We Have Sound!

MENTAL STATUS: "Relieved". Found out my blog schedule for Samhain is next weekend, not this weekend. Yay!


Well, as you can hear, my blog has sound now. I have music on my MySpace page so I figured I might as well put it here too.

Not sure how I feel about it though...

I mean, you're trying to read and you hear this music playing in your ear. I can't tell if it's annoying or not.

What do you think? Should it stay or go?

Things I've Been Thinking About

IN THE NEWS: "BUNOL, Spain - Spanish revelers have pelted each with 113 tons of ripe tomatoes in an annual food fight." Read more here.


Well, I had a nice visit with my mom yesterday. The only thing that kills me is the drive. It's about an hour each way--so I guess it could be worse--but it still sucks the life out of me every time I do it.

Of course, I was able to ponder quite a few things as I drove that long distance--which is always sweet. Just to be able to THINK in peace is a nice change of pace for me. But then my mind began to ramble on and then instead of having relaxing thoughts, I got anxious.

Here's a few things I couldn't let go:

Will I ever finish this manuscript I've been writing?

How will I take down the curtains in my dining room to have them dry cleaned?

What the heck am I going to blog about at the Samhain blog this weekend? Who's going to be reading it anyway on a holiday weekend?

Should I have my bedroom painted or should I get a new dishwasher?

Should I enter the Eppies?

When was the last time I cleaned out my refrigerator? There's blue cheese in there. It's been in there a while, but how will I know if it's bad or not?


Hmmm.. That last thought still is bothering me. I love blue cheese, but, come on, I'm not hard of smelling! I mean, that stuff stinks and is moldy already. So how do you know if it's gone bad?

Yeah. I don't know either, so I threw out what I had to be sure, but it still perplexes me.

What's been on your mind lately?

Out of the Office

MENTAL STATUS: "Fried". I am officially done school shopping. (pretty much)


I'm out of the office today--so to speak. I'll be visiting my mommie. :)

Have a good one!

Kids ask the darndest things

IN THE NEWS: "If only Goldilocks had a cockapoo.
A 15-pound cocker spaniel-poodle mix named Pawlee scared off a mother bear and her two cubs Sunday morning after they strayed into his owners' back yard." Read more HERE.

Well, I didn't return my "batgirl" outfit yet. I was too busy with the kiddo buying back-to-school clothes. So when I worked out this morning I wore my standard t-short and shorts. Boring.

Anyhew, this story has nothing to do with shopping or bears or Batgirl, but I'll tell it anyway because it's pretty cute. The hubby and I were taking a nice family bike ride with the girlie a few days ago. The weather was beautiful. It was quiet out. Then suddenly about 15 minutes into the bike ride, the kiddo turns to me and asks, "Mommie, why do you wear fancy underwear when nobody can see it?"

Blink.

Wha-- Huh? Shocked, I look to my hubby, who has a big old grin on his face. Thanks a lot. No help whatsoever.

Luckily, I was able to correlate the fact that she loves to wear Ariel and Carebear underwear even though nobody sees it. She seemed happy enough with the answer.

Thank goodness. :)

Still doing a little school shopping today then maybe I'll work on editing a chapter of my wip. What are you doing today?

What was I thinking?

MENTAL STATUS: "Disgusted". At myself. (See below.)

Look at this picture. What do you see when you look at it?
Well, I'll tell you what I see. I see a woman who's a motorcycle and mask away from becoming the new Batgirl.
It looks even worse when it's actually on my body.

You know, I had good intentions when I bought this so called "costume". I mean, I work out a lot. I'm in fairly decent shape. And I was tired of my standard gym attire of baggy t-shirts and 80's style gym shorts. I figured, if I'm living the part, I wanted to dress the part of a workout woman.
But sheesh! Trying on this outfit was downright depressing. I looked ridiculous. And worse... fat. Ugh.

I really need some new workout clothes. Something sporty , fun, and matching--minus the Cape Crusader aura, of course. So I plan on returning this today and seeing what I can find.

What do you workout in?

Book Buzz Tag

IN THE NEWS: "David Hayes' granddaughter just ask him to hold her Barbie rod and reel while she went to the bathroom. He did. And seconds later he landed the state record channel catfish at 21 pounds, 1 ounce." Read more HERE.




Chicki Brown tagged me for this one, but I think it's pretty neat. So bear with me...



I am going to list three categories of books.

5 MUST Read Books, 5 Books on Your Nightstand, and 5 Look For These Soon.

Anyone I tag should put these same lists on their blog but SUBTRACT one book from each list and ADD one of their own.

Then they should tag at least 5 more bloggers. It will be fun to see how the lists change as it goes around the blogosphere.

Please come back to this post and leave a comment so I can see how the lists are changing as they go around the blogosphere.

Since this is Book Buzz…please keep your lists to titles released in 2007-2009.




MUST Read Books:
A Mile in My Flip-Flops by Melody Carlson
Lover Unbound by J.R. Ward
Yellow Moon by Jewell Parker Rhodes
Conception by Kalisha Buckhanon
The Coldest Winter Ever by Sister Soulja




5 Books on the Nightstand:
Crazy in Love by Lani Diane Rich
Pleasure by Eric Jerome Dickey
From Harvey River by Lorna Goodison
Trading Dreams at Midnight by Dianne McKinney
WhetstoneStill Dirty by Vickie Stringer




5 Look For These Soon:
Just One of the Guys by Kristan Higgins
The Black Dagger Brotherhood by J.R. Ward
Midnight: A Gangster Love Story by Sister Souljah
The Hood Life: A Bentley Manor Tale by Meesha Mink and De’nesha Diamond
Red Light Special by Risque



So I think I'll tag: Diane Carver, Fionn Jameson, Nadia Lee, Debora Dennis, and Kristen Painter.

Have a good weekend!

The Book of Names by D. Barkley Briggs

It's the 21st, time for the Teen FIRST blog tour! Every 21st, we will feature an author and his/her latest Teen fiction book's FIRST chapter!

D. Barkley Briggs

and his/her book:

The Book of Names (Legends of Karac Tor)

NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Dean Barkley Briggs is an author, father of eight, and prone to twisting his ankle playing basketball. He grew up reading J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Patricia McKillip, Guy Gavriel Kay, Stephen R. Donaldson, Ursila K. Leguin, Susan Cooper, Madeline L'Engle, Terry Brooks, Andre Norton and Lloyd Alexander (just to name a few)...and generally thinks most fantasy fiction pales in comparison. (Yes, he dabbled in sci-fi, too. Most notably Bradbury, Burroughs and Heinlein).

