Stephanie Verni's Blog, page 66

Meeting People Makes Travel Magical

My husband and I were sitting in a restaurant in London one night trying to get in touch with his Italian cousin who is a surgeon in the city. We were there for vacation, but we had promised Massimo and his wife that we would get together during our stay for dinner. In our effort to contact him at work, we were failing miserably. The people at the table next to us recognized that we were struggling with the phone and our attempt at communication with the hospital and promptly invited us to their table. When we explained that the hospital said he was in “theatre” we assumed he was seeing a show; the British folks who were next to us giggled and explained that the term “theatre” in England meant he was in surgery—performing a surgery. Embarrassed, we thanked them for the help, and began to make our way back to our table, but they wouldn’t hear of it. They insisted that we stay and dine with them that evening—and we did. It ended up being one of our most memorable and enchanting evenings in London, and we still make references to the Stevie Nicks look-a-like who touted Steely Dan and told us that her kids didn’t understand what really good rock music was. When she continued to tell us the story of how she made them listen to her old albums, we all laughed heartily and she was one of the funniest people I’ve met. Our fleeting friendship ended with the couple and their friend inviting us to their house in the South of France, but our time was limited, our trip fully book, and we were unable to do it. But it sure was nice to be asked.

Photo from Chipping Campden Tourist Info: http://www.cotswolds.info/places/chipping-campden.shtml

While travel does involve seeing the sights, taking in historic sites, and eating food,  what I remember most about traveling are the people we meet along the way. From the man who told me I had a lovely neck at the Tower of London to folks we met in a French pub who shared and evening with us talking about the Cotswolds, each and every person we have met along our way has been interesting and has certainly added some magic to our trips. Even on our quick jaunt to California last week, a place my husband and I have not spent any time visiting, we were tickled by the friendliness of people. On a bike ride around the vineyards in Napa Valley, we stopped to take a photograph and were off our bikes. During those few moments, two sets of people in cars and on bikes stopped to talk with us and made sure we were okay—that we knew our way around and that all was well with our bikes. At the resort, The Carneros Inn, the staff and reception folks were tremendously friendly, inviting, and helpful. And, along the way during our wine tasting, we met some lovely native Californians, as well as people from all over the globe, who were there to experience wine country.

Similar to our experience in London, in Italy we made many friends. One older British couple in Florence ended up hanging out with us at the bar in the Mona Lisa Hotel where we were staying. We had lots of laughs with them and talked about the difference between American and British cultures. At an Italian family-style local restaurant, we ate side-by-side with folks as we shared plates of uniquely prepared pastas, cheese, and topped it off with good wine. In Venice, one of my favorite pictures of the trip is of my husband and me with a group of folks who invited us to their table—two women writers who wrote for PBS and a German professor and his wife. The six of us got pretty tipsy that night, shared stories, and swapped a lot of hilarious stories as we stayed together until about two in the morning.

Of course, there’s no discounting seeing the places where we travel and experiencing them fully, but traveling somehow brings people together. It has the ability to help you realize that the world is small—that we are all connected by and large—and that part of growing comes from having these interactive experiences.

Having just returned from Napa Valley and San Francisco, the success of that trip makes me eager to plan our next jaunt, and hopefully it’s a trip that our now 13 and 15-year-old children will experience with us. I can’t wait for them to become wide-eyed with wonder for all that the world has for us to experience and digest.

And meeting all kinds of people is a big part of that impressionable, magical journey.

 

Filed under: On Life Tagged: Cotswolds, England, Featured, Italy, London, love, meeting people through travel, Napa Valley, people, traveling, Wine Country

Breathing In the Air and Tasting the Wines in Napa Valley | Part Two

 

(This is part two of my travel piece about Napa Valley and San Francisco. To read part one, click here).

Besides the abundance of wineries, there are some picturesque towns that are definitely worthy of a visit. Napa was our first stop. Perched on the Napa River, the town offers adorable shopping, great restaurants, wine bars, and views worthy of your best camera. We ate at Bounty Hunter Wine Bar and Smokin’ BBQ, a restaurant/bar that was highly recommended to us, and my husband touted that meal he downed in mere seconds was one of the best barbecue sandwiches he had ever eaten. Additionally, we sat at group tables, and we made friends with the couple next to us who were celebrating the husband’s birthday. We ended up sharing appetizers, glasses of wine, and good conversation the whole time.

