Alison DeLuca's Blog, page 25
August 11, 2012
Greed: BlogFlash 2012 Day 11
There are several things that I cannot have in the house, because if I do, my innate greed will take over and I will partake of them until they are gone. And to heck with housework, or even common courtesy, in the process.
The first is, without a doubt, an open can of black olives. I will fight you for those suckers like they were the last ones on Earth.
Dito mint chocolate chip ice cream. Except it has to be the green kind, with the tiny teeny chips that were probably made by swirling chocolate melts into the green mint stuff. And about the green coloring: look, I try to be healthy with my veggies and salads and fruits, but we are talking MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP HERE. I want mine to be green.
Still, if it's in the freezer, I'll invent all sorts of silly excuses to go into the kitchen and snitch a scoop. "Pardon me, I simply must go and wash all the sporks."
When I make mushroom ravioli with more mushrooms in the sauce for me and hubby. My tum can be blown up to the size of a kettle drum, and yet I'll go back for Just One More Ravioli. It's dangerous, probably.
Any book by Ann Tyler or Johanna Garth. When those suckers are in my house, forget it, I'll be reading in the corner. Champagne party going on? Kk, I'll be right there, after this one last chapter.
Perhaps confession is good for the soul. These are the things that make me salivate and act slightly subhuman.
PS - If you want to know more about blogflash, do go and visit Terri Long's blog here.
The first is, without a doubt, an open can of black olives. I will fight you for those suckers like they were the last ones on Earth.
Dito mint chocolate chip ice cream. Except it has to be the green kind, with the tiny teeny chips that were probably made by swirling chocolate melts into the green mint stuff. And about the green coloring: look, I try to be healthy with my veggies and salads and fruits, but we are talking MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP HERE. I want mine to be green.
Still, if it's in the freezer, I'll invent all sorts of silly excuses to go into the kitchen and snitch a scoop. "Pardon me, I simply must go and wash all the sporks."
When I make mushroom ravioli with more mushrooms in the sauce for me and hubby. My tum can be blown up to the size of a kettle drum, and yet I'll go back for Just One More Ravioli. It's dangerous, probably.
Any book by Ann Tyler or Johanna Garth. When those suckers are in my house, forget it, I'll be reading in the corner. Champagne party going on? Kk, I'll be right there, after this one last chapter.
Perhaps confession is good for the soul. These are the things that make me salivate and act slightly subhuman.
PS - If you want to know more about blogflash, do go and visit Terri Long's blog here.
August 10, 2012
Success - BlogFlash 2012
This is a tough one to write, since I haven't really attained full success.
Except for that time, eight years ago, when I looked across a hospital room into the largest brown eyes I'd ever seen.
Or when my cousin and I won Most Creative and the smallest trophy ever in the sandcastle competition. We built a cake out of sand. I was ten. That was cool.
Not the sandcastle we built.
Or when I was nearly an hour late for my own wedding because traffic was so backed up on I95 that the limo was super late. And my girls and I all packed into my mini Toyota - with the flowers, and the dress all bunched up around me like an inside out cupcake. And I called the church in a panic and got a clueless altar boy.Yet my guy still waited at the altar for me, so : WINNING.
Or when I found jeans that fit really well on the clearance rack with a further 30% discount. Major, major score.
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Or that one night, in the summer of 2000, when I typed the words The End and realized I had just finished an entire novel. It was pure drivel and will never see the light of day, but still - I had just proved to myself that I could sit and write an entire book.
Or when we went trick-or-treating and the Mostellers were handing out large size Hershey Bars. YESSSSS.
More Sustaining Than Meat.
So maybe success isn't one blinding flash of change-your-life balloons from the ceiling get on the news difference engine. Perhaps it's just a series of small things that add up, in retrospect, to a pretty damn good life.
Except for that time, eight years ago, when I looked across a hospital room into the largest brown eyes I'd ever seen.
Or when my cousin and I won Most Creative and the smallest trophy ever in the sandcastle competition. We built a cake out of sand. I was ten. That was cool.
Not the sandcastle we built.Or when I was nearly an hour late for my own wedding because traffic was so backed up on I95 that the limo was super late. And my girls and I all packed into my mini Toyota - with the flowers, and the dress all bunched up around me like an inside out cupcake. And I called the church in a panic and got a clueless altar boy.Yet my guy still waited at the altar for me, so : WINNING.
Or when I found jeans that fit really well on the clearance rack with a further 30% discount. Major, major score.
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Or that one night, in the summer of 2000, when I typed the words The End and realized I had just finished an entire novel. It was pure drivel and will never see the light of day, but still - I had just proved to myself that I could sit and write an entire book.