After losing his wife of 16 years, Briggs decided to tell a tale his four sons could relate to in their own journey through loss. Thus was born The Legends of Karac Tor, a sweeping adventure of four brothers who, while struggling to adjust to life without mom, become enmeshed in the crisis of another world. Along the way they must find their courage, face their pain, and never quit searching for home.

Briggs is remarried to a lovely woman, who previously lost her husband. Together with her four children, their hands are full.

Product Details

List Price: $12.99
Reading level: Young Adult
Paperback: 397 pages
Publisher: NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 160006227X
ISBN-13: 978-1600062278

Watch the Trailer:




Enter the Contest:




AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

In final days / Come final woes

Doors shall open / Doors shall close

Forgotten curse / Blight the land

Four names, one blood / Fall or stand


If lost the great one / Fallen low

Rises new / Ancient foe

Darkest path / River black

Blade which breaks / Anoint, attack


If once and future / Lord of war,

Queen la Faye / Mighty sword,

Rises ‘gain / As warrior king,

Prepare / For day of reckoning


If Aion’s breath / For music cursed

Sings making things / Made perverse,

Fate shall split / Road in twain

One shall lose / One shall gain


If secret lore / Then be found

Eight plus one / All unbound

Beast shall come / Six must go

Doors shall open / Doors shall close


If buried deep / Hidden seen

Ancient tomb / Midst crimson green

Nine shall bow / Nine more rise

Nine horns blow / Nine stars shine


If falling flame / Burning pure

Ten thousand cries / For mercy heard

Then plagues, peril / Horns of dread

End of days / Land be red


When final days / Bring final woes

Doors shall open / Doors shall close

Fate for one / For all unleashed

Come the Prince / Slay the beast


Cross the water / Isgurd’s way

White horse / Top the waves

Aion, fierce! / Aion, brave!

Aion rides / To save the day


— The Ravna’s Last Riddle



Chapter 1

BLACK BIRDS


The day was gray and cold, mildly damp. Perfect for magic. Strange clouds overhead teased the senses with a fragrance of storm wind and lightning and the faint, clean smell of ozone. Invisible energy sparkled like morning dew on blades of grass.

Standing alone in an empty field on the back end of their new acreage, Hadyn Barlow only saw the clouds. By definition, you can't see what's invisible, and as for smelling magic? Well, let's just say, unlikely. Hadyn saw what was obvious for late November, rural Missouri: leafless trees, dead grass, winter coming on strong. Most of all he saw (and despised) the humongous briar patch in front of him, feeling anew each and every blister and callous earned hacking through its branches.

Making room for cattle next spring, or so he was told; this, even though his dad had never owned a cow in his life. He was a history teacher for crying out loud. A college professor. Hadyn's shoulders slumped. It didn't matter. Everything was different now. Mr. Barlow didn't let his boys curse, but low under his breath, Hadyn did, mildly, just to prove the point. Life stunk. That was the brutal truth.

All true for the most part. Yet standing alone in the field, bundled in flannel, something else prickled his skin—something hidden in the rhythm of the day, at its core—and it wasn't just the chill wind. He couldn't shake it. A sense of something. Out-of-placeness. Faced with a friendless sophomore year, Hadyn knew that feeling all too well. It attacked him every morning, right before school.

But this was something more, more than the usual nervousness and name-calling stuff. His intuition was maddeningly vague. Hadyn sniffed the air, eyeing the field. A fox scampered in the distance. Bobwhites whistled softly. This had been his routine for weeks. Go to school, come home, do chores. Today was no different. Except for the clouds.

He looked upwards, struck again by the strange hues. The colors were still there; kinda creepy. They had lingered since the bus ride home. He had seen it happen with his own eyes, though he didn’t think much of it at the time. Right about the time school let out and the yellow buses began winding home, the skies had opened and spilled. Low banks of clouds came tumbling from the horizon like old woolen blankets. Like that scene from Independence Day, when the alien ships first appeared. Hues of purple, cobalt and charcoal smeared together. Not sky blue. Not normal. Riding on the bus, face pressed against the cold window, he didn’t know what to think. Only that it looked…otherworldly. Like God had put Van Gogh in charge for the day.

Strange.

Earlier, the day hadn’t felt weird. If anything, he had felt relief. Two days until Friday...until Thanksgiving Break. Only two days. He could make it. Standing by the mailbox with his three brothers, waiting for the bus—he couldn’t wait to get his own car—mild winds had stirred from the south, scampering through row after row of brittle stalks in the neighbor’s cornfield across the road. He heard them in the leafless oak and elm of his own yard, hissing with a high, dry laughter. Warm winds, not cold. But about noon, the wind shifted. Again, no big deal for Missouri, always caught in the middle between the gulf streams of Mexico and Canada’s bitter cold. Temperamental weather was normal in these parts.

Yet there it was. From the winding ride home to this very moment, he couldn’t rid himself of that dry-mouthed, queasy feeling. It was more than a shift in wind. It was a shift in energy. Yes, the dark clouds and strange colors reminded him of the thickening air before a big, cracking Midwestern storm, but that wasn’t it. This was different.

Hadyn being Hadyn, more than anything else, wanted to identify the moment. To name it.

Though he didn’t actually verbalize until age three, Hadyn was born with a question mark wrinkled into his brows. Always searching, always studying something. He couldn’t speak a word before then—refused to, his dad always said—yet he knew the letters of the alphabet at a precocious 12 months. When he finally did decide to talk, words gushed. Full sentences. Big vocabulary. Not surprisingly, it was clear early on that Hadyn was one of those types bent toward structure, patterns. He hated incongruities, hated not knowing how to pinpoint the strange twist in sky and mood right in the middle of an otherwise typically dreary day. If it was just nasty weather, name it! What did it feel like? Wet fish guts? Not quite. A full wet diaper? He remembered those well enough from when the twins were little, but no. A three day old slice of cheese?

Yes, that was it. Cold, damp, moldy.

Velveeta, actually, he decided, feeling a small measure of satisfaction. He fumbled for the zipper of his coat as another icy breeze prickled his skin. Yep, another lousy Velveeta day in the life of Hadyn Barlow.

He thought of the roaring wood stove back home. Hot cocoa. Little consolation. Until dusk, the oldest Barlow boy was stuck outside in a field with hatchet and hedge shears. Stuck in a foul mood, stuck with a knot in his throat. Just plain stuck. His task, his life, seemed endless and pointless.

