E.C. Stilson's Blog, page 88
September 13, 2012
The Tooth Fairy is really . . . a NINJA!
When my kids lose teeth, I turn into a tooth-stealing ninja. With black clothes and a will of steal, I rob teeth from the poor AND make those kids rich. The Hippie recently lost three teeth all in a short time. I've been thrilled about freelancing as the Tooth Fairy, until overhearing my kids' conversation this morning.
Please note, this isn't me:
I'd given The Hippie a glass angel and four dollars--being an overachiever! As The Hippie found her treasures this morning, I hid just outside her door and listened.
"I've seen the Tooth Fairy," The Hippie whispered to her older sister The Scribe.
"No you haven't. The Tooth Fairy is so fast and small."
"Yes, I have. Last night, I stayed up almost all night. Just when I thought I'd go to sleep, the door creaked."
"And?" The Scribe asked eagerly.
"A huge black shape came into the room. It walked very strange, like it had problems."
Dear Reader, STOP right there. The black shape didn't walk "like it had problems!" It crept like a freakin' NINJA! Now, back to the story.
"I watched and watched," The Hippie said, "but it was so slow. It didn't fly or move like a fairy!"
"A huge black shape? Of course it didn't move like a fairy!" The Scribe said.
"Anyway, it slowly bent over the tooth, knocked some things off my shelf, almost broke my porcelain doll, and that's when the light hit her face."
"Oh. My. Gosh! Really. YOU saw the Tooth Fairy's face. What did she look like? Was she pretty? Why was she so big?"
The Hippie chuckled, obviously proud to have discovered something before her older sister. "Because, Scribe. The Tooth Fairy . . . is our mother!"
The Scribe gasped. "This is unreal."
"I know," The Hippie said, "Do you think all of the other children know it's her?"
I almost died of laughter. What am I . . . Santa? I alone visit all the children--that sounds like a nightmare. A tooth here and there is fantastic--tons of teeth every night, now that's just work.
"I should have known," The Scribe continued. "Once she thought she was being extra sneaky. As she kissed my cheek goodnight, Mom slid her hand under my pillow and left the room. When I checked for my tooth, it was gone--and five bucks were there. Now if that isn't silly, I don't know what is."
"Wow," The Hippie said. "No wonder Mom's so tired, getting teeth from all those children."
"It also explains why we have no money. She keeps giving everything away to tooth-less children!" The Scribe said. "We have to do something. Hippie, it's time to have a talk with the Tooth Fairy."
I left quickly and after bringing them to school, decided to write this. All I wanted was to give them a good childhood, but I don't want to be part of an intervention!
I used to love being the Tooth Fairy, my how things change.
The Scribe helped write a story last year about losing teeth, please click the picture to find out more.
Please note, this isn't me:
I'd given The Hippie a glass angel and four dollars--being an overachiever! As The Hippie found her treasures this morning, I hid just outside her door and listened.
"I've seen the Tooth Fairy," The Hippie whispered to her older sister The Scribe.
"No you haven't. The Tooth Fairy is so fast and small."
"Yes, I have. Last night, I stayed up almost all night. Just when I thought I'd go to sleep, the door creaked."
"And?" The Scribe asked eagerly.
"A huge black shape came into the room. It walked very strange, like it had problems."
Dear Reader, STOP right there. The black shape didn't walk "like it had problems!" It crept like a freakin' NINJA! Now, back to the story.
"I watched and watched," The Hippie said, "but it was so slow. It didn't fly or move like a fairy!"
"A huge black shape? Of course it didn't move like a fairy!" The Scribe said.
"Anyway, it slowly bent over the tooth, knocked some things off my shelf, almost broke my porcelain doll, and that's when the light hit her face."
"Oh. My. Gosh! Really. YOU saw the Tooth Fairy's face. What did she look like? Was she pretty? Why was she so big?"
The Hippie chuckled, obviously proud to have discovered something before her older sister. "Because, Scribe. The Tooth Fairy . . . is our mother!"
The Scribe gasped. "This is unreal."
"I know," The Hippie said, "Do you think all of the other children know it's her?"
I almost died of laughter. What am I . . . Santa? I alone visit all the children--that sounds like a nightmare. A tooth here and there is fantastic--tons of teeth every night, now that's just work.
"I should have known," The Scribe continued. "Once she thought she was being extra sneaky. As she kissed my cheek goodnight, Mom slid her hand under my pillow and left the room. When I checked for my tooth, it was gone--and five bucks were there. Now if that isn't silly, I don't know what is."
