February 2012 GraveTells Book Awards: See our (and your) top picks!
February 2012 GraveTells Book Awards: See our (and your) top picks! Thank you to everyone who voted! I got slapped with First Place! I liked it! Now I'm dancing around my apartment like the asshole I am! And the neighbors below are more than likely going to report me to the office for excessive celebrating. #Worth it.
Close Encounters with the Night Kind: First Kiss with Author Debra Anastasia and her new...
Close Encounters with the Night Kind: First Kiss with Author Debra Anastasia and her new...: Good Morning CEWTNK!! Are you ready to be swept off of your feet? Well my guest today certainly has every intention of trying!! Debra ...
February 2012 Readers Choice Awards: Vote here!
February 2012 Readers Choice Awards: Vote here! Please vote for my crazy ass! Super simple, one click voting. Thanks for even thinking about it.
Books Devoured: Review ~ Poughkeepsie
Books Devoured: Review ~ Poughkeepsie: Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia 5- Moms Fried Chicken, Mashed Potatoes and Dessert. It doesn’t get any better! Synopsis: (...
Disney Trip part #5
So we are off to Innoventions. BC has been in love with the place ever since he noticed the floor was a road. We'd wheel him around in his stroller, pretending he was a car. The full-sized fire truck was always a huge plus as well. We spend a good chunk of time in Innoventions during every visit. The dancing robot, building atoms, the kids going to the Pizza show with Grandma 
are all Anastasia family favorites. The kids are really crazy about that place and we love the respite from the August heat.. Ahhh the Heat 
in August, It’s like an uninvited adult that insists on a piggyback ride while you carry your sherpa-sized expedition bag usually one or two children and some sort of ice cream 
or candy that is dripping down your body into an icky hidden Mickey shaped stain.
You get the kind of day that sweats for you. You sweat out of parts of your body that you didn’t know could sweat. Like your fingernails and your nose hair. I have to admit, I fell in love with the weather in April. I especially loved it as we made our way happily and un-sweatily to Alfredo's for lunch. We wanted to make it there in time. With our WHOLE party because…
***
On the previous Disney Trip we decided to try Alfredo’s for the first time. We were traveling with Grandma GS, BC and Mr. and Mrs. Anastasia. All BC wanted was to ride on the World Showcase boat. Fine. We all scroll through our head Disney Map (only amateurs don’t have the map imprinted on their brain) We decide being that we're running late, Grandma , me, and the kids will take the boat and Mr. A will pack his giant electronics equipment, the stroller, all our bags, etc and walk to Italy. We had assumed erroneously that the boat would not allow a stroller. We also assumed it would take us to the dock at the Germany Pavilion which of course is right next to Italy.
We found out there is definite truth to the old adage about assuming things. Also apparently head maps are not the way to go either (Especially if the head holding the map is blonde). Anyway, we wait in line for the next water taxi as Mr. A heads out. We have our walkie-talkies and are keeping up on Mr. A’s progress. I'm sure this helped everyone enjoy a leisurely wait for the boat ride. I'm Chloe to Mr. A’s Jack (24 reference)
Me: “What country are you in?”
Him: “England!”
Me: “Move Faster Man”
Him: “What country are YOU in?”
Me: “We're still on the loading dock!, I repeat we are on the loading dock”
Finally, we load on the boat
and pull way from the dock. I'm initially distracted by the breeze the moving boat creates, temporarily knocking that piggyback heat off of me. My relaxation doesn’t last long however, as I realize we're already pulling in to the next dock and it looks like it is in Morocco. We did not travel across the World Showcase Lagoon as we expected
Instead, we went only TWO countries around the lagoon and we were docking again. Morocco is FAR away from Italy (geographically more so than at Epcot but even in the world showcase it is quite a hike.)
Me: "We're docking in Morocco!"
Him: "A Taco? No, we are eating at Alfrado’s it’s an Italian restaurant I’m in Japan did you dock in Germany yet?"
Me: "LISTEN MAN…The boat docked in MORacco we are in Morocco."
Him: "But, Morocco is behind me I'm already past Morocco I’m coming up on America."
Me: " Don’t go all drive-thru on me just relax we will get there."
Him (woman’s voice now): "I hope they don’t give away our table, (voice getting squeakier) I think there's some rule about the whole party being present (high pitched whine) I’m not sure where to park the stroller."
Me: "Don’t order a kids meal now, just relax, we don’t have much stuff we’ll be able to get there pretty quickly we’ll see you soon."
We hop off the boat and run the rest of the way to Italy. Lugging the heat and two kids. Grandma
is a treat my sister and I would beg for as children. There is nothing funnier than watching my mother run . She would win football games because once she took off we would all be laughing too hard to catch her. I'm doing my best not to look at her but the bystanders are feeling the effects of “the run .” I catch the amused glances on their faces wondering if this is some special Moroccan cultural dance as we sprint by in order to make our ADR and keep Mr. A from accidentally ordering a soft taco meal from Alfredo’s We arrive in Italy. Four sweaty, out of breath, laughing at the run , people. Mr. A is there with the stroller and all of his junk. He chuckles slightly at the sight of Grandma running and we say Buon Giorno to Italy. I make a mental note not to assume anything or rely on my head map anymore but as the mental note occurred inside my blonde head it quickly got erased before the first bite of delicious bread dipped in olive oil.
***
are all Anastasia family favorites. The kids are really crazy about that place and we love the respite from the August heat.. Ahhh the Heat in August, It’s like an uninvited adult that insists on a piggyback ride while you carry your sherpa-sized expedition bag usually one or two children and some sort of ice cream or candy that is dripping down your body into an icky hidden Mickey shaped stain. You get the kind of day that sweats for you. You sweat out of parts of your body that you didn’t know could sweat. Like your fingernails and your nose hair. I have to admit, I fell in love with the weather in April. I especially loved it as we made our way happily and un-sweatily to Alfredo's for lunch. We wanted to make it there in time. With our WHOLE party because…
***
On the previous Disney Trip we decided to try Alfredo’s for the first time. We were traveling with Grandma
GS, BC and Mr. and Mrs. Anastasia. All BC wanted was to ride on the World Showcase boat. Fine. We all scroll through our head Disney Map (only amateurs don’t have the map imprinted on their brain) We decide being that we're running late, Grandma , me, and the kids will take the boat and Mr. A will pack his giant electronics equipment, the stroller, all our bags, etc and walk to Italy. We had assumed erroneously that the boat would not allow a stroller. We also assumed it would take us to the dock at the Germany Pavilion which of course is right next to Italy. We found out there is definite truth to the old adage about assuming things. Also apparently head maps are not the way to go either (Especially if the head holding the map is blonde). Anyway, we wait in line for the next water taxi as Mr. A heads out. We have our walkie-talkies and are keeping up on Mr. A’s progress. I'm sure this helped everyone enjoy a leisurely wait for the boat ride. I'm Chloe to Mr. A’s Jack (24 reference)
Me: “What country are you in?”
