Tag Archives: writing

Dreaming in Color… Why I Won’t Watch a 3D Movie & Why You Should Go See Inception.

18 Jul

On Friday I went and saw the movie Inception and loved it, just didn’t love the seats at the theatre, Bum Breaker!

I think about dreams a lot, and I myself dream almost every night. I dream in color, but I’ve come to understand that not everyone does. I always remember my dreams because of a certain color, like last night it was red for blood. My cat is dying from Kidney failure, and sad as it is, that’s what I dreamt about.

In Inception, a person is loaded into their dream world where to them it feels like they’re really living it, the problem with this is that in the real world, they can no longer dream. The only way they can is to be attached to this machine that makes them.

I want to correlate this with 3D movies. I’ve seen one movie, but after understanding just how 3D works, I’ll never see another one. When you’re watching one of these films or TV shows, you’re brain is actually being tricked into thinking it sees these objects, some close, some far. To me, it’s like having the natural make-up of your brain altered, and personally, I’d hate to walk out of one of those movies one day, or with the new TV’s too, and no longer see the world in 3D.

Could you imagine?

Just saying…

Anyway. The movie was great, and you should really go see it! Hopefully NOT in 3D.

ha ha.

The End… It’s near!

14 Jul

I’m elated…

…Because yesterday I finished Knight Angels: Book of Revenge! This is the second book, and I’ve been working on it for what feels like forever! I got so distracted with the fun of Knight Angels: Book of Love that I fear I let myself slow down – not good!

Writing is tricky in that it’s the one thing you want to do, but the one thing that’s super easy to be distracted away from. Take Ste-eve here (above), he was one of my distractions. Being published in Brazil was another. Then the Fourth of July is always distracting, because I like explosives…

and lastly, I really love to cook in the summer time…

So, basically, it was a long road. Now, it’s all about editing, editing, editing, for the next few months. It’s my fault that the schedule to release it in the summer got behind – so blame me!

 

Getting a Brazilian!

8 Jul

I knew that would get your attention…

But… it’s not me getting a Brazilian, it’s Knight Angels. Just yesterday we began negotiating a contract with a publisher in Brazil to bring the book into the Portuguese language! If all goes well, the book will be available within the next eighteen months in hardcover, paperback, e-book, and most every other form.

While on the topic of Knight Angels, I want to let everyone know that we are working as hard as we can to get the next book out by the end of this summer, though it seems it will likely leak into early fall. That’s just the way things go sometimes! Bummer…

♥ The Weekend Adventures of Chandler Bing ♥

28 Jun

“Mommy, I’m not scared of heights,” he says…

I say, “Mr. Bing, I know.”

“Mommy, but I like the cat grass,” he says…

I say, “Mr. Bing, I can see that. You killed it.”

“Mommy, I want a nap,” he says.

“Thank Goodness,” I say.

“Mommy, Chandler Bing is an idiot…”

“I know, Mr. Wee. I know…” I sigh.

I Think I’m Turning Japanese? No, I Think I’m Turning French…

23 Jun

Well, at least that’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last week. I don’t know, you hear one Diana Krall song and you fall hopelessly end over end into the abyss that is french cafe`…

Allow me to elaborate.

Example One:

I made home-made Demi Glace`

Which requires also making Espagnole sauce…

Takes three hours, mind you…

Example Two:

Then, I took the Demi glace and made these delicious, tender little spare ribs with whipped potatoes, nothing better…

Example Three:

Wine

What more can I say? Even has a house on the label, and I’ve heard wine with a house means it’s good 😉

Example Four:

Diana Krall

 

Week At A Glance…

17 Jun

Once upon a time, I had a really busy week…

Six hours of driving got me here, wrapping three-ply TP around my friend to make a wedding dress. It was a competition, and I learned that I should have been a fashion designer…

After three hours of that and a few Champagne cocktails (ample time letting it wear off) I then got to the Ferry where it took me two hours (including waiting because of the UW Graduation at Safeco Field) to get to Seattle.

Needless to say, I crashed.

The next day, My friend and I spent ten hours at thrift stores looking for things for her condo. We managed to make this:

2$ worth of furniture and spray paint…

And this:

All the while, Hubby was at home making this:

Happy Garden Shed!

Because he made me this, I bought him this:

And then I went home. It was a good, LONG trip…

The Turtle and The Hare…

9 Jun

My feet looked at me and said, “I’m tired of being the turtle!”

I laughed, sipping on my hot cocoa as my feet were elevated on the couch. “Too bad!” I retorted, though I felt the same way – I was tired of being the turtle, too.

“Get me some new shoes and I’ll show you what we can do,” my feet challenged.

A half smile snaked across my cheek. “But I don’t like to run.”

My feet chuckled mockingly. “How would you know if you’ve never tried? You’ve always had an excuse, but what you don’t realize is that once you start, I guarantee you won’t want to stop!”

Finding I was looking for a hobby, and not one to turn down a challenge, I narrowed my eyes and grabbed my old sneakers. “Let’s first give these shoes a try. I’m not buying you new toys if we won’t use them!”

My feet frowned, but found they had no other choice. I took them to the track and off we went.

At the end I stopped, breathing hard after only one mile.

“So?” my feet asked, practically dancing with joy.

I didn’t want to admit that I liked the feeling, so I just smiled and winked instead. “Yeah, we’ll see how I feel tomorrow.”

The next day I woke with the most veracious need to run.