 

As we strolled, we took a walk across the Napa River and saw the Napa Valley Wine Train coming back from its day out. Noted as a restaurant on rails, this train takes passengers through the valley to enjoy a scenic tour while eating and drinking aboard. While we didn’t get to enjoy this experience, it would be on my list of things to do at some point when we return to Napa Valley. The conductor stopped the train for its passengers to disembark (or maybe they had so much fun they stumbled off?), and chatted with us, proudly explaining the train’s route and how reservations book up quickly.

 

 

Across the river is the Oxbow Market area. It’s worth the short walk into this small section of Napa. The Oxbow Public Market itself is clean and full of food and merchandise vendors. We bought a fresh loaf of bread that tasted exactly as it should—hard on the outside, soft on the inside. On the bridge, we took photos because we couldn’t help but to just stop and look wherever we went. All around us, the views were stunning.

Yountville, a town north of Napa off 29, was our favorite. Nestled among the hills, Yountville is known as the “Culinary Capital of Napa Valley.” I can certainly vouch for this slogan with regard to the restaurant Bottega, celebrity chef Michael Chiarello’s goldmine in Yountville. As someone who is an America with Italian heritage (both of my parents are of Italian decent), and someone who has eaten her fair share of pasta here and in Italy, I am not stretching the truth when I tell you that the plate of pasta I savored at Bottega was probably the best pasta dish I have ever eaten. The homemade pasta combined with the delicate red sauce was outstanding. Also, the bread with olive oil was unlike any my husband and I have ever eaten—the olive oil dipping sauce was filled Parmesan cheese, along with fresh herbs, thrown in to make it even tastier. We asked for a second serving.

 

The streets of Yountville look as if they are staged from a film set. Window boxes full of vibrant flowers dress up the shops; vines grow against brick restaurant buildings to add character and charm; and little gardens—some decorated with art—grace this town and make it something to treasure.

  

One afternoon, after exploring quite a bit of Napa Valley, we headed to Sonoma Valley, just over the ridge. It was my idea to venture over there and get a taste of it, only because—well, quite frankly—I wanted to be able to say I’d visited both places. We stopped in Sonoma at the square and walked around. Sonoma definitely has a different vibe than Napa Valley; it’s a little more relaxed, and its look is completely different. Infused with almost a Mexican-meets-Western flair, this postcard town is adorable, but in a completely different way. When we asked a local if it’s true whether there is a rivalry between Napa and Sonoma Valleys, he said there was, but that it is a very friendly rivalry, and they enjoy the laid-back competition between the two wine producing strongholds.

 

On Saturday night, we ate at Farm Restaurant, The Carneros Inn’s own first-class restaurant. Both the Hilltop Restaurant (on the hill at the Carneros Inn overlooking the vineyards) where my husband and I ate outside for breakfast two mornings in a row, and Farm showcased great menus, including a pretty remarkable French toast for the morning taste buds and delicious scallops and friend green tomatoes to satisfy the palate in the evening. And, of course, there was a tremendous selection of the Valley’s great wines from which to choose to go along with anything on the table.

 

Truth be told, both my husband and I love to travel and experience new places, sights, and people, however, with teenage children, it’s tough to get away by ourselves and go on a trip like this. In fact, it’s a rarity. Luckily, we have loving grandparents who come in and save the day which allowed us the opportunity to get away. Our travel bucket list is filled with places we want to go and explore, and now, we can cross Napa Valley off of our list. However, this does not mean we do not want to return. In fact, it’s a place I could see myself coming back to again and again, if only to just cleanse my lungs with that amazing sense of fresh air and power  down enough to allow me to be in the moment. In every essence, we truly did stop and smell the roses.

