Alison DeLuca's Blog, page 29

Wishes

I wish my child didn't spray toothpaste in such a wide splatter arc when she spits. If there was ever a CSI investigation in her bathroom, they'd think a serial killer worked that room.


I wish that I didn't find the audiobook for Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Last Straw quite so funny. What does that say about me when I laugh out loud at jokes that are based on Cheese Touch and boogers?
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I wish that the rate of growth for the hair on my legs and underarms and the hair on my head could be exchanged. One set of locks is long and luxurious, the other small and stubby. It's just the wrong way round.


I wish that the Easter Candy wasn't still hanging around in June.


I wish that someone could switch the flavors for creme brulee and celery sticks. That would be great. Thanks!


I wish that my credit card bill wasn't so large, but if we can't do anything about that now, then I wish that the money had been spent on new clothes, pedicures, and massages, instead of on termite treatments and a tire rotation.


I know I have a lot of wishes about my kid, but there's a lot going on with that child. I wish, for example, that she didn't feel the need to save every scrap of paper, including clothes tags and math worksheets. I'm ready to call Hoarders.


While I'm on that topic, I also wish that she didn't have quite so many stuffed animals. One more birthday, and my husband and I will have to sleep in the garage.


I wish all claw machines would go back to the fiery pit of hell where they were spawned.


I wish Clive Owens lived next door, but that's another story.


I wish Hub didn't bring home his travel mug with a cold, wet teabag inside it every night. 


I also wish he put all dirty socks in the hamper. There is one on the floor of the closet right now, guaranteed. ONE sock means that its mate made it into the big time; couldn't the effort be extended?


I'm certain that you have much better wishes than I have. Please feel free to leave a few in the comments section.

My Favorite Foodie Blogs

I love food blogs. I subscribe to most of them by email, so when I come down in the morning and pop open the lap top, BLAM! There are recipes for mojito cupcakes, and chicken fajitas, and Irish Cream Milkshakes right there.


The best food blogs are fun by entertaining people who serve up a bit of chat (what my Irish mother would have called "Grand Crack") along with the goodies. Here are some of my favorites:


1. Confessions of a Cookbook Queen - Last year I made my daughter Butterbeer Cupcakes, right from this site (complete with little Harry Potter brooms. Are you impressed?) But there are tons more yummies, including these mile-high Chocolate Cookie and Cream cupcakes. They're a good contender for this year's birthday. Kristan, the site's author and cook, makes me chuckle every morning and if I don't have a post from her I'm sad.


2. Another cool baker's blog is Brown Eyed Baker. She did the Mojito cupcakes up there.


3. Cabin Goddess - Sure, it's cool that I made Butterbeer cupcakes and all, but I am not baking in a dry cabin in the Alaskan tundra. Kriss, who runs Cabin Goddess, does exactly that, and she achieves a high level of fun and humor and deliciousness at the same time. Who else would feature a Zombie dessert? And obviously, anyone with the first four letters K-R-I-S in their name has to be a great cook; must be some sort of foodie law. Plues, the Cabin Goddess also dishes book reviews and chats about the Manbeast and the Hairy Eyeball. What's not to like?


4. chocolate & carrots - For the healthy cooks out there, and for organic expectant mothers, this site is like a digital Moveable Feast for all senses. Caroline, the blogger-cook, has designed a deceptively simple site loaded with deliciousness. I'll never be pregnant again, but I do want to make this Cauliflower Pizza.


5. I just started following eat real, and all because of these vanilla waffles with lemon cream. Sandy has a nice, long archive of delicious recipes. Some are exotic, but she includes loads of basics along with them.


6. That's What We Said - This isn't strictly a food blog, since they dish about Real Housewives, Whatta Man, and the Batchelorette. I can deal, though, since they have Friday cocktails and weekly meal plans.


There are many, many more food blogs out blogs out there, but I'm picky - I want a fun column as well as  cool recipes to try. These blogs serve all that and more.