“Just a little bit every day, however much you can manage after school,” his father would remind him. “And don’t look so grumpy. The days are shorter and shorter.”

But not any warmer.

“Grr!” Hadyn grumbled aloud, snapping at the cold in his thoughts. He had chosen to “clear” the massive beast by carving tunnels in it, not just hacking mindlessly. Probably not exactly what Dad had in mind, but, well, to be honest, he didn’t really care. He was the one stuck out here in the cold. He had already carved several tunnels, and reentered the biggest one now, loping and clicking his shears at the endless mess of thorns and branches, alternated by halfhearted swings of the hatchet. The briar patch sprawled a couple hundred feet in every direction, comprised of dense, overgrown nettles, blackberry bushes and cottonweed. Untended for generations, the underbrush was so thick and tall a person could easily get lost in it, especially toward the center, where the land formed a shallow ravine that channeled wet weather rains toward the pond on the lower field. Hadyn guessed the height at the center point would be a good 12 feet or more. Enormous.

Really, it was a ridiculous task. Dad had to know that.

“Why not just burn the thing?” Hadyn had asked him. Burn it, then brush-hog it. Throw a hand grenade in and run.

Mr. Barlow never really answered, just said he wanted him to clear it by hand. After the first day of grumbling and complaining (which proved none too popular with his father), Hadyn started carving tunnels. His plan was to craft a maze out of it, maybe create a place to escape...at least have some fun before his dad made him level the whole thing

Fun? He caught himself, tasting the word like a spoonful of Nyquil. Fun is soccer with the guys back home.

He paused for a moment to wipe his brow. Home was no longer a city, not for four months now. It was a cow pasture. Home had been Independence, the suburb of Kansas City whose chief claim to fame (other than being the birthplace of Harry S. Truman) was that Jesus would return there, at least according to one of numerous Mormon splinter groups. For Hadyn, it was all about skateboards and traffic and rows of houses. Noise. Friends. Now, all that—everything familiar and good—was exactly three hours and nineteen minutes straight across I-70 on the opposite end of the state. Might as well have been on the opposite side of the planet. Home now: three hundred acres in the middle of nowhere, away from all he had ever known.

The town was called Newland. The name seemed like a smack in the face.

New town. New school. New faces. New troubles to deal with. New disappointments. His dad had tried to make a big deal of the “new” thing. This would be a new start for their family, a new chapter, blah, blah, blah. A change, from sadness to hope, he said. Hadyn hated change.

He didn’t want new. He wanted it how it used to be.

How it used to be was happy. Normal. Right. Fair. How it used to be meant they were a family of six, not five. Hadyn felt a familiar pang slice across his chest. He would have traded all the unknown magic in the world for five more minutes with—

Mom...

It had been a year since she died. His mental images of her remained vivid, of a beautiful woman with porcelain smooth skin, naturally blonde, witty, vivacious. All four Barlow brothers shared her spunky attitude, as well as an even mix of their parents’ coloring: mom’s fairness, dad’s darker hair and complexion, the boys somewhere in between. Hadyn, rapidly entering his adult body, was tall for his age, muscular, lean, possessed of a sometimes uncomfortably aristocratic air. Some days his eyes were smoky jade, others, iron gray. But he had Anna’s cleverness.

His parents had been saving money for several years, studying the land all around Newland. Hadyn could not fathom why. What was so special about Podunk, America? But he knew his mom had been happy to think about life in the country. Once upon a time, that was enough. But now? Without her, what was the point? Why couldn’t they have just stayed in Independence? Moving wasn’t going to bring her back. Didn’t Dad know that?

For the second time that afternoon, a tidal wave of loneliness nearly drowned him, left him in a goo of self-pity, the sort of sticky feeling he didn’t want anyone to spoil by cheering him up. He took one more angry swing. Done or not, he was done for the day. Work could wait. Dad would just have to deal with it. Already, he had built a pretty impressive maze, though. Six unconnected tunnels so far.

Like I give a rip about these stupid tunnels, he thought as he crawled from the center toward the mouth of the largest, longest shaft. Or this stupid land, or town, or patch of—his knee jammed against a thorn protruding from the soil—thorny! ridiculous!...

He clenched his jaw, flashing through dozens of choice words, using none. Honoring his dad. Pain streamed as tears down his cheek, and it wasn’t just the thorn in his knee. It was life. Crawling forty more feet, he emerged to face the slowly westering sun melting down the sky. The otherworldly colors he had seen earlier were gone. Only the cold remained. And now, a bleeding, sore knee.

Behind him, he heard heard rustling grass and the high pitched, lilting notes of his brother’s tin whistle. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and grimaced. Ewan, like his mother, was musical. Even more like her, he was sentimental. He often carried the whistle she had brought him as a gift from Ireland. It would, no doubt, have seemed humorous to some, to see him wandering the field, playing a spritely little tune. It only annoyed Hadyn. Thankfully, as Ewan drew closer, the song trailed away.

“Hey, Hadyn.”

Hadyn grunted. “What do you want?”

Ewan shrugged, tucking the flute into his back pocket. He wore blue jeans, and a blue embroidered ball cap, initialed ‘ECB’.

“Wondered how things were going.”

“Dad sent you to help, didn’t he?”

Ewan frowned. “Yep. Got done with my chores sooner than planned.”

“Bummer.”

“Major bummer,” Ewan emphasized. “Looks like you’re near the center, though. That’s pretty cool.”

Hadyn didn’t reply. With only two years between them, the two brothers had always been the closest of friends, the fiercest competitors, the quickest of combatants. They understood each other’s rhythms like no one else in the family. Whereas Hadyn was studied, wise and cautious, Ewan was quick, fearless and comfortable with long odds. No one could make Ewan laugh—gasping-for-air, fall-on-the-ground-cackling—like Hadyn. Likewise, Ewan could frustrate Hadyn to no end, or, with the sheer power of silliness, cheer him up when a sullen moment was about to strike. Not much wanting to be rescued from his mood at the moment, however, Hadyn let his silent response wrap around him like a barrier against further penetration. He didn’t notice that Ewan’s gaze had drifted from the briar patch to the low sky and paused there.

“What do you make of that?” he dimly heard his brother say, distracted, curious. Through the haze of his own thoughts, Hadyn followed Ewan’s line of sight, his pointing finger, straight into the sunset. At first, he saw nothing. Then it was obvious. Several large, black birds were swooping low on the horizon. Even at a distance, it appeared they were headed straight for the two boys, unveering over the slope of the ground, drawing swiftly nearer, a hundred yards or so away. From the sound of their raucous cry, they were like ravens, only larger, throatier, and if possible, blacker.

