​Holy crap! Was my last post really in August of ’16? I’m embarrassed that I actually have a page on my website dedicated to blogging. Eeeek!

I am excited to share that I have some new projects coming up on the horizon. Not writing projects, but stuff I can put my creative energies into, nonetheless. I’ve been working with an actress on the audio version of Vegas to Varanasi, which is very close to being complete. I am so psyched!

Jazmine Ramay, the lovely actress who has been narrating for me, has been such a pleasure to work with. Thank God she has the patience of a saint because this whole thing has definitely been a learning experience for me. Translating a story from words on a page to audio is tricky to say the least, especially when two people are involved and the expression of words is always open to interpretation. I reiterate – Jazmine has the patience of a saint! Prepare yourself for my pimping of the audio version once released because she has done an amazing job, and I truly believe you will love it.

The whole experience has inspired me to try my hand at the narration for my first book, Believe. Normally I wouldn’t tackle such a project, given that I am hugely ignorant of all the intricacies of sound engineering and do not possess the skills to create a variety of character voices, as Jazmine does. But because Believe is such a personal story, and for the most part has two characters throughout, I thought I’d give it a shot. Final sound editing will most definitely be hired out.​

​The dog. My dog is a very nervous, clingy type. If I lock her out back, or even outside my bedroom while trying to record, she is likely to whine annoyingly. Obviously not helpful. Thankfully, she’s pretty good about just lying quietly somewhere in the bedroom while recording. However, there are times when she paces back and forth down the laminate hallway floors, resulting in the click, click, click of her toenails. I’ve already had to pause on numerous occasions to wait out the toenail intrusions.

​Gravel voice. You never really notice the quality of your voice until you are forced to listen to it ad nauseam. I was shocked to discover how gravelly my voice can get. I never really thought of my voice that way, but surprise, surprise! After having the pleasure of meeting with Jazmine recently, she advised me to make sure to give the voice a rest every so often. Don’t try to record too much in one sitting. Apparently, apple juice can also help with this predicament. The only thing that made me feel better about this was listening to Carrie Fisher’s The Princess Diarist, because she had a pretty gravelly voice too. I'm no Carrie Fisher, but listening to her made me less self-conscious about my own voice.

Plain old tongue tied-ness. When editing audio, there are plenty of times when I hear myself mutter, “Oh. My. God” in frustration because I cannot seem to deliver the simplest of sentences. And if they’re not simple? Lord help me! I came to regret including the word vehemently in one of my sentences. Have you ever tried to pronounce vehemently like it’s part of your usual speech? That word alone resulted in five takes.
 
I’m sure Jazmine would be like, “Puh-lease! Try pronouncing the Indian names you included in Vegas to Varanasi, like Dashashwamedh and Manikarnika. Then we’ll talk.” Point taken.

Those are only a few of the issues I’ve encountered so far and I’m sure there will be more, so I have massive respect for those who have mastered this artform. Don’t even get me started on breath sounds or explosive pronunciation of p’s. Jazmine gave me the tip of putting two fingers in front of my lips whenever saying a word with p’s. I normally consider myself a pretty decent multi-tasker, but doubt I’ll be able to pull that one off.

All that being said, I now have a better appreciation for all that an audiobook entails and why they’re so bloody expensive. And given that I'm beyond sick of the music playlists I listen to while in my car - and on the rare occasions I make it to the gym - audiobooks are becoming a welcome change of scenery.

Teens have a lot to deal with these days, between school politics, worrying about their friendships and relationships, and social media tugging at their attention at all times. It can be overwhelming for many young people to try and cope with everything at once, and when stress takes over, teens simply don’t have the emotional maturity to handle it well. This can lead to depression and even suicidal thoughts, so it is important for parents and caregivers to take their teen’s feelings seriously.
 
Here are some of the best tips for helping your teen cope with stress and anxiety.
 
Encourage them to be active
 
Being physically active every day can help combat boredom, anxiety, and stress by elevating mood and providing a goal. Many young people find success with school or extracurricular sports, but if they aren’t athletically inclined, encourage them to get in a workout every day. Go for a walk after dinner, head to the park for a game of basketball, or play a game outside when the weather is nice.
 
Staying mentally active is also important, and there are many mental exercises that can reduce stress and anxiety. For example, forms of art therapy, such as painting or dancing, and journaling, are great options.
 
Make sure they’re getting enough sleep
 
Teenagers need at least nine hours of sleep every night, but most of them get seven or less. It’s extremely important for young people to get adequate rest in order to function well at school, and it also helps them keep control over their emotions. Mood and behavior are greatly impacted by the amount of sleep we get.
 
