Jessica L. Elliott's Blog, page 13

The Scoop on Snow

So it's Sunday morning and I'm sitting at home right now with a mug of hot apple cider instead of being at church where I would normally be at this time. There's a couple inches of snow on the ground, fivish in some of the drifts. Doesn't sound that bad, right? I got a call from a church leader letting me know that our regular meetings were cancelled and replaced with an abbreviated meeting for those who could get there.

Now I know for some of you, you're thinking, "What? It's only a couple inches! That's easy to deal with." And you're probably laughing at us silly Kansans who can't deal with a few little inches of snow.

I'll admit it, I've had my share of laughs at and scorn for those in southern states or California who feel the need to get all bundled up for 50 degree weather. (For my fans outside the US, that's 50 Fahrenheit, not Celsius!) I laugh and say, "Oh you poor dears! You have no clue!"

Do you realize just how true those words are? As we start seeing the pictures on Facebook mocking our southern friends' lack of understanding of snow, do we really consider that they seriously don't understand snow? I mean think about it, some of these areas probably don't see snow at all during the year. When suddenly it does show up, they are completely unprepared even for a small amount. They don't have fleets of snowplows like our northern friends do. Their winter weather department is probably limited to light coats and scarves and mittens for the truly warm-blooded. A snow shovel? What would you do with it?

The same kind of thing happens in the north, you know. Only most of us don't dare mock the souls lost in heat waves when they have no air conditioning. Up north, a lot of areas don't get hot enough to warrant air conditioning. You open a few windows and let that nice breeze in and everything's better. Even if it's still a little warm, it's livable. Living down here in Kansas, the idea of going without air conditioning is like trying to live without oxygen. Seriously? Who would do that?

Then there are the other factors many people don't consider when they start pointing fingers of scorn at the way certain areas handle the weather. I live in a small town surrounded by farms and fields. Many of the students in our school district live on dirt roads. Do you really think a snow plow is going to go clean that up in a storm? Here's a hint, the answer starts with an "N". If there's more than a couple inches of snow, our buses struggle to get to these students' homes to pick them up. I understand why our district closes school on days that the district I grew up in (a well-populated suburb) would have still gone.

And, I understand why our leaders changed the meetings at church for today. Our congregation's boundaries are very large. We have members living in very small towns, like my family, and many others who live in the country. For some it's a 45 minute drive in nice weather. The streets aren't cleared on Sunday out here. People are worshipping and enjoying their day of rest. And that's one of the things I love about our little town. My husband had already left before we got the call. I was staying home anyway with sick kiddos. But had they been feeling better, our whole family probably would have made the trip. The roads aren't too bad and the snow has stopped, at least for now.

Now, I'm not saying that you can't giggle a little when you hear about schools closing for a just a few inches. And I'm not saying you can't giggle at the bundled up Californians in their 50 degree weather. (Sorry, California, it's just funny!) But try not to be snide about it. This country is huge and the climate is sometimes night and day different between one state and another. Heck, it can be different within one state! Let's show a little understanding and a lot of kindness. Just because you're used to lots of snow, doesn't mean the guy born and raised in Florida is.

And now, I'm going to go make another mug of cider and cuddle up with my kiddos on the couch. Enjoy a beautiful day, wherever you are. :)

P.S. And it's okay to giggle at the silly Kansans who don't understand snow. ;)

Sweet Georgia

Okay, so this is actually a little late since I promised my friends a blog post on Saturday and it's Monday. Oops. :)

On Friday we went on a little road trip to pick a new member for our family. She's the sweetest little four-legged bundle of joy you ever saw! How did she come to be ours? Well, let me tell you.

Just before our whirlwind trip to Utah, a friend of mine called and asked if we were still looking at getting a dog. I replied that we were and she said, "I know you prefer small dogs and that you want an adult, but I've got a puppy that I probably need to rehome." She then explained that the previous owners had asked her to watch the dog for a while as they got things in order and figured out. Next thing she knew, she received a call that they were moving out of state and not coming back for the puppy. "She's really sweet and mild-mannered, especially for a puppy."

My heart immediately went out to this poor little girl, and I hadn't even seen her yet! Granted, I'm a dog person. I fall in love with them pretty fast. I told my friend that I would talk to my husband and if she could send pictures for me to show him, that would be great. When the first picture came, I knew this would be pretty easy. I showed it to Jonathan and you could just watch him melt as he looked at those big, puppy eyes just pleading, "Please love me!"