“Cawl-cawl,” they cried.

Hadyn counted four total, wings outstretched, unflapping, like stealth bombers in formation. There was something organized and determined about their flight. It lacked animal randomness.

“Do they look strange to you?” Ewan asked, cocking his head.

Hadyn pretended to be uninterested. It didn’t last. “What is that in their claws? What’re they carrying?”

“Yeah, I see it. Sticks?”

“Too thick. It would be too heavy. Wouldn’t it?”

“Hard to tell at this angle. Are they heading for us?” Ewan held up his hand to shield his eyes. “Man, they’re fast. What are they?”

“I don’t know, but they’re still—”

“Look out!” Ewan dove to the side, tripping Hadyn in the process. Both boys hit the ground on a roll, turning just in time to see the birds swoop suddenly upward, arcing high into the sky, turn, then turn again. The lead bird, larger than the others, croaked loudly; the other three responded. Over and over, the same phrase, like a demand: “Cawl!”

All four were pitch black, having none of the deep blue sheen of a crow’s feathers, or so it seemed in the failing light. They flew as black slashes in the sky, all wing and beak, not elegant in the air, but fast. Disappearing completely against the lightless eastern expanse, they reappeared again as silhouettes skimming the western horizon. At first it seemed to Hadyn the birds would fly away, as they swept up and out in a wide arc. But the curve of their path soon came full circle. They were attempting another pass. Both boys nervously scooted further outside the angle of the birds’ approach.

“What in the world?” Hadyn said, hatchet raised and ready. It was clearer now in silhouette form. Each bird carried the form of a long, thick tube in their talons.

The brothers hunched on the ground, motionless, muscles tensed, watching as the birds continued their second approach. Hadyn held his breath. The birds didn’t veer, nor aim again for the boys. Instead, they formed a precise, single-file line, a black arrow shooting toward the main tunnel of the thicket. With a final loud croak—“Cawl!”—and not a single flap of wing, all four swooped straight into the hole, one after the other. As they did, each released the object clutched in its talons. The tubes clattered together with a light, tinny sound at the mouth of the tunnel, literally at the boys’ feet. The birds were already beyond sight. Their throaty noise echoed for a moment, evaporating into an obvious silence marked only by the faint breeze of wings passing over broken grass.

Hadyn and Ewan stared first at the tunnel, then at the objects. Then at each other. Then back at the tunnel. In the same instant, each of them leaped toward what the birds had left behind: four thin, black metallic tubes, trimmed with milky white bands at top and bottom.

Hadyn slowly stretched out his hand and picked up a tube. He rolled it between his fingers. It was about the length of Ewan’s Irish whistle, but thicker, maybe the circumference of a quarter. Not heavy at all. In the middle of each tube, finely wrought in scripted gold filigree, the letter ‘A’ appeared.

Ewan lightly shook his tube, listening for clues to its contents. It sounded hollow.

“They didn’t even have us sign for delivery,” he deadpanned. “What do we do with these? They look important.”

“How should I know?” Hadyn said contemptuously, flicking his eyes cautiously toward the tunnel. “Where’d they even go? I mean, really. Are they just hiding back there until we leave?”

“Who cares!” Ewan said. His disgust was obvious. Hadyn’s was being an analyst again. “This isn’t hard, Hadyn. Some big birds dive bombed us. They dropped these cool tubes. It makes no sense. It’s awesome. Totally, factor 10 cool.”

Hadyn mulled it over. “Maybe they’re some sort of carrier pigeon, but...do carrier pigeons even fly anymore?

“Only on Gilligan’s Island. TV Land. Listen to me, you’re just guessing.”

“Have you got a better idea?” Hadyn demanded.

Ewan waited, considered. Hadyn knew he hated being put on the spot like that, in the inferior position. Now it was Ewan’s turn to think.

“Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe those birds really are carriers of some sort?—” Ewan held up a tube, “—obviously they are. What if they need to carry these things farther still? What if they’re just resting? What if they are trained to do this when they need to rest? Drop their packages, find a hole, rest, then grab their stuff and carry on?”

“So...are you suggesting we flush them out? Cause there is no way I’m going to crawl back there. They can get out later on their own.”

Ewan didn’t reply. Instead he dug into his pocket, pulled out a small flashlight, and scuttled into the tunnel the birds had entered. “Wait here,” he ordered.

“Hey, watch it back there!” Hadyn cautioned. Secretly, he wanted him to go, knew how to punch his brother’s buttons to make it happen. “Those claws looked sharp!”

While he waited for Ewan to return, Hadyn examined the tubes further. He shook one tube, flicked it, smelled another; picked up and twirled the third and fourth tubes. His efforts yielded the same muffled sensation of something barely shifting inside. Maybe a rolled up piece of paper? If the ravens (or crows, or whatever they were) were carriers of some sort, a written message did make the most sense. But who in the world still sent paper messages...by bird? By raven, no less. Hello, email anyone?

Presently, Ewan reappeared, breathing hard.

“They’re gone,” he said simply. “Must have flown out one of the other tunnels.”

Hadyn creased his brow. “No way. None of the tunnels connect yet.”

“They don’t?” Ewan’s eyes widened as it dawned on him that he hadn’t seen any other tunnels. “No...they don’t.”

The two boys stared at one another in silence. Evening enfolded them; soon, darkness. “They must have crawled through the branches,” Hadyn surmised, but he hardly sounded convinced. “Are you sure you didn’t see them?”

Ewan rolled his eyes. “Hello? Big, black flappy things. Yes, I’m sure.” He grabbed one of the tubes, shook it again. “This band looks like ivory, but it’s hard to tell in this light.”

“Reminds me of one of mom’s necklaces.”

Ewan grabbed the end and twisted. “Only one way to find out.”

This time Hadyn didn’t argue or analyze. Curiosity had gotten the best of him. The lid twisted off with surprising ease, followed by a thin hiss of sealed air. Ewan wrinkled his face. “Smells old. Yuck. Turn on your flashlight. Mine is getting weak.”

He tapped the open end against the palm of his left hand. The coiled edge of a piece of thick, cream-colored parchment slipped out. Hadyn leaned in closer. Ewan gingerly teased the scroll out. It had a heavy grain of woven cotton, with rough edges trimmed in gold foil. Both boys let out a long slow breath. Neither the silver moon hung off the treeline, nor the winking stars, provided light enough to clearly see. Hadyn turned on his flashlight as his brother unrolled the parchment. The paper was larger than normal, rich to the touch. Pinning both ends to the ground, both boys read at once the simple message beautifully scripted on the inside in golden ink: “You have been chosen for a life of great purpose. Adventure awaits you in the Hidden Lands.”

