Alison DeLuca's Blog, page 8

Pizza Crust, Natural Cleaners, and What's on Deck

We just returned from a long trip to Ireland (see my write-up here) and I'm just now catching my breath. I won't leave you without a few bonuses, though, at the end of the week:

1. Pizza Crust recipe:

This easy dough can be thrown together in a few minutes. If you like, you can freeze half before rising, or you can make two pizzas and freeze the leftovers for your husband, when he decides to eat a alice at midnight. Or is that just my house?

2 cups warm water (do a wrist test)
1 packet dry yeast
2 Tbls sugar

Mix and let stand 5 minutes. Add:

6 cups flour (King Arthur is good)
2 tsps olive oil
2 tsps salt or to taste

Mix with dough hook on standing mixer. Oil in bowl and allow to rise for 45 minutes in warm, dry spot.

I like to roll out my crust and prebake it for a few minutes to make certain it is cooked all the way through. Carmelized onions make a dandy topping, just sayin'. Plus my kid like a small pizza shaped like a kitty's head - a good way to force tomatoes into the body of a child who refuses all veggies.

2. Natural cleaners:

 Our mom was one of the first organic farmers in Chester County, so we grew up with Amway's LOC as our only cleaner of choice. Now, thank heavens, there are many other natural and organic cleaners available, as well as shampoos and detergents.

However, the organic stuff can get really pricy. I've found there are still some that don't have phosphates but are still super cheap:

Bon Ami - 99 cents for a can of powder, and it cleans a mean toilet bowl. 
Ivory Dish Soap - also doubles as liquid hand soap in an emergency.
Borax - Laundry booster and also a good scrubber.

Why don't the manufacturers slap a photo of a field on these products and charge triple the price? Wait, forget I said that. Nothing to see here... moving along....

3. Coming up on my blog:

A review of Ruby's Fire, the second book in the Fireseed series by Catherine Stine. 

A really cool column on writing about Native Americans, a cooperative effort with Kara Stewart (you can see her stuff here. And she knows what she's talking about.)

A review of Ready Player One.

A column about some of the best poets on Wattpad - they are writing some amazing, new, mind-bending stuff. This isn't your English Lit professor's poetry anymore.

Several book blasts and tours with giveaways.

Yup, it's going to be a great summer!

Climbing the Diamond

From Ireland.com - yes, the beauty is that ridiculousIn Galway last week, we rented a house with two other families for a total of five children. That's five cousins, all together for seven days. For those who did the same thing when they were kids, you know it means magic, no matter what the scenery. Of course it doesn't hurt when there is a secluded beach just across the road, bordered by cliffs, sheep fields, and the Twelve Pins of Connemara.

The kids would have been happy to stay in the house, playing Shop and Newspaper (an electronics-free rule was in effect) but we adults decided to rout them out. We took them on a hike to Cong and Ashford Castle, and anyone who saw The Quiet Man will recognize those areas.

My husband led a trip to a local mine, and we also went to Kylemore Abbey in the rain and mist. How deliciously creepy to come across Margaret Henry's mausoleum hidden among trees loaded with moss and said mist. I felt like I had walked right into a computer game. Who needs electronics???
Kylemore abbey
All this was great fun, but we decided to push the limit and take the youngest kids up the Diamond, a small mountain in the Connemara National Park. To get them up the hill, we did a geocache run.

The Kylemore geocache had let us down; we never found the prize. This was written up in the kids' newspaper under the headline: Geocache Fail.

So we were determined to find the goods on Diamond. We climbed up the mountain (OK, large hill) and did some bog-jumping on the way; when someone near you jumps on the bog, you feel the entire ground move, as though you were standing on a giant sponge, which indeed you are.

As we hit the upper slopes, the wind started up in earnest and nearly blew us off the hill. Thank heavens for my cousin's youngest daughter, who kept us all going upwards with exhortations of "Not much longer now! Getting really close! Can't give up now!" 

LOVE her.

My husband's iPhone (okay, we allowed one electronic item) showed we were close to the prize. The clue was a small white rock embedded in a larger rock. The kids jumped around while I did my mommy "Please don't fall off the mountain" thing.
Diamond Hill
And - they found it - a white rock studded in the center of a large grey one, with a small shelf. The kids pried the rocks at the entrance of the shelf and found the cache.