The Last Guardian, by Joan Hazel

Joan Hazel's book, The Last Guardian, is on my reading list this summer. I can't wait to read a story about a group of shapeshifters. But there's more than that - there's Mika, see. Ever since I learned about Joan's book, I've been drooling over her character. He's not just Mika, he's My Mika. Why you ask? I'll show you why:
OK! So now that we understand that whole concept, Joan has been kind enough to allow me to host an excerpt from The Last Guardian. And as a special treat, she has featured a steamy scene with CJ and with My Mika. cover for The Last Guardian
"Do you not know me?" Mika spoke directly to her, yet continued to stare out into the middle of the lake. There was sadness in his voice, and CJ was unsure if the sadness belonged to her or to something else.Did she know the man at her side? Her heart said yes, but her mind said no. Without shame or guilt, CJ stared at her companion.He was taller than she by maybe four inches, no more. The earrings he wore were made from real feathers, wrapped with silver wire. The one closest to her swayed gently from the beating of his heart. Her gaze followed the long length of his braids to where they ended slightly above his belt.The sleeves of the scarlet shirt he wore were rolled up exposing his forearms. Try as she might, CJ could not stop the woman in her from wondering if the skin beneath his shirt was the same deep sun-kissed color as the part she saw.A laugh, deep and masculine, echoed across the lake. She would have thought it her imagination, had the sound not been followed by the plopping of frogs as they scattered into the water in surprise.CJ's lifted her gaze to Mika's face. Still he stared ahead, unwavering. "Are you going to answer me?" she asked."The answer is yes," he said."Excuse me?""Yes, my skin is the same color all over.""I did not mean…How did you…""I have been inside your mind since you were a child. It is easy for me to slip in and out of your thoughts without your notice." The author, Joan Hazel
CJ grunted and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance."Forgive me. I did not mean to embarrass you," he whispered."You didn't. I, uh…" Okay, she thought. I am embarrassed. Dang it! "You still did not answer my original question," she said trying to change the subject."Does that mean you have finished taking inventory?" he asked with a hint of male smugness.CJ blushed, but felt no true remorse. "You asked if I did not know you. I was only checking to see if I recognized you. Which, I am sorry to say I did not.""Very well," he said, facing her.Though there was little emotion in his voice, his eyes held a pain and longing CJ did not understand, yet felt compelled to erase.Mika took her hand in his and placed it over his heart. Her pulse quickened at his touch."What…uh…what are you...?" she stammered."Do not speak, Charlie Jean," he said. "Only trust."CJ peered deep into his caramel eyes. Gold flecks twinkled and danced in a way that was mesmerizing. If he asked her to walk on a bed of hot coals at this moment, she would do it for him."Close your eyes," he requested as he brought up his other hand to cover her eyelids with his palm.If any other man had tried to touch her in such a way, CJ would have pulled away, but she ignored her mind's protests and did as he asked. With eyes closed, CJ allowed Mika to guide her wherever he wished."I need to know that you trust me, Wicahpi. Truly trust me."CJ nodded her obedience. "I do," she whispered. "I don't know why, but I do." Even with her eyes closed, she knew her statement had made him smile, and that made her happy."This is real CJ. I am real. I need you to open your mind," he instructed her. "Open you mind and your heart. Allow them to guide you to our Mother. She gives us all the answers. It is our job to know how to receive them."Time held no influence over the events that were taking place. For CJ it seemed to be both an eternity and mere seconds. The heat of Mika's body radiated though his shirt to penetrate into her hand, and the rhythm of his heart pulsed strong and steady through her fingertips and into her body."Listen. Can you hear it? Can you hear my heart beat?"Yes," she whispered."As my heart beats, so does that of every living thing upon the Earth. Every creature. Every plant. Even the water. Can you hear those?"Timidly, CJ opened her heart and her senses to the world about her. She heard the breeze as it whispered through the pines and recognized the songs of the different birds that sang along its branches.The world around her buzzed and thrummed. Each sound blended with the next to create a symphony that played in time to the beat of Mika's heart."You feel it. Don't you?" Mika asked."I feel it, but—but what is it?""Connection," he explained. "Connection to the Universe and all she has to offer you.”***** Oh, let's just have one more look at Mika, shall we?  

The Maytag Woman

Our washing machine is broken. It's really, really broken, as in: the circuit board is fried. Good news, though; I married an engineer, so he can fix it!
Hurray! It's an engineer!
Except he can't. No one sells parts. When he called the local appliance store for a new circuit board, they laughed at him and told him to buy a new machine.

Now my husband, when he gets on a mission, is a bulldog. He just won't give up. He scoured heaven and earth (google) to find those parts.
any excuse to add a photo of a dog
And Lo! They will arrive on our doorstep this week, and he can fix the washer.

Here's the thing, though. I am DROWNING in laundry right now. We had just come back from a trip to the beach before the breakdown. Trips to the beach mean dirtying huge, heavy things, like beach towels. They tower in great dirty piles all over my house.

Plus, I'm doling out clean socks like a miser. And pajamas. ("Wear them another night, you're too young to sweat yet.")

I never realized how much I loved my washing machine until I didn't have it any more. I'm ready to grab those towels and socks and head out for a river and two flat rocks.