Him: “England!”
Me: “Move Faster Man”
Him: “What country are YOU in?”
Me: “We're still on the loading dock!, I repeat we are on the loading dock”
Finally, we load on the boat
and pull way from the dock. I'm initially distracted by the breeze the moving boat creates, temporarily knocking that piggyback heat off of me. My relaxation doesn’t last long however, as I realize we're already pulling in to the next dock and it looks like it is in Morocco. We did not travel across the World Showcase Lagoon as we expected Instead, we went only TWO countries around the lagoon and we were docking again. Morocco is FAR away from Italy (geographically more so than at Epcot but even in the world showcase it is quite a hike.) Me: "We're docking in Morocco!"
Him: "A Taco? No, we are eating at Alfrado’s it’s an Italian restaurant I’m in Japan did you dock in Germany yet?"
Me: "LISTEN MAN…The boat docked in MORacco we are in Morocco."
Him: "But, Morocco is behind me I'm already past Morocco I’m coming up on America."
Me: " Don’t go all drive-thru on me just relax we will get there."
Him (woman’s voice now): "I hope they don’t give away our table, (voice getting squeakier) I think there's some rule about the whole party being present (high pitched whine) I’m not sure where to park the stroller."
Me: "Don’t order a kids meal now, just relax, we don’t have much stuff we’ll be able to get there pretty quickly we’ll see you soon."
We hop off the boat and run the rest of the way to Italy. Lugging the heat and two kids. Grandma
is a treat my sister and I would beg for as children. There is nothing funnier than watching my mother run . She would win football games because once she took off we would all be laughing too hard to catch her. I'm doing my best not to look at her but the bystanders are feeling the effects of “the run .” I catch the amused glances on their faces wondering if this is some special Moroccan cultural dance as we sprint by in order to make our ADR and keep Mr. A from accidentally ordering a soft taco meal from Alfredo’s We arrive in Italy. Four sweaty, out of breath, laughing at the run , people. Mr. A is there with the stroller and all of his junk. He chuckles slightly at the sight of Grandma running and we say Buon Giorno to Italy. I make a mental note not to assume anything or rely on my head map anymore but as the mental note occurred inside my blonde head it quickly got erased before the first bite of delicious bread dipped in olive oil. ***
Smitten With Bad Boy Heroes: Author Interview & Giveaway: Debra Anastasia
Smitten With Bad Boy Heroes: Author Interview & Giveaway: Debra Anastasia: February 21, 2012 For my very first Author Interview on Smitten, I welcome Debra...
Confessions of a Bookaholic: Interview & Giveaway: Poughkeepsie by Debra Anasta...
Confessions of a Bookaholic: Interview & Giveaway: Poughkeepsie by Debra Anasta...: Debra Anastasia is here today to talk about her adult title, Poughkeepsie . I've read this book and I just gotta say...WOW! It's incredibl...
Jilly's Tat!!!!!
Okay, Poughkeepsie now has four girls in the Tattoo club. Today we are celebrating Jillian! I was so excited to learn that she was taking the trip to the tattoo parlor, I had to interview her.
Aww, thank you! Well, my friends always ask when I recommend a book to them if it's "tattoo worthy" because I have a few tattoos that are book related...but only the books that leave a lasting impression on me get the honor of a tattoo. Every time I look at my Poughkeepsie tattoo I am reminded of so many things. I remember Blake's first words with Livia and how they made me love him instantly, Beckett and his awful texting skills and huge teddy bear heart, Eve's heartbreak and loss, Kyle and her total kick ass self, Cole and his honor and tightly reigned emotions....to put it simply, it signifies all the amazing emotions I felt while reading Poughkeepsie. *dreamy sigh*
4) Tell me about your tattoo parlor experience. I’m considering one myself (go Pough!) so I’d love to know how it went?
Go Pough!! I won't lie....it hurt like a BITCH! I went with a friend of mine who I had to warn that I get super chatty when I'm stressed. So I blabbed the entire time about who-knows-what just to keep my mind busy and not think about how damn long it was taking (it was literally 20 minutes total but damn, it felt like forEVER). Oh, and I sweat like a fiend when I get tattooed....sweaty palms, feet, the whole nine yards. My eyes always end up looking like a raccoon from my mascara mixing with the sweat. Lucky me, right!? So I was a sweaty, blabbing, racoon-eyed mess (try not to be jealous of the hotness!) but I ended up with a KILLER tatt!
Since I'm a Leo, I will answer as only a Leo can......It feels like the freaking bees knees!!!! Just kidding...kind of ;-) Honestly though, I'm just a suburban housewife and mom who was lucky enough to find this amazing book and I can't think of any better way to show the love than getting it tattooed :-)
5) What is your favorite song, color, and holiday?
hmmmmm..... song is a toughie! So many! Let's see, All I Ever Wanted by Airborne Toxic Event, Silence by Sarah McLachlan & Delirium and The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance are some of my faves! Fave color would have to be black and holiday is the Fourth of July (my son's birthday yay!) with Halloween a close second!
How amazing is she? Thank you, Jilly for letting Poughkeepsie be in your life. I'm so adding those songs to this post. I have to hear them. Here's where you can find Jillian: Twitter
1) You must be an exceptionally sensitive soul to allow words to so thoroughly touch you! What does your new tattoo signify for you?