HURRAY! And there was much whooping and hollering.

On the way down, the sun came out and we passed fields of horses, one with a mare and her foal. The kids picked wildflowers and bog cotton. By this point we were anxious for our tea, so we headed home to our Galway House.
A bit of mist. (author's photo)
Did I mention the view from the peak? We were surrounded by a green velvet counterpane, as well as loughs, waterfalls, bog, and the Atlantic itself. 

However, the best view was the bright faces of the children, calling encouragement to each other as they slipped over the cold stones. I know it's something they will always, always remember.

Honestly, you can't buy that.

Zaremba, by Michelle Granas

Zaremba:
In Warsaw, a shy and high-minded polio victim lives a life of seclusion caring for her odd family until a chance encounter plunges her into the intrigues of dirty politics; Zaremba, a wealthy businessman, is about to be arrested on trumped-up charges and only she can save him. Swept along by events, Cordelia finds her feelings increasingly involved with a stranger for whom she is both rescuer and victim. When Zaremba disappears, Cordelia must overcome surveillance, corruption, the media, and mounting humiliations and difficulties to learn the truth.

Although set in Poland, this is a story that could happen anywhere, as young democracies struggle against the temptations of covert operations and older democracies sometimes lead them astray.

Excerpt: 
Her father was still fussing angrily as he reached across her to slam open and shut the glove compartment as he tossed in the ticket. The police car had disappeared behind them, leaving them in the dark by the side of the road. Her father threw himself back in his
seat and sat there, his arms dropping from the steering wheel. He made no move to restart the car.“It’s too bad,” said Cordelia soothingly, “but it can’t be helped now. Let’s go on.”But her father had become curiously silent.
“Tato?” asked Cordelia, suddenly worried. “Are you all right? Tato?”
Her father’s hand had come up to his heart.
“Are you all right?” She asked again urgently.
He turned his head slightly towards her and shook it, ever so
slightly.
“Your medicine! Where’s your medicine?”
He didn’t answer her, but closed his eyes as she sought quickly and awkwardly through the pockets of his blazer, through the glove compartment. No medicine; he must have forgotten it.
“An ambulance, Cordelia,” her father murmured.
An ambulance? But how would she call one, here on the deserted highway? Oh, a car was coming, its lights cutting the darkness ahead. The driver would have a cell phone – everyone did. She struggled from the car, the beginnings of panic making her more than usually clumsy, and rushed into the middle of the highway, holding up a shaking hand
to the car.
The car slowed, she could see a man and his wife looking her over as the headlights caught her. She was standing in the middle of the lane, waving her crutch. But as the car came to a near standstill and she headed towards the passenger window, the driver suddenly
stepped on the gas again and departed at full speed.
“Stop,” she cried after it “Stop! Stop! Please! We need an ambulance!” But the car didn’t stop. She knew they were afraid of a trap, she knew it was reasonable, and she cursed them from the bottom of her heart, her breath coming in a sob.
What to do now? She looked up and down the highway, but there were no signs of light anywhere – not another car coming or a house light or anything. She turned back to her father.
The door on her father’s side was open and a dark shape was kneeling there; it rose. She stifled a scream. 

You can buy Zaremba on
Amazon, B&N, and Smashwords.

Ms Granas is running a giveaway :
Prize: 1 paperback copy (open internationally)
Enter the giveaway here:
a Rafflecopter giveaway


Bio:
Michelle Granas was born in Alaska, but currently divides her time between Oregon and Poland. She has degrees in philosophy and comparative literature, but now works s a translator. Over the past dozen years she has translated for many of Poland's major politicians and writers, including short pieces for the Nobel Prize winner Lech Walesa and Nobel Prize nominee Ryszard Kapuscinski.
You can find Michelle on Goodreads here.

The Fault in Our Stars

Amsterdam, champagne, poetry, stars - and cancer... 

The Fault in Our Stars grabbed me from the first meeting of the Cancer Kids Support Group, where Hazel is forced to go and interact with other teens who are in varying stages of cancer. Hazel herself breathes with the aid of an oxygen tank, thanks to stage 4 Thyroid cancer. And then there's Augustus Waters - gorgeous, former basketball star, who has one leg but is in remission from osteosarcoma. 



