Family

santa-claus-152343_640 My dad always loved to play Santa. Not the dressed up kind of Santa, but the person who passed out the presents and was in charge of Christmas. He started on Christmas Eve when all of my mom’s family got together at our house.

We would have lots of food and a huge bowl of shrimp. One year my cousin and my sister ate almost the whole bowl of shrimp themselves.  No one ever let them forget that.

Dad would always want to get to the presents and we wanted to drag out the gift giving to make it last longer. He was like an excited kid. He would announce who the present was for and who it was from.  Sometimes if we were not paying attention, he would put two fingers to his mouth and whistle. He couldn’t really whistle that way but loved doing it.

Christmas Day, Dad continued to be Santa. When we got older and slept in, he would wake us up. He couldn’t wait to get started. When I was twelve he bought me a stuffed Snoopy dog. Snoopy was my favorite PEANUTS character. I wish I still had that dog. I have bought several to replace it but they’re just not the same.  Another year, when I was in college, I saw a beautiful pink pant suit in an expensive catalog. I wanted that outfit so badly. Dad made sure I got it for Christmas.

My earliest memory of Dad making sure I got what I wanted for Christmas was when I was four years old. I wanted a train. Well, back in the day, little girls didn’t really get trains or supposedly even want them.  Things were more divided – girl toys, boy toys.  Girls were supposed to like dolls and dress up and pretend mommy things. I wanted a train. Santa daddy made sure I got it.

I loved that train and used it throughout my childhood in so many ways. Our dolls took it to school. Three laps around and they were delivered to the door. It was a runaway train that would go so fast it would come off the track. It was decorated with all the trimmings for Christmas. I still have that train.

Santa daddy was good to himself, too. One year he came home with a racetrack just for him. He was a kid at heart.

All of those times seem like another life – another time. My dad passed away at an early age. The family has scattered as most families do. I hope they still remember those special times when the earth seemed to stand still and the happiness of Christmas was in the air. And my dad was Santa daddy.

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I may be dating myself, but I remember back to the day when stores were closed on Sundays. You couldn’t shop, go to the grocery store or grab a bottle of wine. I barely recall those times because very slowly convenient stores began to appear with better hours for people who forgot that loaf of bread or needed milk late at night. Soon retail stores began to announce Sunday hours and more followed suit.

Sound familiar? Black Thursday, oh I mean Friday, has evolved into a two day event. I never liked the name. It sounds ominous to me. I know it stands for the day stores are finally out of the “red” and making a profit but I just don’t like it. It’s not a day I look forward to.

I don’t fault the people who love the day. Everyone has different likes and dislikes. That’s what makes the world go round. I understand the thrill of getting a good bargain. I like shopping and a good sale, too. Just not the day after Thanksgiving.

For some it’s a jump start for holiday shopping. For others, it’s a bonding experience. Families get together and plan their strategies before heading out into the early morning. Last year, some started shopping Thanksgiving night.

This year a few stores announced they’ll be open Thanksgiving Day, some beginning at 6 a.m. I’m sure more will get on board next year. Soon they’ll be offering Thanksgiving dinners in Styrofoam containers so you can eat while you shop!

The debate has begun whether to boycott or not. Everyone has the right to choose. If shopping on Thanksgiving makes you happy, then go ahead. If staying as far away from the stores as you can is your choice, then do that. People protest that retail workers won’t have time with their families. True, but let’s not forget those who work in jobs where there’s never a holiday or a day off. Nurses, firefighters, police officers, to name a few, go quietly off to their jobs on Thanksgiving and other holidays.

Not too many years ago, I remember commercials focusing more and more on Black Friday. One showed a cooked turkey jumping off the Thanksgiving table running out the door to shop. My son found a store’s website that had wake-up calls. A famous celebrity, Darth Vader or crying baby would call to wake you in time to not miss the bargains. He sat and played them for after dinner entertainment. Who would have thought that one day we’d look back at that and remember that as the good old days?

Since there’s probably not much we can do to change the current situation, maybe we can at least show our appreciation to all those who do work on that day. Give the gift of patience and show your thanks. That’s what the day’s all about. And don’t forget to create some memories. These are the good old days. Happy Thanksgiving.

