - and follow on Facebook - in the coming year. Article written by: Leone Samu

Bad Mothers are Junkies. And hypocrites.

Don't you just hate it when your kid grows up to be (marginally) smarter than you? And then he doesn't have the sense to hide it from you?

A small confession first. (Because of course, I'm all about protecting my privacy and never, ever blab my mouth off about anything personal on here. Ever.) So, very unusually, I'm divulging a cringeworthy piece of information about myself...I eat fifty Eclipse sugarfree mint candies a day. Some days I even eat a hundred of them. They are very small candies, just a teensie bit bigger than a tic tac so it's not as awful as it sounds. There are 50 in a pack and I eat one pack a day. But if I'm being really honest, I kinda eat two packs a day. Sometimes.

Why? No, not because I have bad breath. (But then it would be really hard to tell anyways, since I eat so many Eclipse mints...) I eat them because I lust and adore them. The minty taste is divine. Kinda like eating toothpaste and sugar and ice all mixed up in one blast. I eat them while I'm sitting at my desk writing. A swig of Diet Coke and three Eclipse...consume...ice-blur your brain....write a paragraph...repeat. I used to eat TicTacs, four packs a day but then I got four cavities in one year while I was writing my first book so I switched to sugar free candy. Problem solved, right?

Umm, no. Now my teeth are fragmenting. In rather frightening zombie-like ways. I eat popcorn in the movies and end up spitting out pieces of teeth. The dentist said, 'Yes, sugarfree mints are way better than TicTacs but 50 mints a day are definitely not good. They are wearing away the enamel on your teeth. You need to stop eating them."

Have I stopped? Umm, no. I did try, but like most of my addictions, my "TRY" didn't last very long. (Can I just add that Im SO glad that I never did drugs in my rebellious youth because I have such an addictive personality that oh-my-crackhead-flyinghighmarijuana-self, I would have totally embraced them.)
So I'm still eating Eclipse. And trying to pretend that it's okay.

Big Son doesn't approve. It might be because he cares about me. Or it might be because he doesn't want to blend all my food for me when I'm fifty and fork out for new titanium teeth for his old mum. Or it might be because he's a smart-a** and rather bossy.

He tells me, "You shouldn't eat Eclipse anymore."
I say, "I'm not chewing them anymore. I just suck on them so they can't damage my enamel anymore."
He says, "That's ridiculous. That's like saying I didn't inhale.There's so many chemicals in those things that you're probably going to get cancer when you get older. You need to quit."
I say, "You don't understand. Eating Eclipse mints MAKES ME HAPPY, dammnit. And life isn't worth living unless you're happy."
He says, "You sound just like a drug addict. That's what they say, I can't live without my fix."
I'm rather horrified that my son has just compared me to a junkie. I say, "Well, look at this as a teaching moment. Learn from my mistakes and never try any addictive substances. Or Eclipse mints."
He says, "You're being hypocritical. What are you teaching me when you're obviously not learning from your own mistake? If I follow your example I should knowingly, willingly engage in activities that are harmful for me just because they give me a momentary high."
I'm not sure how to respond to such logic. He's just so....so....right, that I am momentarily befuddled. So I do the only thing I can do.
I say, "Just be quiet. I'm your mother. I gave you life."

He rolls his eyes at me. And I shake the Eclipse can very loudly ( and defiantly) and shoot up three of them in one go.

Because eating Eclipse MAKES ME HAPPY, dammnit. And even bad hypocrite mothers deserve some happiness in their lives.

But if anyone has the number for an Eclipse Addicts Support Group, please contact me. Secretly. Let's not tell Big Son that I think I MIGHT have a problem. He's fiapoto enough as it is...

When Water Burns - Cover Reveal

So I'm 80% sure that this is the final cover for the second book in the Telesa series: When Water Burns. Huge book-cover love and appreciation going to the team that made it -
      Jordan Kwan, Photographer and designer.
      Faith Wulf, "Leila" model.
      Ezra Taylor, "Daniel" model.

And yes, you are not imagining things, that IS a 'taulima' (arm band tattoo) on Leila's arm. And yes, I know she only had a 'malu' tattoo in the first book...and if you could see his chest, you would note that Daniel also has a new tattoo. Both have special significance, both will be explained in book two.

Another step closer to the release of book two. Thank you for all your encouragement and patience everyone! To help him with the cover design, I gave Jordan a few extracts to read from book two, and he has invested this cover with all kinds of symbolism...so if you feel like getting all deep and meaningful, tell us -                  What does this cover reveal to you?  What do you think it says about 'When Water Burns'?