So once we got back we went into a flurry of puppy-proofing the house. I let my friend know that we were definitely interested and said we could pick her up over the weekend. Friday was the big day and I hadn't told the kiddos what we were doing. Instead, I said we were going to buy some things to be ready for having a dog and then go to my friend's house to see the kittens she had rescued. (Can you tell she has a big heart for animals?) When we arrived and met the puppy, it was love at first sight for everyone. She was gentle with the children and enjoyed all the love and attention. And that's when I picked her name: Georgia.

I'd been thinking about it anyway since my husband had vetoed any "common" pet names like Fido or Spot. I love art and Georgia O'Keefe is one of my favorite artists. The little lab/English setter mix we were taking home is white with little brown flecks through her coat and larger patches over one eye and her ears. It looks like someone splattered her with paint and the name stuck.

I asked my son, "Do you know who Georgia belongs to?"

"Mellisa?"

"Nope, ask her who she belongs to."

"She belongs to you!"

It took a while for the news to register and then smiles were on every face and the kiddos were hugging and kissing their new puppy, who returned kisses and smiles back. We loaded her up and brought her home.

Now we're in the process of training her and getting her used to our home. It's been a wonderful weekend with her and she seems to love her new home. She's always got a little puppy grin and has decided that Daddy is the most amazing person in the world (I have to admit to being jealous since I'm the dog person, not my sweetie). Sweet Georgia has found her fur-ever home and we hope that other dogs will be just as lucky.

On the Beautiful Debate

I’ve been disturbed by a recent trend trying to get women to stop trying to be beautiful. Before I get to my actual topic, I’m going to tell you a story which may not seem related but I think by the time I finish you’ll see how it fits. When I was a young girl I had many interests and talents that I tried to develop. My mom can tell you that as a kindergartner I had decided upon at least eleven different occupations that I was going to have ranging from being a world famous ballerina to being a paleontologist (and yes, at five I could pronounce it correctly). As I expressed interest in ballet, my parents got me lessons on the condition that I worked hard and told them if it was getting to be too much. They also got me piano lessons with the same word of advice. By nine I had also added tap dance to the mix and during the summers I spent time buried in books and creative writing (big surprise, right?).

But as finances changed and I got into sixth grade, my mom took me aside and said, “Jessica, you’re going to be in junior high classes now. The work will be harder and your schedule is already too busy. Money is tight, so Dad and I will let you choose one of your lessons to continue. You can choose tap, ballet or piano. Whichever you choose, Dad and I will fully support you as long as you continue to work hard.”

This simple conversation starter told me two things: 1) My parents trusted me enough to be honest about their situation and 2) that they trusted my judgment. Mom did not try to persuade or dissuade me from any of the lessons. She left the choice to me. I immediately chose piano. Now, it was not that I didn’t love my dance classes. Tap was still new enough that it hadn’t left a huge impression on me, but I absolutely loved ballet and still do. However, I had already watched all my original classmates graduate to en pointe and Ms. Diane had told me that I would be held back for yet another year. I was furious! I was a hard worker and I knew that while I wasn’t the best dancer, I was still pretty good. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t let me show her that I was ready. So the dance lessons were dropped and I stayed with piano.

Fast forward to when I was fifteen or sixteen (don’t remember which). A friend had tickets to go with her family to see the New York City Ballet perform The Nutcracker in Wichita. They had an extra ticket and asked if I would like to go with them. Yes!!! When I got back home, Mom asked how it was and I told her that it was amazing and fabulous. “I even recognized one of the girls I was in classes with as one of the extras.” I sighed, “I almost wish I had stayed with ballet instead of piano.”

“Why didn’t you?” Mom already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it anyway.

“Because Ms. Diane wouldn’t let me go on to en pointe. I was already the oldest girl in my class. It wasn’t fair.”

“Do you know why she was holding you back another year?”

“She didn’t like me.”

“No, she liked you very much. She thought you were a very hard worker and saw potential in you. But, she also recognized that your right ankle was still weak and developing. While you were close to being ready, she was afraid that if she went ahead and moved you forward you would be injured. With that ankle not being done developing, an injury could have been crippling to you.”

“You knew all of this then? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The decision had to be yours, Jessica. And secretly, I hoped you would pick piano. I knew you loved to dance, but I could tell even then that you would not have what is now considered the ballet ideal body type. Fifty or sixty years ago, you would have been fine. A little on the tall side, but your body type would not have been considered a major flaw. Now they want the skinny minis with no figure…”

“And I’m no skinny mini,” I smiled.

“No. I didn’t want you to struggle with your body image the way so many girls who pursue dance do. I wanted and still want you to see the beautiful young woman you are.”