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I was never good at creating a costume. Those plastic masks and tie-on outfits were the go-to costume of the day. Boxes and boxes of them lined the store shelves, waiting to be chosen. I preferred those small masks that went across your eyes that were red or black or any solid color. The easiest costumes of the day were ghost and hobo. I don’t think I went as either. I can hardly remember what I dressed as and there are no pictures to remind me.

My son was very creative when it came to Halloween and still is to this day. He always knew what he wanted to be. We did a few store bought costumes like Darth Vader but he liked to make his own. Frankenstein and Dracula came to life with his own creative touches. Even as a small boy, he planned out his wardrobe. Doctor for Preschool, Fireman for trick-or-treating. I have trouble thinking of one idea and he had two!

There was one big difference between the Halloween I celebrated and his. Parents now had to be on high alert, taking some of the fun out of this once-a- year thrill. Safety first is definitely a must but I never checked my candy or feared someone would sabotage it when I was young. When the first stories of razor blades or drugs appeared, it was a sad day for Halloween.

But now back to the fun stuff. I have two stories from back in the day I’d like to share. One’s a scary memory and the other is funny.

One family, down the street, loved Halloween–the scary kind. I’m a PG rated Halloween girl, no thrills and chills so this is my scary memory. On that night, we could always hear screams coming from that house…some from the trick or treaters and the rest coming from inside the house. My sister and I would meet up with other neighborhood kids and stand on the sidewalk gazing at the house. Large trees dotted the front yard, making it harder to see what was going on. Kids would come running down the drive, laughing and yelling. I could never tell if they enjoyed what happened to them or not.

I never went to that house to trick-or-treat. I did find out what made everyone scream. As kids walked to the door, a large ghost dropped from a tree, landing right in front of them. Startling, I’m sure. I never wanted to find out how startling it was and never approached the house. It was scary enough standing in the dark listening to all the strange noises.

My favorite Halloween memory is trick-or-treating at an elderly woman’s home. We hardly saw her the rest of the year. She lived alone and kept to herself. On Halloween her light was always on. She’d come to the door with a giant bowl of candy corn with a large spoon sticking out from the center. She’d grab the handle, scooping up a heaping mound of the mouth-watering morsels and my eyes would light up. (Remember, this was back in the day when it was okay to hand out apples and loose candy.)

The old woman would then begin to shake the spoon. She’d shake and shake until there were two of those kernels left. Then she’d dump it into your bag. We never missed her house in all those years of trick or-treating. I guess we hoped one day we’d get that giant scoop thrown in our bags.

She reminded me of one of those fairytales villains that looked normal at first but as they did their wicked deed they’d turn into an old, weathered form of themselves, like a witch. That’s as scary as my Halloween got. .

I hope you have a few good memories tucked away that you can pull out this season and laugh and reminisce about. I think the real idea of Halloween is to be able to step away from your everyday life for just one brief night and face your fears, laugh till your sides hurt and eat some candy. I recommend starting with two candy corns. They’re the best.

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Pavarotti was talking about the advice he got from his father when he couldn’t decide between teaching and singing. His father told him, “Son, if you try to sit on two chairs, you will fall between them. For life, you must choose one chair.”

I love that message. His father wasn’t rich or famous but gave great advice. Too often in this fast paced world, people want things handed to them or become an overnight sensation. The easier it is, the better.

When I first started writing my book, I kept telling myself I was crazy. I researched how many words a book should have and found 60,000 to 100,000 as the common answer. I decided if I made the commitment, I’d stick it out till the end, regardless the outcome.

I wrote, researched, and read each chapter over and over again. I had no idea how many words it was because I decided that wasn’t important. The essential thing was to get the words on the paper. Worry about the small stuff later.

I finally gave in and used the tool bar to click “word count”. Imagine my surprise when I had 55,000 words and wasn’t nearly done. I chose one chair and stuck to it. More stepping stones would come along after the book was written but I had met the challenge. As I continued on, each task needed to be handled with that same mindset. One chair at a time.

The message is clear. Stick to one thing and do it well. If you don’t love what you’re doing, try to see it through to the end. You never know what might happen and you could end up liking it. Can you change your mind and follow a different path? Absolutely. Just do it one chair at a time.

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chefs-hat-23436_640My father always cooked breakfast on weekends. He’d also fire up the grill for steaks or barbecue chicken and stand over them like he was the master chef.