Or when we went trick-or-treating and the Mostellers were handing out large size Hershey Bars. YESSSSS.
More Sustaining Than Meat. So maybe success isn't one blinding flash of change-your-life balloons from the ceiling get on the news difference engine. Perhaps it's just a series of small things that add up, in retrospect, to a pretty damn good life.
August 9, 2012
Journey: BlogFlash2012 Day 9
One day I'm going to take a different kind of journey. For one thing, I won't have to pack as much stuff : no teddy bears, no paper dolls, no Monster High junk. I won't have to pack bags and bags of snacks.
We'll get on our way early because a certain someone won't have to run back inside because she forgot a certain Blankie, or Otter, or Wombat. (She really does have a Wombat.)
When we arrive, we won't have to go to every single gift shop in the airport. We won't have to stop at "Ozarkland" and have heart attacks at the prices. Finding a place that sells swim goggles won't be necessary. Ditto finding that one last souvenir, which means wanting to buy every single thing in the souvenir shop.
No one will have the top of their ice cream cone plop off onto the seat of the rental car, necessitating a complete turn around on an 8 lane highway to get more ice cream.
Nobody will refuse to go and see the St. Louis Arch or the Largest Ball of String in the World because they are playing Barbies. No, we will go and see that string and we will like it.
No gum in the hair, skinned knees, sharp elbow in my side, no heavy lump to be carried up to the hotel room at the end of a long day.
You know what? It just might not be as much fun.
We'll get on our way early because a certain someone won't have to run back inside because she forgot a certain Blankie, or Otter, or Wombat. (She really does have a Wombat.)
When we arrive, we won't have to go to every single gift shop in the airport. We won't have to stop at "Ozarkland" and have heart attacks at the prices. Finding a place that sells swim goggles won't be necessary. Ditto finding that one last souvenir, which means wanting to buy every single thing in the souvenir shop.
No one will have the top of their ice cream cone plop off onto the seat of the rental car, necessitating a complete turn around on an 8 lane highway to get more ice cream.
Nobody will refuse to go and see the St. Louis Arch or the Largest Ball of String in the World because they are playing Barbies. No, we will go and see that string and we will like it.
No gum in the hair, skinned knees, sharp elbow in my side, no heavy lump to be carried up to the hotel room at the end of a long day.
You know what? It just might not be as much fun.
August 8, 2012
Relaxing - BlogFlash 2012
Sun Tea : Relaxation in a glass.
I just made a jug of it. The sound of the water gushing into the glass jar, the plops of the tea bags, then my own bare feet walking it outside.
The smell of the basil plants and the sound of crickets. Early sunlight filters through the trees and highlights the amber tendrils of tea, already starting to brew in the heat.
White and purple wings dancing around the butterfly bush.
The taste on my tongue, tea and agave. Ice clinks and water beads against my hand.
With it, a white nectarine, so ripe that juice spills onto the plate as soon as I slice it.
The hush of a new day.
I just made a jug of it. The sound of the water gushing into the glass jar, the plops of the tea bags, then my own bare feet walking it outside.
The smell of the basil plants and the sound of crickets. Early sunlight filters through the trees and highlights the amber tendrils of tea, already starting to brew in the heat.
White and purple wings dancing around the butterfly bush.
The taste on my tongue, tea and agave. Ice clinks and water beads against my hand.
With it, a white nectarine, so ripe that juice spills onto the plate as soon as I slice it.
The hush of a new day.
August 7, 2012
Sunset - Blogflash 2012
In Ireland, in the summer, sunset happens just before ten. As close as it is to the Arctic circle, the days stretch forever in the summer. (Conversely, in the winter, the sun dawns late and sinks shortly after five.)
As children in our grandparents' crumbling house by the sea, my sister and I used to be put to bed while it was still broad daylight outside. No flashlight was necessary; I just pulled out my book and read and read.
At some point the sunlight on the scarred, faded wallpaper by my bed glowed orange and red. In an instant, everything in the room looked as though it was in a different dimension. The effect of that late sunset inside our bedroom was magical, and I haven't seen that since the last time I slept in that house.
It was as though we were transported to a place where everything was the same, but it was all lit from within. I've spotted that light in paintings, or less intense versions in my own house, but it's never quite the same.
I close my eyes and I see that orange light, so intense that it seems to be coming from the bed , the walls, the floor, the carpet ... from my own fingers.
Something as magic as that cannot last for very long, and in a few moments the sun sinks. The room turns grey and silver. And fades to black.
As children in our grandparents' crumbling house by the sea, my sister and I used to be put to bed while it was still broad daylight outside. No flashlight was necessary; I just pulled out my book and read and read.