Hazel and Augustus sparkle like stars together immediately. He introduces her to the Max Mayhem series; she shows him her favorite book, An Imperial Affliction. He calls her beautiful. She finds him also beautiful - terrifyingly so. How can she have a relationship if she is terminal? It's bad enough knowing she will break her parents' hearts one day, let alone a boyfriend's. 

However, Augustus is the kind of guy who loves protecting people (maybe because he has so many younger brothers and sisters?) When he plays video games, he loses because he has to rescue the characters. 

I'll interrupt myself here to point out the title comes from my favorite quote from Julius Caesar, when Cassius talks Brutus into murdering Caesar Augustus (Augustus - get it?) :


Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow worldLike a Colossus, and we petty menWalk under his huge legs and peep aboutTo find ourselves dishonorable graves.Men at some time are masters of their fates.The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our starsBut in ourselves, that we are underlings.
The action moves from Indiana to Amsterdam. Green does a nice job of describing the city through Hazel and Augustus's eyes. They go to a lovely restaurant, Van Houten's house (he's the guy who wrote An Imperial Affliction) and the Anne Frank museum. Oh, and 
SPOILER ALERT ... Augustus's hotel room - complete with tubes, oxygen, and a Venn diagram.(select the white text in the line above to read it.) Amsterdam, courtesy of wikipedia.org
The Fault in Our Stars sucked me right in, but like Hazel's lungs, the book is not perfect. Hazel and Augustus just don't act like teens - she quotes T. S. Eliot, he speaks philosophical wisdom so profound it's difficult to believe it's coming from a human mouth, let alone from a teen dude who was a basketball player. 
I've read a lot of reviews saying the same thing - and yet, here's the deal. Green somehow performed magic and made me care about Hazel and Gus so deeply that I finished the book in  a few days and immediately read it again. It's hard to create that sort of emotional bond between reader and character, so kudos to him for performing it.
The descriptions of cancer are very intense. Green doesn't hold back - no soft, fuzzy "Love Story" haze over the hospital rooms here. No, he details body fluids and puke, as well as heartache. 

It is then Augustus finds there is someone he simply cannot save.
I heartily recommend Fault if you are willing to suspend your disbelief and accept dialogue along the lines of The Breakfast Club - extremely smart and philosophical, but not quite  real : more stage-y than teenage-y. Certainly, the car-egging scene makes up for it, as well as the minor characters: Isaac, Hazel's parents, and Van Houten himself.

I love this tumblr image for the book, found here
This review was a difficult one to write, I found; it would have been easy to trash the characters as idealized versions of kids going through something that really, really sucks. However, there are several things which didn't allow me to do that:
1. My fifteen year old niece loved the book and identified with Hazel and Augustus. Creating that sort of emotional attachment with ink and paper is a very tricky thing and quite an accomplishment. 
2. Green doesn't hold back on teenage anger. I loved that.
3. Did I mention I read this book twice? Flawed as it is, for me this was a portal to a new universe - one with faulty stars, but stars nonetheless.

Chasing Invisible, by Karen Toz

Karen Toz is well-known for her delightful middle-grade fiction and younger characters. Now she is out with her first Adult Contemporary novel, Chasing Invisible.