“Dude!” Ewan whistled softly. “Looks like something from King Arthur. What in the world are the Hidden Lands?”

Hadyn, who actually loved the lore of King Arthur—and Ewan knew it—was already reaching for another tube. Ewan followed his lead. Within twenty seconds, all four tubes were opened, and four identical parchments lay spread on the ground in the dark, illuminated only by flashlights. Golden ink glimmered, subtly shifting hues. Each bore the exact same message.

“You have been chosen for a life of great purpose. Adventure awaits you in the Hidden Lands.”

Hadyn grabbed the four sheets, quickly rolled them up, and inserted each back into its thin metal sleeve. “We need to head home before Dad gets worried,” he said. “You take two and I’ll take two. Stick them under your shirt and act cool. I have no idea what these are. But for now, they’re our little secret.”

He puffed up for a moment, the older brother. Still out of sorts with the world.

“And none of your games, either, Ewan. I mean it. I’m not in the mood.”

MORE This and That

MENTAL STATUS: "Dizzy". Came back from this morning's workout dizzy and nauseous. And sore. I need a nap.

Ugh. I can't believe I'm blogging. I really feel yucky. I can't even have any coffee yet. Why you ask? I took a class called Pylometric Circuit this morning and it really rocked my system. Bleh. I'm sore too. I feel like I have alligator arms typing here.

I just wanted to say, the ear piercing went off without a hitch yesterday. I got them both done at once--which was KEY. No tears. Just a simple "Ow." And then she was happy. I would have taken a picture this morning of her cute little pink flower earrings, but well, I don't think I can move now (alligator arms and all). Maybe Friday.

The kiddo was so happy. Of course, after she got them done, I had to put up with comments like, "I bet you can't stop looking at my earrings" and "don't you wish you were me". She forgets MY ears are pierced too. :)

Anyhew, the day is busy today but I won't be writing. The hubby is taking off from work and we're heading to the beach in the afternoon. I have a few couples coming over for a BBQ tonight too.

So I'll leave you with this neat picture I took the other night of a HUGE dragonfly that attached itself to our window. This thing had to be 4 or 5 inches long.

Can you see it?

This and That

IN THE NEWS: "According to Microsoft, the fabled Six Degrees of Separation theory holds water. After studying 30 billion computer instant message conversations among 180 million people, Microsoft found just 6.6 degrees of separation between any two users of its Microsoft Messenger instant message program." Read more HERE.

I just finished my first book--by a well known romantic comedy author--and was highly disappointed.

*sigh*

Of course I finished it, but I skimmed a lot of it too. It was kind of funny. I guess. Although I don't remember laughing out loud like I do when I read Susan Elizabeth Phillips. The hero was OK too. He was a bit rough around the edges for my taste (You know, the kind who smells his own armpits) But I overlooked that part, because I know I'm picky.

So why didn't I just put the book down and walk away halfway through? Well, 1) I was at the beach and no other options at my disposal, and 2) I have a real problem NOT finishing a book. It has to be pretty bad for me to toss it aside. I mean, really bad. Borderline super bad.

I think it's my stubborn side showing--or maybe it's my optimistic side showing. Not sure. Speaking of "not sure", I'm not sure I'll give this author another shot or not. At least not for a while.

Anyhew... on an even darker note, the kiddo wants to get her ears pierced. TODAY. Eeep. I wanted her to get her ears pierced a while ago, but because she's such a chicken and has such a low tolerance for pain, she's been too scared to do it. I personally think she's been seeing enough of her friends with earrings that she's turned a corner. Ah, peer pressure.

So I'm taking her today to get them done.

This should prove interesting...

White Out-Part Deux

MENTAL STATUS: "A little concerned". I feel little will get done this week (writing-wise) since the kiddo has NO activities planned from now until school starts (two weeks). Eeep.

Well, I promised pictures from the White Out Party. (We had a blast, by the way)

Here's me and my neighbors (my neighbors and I?). Anyway, we all rode 12 blocks on tandem bikes over to the party. The hubby and I borrowed our tandem bike. It was old and I couldn't adjust the handlebars, so I bascially ate my knees the whole time riding.


I'm on the left with the Mary Tyler Moore hairdo. (It seemed like a good idea at the time)
When we walked it there was a funky white smoke in the air and Vegas-like showgirl dancers on the floor. (I have to say, it was a little strange)


"White Russians"

A dress made out of white peppermint Life Savers.

As you can see, it was quite a sight. There were togas, angel outfits, people wearing strings of white lights, and of course--a table of people wearing their wedding gowns. Gee, I felt kinda boring in my outfit, but at least my friends were just as dull. We managed to have a GREAT time anyway.

What did you do this weekend?

Going to a White Out

IN THE NEWS: "Gas prices have been falling , but not that much. A problem with a pump cost a San Antonio convenience store when premium gasoline accidentally sold for 38 cents a gallon." Read more HERE.

I had some shopping to do yesterday. The hubby and I are going to a dinner on Saturday and every year there is a theme. This year is "A White Out": where you try to wear as much white as you can. You can go traditional, formal, or outrageous. It's up to you.

Well, I went out and bought white sunglasses, white jewelery, and even bought white nail polish. The problem? I had no white clothes. Eeep. I had white shorts and maybe some t-shirts. That is all. (Besides my wedding dress, that is)

So I went to three stores and FINALLY ended up with a cute white baby doll blouse and some lightweight linen Capri pants. Sheesh. Who knew shopping for that kind of stuff would be so tough?

The hubby has been all set for a while. He's a got a great outfit working.
I'll have to remember to take pictures.

I'm going to try to finish up a chapter I'm working on and then I'm painting my nails today.

Have a great weekend!

Slow Summer Reading

MENTAL STATUS: "Tired". Can't sleep right now. I'm having terrible dreams about my kiddo drowning and I can't shake them. (I think we've been in the water too much.)

I have a confession to make. (Yeah. Another one.) I haven't been reading much this summer.

Gasp. Call the lynching librarians!

But it's true. This summer has been CRAZY. (I know. Excuses excuses.) I've actually been too tired to read at night and during the day I try to write. Even when we've hit the beach--where I ALWAYS bring a book--it's been too hot to just sit. Plus, I get antsy and need to get up every 10 minutes.