Communicate
 
Make sure you talk to your teen regularly about various topics. It may be hard to get them to open up sometimes, but in the long run they appreciate that their parents are trying to bond with them. Make a no-phone rule at the table and turn off the television for a bit every night so you can have a chat, or engage with them on the ride to school in the morning. Knowing their daily activities and who they spend time with can be helpful when they are having issues and need to talk.
 
It’s also important to keep your kids involved in any family decisions. Big changes at home--such as a move or divorce--can wreak havoc on a teen’s life, and stress is doubled when they feel like they are being left out.
 
Find things they love
 
Help your teen find things they enjoy doing. Having a hobby or doing something they’re really good at can help with comfort and stress relief, such as creating art, playing a musical instrument, writing, acting, working with computers and software, or cooking. Consider helping them find a hobby and trying it out with them, and remember, they will be watching to see how you react to your own successes and failures.

Dolly enjoys writing about a variety of subjects based on diligent fact-checking.  She maintains the site, Dollymath.com, where she compiles thoughtful educational articles based on her conscientious analysis of available information.

No matter how blessed your adult life may now be -- and I'm fortunate to say mine is -- sometimes you miss the carefree days of being a teen. Am I right? I'm not saying that being a teenager doesn't have its own brand of stresses and pressures, especially in today's world. But I have to admit my teen years were pretty damn awesome, at least during high school. (We won't talk about junior high.)

I'm aware that many people had childhoods/teenhoods they'd rather put behind them forever, for various reasons. However, if you were lucky enough to have a reasonably normal, trauma-free youth, I think I can safely assume you had absolutely no idea how good you had it before adult complications or the sometimes harsh realities of life set in. I most definitely fell into that category.

The '80s was the decade of my teen years, so I can't help but chuckle when I watch the following footage* of my fellow teeny-boppers (is that still a term?) dancing to Wham. I mean, look at all those shiny, happy faces! How can you watch this and not smile? Music especially has a way of transporting us back to the simpler, joyous times of our past. Back to times when you hopefully had no inkling of what kinds of challenges, worries, or sorrows life may hold.

So, would it be such a stretch of the imagination if our adult selves occasionally longed to return to such carefree days, even if such a wish was on a subconscious level? Before the days of financial responsibility, stressful workplaces, health issues -- or on occasion -- tragic loss?

Hindsight being 20/20, I've learned that such latent yearnings can prompt uncharacteristic or even ridiculous decisions. Of course we're not at all self-aware when we find ourselves in the midst of some life crisis that may be the catalyst for such choices, but surely I'm not the only one who can relate to this kind of thing.

I'm actually going somewhere with this and hope you won't be annoyed with my admission that I'm leading up to a shameless plug for my latest romantic comedy, which I released the end of April. I've been feeling kinda guilty because I didn't put as much energy into its release as I have with other books, even though I feel pretty good about how I explored the circumstance I've been speaking of as one of the plotlines in this story. But then again, like most writers I've become unusually attached to my characters as if they were real people in my life.

Anna and Luke were best friends in high school, college sweethearts, and eventually a young married couple with children -- before Luke came to terms with his homosexuality. Many years after their divorce they are still close, each of them in a committed relationship.

​I hope the following teaser with the two of them will intrigue you enough to pick up a copy of Harmony to Heartburn to discover how Luke may be suffering a similar longing for a simpler time of "blissful ignorance", which eventually drives him to an impulsive decision that turns things upside down. If you do decide to read it, please feel free to leave a review on Amazon to share your thoughts about the story and/or characters. The poor book has been stuck at seven reviews for quite some time! LOL. (By the way, the first book in the series is free!)

Okay, enough of the shameless plugging and on to the excerpt. ;)

As we settle in, I scan the audience and make a face.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Luke asks.

“If you’re thinking we’re frickin’ dinosaurs, then yes, I’m thinking what you’re thinking.”

He laughs and sets his drink in the cup holder beside him. “If it’s any consolation, you don’t look anywhere near as old as most of the people here.”

“Aww, thanks, friend. Neither do you.”

“When would you say we last saw Depeche Mode in concert? At the MGM, remember?” Luke’s voice is mellow and smooth, being on his fourth or fifth mixed drink this evening. If I wasn’t driving and didn’t have such unpredictable results from alcohol these days, I’d be right there with him.

“I’m not sure. Was that the same year we saw Duran Duran the second time? I’d guess ’94… ’95.”

Luke nods slowly in agreement. “That sounds about right. How many times have we seen Duran Duran anyway?”