Julia Alexander is a quiet girl from a small town. Content to spend her days with her small group of friends and a pile of books, Julia thinks her future is set. When she unexpectedly meets Chase, a fellow college student and budding musician, she is unaware of just how drastically things are about to change. 
Suddenly thrown into the limelight, her life is no longer her own. Relentlessly followed by the paparazzi, Julia is forced to make tough decisions about fame, love, family, and relationships. But just how much will Julia have to sacrifice to become invisible...
Chasing Invisible Excerpt:
“Listen to me, Jules, you can’t let some article in a gossip rag get to you,” Katie noted over the phone a few days after Chase and I returned to Rylee. “I thought you looked great.”
It didn’t take long for the red carpet critiques to start rolling in. After the ceremony, Chase and I were on cloud nine, attending party after party. For once, I enjoyed all the attention. We returned to our hotel room hours after midnight. As Chase took a shower, I made the mistake of collapsing onto the couch, flipping through the channels. There I was, walking the red carpet with Chase by my side. Only, the cameras were not on Chase. They were focused solely on me, panning me from top to bottom. I realized then, I was watching one of those “Red Carpet Recap” shows.
Oh no. My eyes were glued to the TV as my stomach turned. Sure enough, the review was less than glorious.
I tried to convince myself not to let what I just saw ruin my high from the evening. This was Chase’s night. Who cared what they thought about my dress. Besides, it was just one show, and it aired after midnight! Nobody was paying attention.
Between the exhaustion and the euphoria of the evening, I had all but forgotten about it by the time I woke up the next morning. Chase and I ordered room service, so we could enjoy a peaceful and romantic breakfast on the patio of our hotel suite. As I poured my second cup of coffee, I heard Chase gasp. That's when I saw what he was reading.
“I wouldn’t exactly call The Los Angeles Times a gossip rag,” I responded to Katie, “and it wasn’t just in there. It's days later, and it's still all over the television. It's even in the local papers here in Rylee. I’m sure it's been in the Leeland Post as well.”
The silence on the other end of the phone confirmed my suspicions.
“What does Chase say?” Katie asked.
“He thinks I’m overreacting and says it will just blow over like everything else. If you ask me, I think he's a little upset he’s not the one getting all the attention. I can’t say I blame him. It was supposed to be his night. Believe me, I’d much prefer they focus on him.”
“I’m so sorry, Jules,” Katie said. “I wish I could make the reporters and photographers all go away, but this is your life. This is their life. Pretty and nice doesn’t sell, so they have to find something that does, and unfortunately the public eats it up.”
“So, what ... I’m just supposed to stay locked up in my house with the kids?”
“No,” Katie said, “just the opposite. Go on with your life. Keep doing all the things you do that are so great. Show them you don’t care. Don’t let them take over your life, Jules. Don’t let them win.”
Buy Chasing Invisible on Amazon and Smashwords.

White Chalk #Book #blitz and #Giveaway

WHITE CHALK by Pavarti K. Tyler coming July 22, 2013
Literary Fiction/Coming of Age Novel with a brave look at teenage life, containing some strong adult themes to generate honest and frank conversation.
WHITE CHALK

About the Book
Chelle isn’t a typical 13-year-old girl—she doesn’t laugh with friends, play sports, or hang out at the mall after school. Instead, she navigates a world well beyond her years.
Life in Dawson, ND spins on as she grasps at people, pleading for someone to save her—to return her to the simple childhood of unicorns on her bedroom wall and stories on her father’s knee.

When Troy Christiansen walks into her life, Chelle is desperate to believe his arrival will be her salvation. So much so, she forgets to save herself. After experiencing a tragedy at school, her world begins to crack, causing a deeper scar in her already fragile psyche.

Follow Chelle’s twisted tale of modern adolescence, as she travels down the rabbit hole into a reality none of us wants to admit actually exists.Publisher: Evolved PublishingPublication Date: July 22, 2013Genre: Literary FictionSubGenre: Coming of AgeAudience: AdultPages: 250Excerpt from White Chalk:
Class oozed by. The assignment proved easy, but waiting for the inevitable knock on the door, or ring of the teacher’s phone, made the seconds expand exponentially. By the end of the period, I’d half convinced myself I should just go to the office and surrender, admit everything that happened and beg for leniency.When the bell rang and the frenzy began to herd ourselves into the cattle drives called hallways, I had mostly regained control of myself. Except I never realized that the computer room was in the same hallway as high school English, and I didn’t know that Xiu and Troy were in the same class for fourth period. I certainly didn’t have any clue about what greeted me when I walked out of my classroom.Xiu leaned against the wall, its puce green tile doing nothing to diminish her exotic beauty. A languid smile played on the corners of her lips as she tilted her head up, listening to whatever perfectly fascinating thing Troy said.He had one hand on the wall next to her head, his backpack dangling without fear from his shoulder. He reached up with his other hand and grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers.Her deep red lips parted in anticipation. Soft almond eyes drifted closed as she stretched her neck to meet his incoming kiss. His hair, pulled back in a dark stripe along the top of his head, shone in the florescent light as he took her lips in his.I dropped my bag and stumbled back, almost tripping over it. I fell along the linoleum floor until my back leaned against the cool tile. Speckles of light shone in my eyes, while bile rose in my throat and a wrenching aching heartbreak shook through me, threatening to knock me down and steal my kidneys, selling them on the black market. They weren’t any good to me anymore. Who needs kidneys when your heart’s been removed with a grapefruit spoon?