Dirty Words

                     What I wish uku-killing assassins looked like.
Today I'm going to use some filthy language on this blog. Guaranteed to send the fainter-hearted amongst you, running for the hills.

Head lice.

We've got 'em. Do you?

I've blogged about this nasty stuff before - Waging War on Princess Leia Only this time, it's different. This time, we are facing predators on a whole new level. In Samoa, we call head lice "uku's". Here in New Zealand, they call head lice a Health Board notifiable epidemic. Not long after the Fab 5 started school, Little Daughter came home with a notice. Some unfortunate nameless children had been caught with lice, the appropriate authorities were notified and hence, an epidemic warning to all parents from the Health Board. With instructions on what to do if you caught some and how to do it. I freaked out and my brown mother paranoia set in. I don't ever want the government zoning in on MY child's hair and declaring us brown folks a health hazard, dammnit. Stern warnings were issued to the little ones. We got even more super serious about hair checks.

But in spite of all our efforts, those evil creatures broke through our defenses. Little Daughter confessed, "My head is really itchy. I think I have ukus!" and burst into tears. Why? Because I had freaked her out about the Auckland Health Board. "Are they going to come and get us?" she asked fearfully. I felt bad. (Since she was freaked out because I had been overly freaked out.) "No, no don't be silly. Im going to exterminate every last one of those creatures. No Health officials are going to brand us with a scarlet letter epidemic notice." Bella thought it was funny. She announced dramatically ( loud enough for the neighbors neighbors to hear) "Uku's are eating holes in my brain!"

I have been fighting uku's for nearly three weeks now and have come to a conclusion - NZ head lice are freakish mutants. They just will not die. Three different treatments and countless hours of bug busting combing sessions later and we are finally rid of these pesky parasites. ( I think. For now anyway.) I have subjected these children to enough chemicals to start our own nuclear dump site. Raked through their hair with the vicious single-mindedness of an assassin. I have had to threaten, cajole and bribe them to endure hours of bug searches and shampoo washes. Impatient, wriggly four year old Bella is the worst to treat. I have to tell all sorts of lies when I'm dealing with her.  "I'll let you have bubblegum/watch cartoons/eat cookies if you sit still...Stop moving, or I won't kill them for you, I'll be a bad mother and just LET THEM eat holes in your brain. Come back here, uku's are going to suck your blood like hundreds of little vampires! They're going to crawl into your ears and come out of your nose..." 

 Oh, and all those ads and products with pictures of happy mothers treating their happy children for head lice? Big Fat Uku Lies perpetuated by Big Fat Uku Liars. There is no smiling, laughing or warm, tender moments of love when we are eradicating head lice. Hell no. Not in this house anyway. Especially not when you have three daughters with very long, very thick hair. Who use your hair brush and like to come sleep in your bed in the middle of the night when they've had a bad dream. Bringing their parasites with them. Yeah, you know what happened next, dont you...

Somebody needs to do a scientific study on Samoan ukus and NZ ones. They don't even look the same. And I should know, because I've been killing them with my bare hands. ( Like ninja assassins do.) NZ uku's are a different color than Samoan ones. (And Im not trying to make a racially-driven joke either.) And they have better camouflage techniques than Samoan ones. They are tougher, stronger, faster,  more resistant to radioactive waste. I'm telling you, these NZ uku's are the next evolutionary step  for head lice. Definitely mutants. I was so tempted to resort to the 'traditional' Samoan method for killing uku's. Cut all your child's hair off. Then paint their head with kerosene. And pray they don't go near any open fires. OR wrap half their heads in a plastic bag and spray them with Mortein insect-killer. And keep them home from school so the teacher doesn't smell the pesticide and report you to the Child Protection Authorities for cruel and unusual abuse. Yep, I was tempted.

I think Bella's right. Uku's probably are eating our brains. I know mine isn't working properly anymore.
                         What uku-killing assassins really look like.

Emergencies that Require an Archangel

We spent most of last weekend in the hospital. My teenagers were invited to a BBQ at their aunt's house so they could hang out with other teenagers ( and escape from their slave driver mother.) Big Daughter decided to climb up a tree. Barefoot. In the dark. Even though Big Son told her it was a bad idea. So at 11pm I get a phone call that Big Daughter has cut her foot really bad and needs stitches.