Aww, thank you! Well, my friends always ask when I recommend a book to them if it's "tattoo worthy" because I have a few tattoos that are book related...but only the books that leave a lasting impression on me get the honor of a tattoo. Every time I look at my Poughkeepsie tattoo I am reminded of so many things. I remember Blake's first words with Livia and how they made me love him instantly, Beckett and his awful texting skills and huge teddy bear heart, Eve's heartbreak and loss, Kyle and her total kick ass self, Cole and his honor and tightly reigned emotions....to put it simply, it signifies all the amazing emotions I felt while reading Poughkeepsie. *dreamy sigh*
4) Tell me about your tattoo parlor experience. I’m considering one myself (go Pough!) so I’d love to know how it went?
Go Pough!! I won't lie....it hurt like a BITCH! I went with a friend of mine who I had to warn that I get super chatty when I'm stressed. So I blabbed the entire time about who-knows-what just to keep my mind busy and not think about how damn long it was taking (it was literally 20 minutes total but damn, it felt like forEVER). Oh, and I sweat like a fiend when I get tattooed....sweaty palms, feet, the whole nine yards. My eyes always end up looking like a raccoon from my mascara mixing with the sweat. Lucky me, right!? So I was a sweaty, blabbing, racoon-eyed mess (try not to be jealous of the hotness!) but I ended up with a KILLER tatt!
4) How does it feel to be so freaking awesome?
Since I'm a Leo, I will answer as only a Leo can......It feels like the freaking bees knees!!!! Just kidding...kind of ;-) Honestly though, I'm just a suburban housewife and mom who was lucky enough to find this amazing book and I can't think of any better way to show the love than getting it tattooed :-)
5) What is your favorite song, color, and holiday?
hmmmmm..... song is a toughie! So many! Let's see, All I Ever Wanted by Airborne Toxic Event, Silence by Sarah McLachlan & Delirium and The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance are some of my faves! Fave color would have to be black and holiday is the Fourth of July (my son's birthday yay!) with Halloween a close second!
Thank you SO much for such an amazing opportunity!!! XOXOXO
How amazing is she? Thank you, Jilly for letting Poughkeepsie be in your life. I'm so adding those songs to this post. I have to hear them. Here's where you can find Jillian: Twitter
New, free, short story!! Shackled by Debra Anastasia
Aeliea is an evil princess with a taste for torture. In order to save his mother’s life, Markus defies the future queen. She condemns the proud, strong warrior to her dungeons. Night after night he is brought, naked and shackled, to stand before Aeliea. Markus is determined to change the woman whose treacherous whims terrify her empire.
Excerpt:
Aeliea rolled her wrist and examined her fingernails. The three rings on her left hand were worth more than an entire generation of her people could ever hope to make in their lifetime. She liked it that way. Her fresh linen dress was stitched with elaborate gold and silver thread. It had taken four women three straight months to make it for her. She would wear it this once and then cast it aside. Today she would parade, carried in a sedan chair by her guards. From her lofty perch she would point a glittering finger at anyone she fancied. And they would be dragged back to her dungeon, where most likely they would die. Today she pointed at an older woman who was far too pretty for Aeliea’s liking.
“Markus, no, please. No!” The woman said. She was in a panic as a reckless warrior came from the shadows to stand in front of her.
He ignored the frantic pleading and locked his deep green eyes on Aeliea. He was tall and well-muscled. His hair was too long and disheveled, but his jaw was strong and his confidence was huge. The hate in his eyes glowed.
Aeliea felt a huge burst of jealously. The handsome man would dare to stand in front of her guards to protect a lowly pauper?
“You, foolish man, why do you stand in front of this woman?” Aeliea tried to look as condescending as she could, but his eyes were searing into her. He was a good ten years older than she and had tremendous poise.
“This woman is my mother. I will kill all that surround you if you touch her. When they have fallen, I’ll send this blade into your black heart,” Markus snarled at her.
The woman clutched at his arms and sobbed into his back. “Please, Markus. I’ll not lose my last son. Please, kind Majesty, listen not to him. He’s mad with grief. He knows not what he does.”
Markus did not look crazy. He looked ready. Aeliea felt fear.
The man kept his eyes on her as he reached his hand behind him, touching his mother’s face. “Mother, I would rather die here in this street than live under the tyranny of that one when she becomes queen.”
This man had defied Aeliea and it was…appealing.
Available in for FREE in ePub, MOBI and PDF
Disney Trip part #4
We are on property. My property.
Well, we are finally home. The Anastasias have decided to spend their one precious day in Epcot. We glimpse “The Big Ball." We have always called it this. Thank God they did not build two Spaceship Earths side by side.
*********Flashback*********
When BC was about four years old we headed to Disney. We had been prepping him for months. We have a Disney sing along video with the song “Right Down the Middle of Main Street USA” He would watch it daily and intently. There was an elaborate dance during the song on the video. It wasn’t until just before we left that I found my son crumpled up crying.
“What’s wrong sweetie?"
“I haven’t learned the dance!”
“You dance beautifully”
“No, the dance I have to do on Main Street! I am not ready yet” *Big sob*
BC thought he had to literally dance down Main Street to get into the parks.
Well, as we drive up to Epcot we ask our sweet dance student in an excited voice, “BC…What is that!” (as the Big Ball comes into view) Pointing at the singular Big Ball he answers in an equally excited voice, “I don’t know!!” It was kind of a “you had to be there moment.” Trust me, it was funny. Go ahead with a sympathy laugh.
So, The Big Ball is pulling into view. We, of course re-live the funny moment you are trusting me on. However, there's something sinister on this trip to Epcot. It's throbbing, pulsating and threatening. The promise of the April Crowds. We have never faced them before. What will happen inside? Will we still love our sweet property? We're chipper, excited and hopeful. Disney experts, we are. My mother flashes her cast id badge and we park for free. Wow, we have never parked this far back before. Then, there's the game we play in our heads. You know it. You're pulling up to the parking lot trying to figure out what spot you will park in. Will the cars in front of you fill up enough of the row to get you near the tram lane without filling up too much forcing you to drive (and subsequently walk back) the ½ a mile to the tram stop? It's like roulette. We, of course, are the losers in this game. We park in the farthest spot away from the tram. The tram. The tram scam.