a Rafflecopter giveaway


White Chalk (Evolved Publishing) marks Tyler’s third full length novel and promises readers familiar with her work the same mind bending experience.  Her other projects include: Shadow on the Wall (Fighting Monkey Press) and Two Moons of Sera (Fighting Monkey Press).  Shadow on the Wall has been received many awards: Winner of the General Fiction/Novel Category of the 2012 Next Generation Indie Book Awards, Winner in the Fiction: Multicultural category for The 2012 USA Best Book Awards, and Finalist in the Multicultural Fiction category for the 2012 International Book Awards.

White Chalk has been hailed as “brave”, “raw”, and “destroyingly beautiful”.  In line with novels such as White Oleander, Thirteen Reasons Why and Gemma, White Chalk invites you to witness one girl’s heartrending story of confusion and desperation.
Award winning author of multi-cultural and transgressive literature, Pavarti K Tyleris an artist, wife, mother and number cruncher. She graduated Smith Collegein 1999 with a degree in Theatre. After graduation, she moved to New York, where she worked as a Dramaturge, Assistant Director and Production Manager on productions both on and off Broadway. Later, Pavarti went to work in the finance industry several international law firms. She now lives with her husband, two daughters and one very large, very terrible dog. She keeps busy working with fabulous authors as the Director of Marketing at Novel Publicity and penning her next genre bending novel.

Find her around the web:

Facebook PageFollow MeGoogle+ ProfileYouTube ChannelTumblrPinterest Page

To signup for the main tour click HERE! The Finishing Faeries need you!

Ruby's Fire - A Dystopian Giveaway

Announcing Ruby's Fire (plus giveaway!)

Join the giveaway of a signed print edition or Kindle copy by signing up for Catherine Stine's newsletter at this link and stating you have done so in the comments below. Don't forget to leave me your contact email as well! I'll choose one winner by random drawing and announce it on my blog. 

You can also enter Catherine's own Rafflecopter drawing on the sidebar. 

When I read Fireseed One, I was blown away by the concepts and worldbuilding, handled expertly by my friend and fellow author, Catherine Stine. I couldn't wait to read the sequel, and at last it is here in my hot little hands: Ruby's Fire is available for purchase as e-book and print. 
I'm a fiend for dystopian books: Hunger Games, Wool, and now this series. The scorched earth is described and illustrated perfectly, but more importantly the characters are living, breathing beings. I deeply cared what happened to Varik and Marisa, and now I know I'm going to love Ruby.
Author's illustration from Fireseed One
Here, then, is an excerpt from Ruby's Fire:
This excerpt comes shortly after Ruby escapes a dangerous desert cult armed only with a pouch of her handmade elixir, Oblivion, and her little brother Thorn. They land in a boarding school for nomadic teens, where she’s ensconced in classmate, Bea’s room.

I crawl into bed exhausted in a good way. I’ve eaten, I’ve gotten exercise, and I’ve managed to fend off Blane. I’ve checked on Thorn and Radius seems to be leaving him alone. Bea hasn’t said anything truly nasty to me today, though she’s rolled toward the wall again without a word. Now she’s breathing steadily with a soft snore.