“Let’s see. The first time was at Thomas and Mack when we were in high school.” I begin keeping track on my fingers. “Then that time we went to L.A. to see them at Dodger Stadium. Then didn’t we see them at the Aladdin before it became Planet Hollywood?”

“That’s right, we did.”

“And the last time was right here at House of Blues.”

“Agh!” He tips his head back. “I remember that night. Simon was off his game in the worst way.”

“That he was.”

Luke slides down in his seat and closes his eyes. “This is nice, reminiscing about old times. We’ve had a lot of fun memories together, haven’t we?”

“And tonight will be one more we can add to the list.”

I give him a friendly pat on the leg, but when I go to draw my hand away, he covers it with his and holds it there. He opens his eyes with an innocent grin before squeezing my fingers and releasing them.

Returning his smile, I take a sip of my drink.

“You were heavy into Depeche Mode for a while. I remember,” he says.

I was. I loved their broody, often sensual sound. However, a couple of songs on my cassettes I wouldn’t listen to because they creeped me out a little. “Yeah, I went through a phase where I had some serious fantasies about Dave Gahan.”

“You and me both.”

I smack him in the arm. “You did not… Wait, did you?”

“I’m kidding! I wasn’t even out to myself at that point.”

“Oh yeah. Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. That voice. And those eyes! Even though he was such a string bean.”

“Kind of a contrast from your Michael Jackson infatuation, but then you’ve always had pretty eclectic taste in music. Didn’t you say you were into Judy Garland as a kid?”

“Loved Judy Garland! There was this one radio station that played forties music in the evenings, and I used to call to request her songs. Remember the days before Spotify and YouTube, when you had to call in a request to hear a song you liked?”

Luke swallows the last of his drink before responding. “And you’d wait and wait with your cheap ass tape recorder so you could have your own copy, but it never failed. The DJ would talk through the entire opening of the song, and wouldn’t shut up until a split second before the first lyric. And then he’d do the same thing at the end. Sometimes the end was the best part, and they’d ruin it with all their yammering.”

I laugh at the accuracy of his account. “I know!” Realizing I haven’t turned the ringer off on my phone yet, I take a second to do so.

Luke notices a cocktail waitress nearby and hails her. “You want something else to drink before it starts?”

“I’ll have a water.”

He presses his lips together. “You sure? We’re gonna be here at least a couple more hours.”

I tap two fingers to my forehead, reminding him of my proneness to headaches when I drink, and the waitress leaves with our order.

“You poor baby.” He wraps an arm around me gives me a couple of warmhearted shakes. “Getting older has really sucked the fun out of one of life’s pleasures for you, huh?”

Suddenly the lights dim and the sound of skidding tires echoes throughout the place, signaling the opening of “I Feel You.” The intro music follows, colored lights flash, and the crowd cheers, however, there’s no sign of anyone on stage. The music continues for a really long time, building and building, with no hint of a band member in sight, until this den of mid-lifers is at a fever pitch that could rival a Justin Bieber concert.

Okay, maybe not quite that bad, but the excitement is contagious nonetheless.

Finally, we hear Dave Gahan’s voice and the crowd goes even crazier. The audience’s enthusiasm has definitely taken me by surprise and it’s easy to get caught up in it; Luke and I howl along with everyone else.

The first few numbers are energized. Everyone is out of their seats and we serenade one another during each song, carefree and a little ridiculous. From time to time the couple in front of us gets carried away with the public displays of affection. Their unsure footing makes it obvious they’re completely loaded, and at one point the man grabs the woman’s ass and they commence with some serious grinding while shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. Turning my back on them to face Luke, I fake a dry heave. He responds by rolling his tongue all over the place like he’s making out with an invisible partner.

“You’re disgusting!” I say.

He laughs and grabs my hips, rubbing up against me in a most intentionally awkward and unattractive way.

“Get off me, ya perv!” Good God, he has had way too much to drink!

My appalled yet amused reaction makes him laugh even more.

A half hour into the concert, the atmosphere is far more sedate as the band descends into some of its more contemplative and cheerless material not heard on the pop charts. Now we’re getting into the stuff that drew me to them so many years ago. Don’t ask me why it was so appealing. I wasn’t exactly what you would call an angsty youth, nor what is often referred to as “emo” these days, but oh how I loved their doleful sound.

Unfortunately this plaintive mood—coupled with the awareness that so many of these songs were popular during the time Luke and I were beginning our romantic relationship—sparks a wistful pull in my chest. After all these years, I still catch myself mourning for that young woman who’d thought she and Luke were on the road to a happily ever after together, and it makes no sense. I’m living a happily ever after with Kiran that’s far better than I could have ever imagined.