Talk about a powerful lesson. As a young woman who developed rapidly into a rather curvaceous woman, I had already struggled with my view of myself. I hated my body, though I knew there was nothing wrong with it. I hated being stared at by boys in the hall no matter how baggy my tee-shirts or how much I slouched. I hated the way girls envied me and glared at me. I hated going clothes shopping because it took forever to find anything that covered me decently and didn’t make me look like a grandma. I hated the comments, the jeers, and all the rest that came with having a very full figure at a young age. As I thought about what Mom had said, she was right. The pressure of trying to be thin and lithe for ballet on top of what I already was dealing with would have been too much. More than likely I would have either quit ballet later, developed unhealthy eating habits or an eating disorder, or a combination of the two. By quitting ballet when I did, I saved myself a lot of heartache, though I admit to still watching ballet with a wistful, “What if?”.

So, to my actual topic. Ladies, can we please jump off the bandwagons? I see so many articles and posts about how we need to redefine beauty and you shouldn’t ever have to feel the need for make-up and there’s something wrong with you if you do feel that make-up is what makes you pretty. I also see the opposite side of how we need to embrace our femininity and every woman should be able to wear what she wants, how she wants and when she wants. Women need to be empowered, but the messages are so jumbled that it’s driving this woman mad!

Let’s look at this from an advertising standpoint. Advertising is all about gimmicks that pull at a human emotion. In most advertising for women, it pulls either at our vanity or our guilt and some cosmetics have been able to pull both at once! These debates over whether to tell your girls they’re pretty or not, whether or not to let her wear pink, whether or not you should wear make-up and how you should feel beautiful, etc. etc. are just gimmicks. They are gimmicks pulling at your emotions trying to make you feel one way or another, and most of them are trying to make you feel guilty.

STOP FEELING GUILTY ABOUT BEING BEAUTIFUL!!!

What I learned most from that conversation with my mom thirteen years ago was that there was only one human being on the face of the planet who had any right to tell me how to feel about my body: me. My mother told me often that I was beautiful. She showed me that I was beautiful. When I was in dance, she would tell me how beautifully I danced. When I practiced my piano, she told me how beautifully I played. When we had spent hours going through department stores trying to find a dress I liked and I came out of the dressing room, she told me how beautiful I was. When I was sitting at the dinner table desperately trying to get through my math homework, Mom told me that I was beautiful when I was determined. My mother taught me that being beautiful wasn’t about what I looked like so much as what I acted like.

She also showed by example what a beautiful woman was. She was a stay-at-home mom when I was growing up and most days she didn’t wear make-up. It wasn’t that she didn’t have it or didn’t like it; it just wasn’t practical for her day-to-day activities. But when she was getting ready for a nice date with my dad, I watched her spend a lot of time in front of the mirror curling her hair and dolling up for her date. We both knew that Dad would think she was gorgeous no matter what she wore or if she even bothered with the make-up. But in her doing that it taught me that there was nothing wrong with wanting to look extra special.

Now that I have a daughter, I tell her often that she is beautiful. When she shakes around while listening to music, I tell her she’s a beautiful dancer. When she tries to sing along with me to the music I listen to, I tell her she’s a beautiful singer. When she chooses that pink skirt for the fifth time to wear, I tell her she looks so beautiful. I want my daughter to learn, as I learned, that being beautiful is not just what you look like, but what you act like.

Ladies, we are each precious daughters of God. Whether you are the woman who has a daily routine for hair, make-up and attire, or the woman who rolls out of bed, throws on jeans and tee-shirt and pulls a brush through your hair, you are beautiful. You are by very nature beautiful. Stop letting other people guilt you into thinking that you shouldn’t enjoy dolling up. Stop letting other people guilt you into thinking there’s something wrong with you if you aren’t a size 4. Stop letting other people guilt you into not wanting to be beautiful. Just stop being guilty. You have NOTHING to feel guilty about. The only human being on the face of the planet who has any right to tell you how to feel about your body is you. I hope that you see your own worth and beauty. If you don’t, I hope that you will seek for it. If you feel beautiful by putting on make-up and dressing up, then do it! If you feel beautiful when you’re out in the garden sweating and working, then do it! If you feel beautiful when you play with your children or others’ children, then do it. You be the beautiful that you are. Don’t let anyone else tell you what beautiful should mean. You decide for yourself what your beautiful is.