Progress, I may not even need Oblivion tonight.But as I lay there, staring out at the orange-streaked sky and the distant, blinking stars, my mind sinks to a dreadful reverie. I’m standing in front of the garden shelf where the red leaves are trapped under those wide stones. The Fireseed seems to be emitting a high-pitched wail. Blane is there too and he’s pressing his face into mine, his lips biting at my own lips. His meaty arms trap me. He shoves me down on top of Fireseed stalks that crack and split, sending out more high-pitched whees. As Blane’s weight pushes hard against my chest, his face becomes Stiles’—the flared nostrils, bloodshot eyes and accusing stare. “You are mine,” Stiles says. “How dare you…”I bolt upright, sending such a flurry of fearful energy into the air that Bea chokes in her sleep. Coughing, she turns my way and returns to her steady breathing.Her eyes could snap open at any second. She could steal my bag of Oblivion or knock it from my hands, scattering the powder over the floor. It would be lost forever. I hold my breath as I pad across the room, reach for the velvety sack in my cloak and feel the reassuring give of the powder. It’s diminishing with every dose, and I won’t be able to make more here. I need to ration it carefully. My heart hammering, I flutter into the bathroom, inch open the drawstring and shake a line onto my wrist. I inhale greedily, desperately.Stumbling back to bed, there’s only enough time to thrust the precious bag inside my pillowcase before sweat erupts on my upper lip and my eyes roll up.Then I bump off swollen ridges of pain as I fall deeply into never.  The author
  If everything about you changes, what remains?

Seventeen year-old Ruby, long-pledged to the much older Stiles from the Fireseed desert cult, escapes with only a change of clothes, a pouch of Oblivion Powder and her mute little brother, Thorn. Arriving at The Greening, a boarding school for orphaned teens, she can finally stop running. Or can she? The Greening is not what it seems. Students are rampaging out of control and as she cares for the secret Fireseed crop, she experiences frightening physical changes. She’s ashamed of her attraction to burly, hard-talking Blane, the resident bodyguard, and wonders why she can’t be happy with the gentler Armonk. She’s long considered her great beauty a liability, a thing she’s misused in order to survive. And how is she to stop her dependence on Oblivion to find a real beauty within, using her talent as a maker of salves, when she has nightmares of Stiles without it?
When George Axiom, wealthy mogul of Vegas-by-the-Sea offers a huge cash prize for the winner of a student contest, Ruby is hopeful she might collect the prize to rescue her family and friends from what she now knows is a dangerous cult. But when Stiles comes to reclaim her, and Thorn sickens after creating the most astonishing contest project of all, the world Ruby knows is changed forever. This romantic fantasy set in 2099 on earth has a crafty heroine in Ruby, and a swoonworthy cast, which will surely appeal to the YA and new adult audience.

Catherine Stine writes YA, New Adult and middle grade fiction. Her YA futuristic thriller, Fireseed One, illustrated by the author won finalist spots in both YA and Science Fiction in the 2013 USA Book News International Book Awards. It was also granted a 2013 Bronze Wishing Shelf Book Award and a 2013 Indie Reader Approved notable stamp. Her YA Refugees, earned a New York Public Library Best Book. Middle grade novels include A Girl’s Best Friend.
Fireseed One sequel, Ruby’s Fire is earning advance praise from reviewers and authors:“Ruby's Fire returns to the sun-scorched earth of Fireseed One. In this long-awaited sequel, Stine delivers a thrilling adventure led by a new and exciting cast of characters. Ruby, Armonk, Thorn and Blane are memorable, and the romance is really well handled. Favorite quote: " It feels wrong to lean on Armonk right now with Blane staring at me, a hungry, lonely look in his eye. It’s as if he’s never been hugged, never been fed, never been loved..." ”  -YAs the Word
More and more, Catherine enjoys writing speculative tales where her imagination has wild and free reign. She has taught creative writing workshops at the Philadelphia Writing Conference, Missouri University Summer Abroad, The New School and in her own ongoing NYC writing workshop. She loves her readers, and enjoys blogging.

You can also find Ruby's Fire on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Goodreads, and as an illustrated paperback.
For All Things "Stine:"Author page on FacebookAuthor BlogAmazon author page

Shark Tankers

Anyone else into Shark Tank? It's the new addiction at my house. We put the kid to bed on Friday nights and relax on the sofa, couch vegetables that we are, and watch prospective entrepreneurs haggle for investment backers.

And here is the group of financial wizards:

Mr. Wonderful - Blam! I have to mention Kevin O'Leary right up front. He always makes us laugh as we sit safely shielded in our family room, far away from the shark tank as Mr. Wonderful picks holes in "The Next Big Thing" presentation. I've noticed his style is to offer financial backing but for a piece of the profit with each item sold - Kevin seems to enjoy those weekly royalty checks coming in.