Maybe it’s because Luke is still so much a part of my life that I will never forget that pain, even though I stopped being in love with him a lifetime ago.

Without taking his eyes from the stage, Luke reaches for my hand again and holds it to his stomach. He and I have always shared small expressions of affection, whether it’s a hug or a quick kiss on the lips, but tonight he’s been uncharacteristically physical.

He’s absorbed in the performance, gazing straight ahead, and his skin bunches around his eyes. He almost appears anguished. Not wanting to stare, I turn my attention back to the stage but have trouble focusing on the act. For some strange reason I’m self-conscious, hesitant to even let my fingers twitch in his hand.

I must have heard this song a million times in the past, but tonight I attempt to listen to the words with Luke’s ears instead of my own. He squeezes my hand—hard, and it feels as if I’m a conduit for his discomfort, like when Carly got her ears pierced as a little girl and I held her hand.

He’s someplace else.

I have no idea why this number seems to have thrown him into an obvious funk. Something to do with him and Richard?

Leaning into him, I use my free hand to squeeze his upper arm. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

“Yes.” He looks at me briefly before returning his eyes to the stage. “Why?”

My absence of a reply goes unnoticed.
​
If I’m right and this song is a reflection of his relationship with Richard, that reflection is not good, despite his vaguely positive responses while we were in the lounge this evening.

* If you're viewing this in your email, YouTube videos may not display in the message.

Funny how back to school time elicits a variety of responses, depending on who you are. If you are a student or a teacher, I think the above meme expresses our feelings pretty well. 

Because I'm off for the summer, I've been home to witness my daughter's Netflix addiction metastasize as she transitioned into a creature of the night, so I have to admit I'm looking forward to seeing her get back into the routine of school and having some sort of purpose in life other than keeping up with the latest drama on The Fosters or Orange is the New Black.

As a teacher, feelings about starting a new school year are mixed. You (hopefully) look forward to seeing your colleagues again. (If you can't stand your colleagues -- sorry, that's a drag.) And there's this twinge of excitement about starting fresh.

"This year, I'm going to have all my students' names memorized by the end of September!" Okay, maybe that's not such an accomplishment to non-teachers. I just want to clarify that I teach middle school, which means around 160+ names to memorize. And my classes only last half the year, so at semester I do it all over again.

"This year, I'm going to greet every single student at the door every day so they all know I'm happy to see them." Until that first day when you're pulled away because a student from last period unplugged the keyboard and mouse from their computer and switched them with the one next to it, and the poor little sixth grader now trying to log in can't figure out why nothing works.

I teach 6th, 7th, and 8th grade students, which means I often have students as 7th or 8th graders that I had in 6th grade, just for a different subject. So another one I tell myself each year:
"This year I'm going to pretend like the difficult students were never difficult in the past. No self-fulfilling prophecy for me! Everyone gets a clean slate!" This one's a toughie, and I realize how tough it is when the school year hasn't even started yet and I feel myself wince at the recognition of certain names on my class lists. Will have to work on that one.
​

Then comes the joy of setting up your classroom and arranging furniture. You're excited because the carpets are clean and there's no longer evidence of when little Johnny barfed at the front of the room last year, (though that neon green piece of gum on the floor by computer 17 still remains.) You make your way to your desk to find this mess on the floor, and proceed to curse and grumble to yourself as you untangle the disaster before trying to figure out which plug goes where. This is what I was doing yesterday. But on the bright side, I remembered my login! Some poor fella new to our school stopped by my room and asked if I had any advice because he'd locked himself out of his account. Sorry, new fella! You'll have to hunt down Mr. Tech guy.

Back to school staff meetings/development... be still my beating heart! After looking at the agenda that we receive in the mail each year around this time, the schedule actually doesn't look too terribly painful, but I'm pretty sure I can speak on behalf of most teachers when I say this is the least appealing part of the process.

What I find frustratingly funny is that teachers are the worst about talking during meetings. I mean THE WORST! I get it, the meetings are usually boring as all get out. Have I wanted to slit my wrists a few times during staff development? Of course I have! But I am quiet in my discontent. I zone out and go to my little happy place if necessary, but I don't talk through the whole frickin' thing. How do people who spend their days reprimanding students who don't pay attention and talk through their lessons sit there and do the same exact thing to their colleagues? Drives. Me. Insane.

So while I'm happy that I won't be rotating through the various staff development sessions we have scheduled the Friday before school starts (because I will be presenting), I'm not happy that I will most likely have to talk over my colleagues (because I will be presenting). It's a double-edged sword for sure.