"Wow," The Hippie said. "No wonder Mom's so tired, getting teeth from all those children."
"It also explains why we have no money. She keeps giving everything away to tooth-less children!" The Scribe said. "We have to do something. Hippie, it's time to have a talk with the Tooth Fairy."
I left quickly and after bringing them to school, decided to write this. All I wanted was to give them a good childhood, but I don't want to be part of an intervention!
I used to love being the Tooth Fairy, my how things change.
The Scribe helped write a story last year about losing teeth, please click the picture to find out more.
September 12, 2012
Angel Watch Memorial Service
Last weekend Cade and I played at another infant loss memorial service.
It was amazing. So today I decided to share what I wrote about the same event last year. Here it is:
I went alone with The Scribe. It might have been a poor choice, but that's what we did.
As we drove toward the mountains, rain crashed over the car and lightning cracked beyond the hill. I couldn't see the road well, just a vague outline that reminded me of the road to Heaven. Many cars pulled off the road. They waited for the storm to pass, their headlights still on, and their brake lights shining.
I blinked back tears and told myself to keep driving. Maybe someday I'd go to Heaven, be good enough to see my boy, but that road wouldn't take me there yet. Things needed to be done. The moment would be good for me--for us--it had to be, I just had to get there. I glanced at my violin case in the back seat, and continued on.
Even more water ripped across the windshield after that. I turned into Heritage Park and the car crept up a steep hill. Mud cascaded under us and I engaged the emergency brake.
When we stopped, a wind rocked the van, and pulled at the last of my resolve. Part of me wanted to turn away--to run--but the greater part knew the day was etched into my destiny.
I squeezed The Scribe's nine-year-old hand. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. "Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes," she nodded. I know worry simmered beneath her eyes, but she'd never say it. She's far too tough, made of something stronger than most children ever dream of. That kid has seen death and risen above it.
My scribe wore a thin green coat over her beautiful taffeta dress. The hood framed her face, but a few curls peeked by her cheeks and blue eyes which shone unflinchingly.
I kissed her on the forehead. "I love you," I said. "You're so courageous. I'm glad you're healthy."
"Let's do this," she whispered back. "I'm not afraid . . . and I'm here for you, Mom."
Tears threatened my eyes. There I was worrying about her and all she thought about was me. My breath stilled, and we stepped from the van. I ran to The Scribe's side of the vehicle and held her close.
The wind practically combed through our clothes like the bristles of a brush.
There we stood, our bones turning to ice, wind tearing at our bodies and rain pelting everything. We held each other, right in front of the pioneers' cemetery.
We'd gone to a memorial where I was scheduled to play the violin. It could have been beautiful, lovely, but a storm scavenged the sky and distorted the thirty-two graves near us.
I held The Scribe tighter and whispered right next to her ear, "Everyone will be here soon. I won't get to play though. This rain would destroy my violin."
She nodded and leaned through the storm. "What is this place anyway? Why don't the headstones have names?"
We walked into the cemetery and hovered by the fence protecting the graves. As I squatted by her, the rain bent in the wind and hit our backs. "Over two decades ago, a construction crew accidentally dug up these graves downtown. Most of the coffins held babies. They didn't know their names or anything, other than that they'd been pioneers. They couldn't leave them where they'd been, so they brought the graves up here, on this hill."
I got a chill. The place held something magical, ancient like time.
"Were those two twins? Their graves are really close," she said.
"Maybe," I said. "And I think those two over there were a mother and child."
The storm continued, but a little softer. When we walked further along, we noticed the men's choir I was supposed to play with. There they stood, practicing in the rain. The wind ate at them. They each held an umbrella, wore nice suits and dress clothes. They knew the storm was merciless, yet still their voices carried across the graves, comforting those who had passed--comforting me.
Their fortitude, their resolve blessed my heart! Even in the soaking rain, I thought of the pain and anguish they must have felt because each of those men had lost a child. It's hard losing a baby, but even harder to confront things, look beyond your own pain and help others. I gripped the cemetery's fence. The strength of those men stunned me. Their eyes glanced off the graves in front of them. Their voices resonated against the moistened ground--against my heart. They stood strong facing nature and defeat, but in that moment their immense love for their babies spoke far more than anything I've seen in a long time.
They sang, "My Angel Princess."
Here's that link: Charity's Song
"I don't think I can play," I said after they'd finished the song and I looked at the storm.