 

Filed under: On Life Tagged: Bottega Restaurant, CA, Farm Restaurant, Featured, Michael Chiarello, Napa, Napa Valley, Northern California, Sonoma Valley, travel, Travel writing, traveling, Wine Country, Yountville

Breathing in the Air and Tasting The Wines in Napa Valley

First, there was the air, consistently devoid of humidity according the locals, and as fresh and crisp as you would imagine the hills and unspoiled land of Northern California to be. Puffs of soft clouds decorated the blue sky as temperatures hovered in the high sixties. Then, there was the scenery. The rolling greens of the mountains lulled you in sweetly, beckoning you to stop what you’re doing, forget your watch, and stay a while. Rows and rows of meticulously placed and aligned grape vines grow upwards on the mountains as striking winery after winery welcome and encourage you to come and taste what has been made on the premises from their own incredible natural resources. The varieties and abundance of roses in almost every shade from passion pink to love-struck red to bright snow white add the cherry-on-top charm to this stunning part of the United States. The breeze wraps its arms around you, and without being totally conscious of just how hypnotized you are, within minutes you are enraptured with wine country.

 

There is no shortage of winemakers in Napa and Sonoma Valleys. With over 2,400 wineries sprawled across the two counties, there is an abundance of alcohol being created to be shipped to a town near you stamped and branded with labels from California. If you are a movie buff or wine aficionado and have seen the film “Bottle Shock,” starring Alan Rickman and Chris Pine, you may well remember how California wine beat the wine of France in a blind taste test competition that took place in 1976. That singular event, as depicted in the film, catapulted Napa Valley wines to success and proved that French wines were not unbeatable. Additionally, rumor has it that many celebrities own vineyards, and whether they operate a working winery or simply enjoy the peaceful retreat from hectic Hollywood, the area offers much in the way of relaxation, food, wine, and recreation, not to mention the fact that some pretty spectacular homes and resorts are nestled in and among the hills.

One such resort—the resort where my husband and I stayed for three extraordinary nights—is called The Carneros Inn, located on Sonoma Highway in Napa, California. To say it was beyond either of our expectations is an understatement. While the word “inn” may conjure up images of one building with several rooms, The Carneros Inn strays quite far from that traditional and somewhat limited definition. Replete with a gorgeous, state-of-the-art reception building, Farm Restaurant, Hilltop Restaurant, Boon Fly Café, spa, two pools with hot tubs, workout facility, country store, and views and gardens that encourage you to take leisurely strolls while simultaneously asking you to stop and smell the roses, we had never experienced a place quite like it. Our “room,” if you dare to call it that, was a small cottage with contemporary designs and hardwood floors, a dreamy bed, large bathroom, and a private patio with loungers and a table with an umbrella. The front porch, of course, boasted two white rocking chairs and a perfect vantage point for admiring the sweeping gardens that were full of vibrant colors and exotic plants, not to mention unique fountains, bountiful trellises, and bamboo canopies.

As someone who has grown up almost her entire life living near the water—and someone who has regularly stated that living near the water is a must—I have to admit that visiting Napa Valley may have changed my perspective on this notion of mine. The landscape took my breath away—the lush canopy of olive trees, grape vines, green trees on the mountains (including a few Redwoods), and the carpet of lawns in the valley offered a sense of serenity that I did not expect to find. At times, the landscape reminded me of the topography of the Cotswolds in England or the exquisiteness of Tuscany. If you had been blindfolded and dropped there and were asked to “guess” where you were, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have said it was one of the two aforementioned landscapes (although, yes, the architecture in both may have given it away quickly; but if you guessed solely based on the landscape, who knows?).

One of my favorite parts of the trip was taking the bikes the Inn provided and touring through the back roads. While our five mile ride was a bit hilly (only in one part in particular), touring on a bike offers a much different perspective than driving in a car and seeing the sights. My husband and I stopped to take photographs along the way as we attempted to capture the beauty of that morning’s sun, the way it graced the mountains and the vineyards, and the way the greenery glistened as the dew evaporated. I adore riding a bike—this one had a basket for our things—and I often wonder what it would be like to live in a place where you could ride your bike or walk more than you need to drive your car. We passed so many charming things—a house covered in vines with lush gardens, a picturesque barn, and a pond in the valley with views of the mountain—and our bicycle jaunt was by far my favorite part of our stay at the Inn.