And with that, I would like to leave you with this final meme that someone tagged me in on Facebook recently, and it's soooo true. Pray for me as I embark on a new year with these little darlings we refer to as tweens, as I will pray for all the parents, teachers, and students who are readying themselves for another year. Let's make it a great one!

What are your feelings about back to school time?

I never had a burning desire to get a tattoo. In fact, it was something I said I would never do. For one thing, I consider myself a pretty big baby and avoid physical pain at any cost. Since that time, tattoos have become much more common, but they weren't something I gave much thought about.

When I got my first tattoo, it wasn't planned. I was in my early thirties and a few friends were over, and somehow the subject of getting tattoos came up. I had no idea what I wanted, and before we even left the house one of my friends said, "Get Jiminy Cricket!"

I'm not sure where he got the idea of Jiminy Cricket, but I thought, "Hmm. Why not? I've always been a huge Disney fan, and Jiminy would be cute!" Here is a current pic of Jiminy on my ankle, and as you can see he's looking pretty tired about now. (He is about fifteen years old.)

​Anyway, when we got to the tattoo parlor, one of my closest friends was being secretive about the tattoo she was getting and I was curious what all the mystery was about. I was touched to discover she had gotten an image to memorialize my daughter, who had passed away the year before -- touched, and more than a little disappointed in myself that it hadn't occurred to me to do the same. (As I said, I hadn't given this whole tattoo thing a lot of thought.) Since then, I flirted with the idea of adding to the tattoo I had to remember Sydney in some way, but nothing really worked, and I always had it in the back of my mind to come up with something that was appropriate. 

Fast forward to about thirteen years later and I'd still done nothing about another tattoo. My son was turning eighteen, and for his birthday he wanted a tattoo to memorialize his sister. This thing turned out to be pretty elaborate. If you look closely, you can see her name in one of the dog tags and the dates of her birth and passing in the other. I was so impressed by his, it once again started me contemplating if I should get some new ink and do the same. But what to get?

I don't remember how it came about -- I think maybe I was searching for some inspiration for remembrance tattoos -- but somewhere along the way I came across the perfect image. Sydney's favorite Disney movie was The Lion King. It is also one of my faves, and the best scene from that film is when Mufasa is speaking to Simba from the clouds and tells him, "Remember who you are." I've always felt that scene had multiple layers of meaning that I won't go into here. But anyway, this was the image I wanted, and I even visualized a way in which Sydney's name could be subtly drawn into the design of the cub. I'd told my son about it but never moved forward, and he continued to periodically nudge me to get it done.

​My son Quinton is turning out to be quite an ink addict, and last year the older brother of one of his friends was on leave from the Navy and treated each of them to tattoos. Hence, the birth of Spidey here on his calf. Then he went on to have ink added to the original image of the cross, with clouds, a stairway to Heaven, birds, etc.

I'm pleased to take part in Isabella Louise Anderson's cover reveal for her latest novel Cards from Khloe's Flower Shop. Isabella created the Facebook group Chick Lit Goddesses, a place where I have met some amazing women authors who generously offer their support, advice, and friendship.

I love this cover. Isn't it beautiful? Congrats on your upcoming release, Isabella! Keep scrolling to read the blurb.

Author Bio: Isabella grew up with a book in her hand, and to this day nothing has changed. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and has been featured on several blogs. While Isabella doesn’t blog a lot, she focuses her time on featuring other writers, along with working on her next book.

She created Chick Lit Goddess to share the love of the following genres: Chick Lit, Contemporary Romance, Romance, and Romantic Comedies!  She loves featuring authors and their books, and has a book business, Goddess Book Tours.Currently, she lives in Dallas with her husband. She enjoys spicy Mexican food and drinking margaritas, and can be found spending time with family and friends, cheering on the Texas Rangers, and reading.
Isabella’s short story, Meet Me Under the Mistletoe, was featured in Simon & Fig’s Christmas anthology, Merry & Bright, in November 2013. The Right Design is her first novel.

​Author Contacts:
Website/ILA
Website/CLG 
Facebook/ILA
Facebook/CLG
Twitter/ILA
Twitter/CLG
Pinterest
Snapchat username: mrsanderson1981 

Find the books:
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Goodreads

There's no question a belief in God would come in handy. It would be great to think there's a plan, and that everything happens for a reason. I don't happen to believe that. And every time one of my friends says to me, "Everything happens for a reason," I would like to smack her. --Nora Ephron

This past week when I was on Facebook, I began seeing multiple posts from someone I used to work with--I'll call her Mary--in which she was sharing photos of her two-year-old son. Mary is not someone I see often on FB, however occasionally she posts pics of her children, and when I began seeing these pictures of her son more frequently, I thought nothing of it. I simply "liked" them for their amazing cuteness, and since there were no descriptions accompanying them, I scrolled on down to the next item. Then yesterday I was absolutely horrified to see her tagged in a post by one of her friends which explained that Mary had tragically lost her son in an accident.