The leader nodded with understanding. He's a strong man, yet kind beyond anything. "We're scheduled in one hour. I just hope the storm will pass by then."
The storm was unyielding though; I knew it.
But I'd been wrong and as those fathers continued practicing, over three-hundred people showed up. Each person had lost an infant close to them. People drove from different cities--different states. Each person knew the pain of loss, but the peace healing can bring.
It was ten minutes until things would begin and a ray of light shot through the storm.
The rain stopped. A wonderful woman befriended The Scribe and stood by her. I grabbed my violin and waited with the men's choir.
The program began. We all listened as two amazing women spoke. A poem brought me closer to Heaven. Their words of encouragement struck a chord in my soul.
Then it was time for the closing song. The wind had stopped at that point. We'd all spoken into a microphone and said the name of our angel baby.
That's when I pulled my violin out for the final time. The song spoke more than words can say. It drifted sweet and clear. My eyes shut tightly and fate took hold of my bow as the winds rose up again. I played for my son who died. I played for each person who has lost a baby--for each soul who's experienced loss.
The fathers' voices rang clear as sheer power brought comfort to each heart there. The violin danced on the vocal melodies and the song poured from our souls. The wind picked up at the height of the song. It encircled us like a chariot of fire headed to the gates of eternity. That was the moment I knew our children heard us. I felt their joy in the wind.
I peered through the stormy air then, past the cemetery and to the other side of the fence where The Scribe stood. She smiled up at me, healthy--perfect, reminding me how beautiful life can be. Reminding me of everything God has let me keep.
When the music stopped, I peered up and realized that the sun shone brightly. The winds turned calm. Our hearts and hopes, our collective love had vanquished the storm.
People gazed around, nodding through their tears of understanding; they were each so special, so valliant, just like the babies they'd lost.
I nodded back because together as a group, we knew we had each other and we would make it through.
If you'd consider sharing your own story, about your baby or someone you've lost, please click here: Tribute Event
For more information on the history of that amazing cemetery, please click here: The Pioneers of Heritage Park
To find out about the amazing organization who made this moment possible, click here: Angel Watch Bereavement Program
To learn about my son and his story, please click here:
The Golden Sky (My Journal About Zeke)
A big thanks to Carolyn and Kay from Angel Watch. It's amazing how the right words can change someone's life forever! Thank you for making people stronger--better. I'll never forget your kindness and the positive mark you left on my life.
It was amazing. So today I decided to share what I wrote about the same event last year. Here it is:
I went alone with The Scribe. It might have been a poor choice, but that's what we did.
As we drove toward the mountains, rain crashed over the car and lightning cracked beyond the hill. I couldn't see the road well, just a vague outline that reminded me of the road to Heaven. Many cars pulled off the road. They waited for the storm to pass, their headlights still on, and their brake lights shining.
I blinked back tears and told myself to keep driving. Maybe someday I'd go to Heaven, be good enough to see my boy, but that road wouldn't take me there yet. Things needed to be done. The moment would be good for me--for us--it had to be, I just had to get there. I glanced at my violin case in the back seat, and continued on.
Even more water ripped across the windshield after that. I turned into Heritage Park and the car crept up a steep hill. Mud cascaded under us and I engaged the emergency brake.
When we stopped, a wind rocked the van, and pulled at the last of my resolve. Part of me wanted to turn away--to run--but the greater part knew the day was etched into my destiny.
I squeezed The Scribe's nine-year-old hand. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. "Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes," she nodded. I know worry simmered beneath her eyes, but she'd never say it. She's far too tough, made of something stronger than most children ever dream of. That kid has seen death and risen above it.
My scribe wore a thin green coat over her beautiful taffeta dress. The hood framed her face, but a few curls peeked by her cheeks and blue eyes which shone unflinchingly.
I kissed her on the forehead. "I love you," I said. "You're so courageous. I'm glad you're healthy."
"Let's do this," she whispered back. "I'm not afraid . . . and I'm here for you, Mom."
Tears threatened my eyes. There I was worrying about her and all she thought about was me. My breath stilled, and we stepped from the van. I ran to The Scribe's side of the vehicle and held her close.
The wind practically combed through our clothes like the bristles of a brush.
There we stood, our bones turning to ice, wind tearing at our bodies and rain pelting everything. We held each other, right in front of the pioneers' cemetery.
We'd gone to a memorial where I was scheduled to play the violin. It could have been beautiful, lovely, but a storm scavenged the sky and distorted the thirty-two graves near us.