I decided long ago that I was a jeans and tee-shirt kind of girl. And it took a long time for me to see the beauty in the body I was given. Really, it took getting married for me to truly appreciate my body. But in college I slowly started weeding through my X-Large tee-shirts and switching them out for Mediums and Larges, depending on the brand and what fit better. I’ve become comfortable with the body I have and I hope that you are comfortable with yours. If not, don’t let me or anyone else tell you what you should do to feel comfortable and beautiful. Discover it for yourself. But please, stop letting people make you feel guilty. You are too beautiful and too precious to worry about what anyone else has to say. Being beautiful isn’t just what’s on the outside. It’s what’s on the inside and that is where you are the most beautiful.

I'm Not Dead, Just Pregnant

My wonderful fans, I owe you a HUGE apology for being gone for such a ridiculously long time. I promise that I have not died, am not currently dying (though sometimes it has felt that way!) and have no intention of dying any time soon. I've just been dealing with morning sickness and exhaustion thanks to Baby Elliott #3.

Pregnancy does crazy things to women. Some of us get "morning" sickness, which we know as the all-day-every-day misery that we live with until baby finally settles down. With my first, that day didn't come until after my son was born. I even threw up while in labor. Not pleasant. Luckily for him, my son is just so cute that it didn't take long to forgive him. My daughter was a little gentler on me. By the end of four months I was feeling pretty normal again. This has been kind of a mix of the two. But being as I'm only at 3 months, I've still got a ways to go.

But it isn't just the morning sickness that makes pregnancy so different. It's a lot of different things. Sickness can be triggered by a variety of things. Who knew that the smell of fresh cut grass could make you feel so ill? Or that opening a spice cupboard could be the worst mistake ever? Then there's things you wouldn't think of. Getting on the computer makes you sick within minutes. And you're constantly tired. There have been days where I felt like a zombie. No brains and no energy. Then when I actually have had the energy to do things, I sweat like a pig and then smell like a boys' locker room. (Admit it guys, those rooms reek!) This from a girl who really doesn't sweat much, truly, and even when I do there's very little odor. Talk about a change!

Such is life when expecting. And it really doesn't matter how many times you've been pregnant, how many books you read or how many women you talk to. Each experience is so different that there's really no way to be totally 100% prepared for the reality that pregnancy decides to offer you. I've never had problems being on the computer before when pregnant. But I'm just now able to start getting on again. And even there, I have to limit my time somewhat. Kind of stinks when I really want to start writing and sitting at the computer makes me feel so wretched.

So thanks for being so patient with me. And thanks to all of you who spread the word about my newest book. The month of July saw record-breaking sales for me, so I was really excited! I know that wasn't from my marketing since after the release date I disappeared. It was each of you doing what you do best: telling your friends about the great books you've been reading. I hope you'll keep reading and keep sharing these stories. It means a lot to me to see that something that had once just been in my head is now something that people all over are enjoying.

Love to you!

A Great Release

It's been a crazy month, made crazier by vacations and birthdays and anniversaries, and of course the release of Becoming Prince Charming.

Yesterday was the official release date and I just want to send a HUGE shout out of thanks and gratitude to all of you who made this a success.

First, there was the Goodreads giveaway. 527 entered that giveaway! Wow! Thank you to each of you who participated. The winner's copy is now on its way to Australia. Australia! I'm still wide-eyed over that one. I'm going international! :)

Second, I had an online Facebook release party. It wasn't as glamorous as I had envisioned, but it was still fun and I got 15 entries into that giveaway. My page even got a couple more likes and I was glad to see that one participant had put up reviews of two of my other books. You know who you are, thanks a million!

And of course there was the live event at my local library. Unlike my first attempt at a library event, this one had people! Real, live people! I was so thrilled! It was a fabulous experience and I was glad to see people in the community come with their kids to hear about my books. I sold some books, I had some door prizes and I was able to do what I love most: tell people how awesome it is to be an author. I had so much fun and I enjoyed seeing the children there.

All in all, my release day was a big success and I couldn't have had that without each of you who participated in one way or another. If you entered a giveaway, but weren't lucky enough to win this time around, you can still get a copy of my book. Just go to my website and follow the links to whichever of the books you are interested in. All are available at Amazon.com and on my website.

So, it's official: Becoming Prince Charming is released. It's available right now for you to purchase, read and enjoy!

Hallelujah!

Those heavenly choruses you've been hearing? I can explain them. I got "Becoming Prince Charming" finished! Whoo hoo! I'm now finishing up the editing process and will soon be releasing the book for sale. How soon you ask?

July 17th!

How's that for awesome? What makes it even more awesome is the fact that there will be lots of great things going on that day.

For one, it'll be my anniversary. Five years! Crazy, huh? Anniversaries are always amazing, and what better way to celebrate than to release a fabulous love story?