I am sixteen years out from losing my own child to leukemia, so my first instinct was to reach out to Mary and try to offer some words of comfort. Ultimately I did offer her an ear if she needs one, but really, what kind of comfort can I possibly offer? She and her husband are in the deepest, blackest of holes, enduring the worst emotional pain a person can endure, and honestly, what do I know of her grief? Sure, I know more than most people because I've also lost a child. But what do I really know of her personal grief and the loss she has suffered? I don't know what it's like to lose a child in the manner Mary lost her precious little boy.

I would like to tell her that, for some time, her older child will be the only thing that gets her out of bed each day, so she should be exceedingly grateful to still have her; not that her daughter can in any way serve as a replacement for her beautiful boy, but she will give Mary a reason for living. Because in truth, on most of the days immediately ahead of her, she won't want to live.

Then I stop and think, "Grateful? She should be grateful?" That's about as dumb-ass a sentiment as saying everything happens for a reason.

I clearly remember a day a few years after my daugher passed away, when I received a phone call from a friend who was close to hysterics. Through sobs, she shared how her daughter had been killed in a car accident. Someone blew through a stop sign, slamming into their car and her daughter was thrown from the vehicle. She didn't know what to do. She needed me to tell her how to get through, how she was going to survive her loss. I was the only person she knew who could tell her, and there was such urgent desperation in her voice. I'm sure those weren't her exact words, but that was the gist of her plea.

I was dumbfounded, speechless, paralyzed by my ineptitude. There simply were no words, only my heart shredding into a million little pieces for my friend. I'm sure I must have offered some empty platitudes, but really, what can one say except, "I'm sorry, and I'm here for you"?

Everything happens for a reason. I believed that once. I don't anymore. Well, I guess it all depends on what day you ask me, but I certainly never say it aloud these days. And I mean no disrespect to those who do believe that, or think that God has a plan. Everyone is entitled to their beliefs. I still have a strong belief in God; I'm just not so sure He plays such an active hand in our lives as we'd like to think. Yes, God is good, but prayers go unanswered all the time, and the idea that He answers the prayers of some and not others doesn't sit well with me. I do know life can be cruel, and the older I get, I personally feel it's all a crap shoot. Everyone thinks that losing a child, or experiencing some other calamity, is something that happens to other people but never to you. Until it happens to you.

I've wasted years of my life mired in the "why's" and can't help but slip back into them when something like this happens. Each time I see another picture or video of Mary's little boy, whose life was cut much too short, there's this screaming in my head. "WHY?????" We see countless memes online about how adversity only makes us stronger. I say screw that noise. There may be some truth in the adversity/strength argument, but I can guarantee you that Mary would much rather have her darling angel by her side than any strength she will gain from such devastating loss.

When David Bowie died a few months ago, I came across several posts in which bloggers expressed the significance of his music in their lives. Though I have several of my own Bowie favorites, and like everyone else was shocked by his passing, his music was never really a powerful part of my life.

However, the loss of Prince... this one hits hard.

I vaguely remember some of his hits from when I was a kid, "I Wanna Be Your Lover" standing out in my mind. I would have been eleven or twelve, and I distinctly recall the first time I saw his face on an album cover in Warehouse Records. It wouldn't be until high school that I became a fan, but something about the face on that cover drew my attention and I was intrigued by his androgynous looks. Despite the hair on his chest and the mustache, he gave off an unmistakable feminine vibe.

About three years later, other singles were making the charts such as "1999", "Little Red Corvette", and "Delirious", all of which I liked but he was still kind of under my radar for the most part.

Then Purple Rain happened. O...M...G! Don't get me wrong, I fully realize that one of the main reasons the album Purple Rain had such an impact on me was because of its timing. It came out right as I started high school, and this thing was huge. And honestly, if it wasn't for the movie--that cheesy ass movie--I don't know if I would have ever become the Prince fan I became.

I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure I didn't buy the album until after I saw the film. The music on that soundtrack was so different than anything else I'd heard. Purple Rain made me take a closer look at Prince, and I was hooked.