My husband does the same thing. He makes breakfast on weekends–makes a mean pancake–and mans the grill for just about anything we cook. I didn’t think much of it at first. I grew up with a man who did the cooking and met another one who didn’t mind to cook. I realize now I’m a little spoiled.

Naturally, I had to have my main character’s father comfortable in the kitchen. He’s ready to lend a hand no matter what time of day it is. He’s into natural ingredients and will jump in the car to get a fresh piece of fish to cook for the family.

More and more men are into cooking these days. When I was younger, it was woman’s work. Julia Child was on the scene and women wanted to emulate her. Now there are TV shows galore showing men whipping up all kinds of dishes. I like that. Nothing wrong with men knowing how to cook.

My son has jumped on the cooking bandwagon. He’ll help out in the kitchen when the mood strikes him. When he was away at school, he bought himself a good knife and a cutting board. He swears by them. They usually come out front and center when he’s involved in a recipe.

The first time we cooked together was right after he came back from school. The recipe called for chipotle peppers in adobo sauce. Since my husband and I aren’t fans, I would’ve made the meal minus the peppers. My son wouldn’t hear of it and insisted I buy them. He would cut them up.

After opening the can and dumping them on a plate, we couldn’t stop laughing. They reminded us of something that was not food and had more to do with a bodily function. He took pictures and posted them on Facebook having people guess what they were. No one could. The meal was finally prepared after all the antics. My husband came home from work and we shared our story.

My son dubbed that adventure, The Matt and Mom Cooking Show. We’ve had more that followed, some just as funny. My only regret is I wish we really had them on film. We have many videos of people blowing out candles for birthdays or ripping open packages on holidays. Nice to have but sometimes you feel you’re on repeat as you watch.

I wish I had pictures of my dad at the stove, whipping up the scrambled eggs. I’d put it with the one of my husband pulling the Thanksgiving turkey out of the oven. Then next to them, I’d place the picture of the chipotle peppers. It would be a great trip down memory lane.

Hopefully, one day my son will add to my fantasy picture album. His son would have to go a long way though to top his dad’s photo but if he’ll be anything like my son, he’ll make sure he does.

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Grand Canyon HikeMy books recently tagged along on a hiking adventure. They were excited to go and leave home the first time without me. It’s all they could talk about for weeks on end.

Actually they didn’t really have to do the walking; they hitchhiked along in my niece’s backpack. She was kind enough to take them when she and her father hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. As a favor to me, she took pictures of them along the trail. I’d love to hike it myself, but I don’t think I’d ever make it back out alive or with two good knees. It’s all uphill, I’m told.

On the trip she’d have to carry a backpack filled with 25 to 35 pounds of supplies which turned out to be more like 50. Two more pounds would be added because of the books, but she took them willingly.

Being a talented, creative girl I had no doubt she had big plans for the books. I decided they would provide entertainment for the travelers since there’d be others in the group. I was sure my niece would use any and all ideas…as long as one of them wasn’t to toss the books into the canyon. It turned out the couple that joined them on the trip were seasoned hikers and mountain bikers. They were very fit and forged ahead without the group at times. I’m sure they did want to throw the books into the canyon after all.

She chose a one-day down and two-day back up package. They camped overnight at the bottom of the canyon and then again halfway up Bright Angel Trail at Indian Gardens. It was a trip of a lifetime and one I’m she she’ll never forget.

I am going to end this post with a summary of her trip in her own words:

Holy crap, y’all. We made it. We freaking made it. This was hands down the hardest thing I have EVER done, ever. I literally sobbed when I got to the top.

If this is something you want to do, go for it- but do not underestimate the canyon or overestimate your ability. 

 

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They start off in caterpillar form and are juicy dinner for birds, lizards and even small mammals. It’s amazing they make it to the next stage, forming a cocoon. They’re in that stage for about two weeks but have the ability to stay that way throughout the winter. The butterfly emerges as an entirely different creature than its caterpillar form.

When I taught third grade, we learned about the four stages of a butterfly as part of the science curriculum. My colleague and I worked as a team so we came up with the not-so-creative idea of folding a white sheet of paper into four parts and have the children label and draw in each square. Those would proudly be displayed on the wall outside our classrooms.

One day after school, she was hanging those designs titled Four Stages of a Butterfly so they would be ready for Open House the next night. I admired the works of art as I went along the hallway. Imagine my surprise when I came across one that said Four Stages of a Buttfly. We had a good laugh and she thanked me profusely for catching the mistake.