Second, I'm having a release party at my local library. Still working out the details, but be watching for more news on that. Right now I can tell you that there will be door prizes, including brand-new, signed copies of "Becoming Prince Charming" and Charming Academy. Who doesn't like free stuff?

Third, I'm going to do a couple of giveaways for my awesome readers who can't make it all the way out to Plains Kansas for the release party. There will be one set up here on Goodreads (be watching for that one in the next day or two). The others will be on Facebook. Again, everyone likes free stuff so it's going to be a blast! So watch for invitations to the online release party which I'll be setting up soon.

This is going to be so great! I can't wait to share this story with you. I think it's my favorite so far! I know, I say that with all of them. But seriously, this one? It's gonna knock your socks off!

Well, gotta get some things done. Life as a mom and writer is never dull! I might even join that heavenly chorus for a while...

Hallelujah!!!

Behind Again

Another two-fer because I fell behind. Life happens! So the first story is a "flag" story and the second is a "father" story. The first is just some thoughts and feelings about our flag while the second captures that first moment when a man realizes that he's become a daddy. Enjoy!

Flag
It's changed over the years, but what it symbolizes has remained constant. Freedom. Sacrifice. Determination. Justice. To some it's just a piece of cloth, some stripes and stars put together. But to those who understand its value, it becomes so much more. The stars, one for each state, tell us that we're a piece of a greater whole. Stars shine brightly in a clear night sky. Little pinpoints of light in a dark world. The stars on our flag remind us that we have a responsibility to our community and our nation. One star alone doesn't seem to give much light, but a sky-full can brighten the shadows. The stripes remind us of our heritage. Thirteen stripes for thirteen colonies. It reminds us that a few men, standing together in faith, can overcome impossible odds.
We have a responsibility to those who came before to carry on the legacy of freedom. To fly the flag in respect and ensure that the next generation knows its history and its future. We have a responsibility to those in the rising generation to pass the legacy to them. We need to teach them that freedom isn't free. They need to understand the red in our flag is symbolic not only of an ideal, but of the blood shed in the defense of our flag and nation.
Too many have forgotten the legacy we have been given. Too many have disregarded it as trivial. Far too many have given up. We need to remember the symbolism and majesty that goes into our flag. We need to remember the sacrifices of others that have given us a land of freedom and opportunity. We need to hold close to that legacy and pass it on. A symbol only remains effective as long as its purpose is remembered. Remember the flag. Remember the symbolism found within it. And remember those who have fought and died defending those stars and stripes and the land they represent.