Those who knew me in high school know I was kinda reserved and modest, at least compared to the theater crowd I ran with. I recall being at a party, all of us watching that movie, and the heat rising to my face during a particularly racy scene. And the number "Darling Nikki"? That was a seriously naughty song!

But I think my favorite song from the album is "The Beautiful Ones". I will always remember the scene when he sings to Apollonia while Morris Day sits beside her, asking her to choose between the two of them. What girl would not die to have the man she loves sing those words to her? And the passion with which he sang it....Drool! (If you don't feel like watching the whole thing, forward to 3:20.)

So yeah, his music was a huge part of my youth and high school memories. And because of Prince, Morris Day's music was kind of big there for a while. Below is a picture of me and friends at the Hawaiian Dance in 1985, where we danced our little tushies off to "Jungle Love" by Morris Day and the Time. That's me in the bottom right.

One thing I am very thankful for is I did have the opportunity to see him live about fifteen years ago. Tickets to his concert were the most I'd ever paid to see anyone, and my friend and I ended up having to leave a little early because I was experiencing girl cramps that night that nearly had me on my knees. (Stupid girl cramps!) But anyway, I didn't really know what to expect from him in concert. Because he was so reserved, I always wondered if that reservedness was arrogance, and half expected him to have a bit of an attitude on stage. Not the case. He was one of the most gracious performers I've ever seen, and I feel blessed that I was given the experience of his music live.

So I'd like to thank him for being part of  the wonderful memories of my youth I will forever hold dear, and for gifting the world with his brilliance.

​Goodnight, sweet Prince.

After publishing this post, I had to add this clip from the Jimmy Fallon Show in which he shares his experience playing ping pong with Prince. This is a must see. The good part starts around 6:00. :)

First Round - Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus
My family helped me choose this song and come up the concept of the performance. They were the ones who thought I should be sitting on one of the big bouncy balls. It was my idea to enlist two of my students to join me so I could beat the crap out of them with it. Heh heh. I thought I had the version where the music track was placed over the original sound, but I was mistaken. You can totally hear the boys cracking up in this.

Second Round - Single Ladies by Beyonce
This one is my favorite of the three. I love how our TV production teacher, who is the backup dancer on the left, made the video resemble Beyonce's by making it black and white. And the comic relief my colleagues provided with their dancing is absolutely priceless. It will be tough to top this one next year if you ask me.

Final Round - Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars
This one is my least favorite, simply because we tried to go too big by moving through the building, so with all the splicing that was required, the music track doesn't match the video. Bummer. However, the kids are super cute! Pay special attention to the little guy in the red shirt on the left at the end of the video. The dude's got some moves!

Thanks for reading! To return to the FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP on Julie Valerie’s website, click here: http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-mar-2016

I've finally finished the third book in the Fortytude series and it will be heading to my magnificent proofreader Wendy Janes in April. Unfortunately, this one took me a little longer to complete than anticipated, so I'm excited to release.

One of the funnest parts of releasing a new book is creating a playlist to go along with it. I've always enjoyed including musical references in my novels, and Harmony to Heartburn — whose release is scheduled for May-ish — is no exception. (If you'd like to read the book's description, just go to my Home Page.)

In this post I've included little teasers related to each selection. I'd love to know which song is your fave!

     “I’d like to thank everyone for coming tonight,” Carly begins. “Dad, Richard… Jason and Claire have prepared a little duet for the two of you to celebrate your anniversary, and we hope you enjoy it.” She bends over to speak to Claire. “Go ahead, sweetie.”
     Then my musically brilliant granddaughter begins to play. It takes me a few moments to recognize the melody is “A Thousand Years”—that song from one of the Twilight movies. She performs flawlessly for about a minute or so when her dad takes over on the keys and she begins singing the words. Granted, her singing isn’t nearly as good as her playing, but her innocent voice coupled with her father on the piano is quite simply one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.
     Luke and Richard are still as statues, tightly gripping each other’s hand with their sights on Claire. Soon their eyes are moistening, along with my own. As I scan the room, there is not a dry eye in the place. Guests are wiping their faces, sniffling and chuckling with embarrassment.
     When the lyrics are over, Jason relinquishes the keys to Claire, and the room is spellbound by the notes coming forth from those tiny fingers. Though I’ve heard her play many times, I always seem to forget how truly gifted she is.
     At last, the song ends and everyone applauds as Luke makes a beeline for Claire and scoops her into his arms.
     “Happy Anniversary, Poppy,” she says. “I kind of messed up on some of the words.”
     “You were perfect, Claire Bear,” Luke answers. Richard stands beside them and smooths her hair with a trembling hand, and immediately lowers it to his side. Then there’s this weird moment when they’ve become aware I’m watching. Though Richard looks downward, Luke meets my eyes with a pained gaze before setting Claire down.