Well, temperatures have been dropping (a little) so I managed to actually open and start reading a book last weekend that was part of July's FIRST blog tour: Melody Carlson's A Mile in my Flip-Flops. (Hey, I'm only a month behind.) Anyway, I think I finished it in two days. I was even up until one in the morning reading--something I haven't done in soooooooo long. But I really enjoyed this book. In fact, I dub it my perfect "beach read of the summer" and exactly what I needed to get me out of my non-reading slump.

I've since read three novels this week alone. And it feels great! I've so missed reading.

Have you been reading a lot this summer?

Surfer Hubby!

IN THE NEWS: "A federal judge in Pittsburgh didn't buy a woman's defense who claimed a shopaholic disorder caused her to steal nearly $758,000 from her former employer." Read more here.



Well, the hubby said when he turned 40 he wanted to learn how to surf and now he has done just that. (And is pretty good at it too!)

He took a couple of lessons a few weeks ago and really enjoyed it. Today was the last one. There really wasn't any waves tonight, but the surf instructor decided to do a family day at the beach anyway and have them try to ride a few waves for us.

Here's some pictures of the hubby. (He's on the right)

He bought a used surfboard and even a wetsuit now. He's caught the "bug".

Now I'm thinking I'd like to take lessons too. You know, just to say I tried it. What the heck? It looks like fun. Maybe on my 40th--which fortunately won't be for a while. I've thought about parasailing too. Something my mother-in-law did when she was sixty. Hmm... Obviously I'm just not that adventurous.

Is there anything you've always wanted to try?

Back in Shape

MENTAL STATUS: "Refreshed". Got up early to work out and now I feel GREAT.

Ooops. I'm late in blogging. But I have a good excuse. I was...

Exercising.

Gee, imagine that. I know. I'm stunned too. I usually reserve my exercise routine for the mid morning or maybe late afternoon. But the hubby has appointed himself my new personal trainer and has decided early morning would be better for me. (??)
So I took a 6:45 (that's AM) hour long Body Sculpting class and then I walked on the treadmil for 30 minutes.

My hope to be a runner earlier this summer has not panned out. Mainly because 1) my hubby isn't running anymore and 2) I hated running. But I did manage to work up to a mile. (Not too impressive in my neighborhood where they're all running AT LEAST 5 miles.)

So I'm hoping I can keep the early morning routine working. I love having so much more free time now, which I can now use to write. And clean.

What time of the day do you like to workout?

See Saw of a Weekend

IN THE NEWS: "Charleston police said a man tried to rob a movie rental store with an unusual weapon , an empty cheesecake box. " READ MORE HERE. (Thanks, Chicki!)

My weekend emotions were like a see saw. Saturday they were up. Sunday they were down. Allow me to explain...

Saturday, we met friends on the beach and had a great time. Later that night, our neighbors had a little party where everyone brought a seafood dish. (I brought a catered platter since I knew I wouldn't have time to prepare anything: crab balls) They were like mini crab cakes. YUM.

I was asked to bring my IPod too, since the girls wanted to hear my 80's music. I even downloaded a few extras: Michael Jackson's Wanna Be Startin' Something, Men Without Hat's Safety Dance, and Dead or Alive's You Spin Me Round (Like a Record). We had so much fun dancing!

See? Emotions UP.

Sunday, after church, we met other friends (who have three kids of their own and were watching their little niece and nephew) at the beach. The weather was a bit iffy, but we decided to go anyway and see if we could squeeze a little time in. Well, the waves were ROUGH, it was cloudy, and windy as all get out. I really didn't like my daughter being in such treacherous surf (namely because I was not prepared to dive in and save her if need be). So I called my hubby over to watch. Well, as soon as I did that and headed back, all the kids followed me to the chairs. Apparently the lifeguard called everyone out of the water. I think a storm was coming and/or the water was too rough.

That's when we notice we're missing a child.

My friends are quickly off in search of their nephew and I'm left standing with the kids as I watch everyone leaving the beach in a mass exit. It's chaos on the beach at this point, and I'm thinking the little boy is nowhere and HAS to be in the water. I'm physically ill at this point, especially when his sister keeps asking me where her brother is and I have no answer.

After a few minutes, someone DOES find him. The little boy buried himself in the sand up by the dunes. UGH. We left the beach immediately and I think all needed a nap after that.

Emotions DOWN.

Anyhew, keeping on a nice even keel today, I have a small excerpt posted on Ecataromance for their Smooch of the Day. Feel free to leave a comment!

At His Command Book Trailer

MENTAL STATUS: "A little fuzzy". Went out to dinner with friends last night and had two delicious--only two--margaritas. And today I woke up with a headache. Ugh. I have no tolerance.

I was over at Brenda Coulter's blog yesterday and checked out her new book trailer for her upcoming inspirational romance release At His Command and thought I'd share it with you all. It's pretty creative and cute.

Edamame Me Up

IN THE NEWS: It may seem like something out of a nightmare, but customers at the Yvonne Hair and Nails salon in Alexandria, Va., like having fish nibble at their feet—and they're -willing to pay for the service. Read more HERE.

Ok. I have never run my air conditioner so much in a single week as this week. So I'm thinking now is not the best time to test out the new oven. Oh well.

Instead, I'm been trying out some nice cool summer recipes. This one involves edamame. For those of you who have not had the pleasure, edamame is basically green soybeans. I get them by the bag in the freezer section of my local supermarket (where they keep the veggies).

I made this for myself for lunch today, but it can easily be a side dish for amost any meal. My friend made it once without the fresh basil (dried) and used goat cheese instead of feta. Yeah, ok.
Here's a tip: DON'T DO THAT. Follow the recipe exactly, use fresh ingredients, and it will be yummo.

Edamame with Cranberries, Feta and Basil

1 16oz bag frozen, shelled edamame
1/2 c dried cranberries
1/4 c fresh basil leaves, cut into thin strips
2 TBsp olive oil
1/8 tsp pepper
1/2 c crumbled feta cheese

1. Cook edamame according to package. Drain and rinse under cold water. Pat dry.
2. Toss edamame with cranberries, basil, oil, and pepper in a medium bowl. Gently stir in feta cheese. Serve chilled or at room temp.

This is delicious, especially over a bed of greens. And heart healthy!

Oven Woo-hoos!

MENTAL STATUS: "Happy". I have a functioning new oven. (Finally.)

Well, the problem with the oven turned out to be something small (something I don't even use but will get a new one anyway).