Father
Adrian paced the hall in front of Allegra's room. As much as he wanted to be inside helping her, his mother had insisted he stay outside. "This is not the place for you."
He couldn't think of anywhere he more needed to be than in that room with his wife. His heart ached as he heard grunts and cries of pain.
"Adrian, my lad, you're going to wear a path in the carpet if you keep this up," his uncle said gently. "You've been pacing for hours."
"What's taking so long?"
Sebastian laughed. "It's not easy bringing a baby into the world. Relax. Between your mother, Bethany and the midwife she's in good hands. Not to mention Rowena is there with her."
"I still don't understand why her parents aren't here. I sent the message that she was coming due a week ago."
"Perhaps they had business to conduct."
"Her mother surely could have been spared."
A high-pitched shriek echoed in the hallway, causing Adrian to turn to the door in a panic. His hand reached for the knob.
"Let it be, lad," Sebastian said, placing a hand on Adrian's shoulder. "Allegra's a strong girl. She's doing fine, I'm sure of it."
"How do you know?" he asked painfully as another cry rent the air.
"Have some faith in her."
"I just don't like her to be in pain without me there to comfort her."
"That's why she's surrounded by women. Two of whom know that pain."
"I'm amazed women want to have children at all," Adrian muttered as another shrill cry made him resume his pacing.
"Maternal instinct is stronger than the pain, lad. But, this fretting is not going to help Allegra. Sit down and relax."
"I can't," Adrian snapped. Then he sighed, "Sorry, I'm just..."
"Worried, I know."
There was silence for a while which caused Adrian to stand terrified in front of the door. Had something happened? Was something wrong? Why was it so quiet? Then there was a soft cry from inside the room. It wasn't Allegra's voice he heard. Emotions swirled in him as he realized that he was hearing his child's voice for the first time. All of a sudden it was real. He was a father.
After a few moments, the door opened a smidge and Nana came out with a tiny, wrapped bundle. "You have a beautiful baby girl, Adrian," she said, handing the child to him.
Though he normally was not one to cry, tears welled in his eyes as he saw for the first time the little miracle life had given him. "Hello," he choked. "I'm your daddy."
The tiny baby girl cried a little and Adrian offered her a finger. She tightened her grip around it and he knew that his life would never be the same. "Can I see Allegra now?"
There was a cry of pain as Nana said, "No dear, not yet. This baby is just the first."
Adrian stood gaping for a moment. "First?"
"Of course, dear. You've carried on the tradition of twins. Now I'm going to go back in and help Allegra. You get to know your new baby."
Adrian held his daughter, rocking her gently in his arms as though he'd been doing it all his life.
Sebastian stood behind him and looked down at the baby girl. "She's lovely, Adrian. What are you going to call her?"
"I promised Allegra that if we had a girl, she could name her."
Sebastian laughed. "I guess you better hope the second baby is a boy, or you won't be naming anyone."
Sitting down on the bench with his new daughter, Adrian laughed. He couldn't have cared less if he got to name a baby or not. All he cared about was taking care of the little child in his arms while Allegra gave birth to the second.
It was a long while before a second, tiny cry was heard. Adrian was beside himself wanting to go and see his wife and new baby. Within a few minutes, Rowena came out with a second bundle. "You have another daughter, Adrian. Bethany was quite surprised. Normally twins in your family come as one of each."
Pride swelled in Adrian's heart as he handed the first little girl to Sebastian so he could meet the second. Her bright blue eyes were open and looking directly at him. She squealed a little and he held her tiny hand. "Hello, little one," he said tenderly. He looked up at Rowena. "Now can I see Allegra?"
"They were helping her get cleaned up when I left. Let me see if they're ready for you." She disappeared inside the room, leaving Sebastian and Adrian outside again.
"Quite a miracle, life, isn't it?" Sebastian said.
"Yeah, it is," Adrian agreed. It wasn't long before the door was opened and he was ushered inside. Allegra was leaning against her pillows, her skin flushed and her hair, despite having been braided back, a mess. He leaned down and kissed her gently. "I love you so much. Are you okay? Can I get anything for you?"
She smiled wearily. "I'm fine, dear. Right now I just want to rest."
"I'm afraid before you can do that," Nana said, "you need to feed these little ones. They're not going to wait forever."
Sebastian had come in and handed the oldest daughter to her before walking out again.
As the baby began to suck noisily, Adrian hardly listened to the conversation going on between Allegra and the midwife. He couldn't get over the fact that he was now a father. Allegra caught his gaze and smiled, "What are you thinking about?"
"Just how unreal this all is."
She laughed. "Tell me about it." The first little girl finished eating and she traded with Adrian for the second. "I guess we should name these little ones."
"You're responsible for girl's names. I just picked out boy names."
Allegra laughed again, though with a yawn. "I've had a list of names since I was twelve, but none of them seem to match these little girls. Want to help me out?"
Adrian looked at the little girl snuggled against his chest. She had a tuft of dark hair and her eyes were closed in sleep. There was a serene look about her. "What if we called her Bethany, after Nana?"
"Bethany," Allegra repeated. "I like that." She looked down at the baby she was feeding. "I never thought I'd use my grandmother's name, but she does look like a Dorothy, don't you think?"
"I like Dorothy," Adrian agreed.
Allegra sighed contentedly and leaned against the pillows. "Bethany and Dorothy. We're going to have our hands full."
"We probably would either way," Adrian teased. "I suppose I better send out a proclamation to let everyone know."
"That would be best," Allegra yawned.
Rowena came and took the sleeping baby from her as Adrian leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Get some rest, love. You definitely deserve it."
"Mm-hmm"
As his wife fell into a peaceful sleep, Adrian walked over to the bassinet Rowena was laying Dorothy in. "How are we ever going to tell them apart?" he whispered as he lay Bethany next to her sister.
"Simple," Rowena replied, taking the purple ribbon from her hair. She tied it gently around Bethany's wrist. "You dress them in different colors until they're big enough for you to know."
"What if they're identical?"
"They aren't," Rowena replied. "You see? Bethany has dark hair and poor Dorothy is bald. What little fuzz she has is blonde. Come now, let's let them rest."
Adrian looked at the sleeping girls and his wife one last time, worry in his eyes. "Are you sure they'll be okay?"
Rowena smiled. "They're fine Adrian. Come along."
As he left the room, Adrian felt all the worry and fear of the past several hours melt in the satisfaction of knowing that his wife was safe. They had two beautiful little girls. He knew that things would be different now. But his heart was so full of love for those little bundles sleeping in Allegra's room and for his wife, that he didn't mind at all the changes that were to come. He only wished that his sister was there to share in his joy. He frowned as he looked out a nearby window. "Moira, I hope Lucian finds you soon." Then he continued to his office to write out the proclamation declaring his pride at becoming a father to two lovely daughters.