I held The Scribe tighter and whispered right next to her ear, "Everyone will be here soon. I won't get to play though. This rain would destroy my violin."
She nodded and leaned through the storm. "What is this place anyway? Why don't the headstones have names?"
We walked into the cemetery and hovered by the fence protecting the graves. As I squatted by her, the rain bent in the wind and hit our backs. "Over two decades ago, a construction crew accidentally dug up these graves downtown. Most of the coffins held babies. They didn't know their names or anything, other than that they'd been pioneers. They couldn't leave them where they'd been, so they brought the graves up here, on this hill."
I got a chill. The place held something magical, ancient like time.
"Were those two twins? Their graves are really close," she said.
"Maybe," I said. "And I think those two over there were a mother and child."
The storm continued, but a little softer. When we walked further along, we noticed the men's choir I was supposed to play with. There they stood, practicing in the rain. The wind ate at them. They each held an umbrella, wore nice suits and dress clothes. They knew the storm was merciless, yet still their voices carried across the graves, comforting those who had passed--comforting me.
Their fortitude, their resolve blessed my heart! Even in the soaking rain, I thought of the pain and anguish they must have felt because each of those men had lost a child. It's hard losing a baby, but even harder to confront things, look beyond your own pain and help others. I gripped the cemetery's fence. The strength of those men stunned me. Their eyes glanced off the graves in front of them. Their voices resonated against the moistened ground--against my heart. They stood strong facing nature and defeat, but in that moment their immense love for their babies spoke far more than anything I've seen in a long time.
They sang, "My Angel Princess."
Here's that link: Charity's Song
"I don't think I can play," I said after they'd finished the song and I looked at the storm.
The leader nodded with understanding. He's a strong man, yet kind beyond anything. "We're scheduled in one hour. I just hope the storm will pass by then."
The storm was unyielding though; I knew it.
But I'd been wrong and as those fathers continued practicing, over three-hundred people showed up. Each person had lost an infant close to them. People drove from different cities--different states. Each person knew the pain of loss, but the peace healing can bring.
It was ten minutes until things would begin and a ray of light shot through the storm.
The rain stopped. A wonderful woman befriended The Scribe and stood by her. I grabbed my violin and waited with the men's choir.
The program began. We all listened as two amazing women spoke. A poem brought me closer to Heaven. Their words of encouragement struck a chord in my soul.
Then it was time for the closing song. The wind had stopped at that point. We'd all spoken into a microphone and said the name of our angel baby.
That's when I pulled my violin out for the final time. The song spoke more than words can say. It drifted sweet and clear. My eyes shut tightly and fate took hold of my bow as the winds rose up again. I played for my son who died. I played for each person who has lost a baby--for each soul who's experienced loss.
The fathers' voices rang clear as sheer power brought comfort to each heart there. The violin danced on the vocal melodies and the song poured from our souls. The wind picked up at the height of the song. It encircled us like a chariot of fire headed to the gates of eternity. That was the moment I knew our children heard us. I felt their joy in the wind.
I peered through the stormy air then, past the cemetery and to the other side of the fence where The Scribe stood. She smiled up at me, healthy--perfect, reminding me how beautiful life can be. Reminding me of everything God has let me keep.
When the music stopped, I peered up and realized that the sun shone brightly. The winds turned calm. Our hearts and hopes, our collective love had vanquished the storm.
People gazed around, nodding through their tears of understanding; they were each so special, so valliant, just like the babies they'd lost.
I nodded back because together as a group, we knew we had each other and we would make it through.
If you'd consider sharing your own story, about your baby or someone you've lost, please click here: Tribute Event
For more information on the history of that amazing cemetery, please click here: The Pioneers of Heritage Park
To find out about the amazing organization who made this moment possible, click here: Angel Watch Bereavement Program
To learn about my son and his story, please click here:
The Golden Sky (My Journal About Zeke)
A big thanks to Carolyn and Kay from Angel Watch. It's amazing how the right words can change someone's life forever! Thank you for making people stronger--better. I'll never forget your kindness and the positive mark you left on my life.
September 7, 2012
How to Raise a Butterfly
First off, Happy Birthday, Melynda! You're such a sweetheart and I hope you'll have an AMAZING day! You can go visit her
HERE
.
Now onto the story of the day. . . .