Before I tell you about the tram scam, you must learn a little about GC and BC. Our sweet set up with Grandma allows us to bring the kids to Disney so much we feel guilty about it. But… they hate rides. Almost every ride. Their favorite ride is the tram. No joke. They are so excited to ride the tram. There's a people blob waiting for the next tram We join the people blob. No real line just a human amoeba pulsating in the parking lot with the hope of moving fast enough to get on the next tram. We wait. We eye the competition. Babies in strollers are good because they have to get pulled out, stroller collapsed, diaper bag grabbed. Babies are easy marks. Wait, I can’t be competitive with babies. That's wrong. (Remember the vacuum? I have a problem.)
So the tram pulls up. We're towards the front of the blob, waiting in a little mini forest and rock garden in the middle of the parking lot. The tram pulls up short. Even the babies beat us to the tram as we trudge past the jet engine noise and visible diesel fumes of the tram engine. Well, serves us right, we were standing kind of sneaky, in the forest. So we nod, and accept our tram waiting punishment. The kids are starting to get upset. BC likes to follow the rules and see an orderly pattern. He's not thrilled with our first attempt to beat the line by sneaking into the forest. We move between the poles. Properly. No more sneaky stuff for us. We wait. More Babies…good, no…Wait, bad.
The next Tram pulls up, and… stops short. It cheats us! We were in the poles! We're parked in the way, way back, at the end of the row! This is the only ride my kids like. Man those freaking babies are fast.
With much grumbling and whining we WALK to the Big Ball. We meet my father and then both my parents help our family get in with their Main Gate passes. We hear the music, we smell the smells. Ahh. We love Epcot. First things first, the potty. The Jiggler has a little problem with some Disney potties. You see, I rarely potty alone. I've mastered the two and three person potty trip. Of course, we all cram into one stall . This potty trip it is just me and GC. BC prefers to go with Dad. GC and I make our way in. I back The Jiggler in [beep, beep, beep] and drag GC in behind me. I straddle the toilet and try to close the door. She's at a stage in her development where her head is just high enough to bang into the toilet tissue dispensers. I usually wind up cramming her head between the stall door and the dispenser, pinball style, a couple of times per trip.
Big green eyes stare up at me in disbelief that she has to deal with a mom that has no concept of spatial relations. After we are safely locked in, we rotate the Jigger around to get the Jiggler protector (the toilet guard tissue). Mrs. A carefully plucks just one (wouldn’t want to be wasteful). Gently and daintily I lay the Jiggler protector down. The toilet is competitive, just like the spider and the babies. The toilet feels I should not be a wimp and I should just lay the bare Jiggler down. “Toughen up” the toilet thinks and then it sucks my Jiggler protector down with enough force to render me nude if I were standing closer. GC screams and holds her ears. “The flush is too loud” she wails. In a frenzy to find safe harbor, she winds up bouncing between the Jiggler and the stall door. Well, I'll try this again. Because I like to win. I want to beat the potty at its own game. I lay the protector down, nicey nice, the middle falls in, sets off the super sensitive sensor and… sonic boom flush.
GC is now a little leery of sitting on this insatiable monster that eats the Jiggler protectors so ferociously. What will it do with her teeny, tiny hiney? I am totally unaware of my daughter’s concerns. It is me verses the potty. I break out the ultimate weapon. The bare Jiggler. If I can move fast enough, I can hold that protector in place. I'll anchor it down and show that potty who is boss. The potty has had a lot of practice. I move as quick as lightening. Place the protector, swing the Jiggler around, knock into GC who bounces into the toilet tissue dispenser… again. I'm almost there; the bare Jiggler will be safe from all the germs of the 100 gazillion women that have done their business before me. I hear a high pitched whine I'm not fast enough.
My plan will not work. The potty sucks down its favorite treat, for a third time. The Jiggler is not a fast enough anchor…to add insult to my bruised ego and germs to the germs I now get to wear, like a nasty accessory all day long, I get the the “finishing touch." The splash of ice cold potty water. “Aggh!” I let out a little scream. Big green eyes are watching this whole show. Hands covering ears. In her sweet little head, that potty just took a bite of the Jiggler and Mommy was getting sucked down next. She waits. Now, it is her turn.
She bangs her head one more time against the t.p. dispenser in a futile effort to render herself unconscious and avoid being sucked down by the Jiggler protector eating, sonic booming, auto flushing potty. She's unsuccessful and she's up next. I did what all good moms do. I bribed her. With toys, treats and ponies. (Don’t tell Mr. A about that last one.)
Well, the potty stop is over. Me and all my new germs start to look for Mr. A. He's so fun to find. On his back he wears enough audiovisual equipment that he can actually broadcast live to news stations if they need him. There's even a satellite dish strapped to his hat. But his cell phone is set to silent and vibrate. He never feels it in his pocket. Finally, we make contact, he smiles at me, happy to be in his favorite place with his family and blissfully unaware that some day… he will own a pony.
In the next chapter.. I really will tell you about the almonds and more about the crushing crowds and a fist fight in the dark!
Well, we are finally home. The Anastasias have decided to spend their one precious day in Epcot. We glimpse “The Big Ball." We have always called it this. Thank God they did not build two Spaceship Earths side by side.
*********Flashback*********
When BC was about four years old we headed to Disney. We had been prepping him for months. We have a Disney sing along video with the song “Right Down the Middle of Main Street USA” He would watch it daily and intently. There was an elaborate dance during the song on the video. It wasn’t until just before we left that I found my son crumpled up crying.
“What’s wrong sweetie?"
“I haven’t learned the dance!”
“You dance beautifully”
“No, the dance I have to do on Main Street! I am not ready yet” *Big sob*
BC thought he had to literally dance down Main Street to get into the parks.
Well, as we drive up to Epcot we ask our sweet dance student in an excited voice, “BC…What is that!” (as the Big Ball comes into view) Pointing at the singular Big Ball he answers in an equally excited voice, “I don’t know!!” It was kind of a “you had to be there moment.” Trust me, it was funny. Go ahead with a sympathy laugh.