Daymond John - The cutest of the bunch, his smile is infectious and he seems to gravitate towards presenters who are in the clothing or household goods industries. Makes sense, since his company, FUBU, started with sales of hats on the street and grew to a billion-dollar enterprise. 
[image error]
Barbara Corcoran - Not the largest personality in the tank, but I love Barbara. She seems to zero in on personality as a win/lose aspect of grabbing her as an investor. Plus, anyone who writes a book called "If You Don't Have Big Breasts, Put Ribbons on Your Pigtails" is cool.

Robert Herjavec - Oh, those blue eyes. Robert doesn't offer many deals, so when he does, you know the presenter has something special. 

Lori Greiner - The new addition, and the "Queen of QVC" as well as the "warm-blooded shark." She's too cute - my husband likes her. It's all good.

And then there's Mark Cuban, who just seems to have been in the right place at the right time when he sold Broadcast.com for several billion during the dot com boom - and shorted the stock afterwards. Now that's a sharky thing to do. Still, on the show you can't deny that he hones in on weakness - and strength - right away. We loved when he declared he was out in two seconds during a "motorcycle movie deal" presentation; yes, it was pretty lame.
A successful deal! Love it.
And as for those presenters? We love the great ones, who know their business inside and out, have the financial answers and obvious energy, as well as great products. So far, my favorite has been Coffee Joulies, which are like the opposite of ice cubes - they keep your coffee from burning your tongue off by absorbing heat and then release it to keep it hot. I need some of those bad boys.

We love the bad ones as well - the scientist dude who came on to present his "energy device" which made as much physics sense as perpetual motion (time crystals aside.) The sharks' response to his device? Yeah, they ripped him a new one.

Shark Tank may be a strange obsession for a sci-fi, fantasy geek like me, but I'm also fascinated by economics and possibilities. The show offers a glimpse of both.