Our wine tours were fun and another highlight of the trip, but you must hear me clearly—I am not a wine expert. I like wine, am typically more partial to white wines over reds as the reds can sometimes give me a headache, but I am by no means any sort of a wine intellectual. That said, taking the tours of the wineries interested me because I wanted to learn more about how they make, bottle, store, and market wines. It’s an incredible undertaking and business—and most of the people or companies that own the wineries are not short on cash (if you know what I mean). Our first tour of the day was to Domaine Carneros (pictured below), which specializes in sparkling wines. We were able to see the machines they use to turn the wines in order to remove excess sweetness and sugar from the bottles before they are sent off to stores for purchase. In the early days of sparkling wine manufacturing, these bottles were hand turned; now, with incredible contemporary machinery, the wines are turned and processed all with the switch of a button. This winery was impressive; it sits on the top of the hill with the vineyards all around it, truly a majestic presence. Despite the rain that morning, Domaine Carneros was lovely.

 

In the afternoon after the sun chased the clouds away, we toured Hall Winery (pictured below), which was a fantastic 90-minute tour of the grounds and facility. Our guide provided the history of the winery, the process of the making wine, and at the end of the journey, we enjoyed sampling both red and white wines produced by Hall Wines. Owned by husband and wife Kathryn and Craig Hall, the duo has invested much into the property. In this modern facility, we learned about the incredible journey the grape takes from vine to bottle, as well as the sad turn a bad grape may take into the compost pile. The equipment and engineering of the grapes, from the way they are harvested to the way they are processed, is fascinating, and no detail goes unnoticed. And I’m not kidding about the rejected grape—grape profiling ensues to ensure that only the best grapes possible make it into the bottle.

 

—END PART ONE—

Look for Part Two in a few days…

Filed under: On Life Tagged: bike ride, Domaine Carneros, Featured, Hall Wines, Mumm Winery, Napa Valley, Northern California, Sonoma Valley, The Carneros Inn, travel, Travel writing, Wine Country

Campus Book Talk Tonight and Some Monday Inspiration

I’m excited to talk to students tonight about the self-publishing world. Faculty in the Halls, a program at Stevenson University, has asked me to speak to students about the path of publishing your own book. As I’ve published two novels this way, I’m excited to share my knowledge of the growing arm of publishing, how you can make this work for you, and the pros and cons of doing it on your own. I’ll be talking about both Beneath the Mimosa Tree and Baseball Girl, and I hope to inspire some folks to give it a whirl. It’s by no means easy, but it is something that, given enough drive and determination, you can do it.

Also, as it is an absolutely stunning Monday morning here in Maryland, and I’m feeling inspired by the rebirth of spring, I thought I’d share some of my favorite inspirational quotes to get you through this week–and rejoice in all that the rest of spring and summer have in store for you.

Do you have any big plans coming up this year? What do you plan to do that you have always wanted to do? Are you expecting to travel soon? If so, where? What inspires you? Begin to write these things down and allow yourself to look forward to things ahead, while also remembering to enjoy this very moment right now.

There is much to be inspired by, and much we can do to inspire others.

Filed under: On Life Tagged: amwriting, author, Baseball Girl, Beneath the Mimosa Tree, book talk, Featured, inspiration, inspirational quotes, Self-publishing, writer

Recounting Five Years of My Life As a Blogger

On April 6, the notice above popped up in my notifications on my blogging platform, WordPress. I was thankful for the reminder because I wouldn’t have remembered the anniversary of the first day I began the blogging journey. I am too busy tackling the challenge of deciding on what I will write about next. What will the next post reveal? Will I write about writing, fashion, teaching, decorating, films, or books? Or, will I choose to tell a story?

In some ways, I’m amazed that five years have passed since I first began this endeavor. I’ve logged 707 posts to date on Steph’s Scribe. During some months, I turn out a lot of pieces, while there are other months when work and/or family life interfere and I only get to publish so many. It’s always less than I would like, because the truth is, I love writing. Blogging allows writers to write–to constantly communicate through the written word, which in turn, helps us hone and practice our craft. And, it’s executed in a much different way than fictional writing (and you know how much I love that, as well).