So, The Big Ball is pulling into view. We, of course re-live the funny moment you are trusting me on. However, there's something sinister on this trip to Epcot. It's throbbing, pulsating and threatening. The promise of the April Crowds. We have never faced them before. What will happen inside? Will we still love our sweet property? We're chipper, excited and hopeful. Disney experts, we are. My mother flashes her cast id badge and we park for free. Wow, we have never parked this far back before. Then, there's the game we play in our heads. You know it. You're pulling up to the parking lot trying to figure out what spot you will park in. Will the cars in front of you fill up enough of the row to get you near the tram lane without filling up too much forcing you to drive (and subsequently walk back) the ½ a mile to the tram stop? It's like roulette. We, of course, are the losers in this game. We park in the farthest spot away from the tram. The tram. The tram scam.
Before I tell you about the tram scam, you must learn a little about GC and BC. Our sweet set up with Grandma allows us to bring the kids to Disney so much we feel guilty about it. But… they hate rides. Almost every ride. Their favorite ride is the tram. No joke. They are so excited to ride the tram. There's a people blob waiting for the next tram We join the people blob. No real line just a human amoeba pulsating in the parking lot with the hope of moving fast enough to get on the next tram. We wait. We eye the competition. Babies in strollers are good because they have to get pulled out, stroller collapsed, diaper bag grabbed. Babies are easy marks. Wait, I can’t be competitive with babies. That's wrong. (Remember the vacuum? I have a problem.)
So the tram pulls up. We're towards the front of the blob, waiting in a little mini forest and rock garden in the middle of the parking lot. The tram pulls up short. Even the babies beat us to the tram as we trudge past the jet engine noise and visible diesel fumes of the tram engine. Well, serves us right, we were standing kind of sneaky, in the forest. So we nod, and accept our tram waiting punishment. The kids are starting to get upset. BC likes to follow the rules and see an orderly pattern. He's not thrilled with our first attempt to beat the line by sneaking into the forest. We move between the poles. Properly. No more sneaky stuff for us. We wait. More Babies…good, no…Wait, bad.
The next Tram pulls up, and… stops short. It cheats us! We were in the poles! We're parked in the way, way back, at the end of the row! This is the only ride my kids like. Man those freaking babies are fast.
With much grumbling and whining we WALK to the Big Ball. We meet my father and then both my parents help our family get in with their Main Gate passes. We hear the music, we smell the smells. Ahh. We love Epcot. First things first, the potty. The Jiggler has a little problem with some Disney potties. You see, I rarely potty alone. I've mastered the two and three person potty trip. Of course, we all cram into one stall . This potty trip it is just me and GC. BC prefers to go with Dad. GC and I make our way in. I back The Jiggler in [beep, beep, beep] and drag GC in behind me. I straddle the toilet and try to close the door. She's at a stage in her development where her head is just high enough to bang into the toilet tissue dispensers. I usually wind up cramming her head between the stall door and the dispenser, pinball style, a couple of times per trip.
Big green eyes stare up at me in disbelief that she has to deal with a mom that has no concept of spatial relations. After we are safely locked in, we rotate the Jigger around to get the Jiggler protector (the toilet guard tissue). Mrs. A carefully plucks just one (wouldn’t want to be wasteful). Gently and daintily I lay the Jiggler protector down. The toilet is competitive, just like the spider and the babies. The toilet feels I should not be a wimp and I should just lay the bare Jiggler down. “Toughen up” the toilet thinks and then it sucks my Jiggler protector down with enough force to render me nude if I were standing closer. GC screams and holds her ears. “The flush is too loud” she wails. In a frenzy to find safe harbor, she winds up bouncing between the Jiggler and the stall door. Well, I'll try this again. Because I like to win. I want to beat the potty at its own game. I lay the protector down, nicey nice, the middle falls in, sets off the super sensitive sensor and… sonic boom flush.
GC is now a little leery of sitting on this insatiable monster that eats the Jiggler protectors so ferociously. What will it do with her teeny, tiny hiney? I am totally unaware of my daughter’s concerns. It is me verses the potty. I break out the ultimate weapon. The bare Jiggler. If I can move fast enough, I can hold that protector in place. I'll anchor it down and show that potty who is boss. The potty has had a lot of practice. I move as quick as lightening. Place the protector, swing the Jiggler around, knock into GC who bounces into the toilet tissue dispenser… again. I'm almost there; the bare Jiggler will be safe from all the germs of the 100 gazillion women that have done their business before me. I hear a high pitched whine I'm not fast enough.
My plan will not work. The potty sucks down its favorite treat, for a third time. The Jiggler is not a fast enough anchor…to add insult to my bruised ego and germs to the germs I now get to wear, like a nasty accessory all day long, I get the the “finishing touch." The splash of ice cold potty water. “Aggh!” I let out a little scream. Big green eyes are watching this whole show. Hands covering ears. In her sweet little head, that potty just took a bite of the Jiggler and Mommy was getting sucked down next. She waits. Now, it is her turn.
She bangs her head one more time against the t.p. dispenser in a futile effort to render herself unconscious and avoid being sucked down by the Jiggler protector eating, sonic booming, auto flushing potty. She's unsuccessful and she's up next. I did what all good moms do. I bribed her. With toys, treats and ponies. (Don’t tell Mr. A about that last one.)
Well, the potty stop is over. Me and all my new germs start to look for Mr. A. He's so fun to find. On his back he wears enough audiovisual equipment that he can actually broadcast live to news stations if they need him. There's even a satellite dish strapped to his hat. But his cell phone is set to silent and vibrate. He never feels it in his pocket. Finally, we make contact, he smiles at me, happy to be in his favorite place with his family and blissfully unaware that some day… he will own a pony.
In the next chapter.. I really will tell you about the almonds and more about the crushing crowds and a fist fight in the dark!
Read Our Lips! Book Review Blog: Quickie Review: Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia
Read Our Lips! Book Review Blog: Quickie Review: Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia: Book Synopsis From Amazon: He counts her smiles every day and night at the train station. And morning and evening, the beautiful commuter ...
Blake's Cardboard Piano Stop Three
Rhonda is a blogger here http://samsawesomness.blogspot.com/ who has become a dear friend. Her blog is so lighthearted and a ton of fun. Really interactive. When she agreed to host Blake's piano, I knew it would be special. She took his humble piano to some amazing places. Most importantly, she let her baby girl hold it. Please enjoy her visit:
I was very excited to hear that Debra was sending Blake's piano out in to the world to visit us, and visit some of the places we live.