Lifeboat, by A.B. Shepherd

<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-520092929 1073786111 9 0 415 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-indent:11.35pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-ansi-language:EN-AU;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:11.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-ansi-language:EN-AU;} .MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;} @page WordSection1 {size:595.3pt 841.9pt; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;}</style><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i> </i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><b><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lifeboat-ebook/... </a>- a fantastic sci-fi mystery...</b></span></span><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Cass Carmichael has lost everything; her husband, her son, and her will to live. She walks the streets and paddocks when she can't sleep. One night she sees a <span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: large;">UFO</span></span>. She can't stop thinking about it. She becomes obsessed.<br /><br />When natural disasters destroy the earth she is rescued by extra-terrestrials and taken to a new world where the human race can rebuild.<br /><br />But something is wrong here. This may not be the Utopia she expects. Survivors are vanishing without a trace.<br /><br />Can Cass unravel the riddle in time to save herself?</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FVFmnN6kF74..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FVFmnN6kF74..." width="263" /></a></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-AU">Cass</span></b></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-AU">Present Day – Dreaming</span></b></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-AU">Rural South Australia</span></b></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">Rain lashed down and the wind howled. Lightning flashed across Mick’s scowling face, as the booming thunder made me jump in my seat. At least Michael slept through the storm. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">Mick, four year old Michael, and I were on the road, driving home from Adelaide. We’d gone down for the day to the Royal Adelaide Show.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">It had been a wonderful day. Almost perfect. We had so much fun checking out stock, and trade stalls, viewing all the entries in the various competitions, eating scrumptious show food, and buying show bags. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">It was a long day though. As it grew late the three of us grew overly-tired, and cranky. Although I usually handled Michael’s rare tantrums like a pro, this time I threw my own tantrum. “Mick, would you please handle your son,” I groused, as Michael shifted from whinging to a full-fledged fit. He threw himself to the ground, kicking and screaming.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">“Why is it he’s always my son when he behaves like this?” Mick retorted, obviously annoyed by my nasty tone of voice, as well as my comment. He leaned down to pick up our child. Michael resisted, throwing his body back, and continued to scream loud enough to break an average person’s eardrum.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">“Because my son doesn’t act like that,” I yelled. I stomped away, ready to go home. I headed toward the car park, assuming Mick would follow. When we reached our car, Mick buckled Michael, who still screamed, into the safety seat behind Mick’s. I climbed in the front seat on the passenger side, slamming the door in my own fit of temper.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">Mick got in the driver’s side, closing the door before he growled, “What the hell Cass?”</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">“I’m tired Mick. My feet hurt, and I’m sunburned, and I just want to go home now.”</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">“And that means you’re just going to leave our son in the middle of the Show?”</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">“I didn’t just leave him. I left him with you. It’s about time you dealt with his tantrums. You’re never there when he throws them. I’m tired of it.”</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">It was completely unfair of me to say that. Michael’s tantrums only occurred when he was over-tired, which didn’t happen often. Mick was a good dad. In truth, he did handle Michael’s tantrums with a great deal of patience. Much more patience than I was showing. But who is ever fair in an argument?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-16_Nc5QAdx4..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-16_Nc5QAdx4..." width="265" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A.B. Shepherd</td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">“Just take me home. I don’t want to argue anymore.” I sulked.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">“Whatever you say your majesty,” he sarcastically replied.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">Michael soon quieted as he fell asleep, but I continued to pout as Mick drove.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">The weather all day had been unseasonably warm and sunny, but as night set in so did the storm clouds. The drive back to the farm was long. The wind picked up, and the rain slashed down. Visibility on the roads was diminished and the glare of the oncoming headlights didn’t help. I was glad Mick was behind the wheel, and not me. I couldn’t see ten metres in front of us.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">Several cars had pulled over on the side of the road. We could only see their tail lights when we were nearly on top of them. The pavement was slicker than a greased pig. Twice I felt the car hydroplane, but Mick managed to keep it under control. Even so, I held my breath each time I felt the tires hit a puddle or the car jolted from the rushing of the wind as another car passed us by. My pulse raced, and my knuckles glowed white in the light from the dashboard where I squeezed my fingers together.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">“Mick, maybe we should stop somewhere. Wait out the storm,” I ventured.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">Mick, still annoyed with me, said, “I know how to drive, Cass. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">Not usually so stubborn, or so condescending, it was obvious I’d really ticked him off and he hadn’t forgiven me yet. We were about ten kilometres from home, nearly there, when it happened. The crash.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">The b-double driver going too fast for road conditions hadn’t a hope of stopping. Mick didn’t see the oncoming headlights until far too late.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">*****</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">I woke, shaking, drenched in sweat. Even after five years I still frequently relived this nightmare while I slept.</span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">I dragged myself out of bed and threw on some clothes. My hands still trembled as I grabbed my camera on the way out the door. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">I walked the streets and paddocks, hoping they would work their magic and calm my nerves.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU"> ________</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">Buy Lifeboat on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lifeboat-ebook/... class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU"><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lifeboat-eboo... UK </a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lifeb... style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU"> Barnes and Noble </span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span lang="EN-AU">and <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view... class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span>

I'm Twelve

My child is far more mature than I am:

ParaNorman is on Netflix and I'm uber excited to watch it, but she's all, "Nah, let's check out Top Model."

I want to get cute tutu skirts to twirl in, but she's checking out the bootie shorts section.

She just asked when she can get her first phone. Hello - what happened to walkie talkies? Tin cans and string?

Also, she has decided that at fourteen she's gonna "get herself a boyfriend." Mama expired upon hearing that news; send chocolate in lieu of flowers.

I begged her to watch the newest episode of Gravity Falls because I wanted to find out what was going to happen.

Also, Good Luck Charlie is my favorite show on TV. I can't pass up a sitcom with the phrase "Has anyone seen my left shoe?" in the theme song. "There it is, up on the roof!"


There were rumblings of getting rid of the Barbies for a while, but that seems to have blown over. Whew! Dodged a bullet there! However, the not-so-good news is the Barbies are re-enacting Top Model.

All-day marathon of Avatar, the Last Airbender? I'm so in, with iced coffee and smores. But no.



I do see some hopeful signs:

When I offer to give helicopter rides - the kind where you pick up a kid with one arm, one leg, and spin them like mad - she still goes for it.
image courtesy of lindalu.typepad.com
She and her friends still enjoy making mud.

Stuffed animals are the most important thing in the entire world, so there's that.

She thinks it's funny to whack my butt cheeks and make a crashing cymbal sound. Mama's Junk Orchestra, y'all.


Yes, I'm twelve.