My feet chuckled at me. “Told you so!”

“Fine,” I broke down. “I’ll get you new shoes.”

Little did I know that was the beginning of the end – the end of being a turtle, and the beginning of what would become my marathon training regimen.

We now run three miles when we go out and we barely break a sweat (well, can’t really say the same for my feet). Biking for and hour and a half seems like a stroll through the park, and weight lifting – a cinch! Life as a Hare is so much better! My feet were right!

It’s marathon season, folks! Get out, and get moving!

A Room Fit For A Pixie…

3 Jun

Once upon a time, there was a room…

 

It was a basement room where travelers once stayed, but after the travelers left to find a home of their own, the room sighed with loneliness and longing.

“I’ll fix you!” I exclaimed. “You will be fit for even the pickiest of guests! Even a Pixie!”

The room frowned, doubtful of my abilities to breathe life back into his lonely walls – his bare, dented being.

I just shook my head, using the room’s doubt to fuel my ambitions.

All day I worked, lathering the walls, scrubbing the floor. Soon, soft surfaces began to appear within his bare heart: fabrics, curtains, and plush pillows for warmth.

I saw the room grin, though he did not mean for me to see it. He did not want me to know that I was right – I could fix it!

When the work was done I stood back with a sigh, admiring the beauty of the rooms new heart.

 ♥

The room caved in. “Thank you,” he breathed happily, a glint of a giggle in the voice.

I nodded with satisfaction. It was indeed a room fit for the pickiest of Pixie’s…

My mother.

Furniture Makeover: A Story of Old Clothes and Quick Fixes

26 May

Why was he staring at me like that? I didn’t like it…

I shifted my seat on the deflated couch, trying to turn my gaze away. Frowning, I began typing once more. I didn’t get very far before I felt his gaze dig holes in the side of my head. I glanced once again in his direction, his stance solid, determined.

I grumbled. “What do you want?”

He said nothing, just stood there in his stupid green outfit that did him little justice. It was an outfit he’d gotten in the ninties, and it showed.

“I’m aware that you hate what you’re wearing! What do you want me to do about it?”

He sat silently, showing me what he wanted by the decor that surrounded him.

“You want to wear black? What, are you goth now?”

Another stoney stare.

I sighed long and hard, shutting the computer on my lap and placing it on the bookstand beside me. With him staring at me like this, I was never going to get any writing done. I stood and marched up to him, his four friends surrounding him with their stubburn, spindly legs. His friends came from all over – Pottery Barn, and of course garage sales. They glared at me the same way, all except the Pottery Barn group – they were confident in their clothes.

“And I suppose you want new clothes too, huh?” I addressed two of his friends that were wearing a horrid pumpin pattern.

They gave me the same lip, and it drove me to give in.

“Fine! I’ll do it, but beware that I cannot guarantee a good outcome, but I’ll try my best.”

I marched to the door where I grabbed my keys and purse. When I came back, I had new fabric, and of course a quart of black paint. He was still staring at me. With a clenched jaw, I removed all his jewelry – the vases, candles, bobbles he wore excessively in his attempt to look more modern. It looked trashy instead. I then flipped him over on his back…

…and I removed his friends pumpkin clothes.

He giggled with happiness and I brushed him with a new coat – first a layer to cover the green, then another to cover streaks, then a third to make his new clothes shine like a leather jacket.

His friends watched anxiously, the pumpkin duo patiently awaiting their turn. While he was drying, I took the pumpkins and rehabed their October look. I drove staples into their flesh, but they didn’t seem to mind – they were seasoned plastic surgery patients – I could see the two previous scars of old changes on their undersides.

when I was done I sighed, seeing it was almost time for dinner. My day was a waste as far as writing went, but I was glad to see that He and his friends were happy.

“How’s that?”

they all stood with pride and thanks.

it felt good to help out…

The Quail Egg and the Garden: A Story of a King

24 May

Growing impatient, Egg fell from the nest, rolling downhill until it came to a rest in a patch of soft grass.

Mother shrieked as she saw Egg roll, fluttering after Egg as branches and vines slapped against her face. “My egg!” she cried. “My egg!”

Father heard Mother and quickly ran from the lawn where he had been snacking, following Mother’s voice.

“Mother! Mother! What happened?” Father came upon Mother, the white speckled skin of Egg resting on a bed of old pine needles.

“He rolled right out of the nest!” She screamed.

Father gasped. “But why?” Father then noticed the disturbed Earth around him, the small forest of sweet smelling shoots growing in a precise pattern of rows.

Mother and Father looked to Egg, it’s crown still fastened upon it’s head. “You found a garden, Egg.”

Egg said nothing, sitting there with pride.

“But, Egg, you are too young to claim your first kingdom!”

Egg stood stubbornly on the spot.

Father fluffed his wings in thought before leaning close to Mother. “Mother, shall we allow him to become the King of his own garden?” he whispered discreetly.

Mother’s eyes were filled with apprehension, but what could she do? She did not posses the use of opposable thumbs, she could not possibly push egg back up the hill to the nest. Egg’s future was already made. “I don’t think we have a choice!” she murmured in a harsh, shaky tone.

Father looked back to Egg. “Then the Kingdom of Garden is yours, Egg.”

Egg remained silent and proud.

“King of the Garden,” father whispered to himself. “I’m so proud.”

Mother and Father left Egg to fend for himself, walking back up the hill where they were greeted with a cold, empty nest.