I received the piano on a Saturday afternoon, and my intention was to do my thing on my day off. Well, I got up on Sunday morning and decided that it would be a great day since it was Sunday and the traffic would be light. I asked my daughter who is 8 yrs old if she would like to join me. I showed her the piano, and the book trailer for Poughkeepsie, and explained the piano's role in the story, also what we were going to do. She said, " That's so cool!"
So we set out on a route to a few landmark places here in Memphis. Let me say, I am so glad she went with me, because this wouldn't have been possible without her. It turned out to be a cold and windy morning and when we went down by the Mississippi River I need her to hold this piano. I told her to hold on tight, because I don't want to have to tell Mrs. Debra that this thing blew off into the Mississippi River. Well she held on tight and all went well. Turns out I needed her to hold it quite a bit, she was such a great helper,and we had a blast doing it.
We went to:
Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley. Had to go there!
The National Civil Rights Museum. This is where Dr. Martin Luther king was assassinated, and Later was added on to and made into a museum.
The Mississippi River
Sun studio where some music legends have recorded, and is a national landmark.
So we set out on a route to a few landmark places here in Memphis. Let me say, I am so glad she went with me, because this wouldn't have been possible without her. It turned out to be a cold and windy morning and when we went down by the Mississippi River I need her to hold this piano. I told her to hold on tight, because I don't want to have to tell Mrs. Debra that this thing blew off into the Mississippi River. Well she held on tight and all went well. Turns out I needed her to hold it quite a bit, she was such a great helper,and we had a blast doing it.
We went to:
Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley. Had to go there!
The National Civil Rights Museum. This is where Dr. Martin Luther king was assassinated, and Later was added on to and made into a museum.
The Mississippi River
Sun studio where some music legends have recorded, and is a national landmark.
Winner Valentine's Giveaway!
The winner of the giveaway from my blog is: Kryskat!
Congratulations, I'll be in touch.
Congratulations, I'll be in touch.
Sam, E and R's Awesomness!: Manday Hotties Hop!
Sam, E and R's Awesomness!: Manday Hotties Hop!: Today's Monday Hottie Inspiration goes out to Debra Anastasia and her Image of one our favorite Characters to her Poughkeepsie Novel. Mr.Be...
Smitten With Bad Boy Heroes: Review: Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia
Smitten With Bad Boy Heroes: Review: Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia: February 12, 2012 Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia Genre: Contemporary Romance Publisher: Omnific Publishin...
FANGS, WANDS & FAIRY DUST: An Out of Genre Experience:POUGHKEEPSIE author DEB...
FANGS, WANDS & FAIRY DUST: An Out of Genre Experience:POUGHKEEPSIE author DEB...: P O U G H K E E P S I E I would like to welcome Debra Anastasia to today's Out-of-Genre- Experience on Fangs, Wands and Fairy Dust...
Disney Trip part #3
Morning comes.
A few very important, time honored rituals are occurring for Anastasias. Remember the scene in the Lion King where sweet, fuzzy baby Simba was held aloft by the creepy monkey with the stick? The music swells, your heart sores, and finally one single tear rolls down your cheek. Replace baby Simba with my periwinkle colored bagallini and you can recreate one of our rituals.
And I guess that makes me the creepy monkey
. Now I am kind of regretting this analogy. Oh well.
I pack it carefully. Extra kid outfits in Ziplocs, sunscreen, little antibacterial dangling from my zipper. I sling it on, stuff my cell phone in its happy little home after I change the ring tone from “Sexyback” to “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes”
. Those are two really different ring tones. I lock eyes with my man. Mickey head pupils look back at me. He is completing his ritual. In a loincloth with hidden mickies on it. There is guttural singing, and dancing. His body is painted with Disney characters. Don’t worry, he turns his nipples into Chip n’ Dale as God intended. After his camera backpack has been precisely loaded to his exacting standards. He heaves it on his back. We complement each other. Freaky and Weirdo. Our poor kids. He changes his ring tone from silent vibrate to Mickey saying “Hey Pal, it’s One of Your Friends”
We are ready. We hop into are van. For this trip we also pack Grandma . We have a one and half hour ride home to my castle. Mr. A drives and Grandma rides shotgun. The kids are in the middle watching classic Disney cartoons. Mrs. A is by her lonesome in the back, thinking. The Anastasias try and prevent Mrs. A from thinking. Especially around paint cans and hair dye. She is thinking. Past Disney memories. Ahhh.
*****Flashback*****
Our Honeymoon
What a sweet time. We had put off our honeymoon until the end of the school year. Almost a full year after our wedding day, we went to Disney World. On our way to Florida I did not feel well. In the morning I was sick to my stomach. I could not believe I was feeling sick on our honeymoon. We first stopped at my parents. My mother and I got to talking and I thought maybe I should take a test. I did not even tell Mr. A what I was up to. He figured me and Mom were thinking together and we would buy hair dye and paint, as usual. I took my CVS bag into the bathroom. It wasn’t hair dye. It was the test that would change our lives. I stood there looking at the positive result. The joy started at my toes and worked its way right into my heart. It has stayed there ever since. Tears, excitement, more tears. I kept hugging my stomach. A baby. A deep breath. Well guess who is going to get a big surprise? Mr. A was happy the last time I saw him when I passed him on the couch. He was watching sports and laughing with my father.
Now mom , on the other hand, knows what I am up to. She knows one of two things are going to happen- I'll either come out of the bathroom shaking my head or I'll call Mr. A in.
Deep breath.
I couldn’t see her when I called his name but her happiness filled the air. I told him. We hugged and cried and laughed. A baby. We freak out. "How do we pay for a baby! How do you hold a baby? I've never held one, have you?"
"No."
"Me neither."
Before it can even sink in for Mr. A I know I have to see my mom . She has wanted grandchildren more than she wanted children. It'll be the biggest gift I ever give her. My Father, how will he react? No time to wonder- we are at the door.
We have an announcement, “We are going to have a baby” (See how little I knew, I said “we” instead of “me”, he was there, but I had that 8 pound 6 ounce baby.)
My mother is crying and laughing. My father is shocked, but happy and hugging.
Later in the pool I say “I can not believe I am married and pregnant.”
My father’s response is “Thank God."