So without any further delay...here's the pictures:

BEFORE

AFTER

Isn't it pretty?

Oven Woes

IN THE NEWS: "Standing-room-only service on airplanes? Even if airlines are lukewarm to the idea, an informal survey indicates a number of passengers may be willing to stand for the duration of their flight if it means lower fares." Read more HERE.

I'm depressed. I was happy yesterday. I think my "mental status" even went as far as declaring that I was... thrilled. Gee, what happened?

Well, I'll tell you. It's my new oven. The broken one. Yep. The new oven that's broken. UGH. My family and I could have went on 6 day vacation for the price I paid for this oven and it doesn't work. So you can see why I'm a bit depressed.

The appliance people want to send someone out to fix it. I want a new oven that works. Not a new oven that needs to be serviced.

Houston, we might have a problem. (We'll see what happens)

Anyhew, on the writing front, I was very happy to hear the results of the 2008 RITA Awards. (For those of you who don't know, the RITA is similar to winning... an Oscar. So it's pretty cool)


2008 RITA Winner for Contemporary Series Romance: Suspense/Adventure
Treasure by Helen Brenna Harlequin Enterprises, Harlequin Superromance -(0373714033)Johanna Raisanen, editor

2008 RITA Winner for Best Young Adult Romance
Wicked Lovely by Melissa Marr HarperCollins Publishers, HarperTeen (978-0-06-121465-3)Anne Hoppe and Nick Lake, editors

2008 RITA Winner for Best Historical Romance
Lessons of Desire by Madeline Hunter Bantam Dell Publishing Group (9780440243946)Shauna Summers, editor

2008 RITA Winner for Best Regency Historical Romance
The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever by Julia Quinn HarperCollins Publishers, Avon Books (0061230839)Lyssa Keusch, editor

2008 RITA Winner for Contemporary Series Romance
Snowbound by Janice Johnson Harlequin Enterprises, Harlequin Superromance (0-373-71454-8)Laura Shin, editor

2008 RITA Winner for Best Inspirational Romance
A Touch of Grace by Linda Goodnight Harlequin Enterprises, Steeple Hill Love Inspired (978-0-373-87426-2)Allison Lyons, editor

2008 RITA Winner for Best Romance Novella
“Born in My Heart” in Like Mother, Like Daughter by Jennifer Greene Harlequin Enterprises, Harlequin NEXT (0-373-88134)Melissa Jeglinski, editor

2008 RITA Winner for Best Paranormal Romance
Lover Revealed by J.R. Ward Penguin Group USA, Signet, Onyx (978-0-451-41235-5)Kara Cesare, editor

2008 RITA Winner for Best Novel with Strong Romantic Elements
Silent in the Grave by Deanna Raybourn Harlequin Enterprises, MIRA(978-0-7783-2410-2)Valerie Gray, editor

2008 RITA Winner for Best Romantic Suspense
Ice Blue by Anne Stuart Harlequin Enterprises, MIRA(0778324788)

2008 RITA for Best First Book Finalists
Dead Girls Are Easy by Terri Garey HarperCollins Publishers, Avon Books(978-0-06-113615-3)Erika

2008 RITA Winner for Best Contemporary Single Title Romance
Catch of the Day by Kristan Higgins Harlequin Enterprises, HQN (0-373-7724-6)
Tracy

I read Catch of the Day and loved it! Kristan Higgins is a talented author (and super nice person) Check her book out!

And wish me well as I deal with my oven issues. :)

What's in a name?

MENTAL STATUS: "Thrilled". My new double oven is being installed today! Woo-hoo!

What's in a boat name? Why do people even name their boats--or houses for that matter? Maybe to reflect the owner's personality?

Well, we have good friends who've had a boat for some time and (for some unknown reason) have now decided to give their boat a name. So I'm trying to come up with something as fun and easygoing as they are.

Me (being the Google crazed woman that I am) decided to look up boat names on the computer to get some ideas.

I found this:

Most popular sailboat names
Orion
Zephyr
Stargazer
Free Spirit
TBD
Cheers
Mariah
Solitude
Sandpiper
Calypso
Banana Wind
MoonDance
PATRIOT
Mental Floss
valhalla

Ugh. I can't believe that list is accurate. I'm sorry but all those names stink. They want something FUN. A fun boat name. Fun and clever. Maybe even a play on words. That would totally fit them.

I was thinking along the lines of

"Live Free or Dive" or

"Off Da Hook" or maybe even

"Tons of Fun".

What do you think?

Any ideas? What would you name your boat?

Romancing Hollywood Nobody by Lisa Samson

It is August FIRST, time for the FIRST Blog Tour! (Join our alliance! Click the button!) The FIRST day of every month we will feature an author and his/her latest book's FIRST chapter!

Today's feature author is:

LISA SAMSON

and her book:

Romancing Hollywood Nobody

NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lisa Samson is the author of twenty books, including the Christy Award-winning Songbird. Apples of Gold was her first novel for teens

These days, she's working on Quaker Summer, volunteering at Kentucky Refugee Ministries, raising children and trying to be supportive of a husband in seminary. (Trying . . . some days she's downright awful. It's a good thing he's such a fabulous cook!) She can tell you one thing, it's never dull around there.

Other Novels by Lisa:

Hollywood Nobody, Finding Hollywood Nobody, Straight Up, Club Sandwich, Songbird, Tiger Lillie, The Church Ladies, Women's Intuition: A Novel, Songbird, The Living End

Visit her at her website.

Product Details

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 195 pages
Publisher: NavPress Publishing Group (July 15, 2008)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1600062210
ISBN-13: 978-1600062216

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Monday, April 30, 6:00 a.m.

My eyes open. Yes, yes, yes. The greatest man in the entire world

is brewing coffee right here in the TrailMama.

“Dad.”

“Morning, Scotty. The big day.”

“Yep.”

“And this time, you won't have to drive.”

I throw back the covers on my loft bed and slip down to the dinette of our RV. My dad sleeps on the dinette bed. He's usually got it turned back into our kitchen table by 5:00 a.m. What can I say? The guy may be just as much in love with cheese as I am, but honestly? Our body clocks are about as different as Liam Neeson and Seth Green.

You know what I mean?

And we have lots of differences.

For one, he's totally a nonfiction person and I'm fiction all the way. For two, he has no fashion sense whatsoever. And for three, he has way more hope for people at the outset than I do. Man, do I have a lot to learn on that front.