Two weeks ago The Scribe got a special delivery of four caterpillars. We knew if taken care of, those caterpillars would turn into monarch butterflies. So we did everything we could, keeping them in a perfect temperature out of direct sunlight and under a slight breeze. One of the cats died quickly despite our best efforts since he hadn't handled the postal journey well. Two of them made cocoons within the next several nights--that was amazing!
They have gorgeous golden bumps on the bottom side.
But the only remaining cat refused to make its cocoon. This made me nervous since we were supposed to switch them to a larger netted butterfly home as soon as they cocooned. If butterflies don't have enough room once they come out, they will die.
I watched the slow-crawling caterpillar and soon discovered he had cannibalistic tendencies! He poked the other cocoons, and even climbed on them. He ate much of the tissue paper they hung from. It made me sick--because I'm a pansy and one cocoon almost fell.
Anyway, the final cat eventually cocooned, but only half-way after days. I realized I had to switch them to a larger container as soon as possible. That's when something tragic happened; the final cat hadn't made his cocoon right. It swayed and then slapped hard against the ground as I tried moving them!
I couldn't pick up the cocoon with my hands because the cat convulsed and like I said before . . . I'm a pansy.
Something was wrong with the caterpillar for sure now, and maybe even before since he never fully cocooned. But I wanted it to live so badly. I wanted it to get a shot at flying.
That's when I remembered Zeke. . . .
Have you ever fought for something? Given everything you could, suddenly realizing there are things worth living and dying for. I would have died just to give my boy a chance. But after we gave him everything we could, in the end, everything wasn't enough.
I watched the half-cocooned caterpillar flailing and pulled out my iPad. Some directions said, "Glue the end upside down." "Use non-toxic Elmer's glue." I stood straighter--we could do this. The Scribe tenderly held the half-cocooned caterpillar--she's so brave. I got the glue and we glued him to some paper. He almost instantly stopped moving once we had him upside down, but that night I couldn't sleep. I thought about life. Why are some people and creatures made with imperfections? Why do bad things happen like the cocoon falling or Zeke being born the way he was?
I know peace can come after loss and it has for me, really. But there are still days when the old hurts ache badly.
So two days ago, the three cocoons hung, and I worried for the final cat again. Even though he moved slower than the others, had tried climbing on them and only half-cocooned, I still prayed he'd live. I googled it again and found out, "If Elmer's glue has direct contact with caterpillars or monarchs, they will die." Then to further sicken me, I read that some people raise butterflies just to kill them for art!
Anyway, the point is that . . . I killed a caterpillar. I couldn't sleep well for nights and in my efforts to save him, I poisoned the poor little guy. The Scribe said maybe he would have died regardless, lacking a complete cocoon. She might be right. I don't know, and it still makes me sad.
As I prayed for him yesterday, the front cocoon started rocking. A split appeared in the cocoon! It was amazing, and so surreal.
Although, I wish the final cat could have flown, and been beautiful like the two perfectly healthy butterflies that emerged, I need to realize that everything happens for a reason.
Here is one hanging on the tissue paper.
As I watched them this morning, it reminded me to always enjoy and appreciate what I have. Yes, the final caterpillar got poisoned in my attempts to save him. But two healthy butterflies came out and my kids are thrilled.
On the same note, yes, Zeke died. But now I have four wonderful kids to love and take care of. None of them will ever take Zeke's place, because they all have a special place in my heart.
We might not understand the reason bad things happen, but we can vow to be happy with what we have. And for that reality, I'm thankful.
For more about Zeke and his story, please go HERE.
Signing off,
Elisa
Now onto the story of the day. . . .
Two weeks ago The Scribe got a special delivery of four caterpillars. We knew if taken care of, those caterpillars would turn into monarch butterflies. So we did everything we could, keeping them in a perfect temperature out of direct sunlight and under a slight breeze. One of the cats died quickly despite our best efforts since he hadn't handled the postal journey well. Two of them made cocoons within the next several nights--that was amazing!
They have gorgeous golden bumps on the bottom side.
But the only remaining cat refused to make its cocoon. This made me nervous since we were supposed to switch them to a larger netted butterfly home as soon as they cocooned. If butterflies don't have enough room once they come out, they will die.
I watched the slow-crawling caterpillar and soon discovered he had cannibalistic tendencies! He poked the other cocoons, and even climbed on them. He ate much of the tissue paper they hung from. It made me sick--because I'm a pansy and one cocoon almost fell.