We are off the next day to Disney. A wonderful world I'll share with Mr. A. He has not been there since he was a boy. I did not know I was poking awake a beast that could never be satisfied. My favorite memory of this trip is walking into the “Making of Me” that was in Epcot. Martin Short was describing how humans are made. The Kings held hands tightly with eyes as wide as saucers.
**********
“Mom can you open this for me?” My son, he grows every five minutes now. He looks so much like me, but he's much nicer. I ruffle his hair. His head is so huge. (It always has been)
We're almost there. Getting closer. I start getting antsy. I can’t hear the adults over the air conditioning and the cartoons. I'm thinking again.
*****Flashback*****
Years after the “Making of me”, We made another “me." A sweet, plumpy baby girl with the hugest jewel like green eyes surrounded by thick, long lashes that are usually wasted on boys. She's six months old and Disney is her new playground. As long as her brother is around, she's happy. At her first character meeting, she encounters the nipple chipmunks. After seeing her brother embrace them she's on board. She feels Chip’s nose. Dale gets low so he can hold her. She loves him. I go to take her back. Dale won’t give her up. I insist. I think if I would have left her to be raised by the Chipmunks she would have loved it.
Little six month old GC is breast feeding. BC breastfed until he was 27 months (I know-ouch ). GC loves it as well. Being a real modest breastfeeder, it was really hard for me to find places to be alone to feed her. We would make it to the baby station as often as possible. Sometimes we were too far. During our lunch at Japan, PS was hungry. I could find no where to feed her in private. I grab Mr. A, give BC to the grandparents and commence looking for “the spot." I don’t like people looking at me. BC and GC were always very active feeders so it was hard to stay covered. GC is getting fussy. I am starting to freak out. We head deeper into China (or where ever the frick we are). I see a secluded spot. Behind the huge horse statue with some dude riding it. I head for it. Mr. A is trying to stop me, he,s alarmed. You see there is a rope I have to climb over to get to “the spot." I snap around and tell him to be on lookout. I hunker down behind the angry warrior and feed the screaming chubster. Ahhh. She falls asleep in my arms. My unwilling lookout helps me back over the rope. Annoyed. I crossed a rope. In Disney. What If there were cameras? What if we get kicked out? We were fine. 
***********
I still think there should be about 15 baby spots in every park. Looking back on it now I wish I could tell young, modest Mrs. A to just relax and not care. The Jiggler was in her future. Sometimes older, floppier Mrs. A lets the girls hang out of her bathing suit when getting in a pool just to distract people from The Jiggler . Oh Well.
Is that a sign I see? It is a sign! It is Mickey’s sign. I can stop thinking (thank you!)
We are on property. My property.
A few very important, time honored rituals are occurring for Anastasias. Remember the scene in the Lion King where sweet, fuzzy baby Simba was held aloft by the creepy monkey with the stick? The music swells, your heart sores, and finally one single tear rolls down your cheek. Replace baby Simba with my periwinkle colored bagallini and you can recreate one of our rituals.
And I guess that makes me the creepy monkey
. Now I am kind of regretting this analogy. Oh well.I pack it carefully. Extra kid outfits in Ziplocs, sunscreen, little antibacterial dangling from my zipper. I sling it on, stuff my cell phone in its happy little home after I change the ring tone from “Sexyback” to “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes”
. Those are two really different ring tones. I lock eyes with my man. Mickey head pupils look back at me. He is completing his ritual. In a loincloth with hidden mickies on it. There is guttural singing, and dancing. His body is painted with Disney characters. Don’t worry, he turns his nipples into Chip n’ Dale as God intended. After his camera backpack has been precisely loaded to his exacting standards. He heaves it on his back. We complement each other. Freaky and Weirdo. Our poor kids. He changes his ring tone from silent vibrate to Mickey saying “Hey Pal, it’s One of Your Friends” We are ready. We hop into are van. For this trip we also pack Grandma
. We have a one and half hour ride home to my castle. Mr. A drives and Grandma rides shotgun. The kids are in the middle watching classic Disney cartoons. Mrs. A is by her lonesome in the back, thinking. The Anastasias try and prevent Mrs. A from thinking. Especially around paint cans and hair dye. She is thinking. Past Disney memories. Ahhh. *****Flashback*****
Our Honeymoon
What a sweet time. We had put off our honeymoon until the end of the school year. Almost a full year after our wedding day, we went to Disney World. On our way to Florida I did not feel well. In the morning I was sick to my stomach. I could not believe I was feeling sick on our honeymoon. We first stopped at my parents. My mother
and I got to talking and I thought maybe I should take a test. I did not even tell Mr. A what I was up to. He figured me and Mom were thinking together and we would buy hair dye and paint, as usual. I took my CVS bag into the bathroom. It wasn’t hair dye. It was the test that would change our lives. I stood there looking at the positive result. The joy started at my toes and worked its way right into my heart. It has stayed there ever since. Tears, excitement, more tears. I kept hugging my stomach. A baby. A deep breath. Well guess who is going to get a big surprise? Mr. A was happy the last time I saw him when I passed him on the couch. He was watching sports and laughing with my father. Now mom
, on the other hand, knows what I am up to. She knows one of two things are going to happen- I'll either come out of the bathroom shaking my head or I'll call Mr. A in. Deep breath.
I couldn’t see her when I called his name but her happiness filled the air. I told him. We hugged and cried and laughed. A baby. We freak out. "How do we pay for a baby! How do you hold a baby? I've never held one, have you?"
"No."
"Me neither."
Before it can even sink in for Mr. A I know I have to see my mom
. She has wanted grandchildren more than she wanted children. It'll be the biggest gift I ever give her. My Father, how will he react? No time to wonder- we are at the door. We have an announcement, “We are going to have a baby” (See how little I knew, I said “we” instead of “me”, he was there, but I had that 8 pound 6 ounce baby.)
My mother
is crying and laughing. My father is shocked, but happy and hugging. Later in the pool I say “I can not believe I am married and pregnant.”
My father’s response is “Thank God."
We are off the next day to Disney. A wonderful world I'll share with Mr. A. He has not been there since he was a boy. I did not know I was poking awake a beast that could never be satisfied. My favorite memory of this trip is walking into the “Making of Me” that was in Epcot. Martin Short was describing how humans are made. The Kings held hands tightly with eyes as wide as saucers.