Coming up with post ideas can be the most challenging, I won’t lie about that. Years ago my husband told me that my blog was too general, that it needed to be more specific to gain readership. Why not just write about books and blogging, he suggested? It may help you gain followers, he said, pointing in particular to sports bloggers he enjoys. While this is a good idea and has worked for many successful bloggers, I couldn’t imagine myself saddled with just one or two topics. My interests are too varied, as I enjoy talking about so many different subjects. I need the space to be creative. In the end, I just decided to keep it general. And it works for me.

A Royal Lesson: Typing Class Came In Handy was one of the top articles of the month on Paperblog.

That said, I would probably say that the most noteworthy ingredient to being a successful blogger is commitment. Of course, bloggers need to have solid writing skills, but even more so, it takes commitment to doing it in order for it to succeed. Today, I have over 8,100 followers, Steph’s Scribe has consistently been in the Top 25 on Paperblog in Entertainment since September (thank you, PAPERBLOG and PAPERBLOG READERS), and I receive feedback both here on the blog and through Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram from followers when I post something. I was also nominated for a couple of blog awards. But the best part about blogging is receiving comments and feedback. I love that part of it, too.

A Royal Lesson: Typing Class Came in Handy and All The Books We Want to Read | Building Your Summer Reading List were two posts I wrote that were popular on Paperblog this month in the category of Books.

The ability to reach people and the ability to write and share information and stories is what keeps me connected to this blogging world. I’ve enjoyed every minute of the past several years, and I look forward to the topic of the next blog post…whatever that may be.



 

Filed under: On Life Tagged: blog awards, blogging, blogs, books, commitment to blogging, creative blogging, entertainment, Featured, Paperblog, wordpress, Wordpress blogger, writing, writing and blogging

Friday Fiction: Writing the Prologue & Baseball Girl

There is much debate in the fictional writing world as to whether or not your story should begin with a prologue. The last three books I have read–all mainstream fictional novels–have started with a prologue. I found the prologue of Me Before You particularly effective.

The discussion of the prologue is a relatively simple one: should you include a glimpse for the reader as to what will eventually come of the characters and plot of the story? Does the prologue have a somewhat different voice? Does it intrigue the reader and offer a bit of a backstory, which will, in turn, propel the story forward?

It’s a challenging question to answer, and I wrestled with the notion of a prologue in Baseball Girl. When I examined the book in full, I decided to include one because I wanted the main character, Francesca, to tell the prologue in her own voice. The body of the book is told in third person narrator, combined with flashbacks, told in Francesca’s voice, about life with her father. The prologue does tie back to the story, because she is recounting how life working in baseball (and sharing a love of baseball with her father) helped change the course of her life. This is not a book about a girl who plays baseball; it is a story of a girl who becomes a woman, works in professional baseball, and the effects it has on her both professionally and personally. The story takes place over approximately 10 years. She grows up and learns some lessons about love and loss along the way.

I’ve decided to share the prologue of the book as part of my Friday Fiction posts. As my team, the Baltimore Orioles, for which I worked for 13 years and on which I loosely based my novel, are currently off to a 7-2 lead in the American League East, I thought I’d share my novel writing with you for today’s Fiction Friday. It took me three years to write the story, and I couldn’t be happier with the result. Baseball Girl received an honorable mention for sports fiction in the 2015 Readers Favorite Contest.

Thanks for reading; here is the prologue for Baseball Girl, available at both Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com.

And let me know whether you, as reader enjoy prologues, and whether you, as a writer, have dabbled in the prologue.

Have a great weekend!

This photo is from last September at the annual Baltimore Book Festival in the Inner Harbor.

 

B A S E B A L L   G I R L   by   S T E P H A N I E   V E R N I

© Stephanie Verni, 2015

P R O LO G U E

My father was forty-four years old when we saw our last game together in person. He was weak and pale, and yet there we were at the ballpark. Despite his rapidly declining condition, he somehow managed to wear a sheepish grin as I wheeled him up the handicapped ramp and he saw the field, the white lights. There was mist in the air. I was afraid something might happen to him that night, and that I’d have to explain to my mother that God waved him home during a baseball game. My father would have joked, saying it was divine providence, that God knew—and seemed to respect—his affinity for the game; he would kneel to what he believed was a great cathedral—its patterned grass in the outfield, bleached white bases, and perfectly rounded pitcher’s mound. He often told me, especially when I was very young, that he could hear the angels sing every time he entered a ballpark.