We take her to the afterhours emergency clinic. We sit and wait for two hours. I read a book on my Kindle.The doctor looks at her bloody foot and agrees it needs stitching. He sticks a needle in it four times so that she wont feel the stitches. She cries. I cry. The doctor is very brusque. He pokes around in the mass of bloody flesh and I feel like vomiting. He says, "I cant stitch it because its too deep. She needs to go to the hospital and see a surgeon."
We drive to the local hospital. We wait. Its 3am. The nurse tells us to go home and come back in the morning to see the surgeon. We go home. Daughter sleeps. I fret. Worry. Pray. Bargain with God. Read a steamy Nalini Singh novel on my Kindle. The celestial sensualness of an archangel called Raphael cannot distract me from images of Big Daughter crying while people poke and prod her bloody foot. We go back to the hospital. The doctor says, "It's been too long since the injury. She needs antibiotics fast." They try to stick an IV line into her arm. She cries. I cry. The nurse looks a little irritated. The doctor is very brusque. Big Daughter  has an x-ray. The doctor injects her foot four times again to numb it. Big Daughter cries. I cry. The doctor pokes around inside her foot. "We cant do anything for her. She needs to go to a bigger hospital. She needs an orthopaedic surgeon to operate on it." She cries. I don't cry. I now want to hurt someone. Preferably a doctor. I want to stab them with needles. Scrape their skin off with scalpels. Or just run them over with my imaginary Hummer. The doctor checks Big Daughter's file. Exclaims, "Oh! You're only thirteen years old. We thought you were much older. You're still a child. You should be at the Starship Children's Hospital."  
We go to Starship. Nobody sticks needles in her bloody foot. Nobody cries. A smiley-faced anaesthetist wearing a Winnie the Pooh bandanna puts Big Daughter to sleep. Surgeons cut up her foot, clean it out, check tendons and joints, then sew it all back up again. Me and the Hot Man wait anxiously for three hours.The surgeon says, "The injury just missed an artery and the major tendons. She's very lucky." Daughter wakes up smiling. "I feel great! I've had such a lovely sleep!"  Me and the Hot Man have had zip rest. I spend the night on a mattress on the floor next to her bed. She reads her kindle and I read mine. I zip through two more Nalini Singh books. I check Daughter often to make sure she's still breathing. You never know.
Big Daughter is now at home. Using crutches. She will get her stitches out next week. She complains a lot and cant do any chores around the house. She is getting on my nerves.
Conclusions? 1. I never ever want my daughter to get pregnant. I cannot begin to imagine the suffering I will endure when I watch her struggle through eighteen hours of labor,listening to her screams of agony. (Because of course everything is always about ME.) 2. Tree climbing is lethal. Don't do it. 3. I had no idea how many different, lustrously creative ways there are to describe "getting it on". Until I read three Nalini Singh books in a row. I never thought I would  be sick to bits of "glorious rippling muscular planes" of a hot dude's abs and chest either. There are so many hot dudes in a Singh book that it was getting to be quite tiresome. 4. Get a Kindle. Get your kid a Kindle. Best way to endure boredom, sickness and sleepless nights in a hospital.4. The next time I take Big Daughter to a doctor, I will stick a sign on her forehead. 'EVEN THO I LOOK LIKE A FULL GROWN WOMAN, I'M ACTUALLY ONLY A KID. PLEASE USE THE HANNA MONTANA BANDAIDS AND SUPER SWEET BEDSIDE MANNER.5. We are very blessed to have such healthy children. In Big Daughter's ward were children who have lived in the hospital for months on end. Endured countless surgeries over the years. And sleeping beside their beds every night - are the parents. The family members who must walk beside their child, trying not to cry every time a doctor has to hurt them so they can help them.
I will try to remember all these things. And not get too annoyed with Big Daughter as she recuperates.

The Kiss. (Daniel Speaks)

In honor of Valentine's Day, a gift for TELESA readers - a piece that may (or may not be) Daniel's thoughts on kissing. And that kiss. Hope you enjoy it!
Why is that guys are supposed to have kissed tons of girls – or else they're designated "losers"? While girls are supposed to only have kissed one or two people at the very most - or else they're designated "sluts"? That never made much sense to me at all. But then there's a lot about kissing. And girls. That has always eluded me.

When guys get together they like to talk about girls. Which usually leads to talking about who they've been kissing lately. Or wanting to kiss lately. Me? I like to adopt a 'man of mystery' approach to the whole thing. I tell them that according to my Grandfather, 'a gentleman never kisses and tells.' Which of course makes it sound like I'm getting it on with loads of girls. Ha. When really? The truth? I've only ever kissed two girls. And I'm not sure forced mouth-mashing actually qualifies. Samantha Matu kissed me in Year 5 when the girls were playing 'Chase the boys and Kiss Them.' (Okay, so she was a faster runner than me, but damn, have you seen her? That girl was a giant compared to the rest of us and nobody could escape her. The kiss she plastered on my clamped shut lips was vicious.)  My second kiss wasn't much better. In Year 8 a girl called Malia liked me. So her best friend told my best friend to tell me that I should  meet Malia at the back of the school hall. Well, I did and after standing there in total silence for ten minutes, we both had the same idea and kind of smushed our lips together for all of two seconds. Which left me wondering, 'what the heck is the big deal with kissing anyway?!'