At some point the sunlight on the scarred, faded wallpaper by my bed glowed orange and red. In an instant, everything in the room looked as though it was in a different dimension. The effect of that late sunset inside our bedroom was magical, and I haven't seen that since the last time I slept in that house.
It was as though we were transported to a place where everything was the same, but it was all lit from within. I've spotted that light in paintings, or less intense versions in my own house, but it's never quite the same.
I close my eyes and I see that orange light, so intense that it seems to be coming from the bed , the walls, the floor, the carpet ... from my own fingers.
Something as magic as that cannot last for very long, and in a few moments the sun sinks. The room turns grey and silver. And fades to black.
August 6, 2012
Books for Bunnies
This is a great event run by The Bunny's Review and Books For Bunnies to help raise money for a great organization: The House Rabbit Society
Here's the scoop: Make a donation to The House Rabbit Society in any amount using this form. For your generous donation you are entered to win a chance at one of over 150 books listed to the right >>>
You will get a confirmation email directly from the House Rabbit Society. This email MUST be forwarded to books4bunnys@bunnysreview.com in order to verify your donation. Enter the giveaway via the rafflecopter form on the side panel.
Reading - BlogFlash Day 6
Where do I start? Well, let's start with the fact that my mother used to call us "Desperate Readers." That meant that if you didn't hear anything from one of us for a while - me, my mother, my sister, or my dad - you could be certain of finding us frozen, head in a book.
To add to the desperation, we didn't even have to be sitting at the time. Standing like a stork, one foot drawn up, hovering over the kitchen counter, brushing teeth, eating... all this was done with a book in hand.
Try to talk to us when we got in that state, and you would have to break through. Friends found it extremely irritating when I didn't answer back. But I was lost in my own little world, you see.
And it didn't even have to be a book, or a novel. My sister and I used to love to read the encyclopedia. Or old magazines, or letters, backs of cereal boxes of course...
We were poor in those days, and we used to line our drawers with newsprint since we weren't able to afford drawer liners. When one of us had to clean out a drawer, couldn't we be found an hour later, reading the old drawer liner? Probably with a pair of socks in the other hand, too.
So, there are good readers, and challenged readers, and there are Desperate Readers. How many of you join me in this group?
To add to the desperation, we didn't even have to be sitting at the time. Standing like a stork, one foot drawn up, hovering over the kitchen counter, brushing teeth, eating... all this was done with a book in hand.
Try to talk to us when we got in that state, and you would have to break through. Friends found it extremely irritating when I didn't answer back. But I was lost in my own little world, you see.
And it didn't even have to be a book, or a novel. My sister and I used to love to read the encyclopedia. Or old magazines, or letters, backs of cereal boxes of course...
We were poor in those days, and we used to line our drawers with newsprint since we weren't able to afford drawer liners. When one of us had to clean out a drawer, couldn't we be found an hour later, reading the old drawer liner? Probably with a pair of socks in the other hand, too.
So, there are good readers, and challenged readers, and there are Desperate Readers. How many of you join me in this group?
August 5, 2012
Frustration - BlogFlash 2012, Day 5
Here are things that frustrate me:
When my husband doesn't understand that even though he's ahead of me for the bathroom, I get firsties because I gave birth. Once you go through that process, there are "special" changes that a body goes through, aren't there. MmmmHmmm.
When my kid nods yes in agreement to chicken and broccoli for dinner, and I go ahead and make it, and then when the steaming plate is placed reverently in front of her, she's all, "I didn't want this, I wanted pizza."
When I start reading a book that is very popular and everyone says I must read it and when I finally get it and read it, I realize that I have very different tastes. (Which, translated means, the book is crap.)
When I realize that, yes, there's no way to get out of the fact that I have to clean my house.
And when I realize that dirty socks and towels really to spawn themselves.
But the number one frustration is when I don't get time to write. I become headachy and snarly and surly. It's been a few days, in fact, so - waaah! Get on out of here, and I mean it!
When my husband doesn't understand that even though he's ahead of me for the bathroom, I get firsties because I gave birth. Once you go through that process, there are "special" changes that a body goes through, aren't there. MmmmHmmm.
When my kid nods yes in agreement to chicken and broccoli for dinner, and I go ahead and make it, and then when the steaming plate is placed reverently in front of her, she's all, "I didn't want this, I wanted pizza."
When I start reading a book that is very popular and everyone says I must read it and when I finally get it and read it, I realize that I have very different tastes. (Which, translated means, the book is crap.)
When I realize that, yes, there's no way to get out of the fact that I have to clean my house.