He hands me a mug and I sip the dark liquid. I was roasting coffee beans for a while there, but Dad took the mantle upon himself and he does a better job.

Starbucks Schmarbucks.

He hands me another mug and I head to the back of the TrailMama to wake up Charley. My grandmother looks so sweet in the morning, her frosted, silver-blonde hair fanned out on the pillow. You know, she could pass for an aging mermaid. A really short one, true.



I wave the mug as close as I can to her nose without fear of her rearing up, knocking the mug and burning her face. “Charley . . .” I singsong. “Time to get a move on. Time to get back on the road.”

And boy is this a switch!

All I can say is, your life can be going one way for years and years and then, snap-snap-snap-in-a-Z, it looks like it had major plastic surgery.

Only in reverse. Imagine life just getting more and more real. I like it.

Charley opens her eyes. “Hey, baby. You brought me coffee. You get groovier every day.”

She's a hippie. What can I say?

And she started drinking coffee again when I ran away last fall in Texas. I mean, I didn't really run away. I went somewhere with a perfectly good reason for not telling anyone, and I was planning to return as soon as my mission was done.

She scootches up to a sitting position, hair still in a cloud, takes the mug and, with that dazzling smile still on her face (think Kate Hudson) sips the coffee. She sighs.

“I know,” I say. “How did we make it so long without him?”

“Now that he's with us, I don't know. But somehow we did, didn't we, baby? It may not have always been graceful and smooth, but we made it together.”

I rub her shoulder. “Yeah. I guess you could say we pretty much did.”

The engine hums its movin'-on song. “Dad's ready to pull out. Let's hit it.”

“Scotland, here we come.”

Scotland? Well, sort of.



An hour later

This has been a great school year. In addition to the online courses I'm taking through Indiana University High School, Dad's been teaching me and man, is he smart. I'm sure most sixteen-(almost seventeen)-year-olds think their fathers are the smartest guys in the world, but in my case it happens to be true.

Okay, even I have to admit he probably won't win the Nobel Prize for physics or anything, but he's street smart and there's no replacing that sort of thing. Big plus: he knows high school math. We're both living under the radar. And he's taken our faux last name. Dawn. He's now Ezra Fitzgerald Dawn. After Ezra Pound, one of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Lost Generation friends.

I'm just lovin' that.

“Your mom would have loved the name change, Scotty.”

He told me about his life as an FBI agent, some of the cases he worked on, and well, I'd like to tell you he had a life like Sydney Bristow's in Alias, but he probably spent most of his time on com-puter work and sitting around on his butt waiting for someone to make a move. The FBI, apparently, prefers to trick people more than corner them in showdowns and shootouts. The Robertsman case was his first time undercover in the field and we know how terribly that worked out for him. And me. And Charley. And Babette, my mother.

I pull out my math book and sit in the passenger seat of the TrailMama. “Ready for some 'rithmetic, Dad?”

“You bet.” He turns to me and smiles. His smile still makes my heart warm up like a griddle ready to make smiley-face pan-cakes. I flip on my book light.


It's still dark and we're headed to Asheville, North Carolina for Charley's latest shoot. A film about Bonnie Prince Charlie called Charlie's Lament. How ironic is that? The director, Bartholomew (don't dare call him Bart) Evans, is a real jerk. I'm not going to be hanging around the set much even though Liam Neeson is Lord George Murray, the voice of reason Prince Charlie refused to listen to. But hey, that's my history lesson. We're still on math.

I finish up the last lesson in geometry . . . finally! Honestly, I still don't understand it without a mammoth amount of help, but the workbook's filled and that's a good thing.

There.

I set down my pen. “Finished!”

Dad gives a nod as he continues to look out the windshield. You might guess, despite the tattoos, piercings, and his gleaming bald head, he's a very careful driver. And he won't let me drive like Charley did.

“So . . . driver's license then, right?”

He's been holding that over my head so I'd finish the math course.

“You know it. After the film, we'll request your new birth certificate and go from there.”

“What state are we supposedly from?” The FBI has given us a new identity, official papers and all that.

“Wyoming.”

“Are you kidding me? Wyoming? Why?”

“Think about it, honey. Who's from Wyoming?”

“Lots of people?”

“Know any of them?”

“Uh. No.”

“See?”


“Okay, Wyoming it is, then.”

“You realize you'll only have my beat-up old black truck to drive around.” The same truck we're towing behind the TrailMama.

“I'll take it.”

So here's the thing. The rest of the entire world thinks my father was shot in the chest and killed when he was outed by a branch of the mob he was after. This mob was financing James Robertsman's campaign for governor of Maryland.

The guy's running for president of the United States now.

I kid you not.

Wish I was kidding.

We thought he was after us for several years because Charley knew too much. But then last fall, we found out the guy chasing me was my father, and Robertsman is most likely cocky enough to think he took care of everything he needed. I say that's quite all right. Although, I have to admit, the fact that a dirtbag like that guy may end up in the Oval Office sickens me to no end.

Thanks to that guy, we had been running in fear from my own father.

The thing is, I could be really mad about all those wasted years, and a portion of me feels that way. But we've been given another chance, and I'll be darned if I throw away these days being angry. There's too much to be thankful for.

Don't get me wrong. I still have my surly days. I don't want Dad and Charley to think they have it as easy as all that!

Okay, time to blog.

Hollywood Nobody: April 30

Let's cut to the chase, Nobodies!

Today's Seth News: It's official. Seth Haas and Karissa Bonano are officially each other's exclusive main squeeze. The two were seen coming out of a popular LA tattoo parlor with each other's names on the inside of their forearms. How cliché. And pass the barf bag.

Today's Violette Dillinger Report: Violette has broken up with Joe Mason of Sweet Margaret. She wanted you all to know that long-distance romances are hard for any couple, but espe-cially for people as young as she is. “Joe needed to live his life. I'm on the road a lot. It wasn't fair to either of us.” Sounds like she's definitely not on the road to Britney. I'm just sayin'.

Today's Rave: Mandy Moore. The girl can really sing! And her latest album is filled with good songs. The bubble gum days of insipid teen heartbreak are over. She's finally come into her own. (Wish some others would follow her example, but I won't hold my breath. And man, are we on the theme of bratty stars today or what? Well, there are just so many of them from which to choose!)

Today's Rant: Crazy expensive celebrity weddings. What? If they spend more, will they be more likely to stay together? I have no idea. Mariah Carey's $25,000 dress pales in comparison to Catherine Zeta-Jones's $100,000 gown. What are those things made of?

Today's Quote: “Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today.” James Dean