Anyway, the final cat eventually cocooned, but only half-way after days. I realized I had to switch them to a larger container as soon as possible. That's when something tragic happened; the final cat hadn't made his cocoon right. It swayed and then slapped hard against the ground as I tried moving them!
I couldn't pick up the cocoon with my hands because the cat convulsed and like I said before . . . I'm a pansy.
Something was wrong with the caterpillar for sure now, and maybe even before since he never fully cocooned. But I wanted it to live so badly. I wanted it to get a shot at flying.
That's when I remembered Zeke. . . .
Have you ever fought for something? Given everything you could, suddenly realizing there are things worth living and dying for. I would have died just to give my boy a chance. But after we gave him everything we could, in the end, everything wasn't enough.
I watched the half-cocooned caterpillar flailing and pulled out my iPad. Some directions said, "Glue the end upside down." "Use non-toxic Elmer's glue." I stood straighter--we could do this. The Scribe tenderly held the half-cocooned caterpillar--she's so brave. I got the glue and we glued him to some paper. He almost instantly stopped moving once we had him upside down, but that night I couldn't sleep. I thought about life. Why are some people and creatures made with imperfections? Why do bad things happen like the cocoon falling or Zeke being born the way he was?
I know peace can come after loss and it has for me, really. But there are still days when the old hurts ache badly.
So two days ago, the three cocoons hung, and I worried for the final cat again. Even though he moved slower than the others, had tried climbing on them and only half-cocooned, I still prayed he'd live. I googled it again and found out, "If Elmer's glue has direct contact with caterpillars or monarchs, they will die." Then to further sicken me, I read that some people raise butterflies just to kill them for art!
Anyway, the point is that . . . I killed a caterpillar. I couldn't sleep well for nights and in my efforts to save him, I poisoned the poor little guy. The Scribe said maybe he would have died regardless, lacking a complete cocoon. She might be right. I don't know, and it still makes me sad.
As I prayed for him yesterday, the front cocoon started rocking. A split appeared in the cocoon! It was amazing, and so surreal.
Although, I wish the final cat could have flown, and been beautiful like the two perfectly healthy butterflies that emerged, I need to realize that everything happens for a reason.
Here is one hanging on the tissue paper.
As I watched them this morning, it reminded me to always enjoy and appreciate what I have. Yes, the final caterpillar got poisoned in my attempts to save him. But two healthy butterflies came out and my kids are thrilled.
On the same note, yes, Zeke died. But now I have four wonderful kids to love and take care of. None of them will ever take Zeke's place, because they all have a special place in my heart.
We might not understand the reason bad things happen, but we can vow to be happy with what we have. And for that reality, I'm thankful.
For more about Zeke and his story, please go HERE.
Signing off,
Elisa
September 5, 2012
I Miss Cade
Not many people online know, but Cade is only home a few days out of each month. He's coming back today and I cannot wait to see him!
After the book fair these past few days, I'm pretty exhausted. That took a lot of planning and long hours preparing all of the links and sale info. But it was so worth it. Now, though, I'm ready to collapse.
In honor of the fact that Cade will soon be home--and he'll let me take a nap--I've decided to post a video from last year . . . Cade is the Monkey/Gorilla-guy. I sure love that man.
And yes, we are total goofballs.
After the book fair these past few days, I'm pretty exhausted. That took a lot of planning and long hours preparing all of the links and sale info. But it was so worth it. Now, though, I'm ready to collapse.
In honor of the fact that Cade will soon be home--and he'll let me take a nap--I've decided to post a video from last year . . . Cade is the Monkey/Gorilla-guy. I sure love that man.
And yes, we are total goofballs.
September 4, 2012
Over a Dozen FREE eBooks for One More Day!
Visit the official book fair HERE .
5% of
Wayman's select physical book profits will be donated to the American
Diabetes Association from Labor Day until November 1st, 2012.
September 3, 2012
The Golden Sky Hit #1 on Amazon! Oh my gosh!
The Book Fair is going so great. And look at what made it to #1 for Women's Memoir!
I could cry; I'm so happy, just thinking about how much I've done
trying to keep Zeke's memory alive. And now more people will know his
story. Wow, this day is amazing.
If you'd like to read something this holiday, check out all of the wonderful books at the Book Fair . Or browse the FREE eBooks (The Golden Sky included) at Wayman Publishing HERE .
I could cry; I'm so happy, just thinking about how much I've done
trying to keep Zeke's memory alive. And now more people will know his
story. Wow, this day is amazing.