It was tradition that the two of us would attend every home game on Sundays. Right after church, we’d sprint home, change out of our dress clothes, jump into shorts, jerseys, and sneakers, and zoom off in the car. Like children excited to see the circus for the first time, both my father and I felt its uniqueness, knowing that every time we went to the ballpark, it would be a new game, a different memory, and an experience we would share forever. The car radio dial was always set to the pregame show as we both listened to player interviews and anxiously awaited the announcement of that day’s starting lineup.

My mother rarely ventured to the ballpark with us. She didn’t care for the game too much, which I never understood. Not liking America’s pastime was a sin to me, and she never understood why I preferred to wear a numbered jersey as opposed to a tutu. She was appalled at times by my father’s insistence that his little girl must learn and like the game. Sometimes I’d hear them arguing after I went to bed at night, my mother imploring him to allow me to do other things in my spare time, like sing in the choir, join the gymnastics team, or dance ballet.

I didn’t particularly love gymnastics or ballet. My singing voice was not one that warranted an audience. I was much more in tune to watching the pros turn double plays and hit game-winning RBIs. I was vested in the team because my father was vested in the team. I was enthralled with baseball because my father was enthralled with baseball. I loved the game because my father loved the game. If people ever try to tell you that you can’t learn to love something, they’re wrong. I learned to love baseball—every fair and foul ball, every interminable rain delay, and every hot dog with mustard I could buy. I loved the way the sun would set behind the arched, brick walls, the way the grounds crew unfurled the tarp in inclement weather, and the way the music vibrated my seat when the team tied the game in the ninth inning.

Love. Pure and simple.

It’s difficult to describe love sometimes, and even more difficult to put into words a love you have for someone or something, either while you have it, or later, when it’s gone.

My father passed away on a Sunday. On that eerie late morning, as I woke to a sense of gloom and understood the inevitable was about to happen, I turned on the radio and sat with my dad as we listened to the pregame show. Yet, on that day, not even baseball could lessen the pain that would consume me as I watched that demon Leukemia suck every ounce of energy out of his still young, but tired body.

I was eighteen that afternoon in early May when he passed and was just completing my first year of college. My sister, four years older than I, had come home for the weekend, leaving her infant and husband behind to be with my mom, dad, and me. All three of my father’s girls were in the room—my mother held one hand on one side of him, and my sister and I were on the other side—as he peacefully left this world, just as the rookie Clarkson hit a lead-off homer to start the game.

After he passed, I never stopped going to those Sunday games that year. I was determined to continue with the tradition, even if it meant I had to go by myself. I wasn’t a groupie, a collector, or an autograph seeker; in fact, at that time, I cared little about the pomp and circumstance that revolved around the sport of baseball and the players. That’s not what it was about for me.

For me, baseball was about my father. About sharing the day with him. About getting to know him little by little during our chats at the ballpark when he’d tell me stories about his own father and his father’s father. I gained precious insight into my family and our traditions by spending time with him, and I wouldn’t trade one minute of those cherished moments to sing in a choir, join the gymnastics team, or perform ballet for a visiting queen.

I’d never trade it. Not for one—not one—minute.

But what I didn’t expect were the lessons the great game of baseball would teach me, and how it would affect me for all my years to come.

 

 

Filed under: On Life Tagged: Amazon, author, Barnes and Noble, Baseball Girl, Featured, prologue, Readers Favorite, Readers Favorite Honorable Mention, Readers Favorite Winner Sports 2015, sports fiction, writing, writing a novel, writing a prologue

Why I Probably Shouldn’t Have Ridiculously Large Clocks in the House

The clock on our screened-in porch.

The wisdom acquired with the passage of time is a useless gift unless you share it.