Garden Fantasy

Haha, I'm on time this week! Yay! :) This week's prompt is flowers. I love flowers. I love them in gardens. I love them in fields. I love decorative bouquets and simple, single flowers in a vase. I just love flowers. It's the girly-girl in me, I suppose. My garden is one of my places of refuge. A place where I can be still and just let my thoughts, and imagination, wander. Right now most of my new plants are still in the sprouting stage. They're green and vibrant with lots of leaves, but not much in the way of flowers. But I did have some dianthus from last year that reseeded and I have beautiful little purple flowers in my garden. That's where the inspiration for this story comes, my little piece of heaven, my garden.

Raindrops dripped steadily on the soft brown earth. As it soaked into the ground, tender roots of growing plants drank thirstily of this new moisture. Leaves caught the drops and let them roll to the ground. Tiny buds waiting to blossom felt rivulets of rain slide down their cheeks.
The gentle pitter-patter created a song of life for the garden. The breeze danced with the tall stems of the sunflowers, making them sway gently back and forth. Lilies dripped the rain from leaf to leaf to the ground and caught the drops in their open faces. Roses felt the drops run circles about their petals as the breeze blew by.
Drip drip pitter-patter the rain came steadily down. Hollyhock and coral bells swayed together. Breezes sighed through leaves and petals and the garden was peacefully growing. A water game was played as drop by drop fell into leaves like outstretched arms. A gentle dance of wind and flower as the tallest plants played with the breeze.
The rain came down more strongly now and the wind picked up. Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning flashed. Still the growth went on. A frenzied dance as the wind blew past and the rain fell hard. The gentle shower was replaced by a darker storm. Cold winds caused the plants to shudder and large raindrops splashed their leaves. Petals fell under heavy drops and still the storm raged on.
After some time the rain slowed and the gentle drip, drip returned. Flowers opened back to the gentle, warm rays of the sun peeking through the clouds. A brilliant rainbow slashed the sky as the rain slowed to a stop. Drips of water fell from the leaves and petals and the garden reflected the rainbow's colorful beauty. Birds sang and bees hummed as the flowers roots pulled still from the water from the storm. Growth and life continued still as the sun shone brightly overhead, feeding the flowers and brightening the world.

Without You

Someday I actually will get back on schedule and get these out on Wednesday like I'm supposed to. Like this Wednesday! :) Here's a short story for the prompt blue and a reminder that 99 Days of Summer Reading has started! You can find more here on Facebook. We've started the BINGO game so be sure to pick a new book to read and get into the game! Anyway, back to the story. It's Memorial Day and as an Air Force brat I've always been grateful that while my dad went to war, he always came home. I knew that not everyone was as lucky as I was. The men and women who serve our country in the name of freedom are my heroes. Most especially my dad, a man who taught me that there are things in this world worth fighting for. Some of them are even worth dying for. In honor of the fallen, I dedicate this short story. Thank you for the service that you have rendered on behalf of our country. You hold a special place in my heart. God bless.