**********
“Mom can you open this for me?” My son, he grows every five minutes now. He looks so much like me, but he's much nicer. I ruffle his hair. His head is so huge. (It always has been)
We're almost there. Getting closer. I start getting antsy. I can’t hear the adults over the air conditioning and the cartoons. I'm thinking again.
*****Flashback*****
Years after the “Making of me”, We made another “me." A sweet, plumpy baby girl with the hugest jewel like green eyes surrounded by thick, long lashes that are usually wasted on boys. She's six months old and Disney is her new playground. As long as her brother is around, she's happy. At her first character meeting, she encounters the nipple chipmunks. After seeing her brother embrace them she's on board. She feels Chip’s nose. Dale gets low so he can hold her. She loves him. I go to take her back. Dale won’t give her up. I insist. I think if I would have left her to be raised by the Chipmunks she would have loved it.
Little six month old GC is breast feeding. BC breastfed until he was 27 months (I know-ouch
). GC loves it as well. Being a real modest breastfeeder, it was really hard for me to find places to be alone to feed her. We would make it to the baby station as often as possible. Sometimes we were too far. During our lunch at Japan, PS was hungry. I could find no where to feed her in private. I grab Mr. A, give BC to the grandparents and commence looking for “the spot." I don’t like people looking at me. BC and GC were always very active feeders so it was hard to stay covered. GC is getting fussy. I am starting to freak out. We head deeper into China (or where ever the frick we are). I see a secluded spot. Behind the huge horse statue with some dude riding it. I head for it. Mr. A is trying to stop me, he,s alarmed. You see there is a rope I have to climb over to get to “the spot." I snap around and tell him to be on lookout. I hunker down behind the angry warrior and feed the screaming chubster. Ahhh. She falls asleep in my arms. My unwilling lookout helps me back over the rope. Annoyed. I crossed a rope. In Disney. What If there were cameras? What if we get kicked out? We were fine. ***********
I still think there should be about 15 baby spots in every park. Looking back on it now I wish I could tell young, modest Mrs. A to just relax and not care. The Jiggler was in her future. Sometimes older, floppier Mrs. A lets the girls hang out of her bathing suit when getting in a pool just to distract people from The Jiggler
. Oh Well.Is that a sign I see? It is a sign! It is Mickey’s sign. I can stop thinking (thank you!)
We are on property. My property.
Tearing it Down
A million years ago the house was hit with a tree. Today all the paperwork, checks and nonsense had righted itself, culminating in the demolition of my house. This is what it looked like about an hour ago. After I eat lunch I'm going back to take more pictures. I didn't want this job, the documenting. It's important to make sure it is all going well so I've been popping in. I didn't want to see it come down. I knew it would make me cry,which is stupid at this point. We haven't lived there in 5 and 1/2 months. When I hear the word home, I still picture the house whole. I loved its charmingly spastic layout. I felt safe there. We have a bunch of holiday, chock full of memories there. I wrote Poughkeepsie and Crushed Seraphim in that smooshed kitchen.
The people doing the demolition are recycling and donating tons of the interior stuff to Christmas in April (building and repairing homes for needy families) and other places. I wanted to do that, let the house be an organ donor, but I didn't have any ability or access to figure out how to make it happen. But because the demo company also happen to be local, we know them.
The hard work and extra effort to give to charity is all their fault, but still it made me grateful.
This is the beginning of something awesome, I know. Then came the reason I left the site. The crane driver shook his head at me. "You know that house was going to go up in flames next time you lit the woodstove, right?"
No. I didn't know. When he peeled the chimney down, it was built incorrectly. The inside of the wall behind it was charred and warped from the heat. Apparently, when, not if, when the house caught of fire, it would have went right into the roof. When the tree hit we had a very limited time when we could get out the front door. The two others were sealed shut. It was a bitch to get out the front door with the kids, the animals and ourselves in the dark. The door.
In the fire scenario? Those little windows would have been our escape route. They crank open. I've never liked them. Trying to picture safely getting everyone out in the time it takes a fire to spread in a roof? I can't. My brain stops me from getting there. So another blessing. I don't know why on this earth I get lucky enough to have my husband, my gorgeous smart kids. I really don't. But there's not a thing I wouldn't do to keep them safe. So instead of crying from the loss, I'm crying because if the house wasn't being torn down we would have never known about the chimney. Today is a good day. as I stood there watching, I knew I wasn't alone either. My friends from the Internet were holding my hand, I swear it. all the kindness I received really gave me strength. I don't deserve you guys either. Today is a good day.
The people doing the demolition are recycling and donating tons of the interior stuff to Christmas in April (building and repairing homes for needy families) and other places. I wanted to do that, let the house be an organ donor, but I didn't have any ability or access to figure out how to make it happen. But because the demo company also happen to be local, we know them.
The hard work and extra effort to give to charity is all their fault, but still it made me grateful.
This is the beginning of something awesome, I know. Then came the reason I left the site. The crane driver shook his head at me. "You know that house was going to go up in flames next time you lit the woodstove, right?"
No. I didn't know. When he peeled the chimney down, it was built incorrectly. The inside of the wall behind it was charred and warped from the heat. Apparently, when, not if, when the house caught of fire, it would have went right into the roof. When the tree hit we had a very limited time when we could get out the front door. The two others were sealed shut. It was a bitch to get out the front door with the kids, the animals and ourselves in the dark. The door.
In the fire scenario? Those little windows would have been our escape route. They crank open. I've never liked them. Trying to picture safely getting everyone out in the time it takes a fire to spread in a roof? I can't. My brain stops me from getting there. So another blessing. I don't know why on this earth I get lucky enough to have my husband, my gorgeous smart kids. I really don't. But there's not a thing I wouldn't do to keep them safe. So instead of crying from the loss, I'm crying because if the house wasn't being torn down we would have never known about the chimney. Today is a good day. as I stood there watching, I knew I wasn't alone either. My friends from the Internet were holding my hand, I swear it. all the kindness I received really gave me strength. I don't deserve you guys either. Today is a good day.
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| 8.28.11 |
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| 2.7.12 |
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| 2.7.12 |
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| Take that spiders in the crawl space! |
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| The couches are not mine 3.10.12 |
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