And when I realize that dirty socks and towels really to spawn themselves.
But the number one frustration is when I don't get time to write. I become headachy and snarly and surly. It's been a few days, in fact, so - waaah! Get on out of here, and I mean it!
August 4, 2012
Busy - BlogFlash Day 4
Day 4 of blogging with Terri Long:
Busy, huh? Good Lord, can't we all relate to this one? I feel as though I and most of my friends are juggling as fast as we can, as more balls (and running chainsaws and fiery torches) are thrown into the mix.
So here's what:
1. Writing, of course. I am close to the end of the final book of the Crown Phoenix series, but of course that is just the start of the process.
2. Writing, again. Once I finish The South Sea Bubble, I'll turn to a story that has been brewing for months in my mind.
3. Being a Mom - should really be number one, of course, since this is my most important job.
4. Being a Wife - Alas, this role gets pushed to the back burner far too often, because of my other stuff, and because my husband is also juggling about twenty things at once. Must change that.
5. Being a Sister - I also need to spend time with my family, and that's a commitment, since they live far away.
6. Projects that I have Been Putting Off for Years - Like the boxes in the basement. 'Nuff said.
7. Edits - I'm lucky enough to have the chance to edit Rachel Tsoumbakos's second book, The Ring of Lost Souls. It's fantastic! In fact, it's so good that it deserves far more of my time than I can give at the moment.
8. Beta Reads - I have some beta reads of my own to do, as well as pure reading for pleasure. Joan Hazel's book The Last Guardian has been on my list for a while, and I must get back to it.
9. Reviews - I have a few book reviews that simply must get done. Like, NOW.
10. Blogs - This blog is second nature at this point, but I have promised a few other blog posts and I must get cracking on those.
11. Housework - Just notice where this one is on the list.
Ah, happy housework!
What do YOU have in the air and on the To-Do list?
Busy, huh? Good Lord, can't we all relate to this one? I feel as though I and most of my friends are juggling as fast as we can, as more balls (and running chainsaws and fiery torches) are thrown into the mix.
So here's what:
1. Writing, of course. I am close to the end of the final book of the Crown Phoenix series, but of course that is just the start of the process.
2. Writing, again. Once I finish The South Sea Bubble, I'll turn to a story that has been brewing for months in my mind.
3. Being a Mom - should really be number one, of course, since this is my most important job.
4. Being a Wife - Alas, this role gets pushed to the back burner far too often, because of my other stuff, and because my husband is also juggling about twenty things at once. Must change that.
5. Being a Sister - I also need to spend time with my family, and that's a commitment, since they live far away.
6. Projects that I have Been Putting Off for Years - Like the boxes in the basement. 'Nuff said.
7. Edits - I'm lucky enough to have the chance to edit Rachel Tsoumbakos's second book, The Ring of Lost Souls. It's fantastic! In fact, it's so good that it deserves far more of my time than I can give at the moment.
8. Beta Reads - I have some beta reads of my own to do, as well as pure reading for pleasure. Joan Hazel's book The Last Guardian has been on my list for a while, and I must get back to it.
9. Reviews - I have a few book reviews that simply must get done. Like, NOW.
10. Blogs - This blog is second nature at this point, but I have promised a few other blog posts and I must get cracking on those.
11. Housework - Just notice where this one is on the list.
Ah, happy housework!What do YOU have in the air and on the To-Do list?
August 3, 2012
Colors
This is Day 3 of BlogFlash 2012, a meme started by Terri Long.
In writing, I always appreciate an awareness of color. A perfect example of this is in songwriting, and the first person who comes to mind is Elvis Costello. His songs include splashes of color, so the listeners can see the red shoes in their minds.
Color is a tricky thing, though. In books, color appears in the same places - eyes, hair, dress. What about the mud on the character's hand, the fallen leaves under her feet, a blue flash of a bird who darts past her?
As a reader and a listener, I love to catch that blue flash in among the black and white words on the page. It's fantastic when a wordsmith has the power to evoke a real image, with real colors, so the story comes to life in all dimensions.
In writing, I always appreciate an awareness of color. A perfect example of this is in songwriting, and the first person who comes to mind is Elvis Costello. His songs include splashes of color, so the listeners can see the red shoes in their minds.
Color is a tricky thing, though. In books, color appears in the same places - eyes, hair, dress. What about the mud on the character's hand, the fallen leaves under her feet, a blue flash of a bird who darts past her?
As a reader and a listener, I love to catch that blue flash in among the black and white words on the page. It's fantastic when a wordsmith has the power to evoke a real image, with real colors, so the story comes to life in all dimensions.
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