Oh, don't laugh at me, Mr. Maytag! I'm down to wearing those old pants, not that I was ever a fashion plate anyway, and the T-shirt that I wore to paint my mom's house. The shirt is black, the paint was white - you do the math.

So please, reading public, please cross your fingers for me that those parts arrive in the mail today. And give your own washing machine a pat from me.

Cover Reveal - Heart Waves

Danielle Sibarium is the author of For Always, a popular YA romance novel. She's known for her great characters and authentic settings. So when I heard that her next book, Heart Waves, was set at the Jersey Shore, I was really excited to have her write a guest blog about her book and the beach. She also agreed to do a cover reveal, and here it is:
[image error] Beautiful!


Thank you so much Alison, for having me here today. It is both a pleasure and honor to be a guest on your blog!
There was always a part of me that loved the Jersey Shore. As a young child living in Brooklyn, nothing would fill me with more excitement than my father announcing we were going to spend the day at Seaside Heights. And it would be the entire day. We’d start our trek early, taking the forever long drive down the Garden State Parkway. Once we arrived, we spend the next hour or two searching for a parking spot. Okay, it wasn’t that long, but at eight, it felt like it.
We’d hit the beach, bake in the sun for a bit, cool off in the water, and then the fun would begin, at least my fun. After hours of anticipation we’d start to explore the boardwalk, rides, games, food; a never-ending world of awe and wonder. During my sweet sixteen party, my father told me he bought a summer house in Point Pleasant. No it wasn’t my birthday gift. And the house wasn’t a summer type of house. It was a beautiful house on the Inter Coastal Canal in a cosy year round neighborhood.
 For the next decade my family and I shared special memories I will cherish for the rest of my life at my father’s house in Point Pleasant. Not just my immediate family, but my extended family and friends as well. We’d gather together, sometimes twenty or thirty of us, for the weekend. Ridiculous races with floats and noodles in the pool, volleyball games and evenings at the boardwalk only touch the surface of good times we shared. This was my favorite place to be.  And just happens to be where Jenna Kingsley (the main character of Heart Waves) lives.
I never really thought about where Heart Waves would take place, it just naturally unfolded in my father’s community, looking out toward the Loveland Bridge. Many summer nights, I’d walk to the little community beach and talk to a friend while sitting on the swings. This became Jenna’s sanctuary. And how can I write a book about living here and leave out the most popular attraction of all, Jenkinson’s Boardwalk? One of the scenes I had the most fun writing was the boardwalk scene where Jenna unexpectedly is left alone and sees Reece with another girl.
For those of you who live in this part of New Jersey, I hope I’ve done justice to the wonderful community you embody. For those of you who don’t live here, I hope you get a taste of what it’s really like to live at the real Jersey Shore. 

Follow Danielle on Twitter https://twitter.com/#!/SibariumLike the Heart Waves Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/#!/heartwavesbook
Purchase on Amazon http://amzn.to/HeartWaves
Nook http://bit.ly/HeartWavesNook
Thanks so much for visiting, Danielle! I hope to entice you back soon.

The Rut

Sometimes it happens. You're going along with your creative life, producing and writing (or painting or  whatevs) and all of a sudden, the rut happens. Creativity screeches to a halt. Production stops. You're in the swamp.

My rut was caused by a loooonnnnnngggggg chain of Peculiar Events, but the point is: I've got to get out of it. So, here's what I'm going to do to pull myself out of my own little nasty slump:

1. Go and see Dark Shadows with my friend. Because I watched that stuff back in the 60's as a soap opera. Vampires + drama = good stuff in my book.
Quentin Collins, from the original show. That was good stuff back in the day.
2. Grill out a lot more. I'm talking burgers and dogs, of course, but also chicken, fish, veggies, and corn.

3. Make homemade icecream. I'm on a diet, so all I see when I look in my bowl is green. At some point this summer, that green will be Mint Chocolate Chip icecream.
Ooh, I like the tea cup idea! Cause then I have a little handle as I  inhale.
4. Go boogie boarding. So I'm in my fifties, right? A fine sport for a middle-aged lady is boogie boarding. I just picked it up two years ago. If you catch the wave right, it's a serious rush and I mean it.

5. Read a bunch of books, and I've mentioned them before, here and here. I've also added Gideon the Cutpurse for my YA book club, plus Gary Hoover just came out with the sequel to Land of Nod so you bet I'm going to be buying that sucker.
The cover reminds me of the books I used to get from Scholastic in fifth grade.
6. Do more Just Dance II. It's a great way to work out, and I'm getting really good at "Katti Kalandal." Bollywood, here I come!
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7. Swim with my kid - and play Mermaids while we're at it. (I love how she accepts the idea that the pool vacuum is our pet baby dolphin; that concept makes perfect sense to her.)