If you'd like to read something this holiday, check out all of the wonderful books at the Book Fair . Or browse the FREE eBooks (The Golden Sky included) at Wayman Publishing HERE .
September 2, 2012
FRE!E! eBooks for Three Whole Days
. . .September 2-3-4. . .
you can download these featured
eBooks for FREE.
Click each picture below to download your copies today.
Also, Wayman publishing has teamed up
with many phenomenal authors
to bring you this Labor Day Book Fair.
In honor of Melynda Fleury--who
has bravely been fighting diabetes and almost completely lost her
eyesight--Wayman Publishing and Rick Gualtieri are also donating 5-10% profit from select physical book sales to the American Diabetes Association.
. . . In addition to all of this . . .
Check out the many wonderful books
available through the book fair.
Discover Upcoming Books
Author’s biography
The author was born in Athens, Greece in 1955 and is a dual U.S. / Greek citizen. After obtaining his Engineering Sc. B. degree in
mechanical engineering from Brown University in 1977 he went on to
Harvard Business School where he earned his MBA in 1979. He is married
and has two children and lives in Athens but often visits America (Boston where his daughter studies and his son works). He is currently employed by the largest Greek manufacturing Co.
(10% of Greek exports) as the Senior Financial Analyst. His interests
include poetry, romance fiction and actively following economic
developments in the U.S. and Europe.
Coming Soon!
Author Site
More Details Coming Soon
www.delshereegladden.com
The Edible Bookshelf.
Sydney's Song
http://sydneyssong.net/blog/
. . . Also . . .
Enter to win CASH or physical books
by outstanding authors such as
Valerie Bowen,
Adrienne deWolfe,
Peter Thomas Senese,
Lucy Swing,
and
Kara Tollman.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
The hosts would like to thank everyone.
Wayman Publishing
voiceBoks
Linkie's Contest Linkies
Mommy Blog Designs
Terri's Little Haven
We hope you've enjoyed discovering new authors and their stories
at our Labor Day Blogfest and Book Fair.
you can download these featured
eBooks for FREE.
Click each picture below to download your copies today.
Also, Wayman publishing has teamed up
with many phenomenal authors
to bring you this Labor Day Book Fair.
In honor of Melynda Fleury--who
has bravely been fighting diabetes and almost completely lost her
eyesight--Wayman Publishing and Rick Gualtieri are also donating 5-10% profit from select physical book sales to the American Diabetes Association.
. . . In addition to all of this . . .
Check out the many wonderful books
available through the book fair.
Discover Upcoming Books
Author’s biographyThe author was born in Athens, Greece in 1955 and is a dual U.S. / Greek citizen. After obtaining his Engineering Sc. B. degree in
mechanical engineering from Brown University in 1977 he went on to
Harvard Business School where he earned his MBA in 1979. He is married
and has two children and lives in Athens but often visits America (Boston where his daughter studies and his son works). He is currently employed by the largest Greek manufacturing Co.
(10% of Greek exports) as the Senior Financial Analyst. His interests
include poetry, romance fiction and actively following economic
developments in the U.S. and Europe.
Coming Soon!
Author Site
More Details Coming Soon
www.delshereegladden.com
The Edible Bookshelf.
Sydney's Song
http://sydneyssong.net/blog/
. . . Also . . .
Enter to win CASH or physical books
by outstanding authors such as
Valerie Bowen,
Adrienne deWolfe,
Peter Thomas Senese,
Lucy Swing,
and
Kara Tollman.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
The hosts would like to thank everyone.
Wayman Publishing
voiceBoks
Linkie's Contest Linkies
Mommy Blog Designs
Terri's Little Haven
We hope you've enjoyed discovering new authors and their stories
at our Labor Day Blogfest and Book Fair.
September 1, 2012
Four Featured Books--I'm so excited!
An introduction to some of the many books that will be FREE tomorrow!
Let me tell you about . . .
More Nonsense . . . If you like laughing, you NEED to read this book. The stories are absolutely hysterical, and this is one novel I've loved reading over and over again.
Middle Damned
An action-packed book that I couldn't put down. Not only did this draw me in with the steampunk afterlife ideas, I felt so part of the characters' journeys and relationships as if living in the strange world Stilson so skillfully created. The sections with the two brothers were perfectly written, interweaving conflict and bonds transcending even death. This is a book I'll never forget.
