It's Contest Time. Get while the Gettins' Good!

 
 

    Goodreads Book Giveaway
 

 
   
   

     
       
     
   

   
   

     

       
          Wishless
       
     

     

       
          by Louise Caiola
       
     

     
     

       
         

            Giveaway ends October 19, 2011.
         

         

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Happy Un-Birthday to Me

I was listening to the radio on the way into work. The deejay was hollering a list of birthday shoutouts a country mile long. Got me to thinking. What is it about our birthdays that make us want to celebrate, anyway?
Is it like, "Yay for me! I survived another 365 days"? Or "Hey, I was BORN once, exactly 32 years ago today. How remarkable is that?!"
Remarkable.* (*Blogger footnotes underwhelming sarcasm here.)

Okay, so it could be a sign of aging. These birthdays do seem to come around more quickly the older you get, careening, hurtling at you like a rogue space satellite charging for earth. Only, the odds are in your favor -you're going to be hit.
Perhaps I've just had one too many scary clowns attempt to entertain me at my parties when I was a kid. Either way, I have decided to make the best of the other 364 days. From now on I am going to celebrate the un-birthdays.
All of them.
Maybe I should call Hallmark. Think of the possibilities. Un-Birthday cards will fly off the shelves faster than they can be stocked. And what about the flower shops? Imagine the Un-Birthday bouquets being ordered and delivered 24/7. Cha-ching.
If you feel like treating yourself to an ice cream cake you now have a valid reason. You don't have to wait all year or feel guilty for your indulgence. After all it's your Un-Birthday. You're entitled. Clearly this will make the gyms happy since most folks'll have to work extra hard to dump those un-birthday pounds.
It's a win-win, no?
But the real high point is that chronologically speaking you'll be no worse off than 24 hours ago! Dig that.
If this catches on you'll know who to thank. You can forward a gift at your convenience.
Oh and - happy un-birthday to you, too!

Of Bucket Lists & Best Sellers

I usually do my best reading at the nail salon. I also do my best eavesdropping. It can't be helped. So it was at my appointment this week when I sat with my toes in the suds and a book in my hands, four feet away from two women boisterously discussing the recent updating of their bucket lists. I'll call them Lady Loud and Lady Louder. Lady Loud was pleased to report she's added  "learn to speak Russian" to her list. Because, she said, "it's like having to climb a mountain. It's there."
Ahem. Okay - if you insist.
Lady Louder countered with the latest addition to her bucket list. "I'm going to write a best seller," she announced.
Lady Loud was only slightly impressed. "Oh, yeah. That's on my list, too."
I coughed. I squirmed. I wanted to ask them if they'd every written anything before. I wanted to mention, in passing that I had and so did about a gazillion other people and how we'd ALL like to be on that elusive best seller list, thank you very much.
Turns out that neither one of the Lady Loud's had ever written anything more than a grocery list - according to their conversation. Yet, this "bestselling author thing...how hard could it be? I mean, that Harry Potter lady did it and it seems she's making boatloads of cash."
I kid you not. Um...Beuller? Anyone?
I could have invited myself into the discussion. Introduced myself as a struggling writer/starving artist and enlightened them on the ins and outs of the game. But then I thought, maybe, it WAS that simple. Perhaps if I
just add it to my own bucket list, it will happen.
Or not. Probably not. Most likely not.
I'm not a Pessimist. I'm a Realist wrapped in a Dreamer. The idea is to work hard, play hard, study hard, write hard and keep plugging when you think you can't plug another second. And by all means, keep at those lists. Might have worked for JK and hell...
if the Lady Loud's can do it, hopefully, so can I.

On this Labor Day...

I have only one teeny, tiny request...

Bathing suits are giving way to backpacks. The sun is knocking off work early these days. Took Puppy for a walk last night and needed a sweater (me, not Puppy.) It's inevitable. The coming of fall and then - the dreaded W word.
Is it just me or does it seem that time is on steroids?
Not here to complain. Only to beg, plead. Hold onto summer with all my might - before another one slips quietly away. Again.
Eat, drink and be merry, gang. Soon, it seems, we'll be singing jingle bell rock. Again.

You don't mess with Mama N.

Mother Nature must be pretty ticked off. Over the past couple months, we here on the east coast have been subject to the trifecta of weather events. First a hail storm, then an earthquake and most recently, hurricane Irene.
So many people are wondering why. What's the deal with all this atmospheric mayhem?
If you ask me, MN, that dear old girl, was thinking that us earthly type needed to be reminded we aren't ever really in control. At any given moment, with a flick of her weatherly wrist we could be running for cover, shaken out of our seats and blown halfway to kingdom come.
I imagine the Wicked Weather Maker herself, perched up on her throne in the sky. She's sorta bored. She's kinda annoyed. Needs a hobby but they all don't seem to fit. Mother Nature - the Cross Stitch Queen? Not so much. She has cramps. Maybe she's even menopausal. (She IS all about nature, right?) It's Tuesday. Or is it Wednesday? She's so sick and tired of the typical sunny summer days she could spit. She knows it's naughty, but whose to stop her? She reaches down into that sack of tricks, gathering dust next to her chair.
And - wham!! Take that - earthlings.
She watches the mass hysteria from overhead, half-amused. Then she realizes it wasn't that entertaining after all. Perhaps she feels a little bad for the trouble she caused. She throws us a week of calm sunshine as a peace offering which we lowly earthly type graciously accept. And somehow, if only for a week or so, we're humbled by her power. We're reminded that the control we perceive to have is just an illusion. We pitch our tents, plan our picnics, our beach days, our nature hikes. We go on as if. Because it's what we do best.
I, for one, hope we good folks on the east coast don't do anything else to piss her off.
She's one tough cookie.