8. Finally, finally, finally find a hummingbird feeder that works. If you have an idea of a good one, let me know.

9. Crochet a lavender sachet pillow .... nah, I'll never do that. Scratch that one.

10. Ignore all the drama and work on The South Sea Bubble and The Gramophone Society. Now, that I will do.

My Middle Name

My middle name is Agnes. AGNES. You know, the name that shortens to Aggie. It's one of those old fashioned names, like Dot or Ida, that don't get used any more.


For decades I avoided any discussion of my middle name. When people found out, a lot of laughter and teasing would ensue, and can I blame them? No.


A dear friend once tried to console me by giving me a copy of The Eve of St. Agnes by Keats. It is a lovely poem, but it didn't help.
The Eve of Saint Agnes

My mum and dad named me after my great-grandmother. I didn't know that much about her, except that she died in the Blitz in London. A bomb was dropped on the house, and she perished. And that's all I knew.
Blitz aftermath

This year, however, I got to read my aunt's transcription of what happened that night the bomb fell.


My great-grandmother, Agnes, was in the house with my grandmother and my aunt, who was a little girl at the time. When the bomb dropped the roof caved in, trapping the family in their bedrooms.
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They had to lie there under the debris for hours. At last the rescue team lifted the roof off the house (my aunt remembers a "feeling of freedom" as the roof was taken off.) 


Still, the rescue team didn't know if there were any survivors. They dug through the rubble and discovered Agnes, my great-grandmother. Although she was terribly hurt, she was able to tell the search officers, all volunteers themselves, where to find the others in the house. 


And so, with her guidance, my grandmother and my aunt were found, and they survived. Because of her. Because of Agnes.


My name is Alison Agnes. And I'm damn proud of it.

Mean Mommy

At a certain point in some conversations, Mean Mommy kicks in. Allow me to illustrate:

Child: Will you take me to the carnival all four nights?
Me: Nope.
Child: Will you take me two nights? or three?
Me: Nope. We are going one night and that is it.
Child: (aghast) We can't just go one night!!!!
Me: Yup.
Child: That's so mean! I want to go every night! etc, etc
Me: You're lucky to be going at all.
Child: That's so unfair!


Now, this is when Mean Mommy kicks in
Me: Another word, and we will not go to the carnival. We will stay home every night.
(Child opens mouth to retort)
Me: I said not another word. 
(Child closes mouth.)

Now, I'm not so naive to think that this ends the matter. I know the subject will arise again, and with more scowls and grumps on her side, I can just picture the boo lip now, and more threats and Meanness on my side.
Who teaches them to do this?
The facts remain. That carnival is bloody expensive, and it is loud, and rude teenagers arrive after 8 PM, and I have to pawn my jewelry to buy food, and the rides make weird creaking sounds as the kids go on them. But I understand that it is the most important social event of the kid year, a sort of 7-year-old version of the prom, so I will take her.

Once.

Kindness O'Clock

I'm still waiting for new covers for all three of my books in my Crown Phoenix series. The change of three books at one time requires a great deal of work, so I am going to cheat today and recycle some words from writers with much more talent than I'll ever have.


We like to be green here at Fresh Pot of Tea!


*****

Guard well within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how to give without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how to acquire without meanness.
George Sand

Happiness exists on earth, and it is won through prudent exercise of reason, knowledge of the harmony of the universe, and constant practice of generosity.
Jose Marti



I am imagination. I can see what the eyes cannot see. I can hear what the ears cannot hear. I can feel what the heart cannot feel.
Peter Nivio Zarlenga



In taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior.Francis Bacon

Man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.
Martin Luther King, Jr.

A good writer possesses not only his own spirit but also the spirit of his friends.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence.
George Washington

I don't need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.
Plutarch


The gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my talent for absorbing positive knowledge.
Albert Einstein

I have found that among its other benefits, giving liberates the soul of the giver.
Maya Angelou

The Crown Phoenix Series

Dear Reader -


If you have noticed that all of the Crown Phoenix books have disappeared from Amazon, don't worry! They did not teleport through a quantum typewriter into an alternate universe.

The series has outgrown the current covers, and my wonderful artist, Lisa Daly, is developing a spectacular new look for all of my books. 

I plan to have a cover reveal soon for the entire series, so watch this space! It's very exciting to have a fresh look and new wardrobe for my steampunk "children."


As always, thank you for your support of my books. It means more than I can say.


With Love,


The Author