The Swashbuckle Chuckle
With a storyline so perfect the Zombie Elf (my four-year-old) has started wearing a pirate hat and a fake hook. Now he calls himself "Captain Buckle Chuckle."
Did this author have any idea how much his writing would change children's lives? It's two of my kids' favorite book!
If you read Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats and Their Humans,
I know you'll love it. It's a special book that will impact
the reader and help nudge them along the right path, the path of love
and happiness.
I've also found it a great devotional, to help me through the hard times.
These books AND many others will be free through Wayman Publishing
tomorrow - September 4th.
*** Please come back then. ***
And for more info about that book fair, and a chance to win $200, go HERE .
Let me tell you about . . .
More Nonsense . . . If you like laughing, you NEED to read this book. The stories are absolutely hysterical, and this is one novel I've loved reading over and over again.
Middle Damned
An action-packed book that I couldn't put down. Not only did this draw me in with the steampunk afterlife ideas, I felt so part of the characters' journeys and relationships as if living in the strange world Stilson so skillfully created. The sections with the two brothers were perfectly written, interweaving conflict and bonds transcending even death. This is a book I'll never forget.
The Swashbuckle Chuckle
With a storyline so perfect the Zombie Elf (my four-year-old) has started wearing a pirate hat and a fake hook. Now he calls himself "Captain Buckle Chuckle."
Did this author have any idea how much his writing would change children's lives? It's two of my kids' favorite book!
If you read Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats and Their Humans,
I know you'll love it. It's a special book that will impact
the reader and help nudge them along the right path, the path of love
and happiness.
I've also found it a great devotional, to help me through the hard times.
These books AND many others will be free through Wayman Publishing
tomorrow - September 4th.
*** Please come back then. ***
And for more info about that book fair, and a chance to win $200, go HERE .
August 31, 2012
She Enraged an Evil Witch--That Would Suck!
Aliya Fisher knows nothing about her true heritage until a vindictive sorceress kidnaps her brother and sister. The young adventurer must take up her birthright, battle strange creatures, and find the Sword of Senack if she hopes to best the witch. But even if Aliya finds the famed weapon and survives the perilous oceanic journey, the enchantress is far more than she appears. How does one defeat an immortal who lusts for revenge?
The Sword of Senack AND nine other books will be free through Wayman Publishing from September 2nd - 4th.
For more info about that book fair, and a chance to win $200, please go HERE .
The Sword of Senack AND nine other books will be free through Wayman Publishing from September 2nd - 4th.
For more info about that book fair, and a chance to win $200, please go HERE .
August 30, 2012
Bible Girl & the Bad Boy
The
book practically cried for me to spare its life, and for a moment I
thought I’d rather burn in Hell than lose something my brother had given
me in love. The pastor nudged me, though, and my heart turned to ice.
I thought of all those hours my brother had read to me. I thought of all that time he’d invested.
I couldn’t
throw it into the fire; not the last book of the trilogy. That funny
little dwarf stared at me from the cover. Then, I closed my eyes. I
stepped so close to the flames they almost ate my skin. I tore the book
in front of those kids. I put on quite a show throwing in a section at a
time because I couldn’t stand sending the whole thing in at once. When
the last pages went up in flame, and the dwarf on the cover curled with
death, I dropped to my knees and cried. The kids all hooted and screamed
in ecstasy, thinking I’d been freed, when the ropes of religion had
just twisted tighter.
Bible Girl & the Bad Boy, AND nine other books will be free through Wayman Publishing from September 2nd - 4th.
For more info about that book fair, and a chance to win $200, please go HERE .
book practically cried for me to spare its life, and for a moment I
thought I’d rather burn in Hell than lose something my brother had given
me in love. The pastor nudged me, though, and my heart turned to ice.
I thought of all those hours my brother had read to me. I thought of all that time he’d invested.
I couldn’t
throw it into the fire; not the last book of the trilogy. That funny
little dwarf stared at me from the cover. Then, I closed my eyes. I
stepped so close to the flames they almost ate my skin. I tore the book
in front of those kids. I put on quite a show throwing in a section at a
time because I couldn’t stand sending the whole thing in at once. When
the last pages went up in flame, and the dwarf on the cover curled with
death, I dropped to my knees and cried. The kids all hooted and screamed
in ecstasy, thinking I’d been freed, when the ropes of religion had
just twisted tighter.
Bible Girl & the Bad Boy, AND nine other books will be free through Wayman Publishing from September 2nd - 4th.
For more info about that book fair, and a chance to win $200, please go HERE .