The day I kissed Leila gave me the answer to that question – and then some. We had gone running together at the SamCo field and she had basically killed me in the fitness and endurance department. (Shh, don't tell Coach.) It was getting dark by the time we were done, so the field was empty. Just me and her with the stars coming out. I remember she was wearing blue running shorts and a white singlet with this black sports halter top kinda thing inside it. She was flushed, sweaty and laughing, really loving the fact that she had just kicked my ass on the track. She smiled up at me. That's all it took and everything came to a crashing halt, like someone had taken me out with a killer tackle. No air. No sound. Nothing. Why had the world stopped? Why couldn't I breathe or move or feel anything?
I looked at her. Really looked at her. 


I had seen Leila without a shirt before, so I knew that under the clothes she wore with awkward unease – there was a body that dipped and curved in all the right places. In unforgettable ways. (And believe me, ever since the night I had surprised her at the midnight pool, I had been trying not to remember it.) It was easier when she was in the orange and yellow school uniform everyday, but that night, her workout clothes clung to her with sweat in a way that I bet would have made her really mad if she had known. I tried to focus just on her eyes - but my memory was filling in all the tantalizing gaps. The long legs that went on forever. The slight slouch to her shoulders because she was always trying to hide the fact that she was taller than most everyone around her. Her hands that she would wave around all over the place when she was trying to get her point across. The thick rope of hair that I wished I could loosen from its braid, just so I could see if the sandy highlights would catch fire in the moonlight. Her black onyx eyes that could knife through a guy when he was dumb enough to debate with her. Or soften to a midnight ocean velvet when memories entangled her. Or glint with chipped diamonds of laughter when she was teasing me…Are you sure you're man enough to risk losing a race to a girl? I think I saw you struggling to keep up there for a few laps!


I looked at Leila. And that's when it hit me. 'Damn. She's beautiful.' 
Don't get me wrong. It's not like I thought she was ugly before that. No, it's just that up until that moment, I had been too busy trying to figure her out. Everything about Leila both intrigued  and infuriated me. From her anger to the sadness that she drowned in when she talked about her Dad to her ever-readiness to believe the worst of me. Any encounters with Leila inevitably had me feeling like I wanted to smash stuff. Or like I needed to go for a long, hard swim in a icy cold pool. Or both.
But that night, Leila wasn't making me mad. Or confused. She was just smiling and laughing and talking. And being so damn beautiful that it hurt.  A lot. In my chest. My head. And everywhere else that a guy feels stuff.
We sat and talked but I couldn't tell you what we talked about. I just hope that I made legible sense. I can tell you that she sat beside me on grass that was still warm from the fast fading day. We were barely close enough to touch but every breath I took tasted of her. Chocolate. The savor of roasted koko beans with lots of brown sugar. And hints of vanilla spiced with the burn of chilli. We talked but all I could think about was how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. And wonder... how angry would she be if I tried to kiss her?
And then she ran her fingers along my shoulder, tracing the patterns of the tattoo on my arm. Her touch burned. It was a struggle not to jump up and run a mile in the opposite direction. Because I wanted to touch her back. Hold her. Taste her mouth on mine. And I knew I couldn't. Shouldn't.  
For the barest of moments, I did try to halt the tidal wave of heat that was sweeping me towards her. I tried. And then I wasn't trying anymore. Because then a thought, a longing had melded into a moment. I breathed a kiss on her cheek. Her skin was hot. Sweet. And then her lips were opening under mine and I wasn't thinking anymore. Because I was sinking, melting, drowning in a pool of hot chocolate. Everything splintered into flashes. Swirling like in a kaleidoscope.
Hot. Mouth. Velvet sky. Stars gleaming. Tongue. Searching. Hands. Tugging my hair. Skin against skin. Hard. Sweat. Pulse. Hot. Electrical current wired from earth to heavens. Heart beat. Sweet. Hot. Fire. Raging. Kiss. Faraway ocean roars. Crash. Foam. Leila. Hot. Hot. Fire. Hot. 
Too hot. Shit! Ouch.
"Leila, what's happening?"
She pushed me from her with a strength I didn't know she had. "Daniel, get away from me!"
And then, the girl who had set me on fire with a kiss – exploded and burst into flames.