     We’ve been listening to Hindi music all evening, but the selection now playing happens to be a particularly sensual instrumental with a slow heady combination of drums, violin, and sitar.
     We stand face to face, but say nothing. As his fingers lightly skim my shoulder and run down the length of my arm, he briefly scans my body from head to toe. My breath comes heavier and I wonder why I suddenly feel like a teenager about to be kissed for the first time.
     His hand takes its time finding its way around my waist, his fingertips gently pressing into the small of my back. While I wrap my arm around his shoulder, Kiran’s other hand collects mine and leads it to his chest, holding it there. His every movement is mindful, deliberate, as his eyes focus on mine; though occasionally his gaze strays to my hair, my mouth.
     I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as cherished as I do in this moment, and the simple act of swallowing becomes difficult. Slowly we begin to move to the music, and though there are still several inches separating our bodies, there’s an exhilarating heat in my belly pleading with me to move closer.
     I don’t. As long as I’m the object of such adoration, I’m unable to.

*This song has a really long opening -- too long, IMO -- but it was my inspiration while writing this scene. Jump to about two minutes in.*

     Seth sees us from the opposite end of the room and waves us over, and I can’t help but admire the dancing skills of some of the couples as we make our way toward him. That’s when I spot Dad dancing with the woman I assume Seth was referring to, and he’s surprisingly good. Watching the two of them instead of where I’m going, I bump into someone’s table and apologize for being so clumsy.
     “I am so sorry, Anna!” Gretchen jumps out of her seat when we reach their table. “This is all my fault.”
     “Oh please! Don’t apologize for including him in your plans. I’m still not even sure if I should be here, but I didn’t want you guys feeling like he was your responsibility.”
     “Well, if it makes you feel any better, he’s not behaved… inappropriately with this woman.” Gretchen peers past me. “He’s just having a good time.”
     Aghhh! I do not want to be here having this conversation. Mom and Dad are “on a break,” and I don’t even know what the ground rules are for this break.
     “But this woman,” she continues. “It’s obvious she’s into your dad.”
​     Seth scrunches his face and looks behind him to see if Dad has noticed me yet. He hasn’t. He’s now doing some kind of shimmy thing with his shoulders that looks nothing like salsa, and the woman circles him, trailing her fingers over his arms, his back. Definitely not something I’m up for viewing.

     While I chat with Carly and Geena, Kiran has been enjoying drinks with his father and Seth. When Geena looks past me and her eyes grow large, naturally I turn to see what has drawn her attention. Kiran now stands at the karaoke machine, touching the screen to scroll through the list of songs.
     “Umm…” I’m at a loss for words at first, trying to take in what I’m seeing. Kiran’s been known to let his guard down after a few cocktails, but this I would never have anticipated. “Is he trying to find a song for someone else? Or is he actually going to sing?”
​     Geena gives no reply, her mouth slightly parted in what I can only assume is shock.
     As the music begins, it’s clear that he has no intention of handing the microphone over to someone else. After clearing his throat he offers the room a wide, intoxicated grin.
     “Oh my God. He’s really going to do it.” Mechanically, I bring my glass to my lips.
     In old Rat Pack style, he holds his drink in one hand and the mic in the other as he begins his serenade, eyes on me. “Some-day, when I’m aw-ful-ly low…”
     A sip of wine gets trapped in my mouth as I slowly blink at Gina, and I’m afraid to swallow it. Her face is just hilarious, as I’m sure is mine.

​     Luke slides down in his seat and closes his eyes. “This is nice, reminiscing about old times. We’ve had a lot of fun memories together, haven’t we?”
     “And tonight will be one more we can add to the list.”
     I give him a friendly pat on the leg, but when I go to draw my hand away, he covers it with his and holds it there. He opens his eyes with an innocent grin before squeezing my fingers and releasing them.
     Returning his smile, I take a sip of my drink.
     “You were heavy into Depeche Mode for a while. I remember,” he says.
     I was. I loved their broody, often sensual sound. However, a couple of songs on my cassettes I wouldn’t listen to because they creeped me out a little. “Yeah, I went through a phase where I had some serious fantasies about Dave Gahan.”
     “You and me both.”
     I smack him in the arm. “You did not... Wait, did you?”
     “I’m kidding! I wasn’t even out to myself at that point.”
     “Oh yeah. Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. That voice. And those eyes! Even though he was such a string bean.”

Add to your To Read list on Goodreads. :)