~ Esther Williams

There they are before me. A large clock in the dining room, an even larger one in the living room, and a most gargantuan one on our porch. They always say, “the bigger the better.” I’m not sure if I believe that’s true.

I have a sort of fascination with clocks. I love having them around the house, but lately, I sometimes don’t enjoy having them staring me in the face all the time. They are a constant reminder that this very moment will never happen again. That each tick-tock of the clock means that another moment has passed, and while I know I’m getting wiser, I’m afraid to admit, I’m not getting any younger.

The clock in our dining/kitchen area.

My kids are growing more mature daily. No longer are they little kids anymore. They are young adults–two teens who are finding their way in the world and solving their own problems step by step. When I arrive home through the door from work, however, I am happy that my daughter is still happy to see me, and my son always gives me a kiss. They are not growing too old for that. Additionally, I marvel at how quickly the time passes once I do come through the door — it feels as if the hours from about 4:30 p.m. to dinner whirl by; sometimes I can barely catch my breath before one teen needs to be driven here and one teen needs to be driven there. And, I am sure I am not alone when confronted with the mystifying truth that the weekends go by faster than any other day in the week.

I want time to stop. Just a little. Just for a few moments.

But it won’t.

There is no stopping time.

So…

I’ll enjoy my ridiculously huge clocks that remind me that this second will never come again.

The clock in our living room.
Filed under: On Life Tagged: clock decor, clocks, Esther Williams, Featured, passage of time, tick-tock, Time

A Good Book Will Never Let You Down

I’m about to finish Adriana Trigiani’s touching and inspiring novel entitled The Shoemaker’s Wife. I’ve enjoyed reading this sweeping story of Italian immigrants loosely based on the history of the author’s own grandparents. From the mountains of the Italian Alps to New York City to a small town in Minnesota, the characters and sights covered in this novel will allow you to become a part of a different time and place when the world was a different place, America was growing, and World War I loomed. The truth of the matter is this: a good book will never let you down.

As I’ve become older, wiser, and more finicky about how I spend my free time, I find getting lost in a good book some of the best therapy around. My knowledge about various topics has grown immensely by reading the works of others, and I don’t just mean as a writer. Sure, as a writer, we learn things from other writers such as technique, style, tone, and scope of work, but we also learn about people, places, and things.

Reading allows us to be entertained, to escape, and to challenge ourselves. It requires us to tap into our own imaginations as we read the words the writer put on the page. I keep trying to tell my students to pick up some of the classics that they might otherwise not read because they think the work may be too difficult. However, upon closer inspection, my students have found Dickens and Austen fun to read. They tell me they are glad I pushed them to pick up a book they may not have chosen for themselves.

When you spend time with a good book, it becomes etched in your mind. You may not remember every detail of it or all the things that happened along the way after you are through, but you will be left with an impression, insight, and new information that you did not have prior to making the commitment to it.

When I find an author I love, I try to read everything she or he has written; however, the worst part comes when you realize that you HAVE read all that he or she has written and start to twiddle your thumbs until the next one is released. Nevertheless, the truth of the matter is this: a good book is one to cherish and love, recommend, and encourage others to read.

I am probably going to cry when I finish The Shoemaker’s Wife. It will be as if I am saying farewell to my own Italian family as I kiss them goodbye.

Schilpario, Italy. One of the settings in The Shoemaker’s Wife by Adriana Trigiani.  Photo credit: sell-arts.com
New York City during World War I. Photo credit: oldmagazinearticles.com. Ciro, one of the characters in the novel, leaves his NYC to become a soldier.

 

 

 

Filed under: On Life Tagged: adriana trigiani, authors, books, Ciro, Enza, Featured, Italy, Minnesota, New York City, novels, reading, Schilpario, shoemaker, the shoemaker's wife, writing

A Royal Lesson: Typing Class Came in Handy

All mine: This Royal typewriter has special meaning to me.

***

Just for a minute, I’m going to take you back with me to typing class in 8th grade at Severn River Middle School. We sat in rows, typewriters in front of us. We did the drills. “A, A, A…S, S, S…D, D, D…” We typed this sentence over and over again: “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.” The whole room was filled with sound…the reverberations of clicking keys, the pounding of returning and advancing the page, the echoes of the teaching calling out what we should type. It was chaotic. It was fun. It was hands-on learning—just you smacking the keys of the typewriter.