Butterflies have always been a part of my life, whether chasing them as a child or teaching about them at school. It’s not surprising they are now important in another way. I like to include them in my books because they’ve taken on a whole new meaning.

A Monarch visits almost every August on my birthday. I’ve come to believe it’s my dad stopping by with good wishes. A few times it didn’t come and that’s okay. It’s all in my mind anyway, right? How could something like that be true?

One year, after my birthday and no sighting, imagine my surprise when one flew right at my car’s windshield so I couldn’t miss seeing it. It was as if Dad was saying, “See, I didn’t forget.”

As a writer, I like to tuck things away in my books that others may discover and wonder if there’s a little significance to their find. Butterflies are one of those wonders. And now you know why.

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Today I have a guest blogger. Caroline Andrus is the webmaster and artist  of Melange Books Publishing. I’m happy to be part of this great group of people. Caroline keeps everything running smoothly at Melange and Fire and Ice YA all the while being a busy wife and mother. I’ll let her tell you about it with the following post. Welcome, Caroline!eIMG_7833

“You continually impress me with your supermom like ways!”

I stared at my laptop in stunned silence.

This was the comment a friend had left on one of my Facebook status a couple of weeks ago. Me? Supermom? The post in question spoke of my completion of my Busy Mom’s Meal Swap meal for the month and contemplation of making “The World’s Best Chocolate Chip Cookies” to go with. To me, this was just a once a month event. For those who are not familiar with Meal Swap’s, it’s when a group of people meet up, each agreeing to make a bunch of the same meal and then meeting up again to exchange the meals so everyone gets something different. Sure takes some of the stress out of dinner!

But back to the matter at hand. I couldn’t help but wonder, did I give off the impression of being a supermom? I didn’t feel like it. Most days I feel like I’m barely keeping it together. I am a wife and mother to two little girls, ages 6 and almost 2.

I lost my full-time day job while I was pregnant with my second daughter and opted to just stay home for the most part. I hated missing out on my first daughter’s childhood because I worked from about 9:30 am and didn’t pick her up from Grandma’s until around 6 pm. Then she was in bed by about 7:30. It was rough. Now, being a work from home mom, I feel like I get less done around the house than before, but at least I get to see my kids!

A little background about my work. I am a Jack(ie?) of all Trades for Melange Books, LLC and it’s YA imprint Fire and Ice. I am the webmaster, head of the art department (aka book covers manager and artist), I run the blog, I load books to our website shopping cart, and I format and load books for Amazon Kindle and Smashwords.com…among other odd jobs that get thrown at me! On the weekends you can often find me working as a product demonstrator at Super Target. This is my one chance to get out of the house and interact with adults.

My typical day begins either with my 6 year old bursting into my room anywhere between 7 and 9 am, usually whining she can’t get the Wii to work OR on a good day, I wake between 8 and 9 when the little one wakes up in her crib. Regardless, unless there’s an emergency—which is rare—I don’t get up much earlier than around 9. Next up is breakfast for all three of us. Followed by dishes (I’m not an evening dishes person, I’d rather do them first thing in the morning.) Sometimes we’ll go outside and the girls will play and I’ll work in the garden, other times we’ll stay inside and I’ll get to work while the kids play. On an ideal day, my 6 year old gets to run down the road and play with our friends/neighbors. My biggest obstacle, believe it or not, is Facebook. Not only do I have my own personal Facebook account which sucks my life away, but I also have the Melange FB page to manage, the Fire and Ice FB page, my personal design FB page and I created a group to interact via FB with our authors and fellow staff members.

Somewhere during the day I try to find time to pick up the endless clutter that is overtaking my life. I try to get my 6 year old to do it, but she seems to think she’s getting a free ride and throws a conniption fit if I so much as ask her to pick up the granola bar wrapper that fell to the floor during her snack. You’d think I was asking her to clean the entire kitchen floor with a toothbrush the way she overreacts! We’re working on this, and as she gets older, I hope it gets easier. I also have to fit in laundry and figure out what the heck is for dinner. It’s an endless challenge.