The sky was a clear azure above as he walked. The breeze caused a ripple through the little flags and the air was heady with the scent of flowers. He stopped in front of a tombstone with a tiny flag waving in front of it. An empty vase waited for the bouquet held in the young man's hands. He placed the flowers, adjusting the patriotic bouquet so that the blue flowers were the tallest. Tim had been Air Force through and through and it was no surprise to their parents when he announced his intents to join the military. Blue had always been his favorite color and he claimed that it ran in his blood.
Tears pricked the young man's eyes as he knelt silently at the grave. It was the first Memorial Day since Tim had come home for the last time. He supposed he should have been grateful. Some never came home, even for burial. But he couldn't help feeling a deep sense of loss. Tim had been his hero. He'd always stood up for the underdog. He'd always had encouragement for his younger brother. "You can be anything you want, Matt," he had often said. "As long as you're not better at it than me." He'd wink and tousle Matt's hair before grabbing a football to toss around the yard with him.
Memorial Day would seem empty without Tim, the "King of the Barbecue," there to start things off right. Matt had always known that there was more to the holiday than grilling and fireworks. He came from a long line of warriors and his family came to this cemetery every year to pay their respects to those who'd paved the way for them. But this year it seemed different. The heroes they'd talked about before had been heroes of the past. Grandfathers, great-grandfathers, uncles and cousins of past generations. Having Tim in their family plot gave him the stark realization of the price freedom was bought with.
He heard motorcycles roaring in the distance and remembered the day his brother had gone to his final resting place. The motorcyclists had surrounded the cemetery, giving his family as much peace as could be had. His blood still boiled as he thought of the heartless individuals who had shattered the already broken pieces of his mother's heart with their hate. Didn't they understand it was because of men like Tim that they had the freedom to do what they were doing? Didn't they know what would happen in other countries and other times? His father had told him that they didn't understand and didn't care. But Matt wasn't so sure.
He'd had a rough time since Tim had gone. He'd gotten suspended after a fist fight at school. Some guy had talked about how stupid the military was and how undeserving they were of respect or honor. Matt had lost his temper, having just buried his older brother the week before. Mom hadn't had the heart to talk about it, but his dad had taken him for a long drive. "People like that just don't understand, Matt," he'd said. "They don't see what we see. All the see is a regular guy just doing his job. Tim didn't think he was a hero."
"But he was a hero!"
"You and I know that, son. But Tim just felt he was doing his duty. He didn't see himself as being anything more than the other guys around him. If anything, he saw himself as less. The men and women who serve our country, most of 'em don't see themselves as anything special. They've seen the ugliest things the world has and they fight to keep it away from their families and loved ones. They've seen the ugliness of war, the horror of treason. They see it and they've decided that freedom is worth working for. It's worth fighting for. And if necessary, it's worth dying for."
The sound of a bagpipe drew Matt out of his memories. He looked up to see the bagpiper standing in the cemetery, a slow, haunting rendition of "Amazing Grace" filling the air with sadness and yet with hope.
Matt stood and brushed the top of the tombstone with one hand. "I miss you, brother. Happy Memorial Day." He walked out toward his car to return home where his parents would be waiting for him.

An Invitation

Yes, I know I'm late again. Happens a lot. But that's because this week's prompt was that good. I had so many great ideas for turning "letters" into an awesome short story. And then I saw something that totally changed my mind. I decided to just write a letter. A letter for you! Pretty please send me a "letter" back and let me know if you're going to accept my invitation. If you do, this summer will be the best one ever!

Dear Reader,
Have I told you today that you’re awesome? Well, you are. Did you know that every time I see you comment or like a post, I feel a little connection with you? It’s awesome! Did you know I got a little thrill when I saw you like my Facebook page? That made my day! I love that you read my blog posts. I love that you read my books. I love that you read other people’s books. I love that you leave reviews so I can see where to improve. I just love you!
You’re a pretty special person. I appreciate that you’ve taken the time from your day to stay connected with me. Whether you came into this journey with me in 2011 when the first edition of Charming Academy was published or you’ve just now run across my books, I think you are amazing. Reading is one of the pure joys in life. It’s a chance to become someone else, to see life through different eyes, to change and to just be entertained. Reading is such a powerful and underestimated tool to our development. It keeps the mind active and the imagination strong. There’s not enough imagination in our world today. I’m glad that you’re keeping yours going. The world needs you!
Here on the northern half of the globe we’re heading into summer. I love summer! Partly because summer means barbecues and fireworks and my birthday (squeal!). But mostly because it’s warm and beautiful and there’s time to do more. I can even read more! Bookstores know it and so do libraries. Our local library is gearing up for summer reading and I bet yours is too. I got a catalog telling me about one bookstore’s “Summer Reading Passport.” That sounded like a lot of fun and it gave me an idea.
This summer, I want you to take another journey with me. Will you do it? Will you try? I don’t want to be limited to books from only one bookstore or just one publisher and definitely not to one author. I want to read books I’ve never read before. Even jump into genres that I haven’t enjoyed or just haven’t read. Sounds good huh? Giving a second chance, or perhaps a first chance, to a new book, new author, new genre. But I don’t want to do it alone. I want you to come with me. I want your friends to come with me. I want us to have a fabulous and literary adventure this summer! I’m still working out how everything will work, but I need to know if you’re willing to put on your reading glasses and join in the fun. It’ll be dull and boring without you.
So will you come on an adventure with me? We’ll play games (I’ve got a pretty nifty BINGO board in the works), make some goals and take some challenges. There might even be some giveaways because everyone likes free stuff!
Come along and join the fun! Let’s have 99 Days of Summer Reading together. Why 99? Because that’s how many days there are between Memorial Day and Labor Day. Makes sense to define the summer that way. And it's a cool number. If you are an author, or know an author, who would like to be featured in this, please have them get in contact with me either through the fanpage or my email (writer_jess@yahoo.com).
Hugs and Happy Reading!
Jess
P.S. I love getting letters back. ;)