What I didn’t realize was just how valuable those drills and assignments would be in the long run, and that what I learned in that classroom has come to be one of the most treasured skills I possess.

***

I think I knew I wanted to write from as early an age as 12 or 13. My friends and I wrote bad poetry to boys, we wrote letters to each other in class, and my friend Lee and I wrote some kind of crazy story about The Rolling Stones, our favorite band. I still have those pages in an old, dilapidated folder in my special box of writings.

That typing class has come in handy over the years. I was able to type my high school and college papers. The resume and cover letter that got me the job at the Baltimore Orioles that launched my career in sports was written on an electric typewriter with green ink. I typed other people’s papers. And now, I’ve written books.

The skills I learned in typing class have stayed with me all through my life. As I sit here typing this blog post, I am so incredibly thankful for that typing class because it has allowed me to fulfill many of my dreams.

***

Last Sunday, my daughter and I ventured out to a local antiques store in Severna Park by the B&A Trail. We’ve wanted to duck in there for months and months, and we finally made the time for it. I was looking for something special when I saw it sitting there. I’ve never enjoyed spending $80 so much as I did for the old Royal typewriter pictured above that is still in working condition. I’ve wanted one for years as a remembrance…as an ode to typing, writing, and skills we should be thankful for; as a reminder of days gone by and the nostalgia of that 8th grade typing class and what was to follow; and as a call of duty to do the thing I enjoy more than anything in my spare time: writing.

Filed under: On Life Tagged: 8th grade typing class, Featured, Nostalgia, Royal typewriters, typewriters, typing, typing class, writing

Inspired by Joanna Gaines and Fixer Upper on HGTV

Joanna and Chip Gaines. Photo credit: HGTV Fixer Upper

My husband and I have been updating our home since we bought it in June of 2013. Little by little we have tackled the project of making our home something we love. In our previous residence, we did the same thing, though on a much smaller scale. I think we both enjoy watching our projects turn into our visions. Of course, we can’t do it on our own–we need help, and we have received it in the form of an architect and builders who have helped us along the way.

Lately, I’ve started watching HGTV again, and have become attached to Fixer Upper, as many of you readers may have as well. Joanna and Chip Gaines star in this hour-long program whereby they help people buy a more inexpensive home with the idea that they put the balance of what they can afford into renovating the property. It’s fun to watch Joanna and Chip interact with the homeowners, and it’s even more fun to watch Chip and Joanna interact with each other. Chip’s fun-loving, goofy, frat-boy disposition as a contractor complements Joanna’s sweet, kind, and savvy personality as the visionary designer. The two work extremely well together and pull off an entertaining show that makes you yearn to see how the property transforms throughout the hour.

The two own a farm in Waco, Texas; they are entrepreneurs and own Magnolia Market at the Silos, Magnolia bed and breakfast, and Magnolia Realty. They are certainly an inspiring duo. As my husband and I have recently tackled remodeling our kitchen, I’ve been inspired by some of Joanna’s ideas, and have incorporated them into our own rooms. While I am not at all a trained interior decorator, I enjoy design making my home feel like a place where people are welcome to come and relax. Joanna’s “Bakery” sign that Magnolia sells inspired me to create my own sign for our renovated space.

What I have included below are some photos of our kitchen and dining areas that have been inspired by Fixer Upper and what Joanna and Chip have done to many, many properties during the three seasons the pair has been on HGTV. Visit HGTV.com to find out more about their show and to watch episodes online, or visit Magnolia Market by clicking here.

There are only a couple of things left to do in the room, and one includes swapping out a cabinet door (you will see it still in the box next to the red hutch) as the glass for the white hutch came with a little scratch on it. But soon we will be done.

Filed under: On Life Tagged: Bakery sign, Chip and Joanna Gaines, Chip Gaines, designer style, Featured, Fixer Upper, HGTV, Home style, Joanna Gaines, Kitchen designs, Magnolia Market, renovations