In the evening, my husband comes home from work, we eat dinner and typically it’s about time for the girls to get to bed. We usually team up and each take one child. Regardless of which child I put to bed, once they’re tucked in and lights out, I spend the evening on the couch, working on my laptop (website, book covers, etc.) and listening to, “Mommmmmmyyyy! I need a drink of water!” or “Mommmmmyyyy! I need mommy snuggles!” or, my favorite, “Mommmmyyyy! I tried to fall asleep but it didn’t work.”

And so, when someone tells me I’m Supermom, I’m a little flabbergasted.

I struggle daily, balancing work and house and kids, but it’s a challenge that I enjoy.

I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

LINKS:

https://www.facebook.com/CarolineAndrusDesigns

https://www.facebook.com/MelangeBooksLLC

https://www.facebook.com/FireIceYA

Some of Caroline’s work:

WindShadowFinal2PhoenixElite1ImmortalConfessionsFINAL2

 

 

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TwitterbirdTitles don’t come easy to me, thus the unforgettable one today. They have to be catchy and still match the story…or blog. I should be better at it because we tend to make up names for lots of things in our family.

One I’ll share today is the dreaded Chirp-athon. My husband aptly named it because starting in the spring, right through summer; the birds begin a chorus of chirps kicking off around 5 a.m.

Now if you’re sleeping, you’re golden and never know it’s happening. But if you’re awake for any reason, you will not be serenaded back to sleep, you’ll just lie there and pray it ends…soon. I can tell you first-hand it lasts over an hour, is very loud and then suddenly everything falls silent. I guess the birds are done singing their anthem, “The early bird gets the worm”, by then and fly off to begin their day. I’m left staring at the bedroom ceiling.

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Our favorite Chirp-athon is when one bird decides to sit right outside our bedroom window. It sets up a mic stand and surround-sound speakers. We don’t know if it’s a special guest star or one-time appearance because it doesn’t happen too often, thank goodness. It’s like having our alarm clock set for 5 a.m. No sleeping through that.

I guess if we didn’t see the humor in it, it could drive us crazy, and families need that…both humor and a little crazy sometimes.

They also need buzz words, or fun sayings, in their lives…a phrase or word that can bring smiles to their faces or make them recall a certain memory. Something only the family knows the meaning of and the outside world has no clue.

So after coming up with these catchy words and sayings for years, I have the dreaded title block as I have come to call it. It’s like writer’s block only different. I keep telling myself it will come to me, keep writing, but it doesn’t. When I finally do get a brainstorm, I go to Amazon to check if there are any similar titles. If I see ten books with the same heading, I don’t want to use it anymore.

So what am I to do? Wrack my brain, read a thesaurus, Google words or pray for divine intervention? I don’t know what the answer is. Frustrating as it is, I know I’ll keep trying but there’s just a little piece of me that wants to throw up my hands and say, “Oh, this is for the birds.”

Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try!
— Dr. Seuss

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trophy  My dad loved to make up names for people. Not in a mean way but in a fun way. He saw the humor in a lot of things others did not. I think he kept himself amused that way. He had names for some of the guys I dated. He would refer to them as “String Hair”, “Mop Head” and the like. I guess that helped tell them apart.

Dad and I would banter back and forth about a lot of things. We could go on and on about names. When I started taking Spanish in Jr. High, he asked if I knew what my name would be in that language. Of course, I knew it was Nanita. The teacher always called us by Spanish names.

Dad loved to call me Nanita from then on. I always kidded him that if I had a girl, I would name her “Gilbertina” after him.   That would be quite a name, especially back in the 60’s, maybe not so much now!  Dad also loved play on words and his favorite was “Celery stalks at midnight”, laughing as he said it.  Get it? He would always make sure you did.

When I was in high school, Dad and I were bantering back and forth as usual and I came up with a new name for him, “Googus”. It stuck for quite awhile and was later shortened to Goog.  Goog took it all in stride and wore the name proudly.  My cousin and boyfriend at the time also called him Goog. It became a special name. When my sister came home from college, she learned about the name and also called him that.

To me, it was a special name for a special guy. I guess he needed a special name. After a few years, we went back to calling him dad, daddy, uncle and the like. It just happened naturally. He never asked to be called dad or to stop calling him Goog. I think…I hope he knew it was special and derived out of love for him by many young people in his life. There will be a lot of dads in this world, but there will never be another Goog.

Love, Nanita

This is dedicated to Gilbert William Borsch, a great man and father, who we lost too soon. That short time was filled with unconditional love. Happy Father’s Day

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