I tripped in front of Barnes & Noble

Challenge of the Month: Adventures in the month of March

There are many ways to make a brilliant first impression-shake someones hand firmly or wink at a hottie. Unfortunately, when you are 6'2, all legs, sometimes you can do neither of those things.

I went shopping with a dark haired man who seriously left me breathless. He took me to Toys R US on our date. No joke, we roamed the store shooting dart guns at each other and laughing until we snorted. We snuck comic books into a plastic fort and ate licorice. It was the most random date I have been on and I couldn't get enough of the bloke.

We then high tailed it to Barnes and Noble. I should've been looking at the curb but nooo, I had to glance up and smile at his insanely long hair. Before I had a second to think, I tripped over the curb. My date tried to break my fall but his efforts were useless.

My knees buckled and I all-out collapsed to the ground. As if that wasn't enough, my body somehow slide on the ice like I was gliding into first base.

The word mortified couldn't even describe my emotions. I mean, customers couldn't come out of the store because my body was blocking the entryway.

All I could do was erupt with laughter. His smile was devilish as he helped me stand up. I brushed the injury off because let's face it, I always trip but my date was an EMT. He somehow convinced the store to grab their first aid kit.
He then whisked me to a chair and rolled up my leggings to inspect the knee.

I sat there staring at the dark haired hottie while he applied antibiotics and band aids to my super-sick open wound. His fingers moved fluently and he even blew on my knee. At that moment, I couldn't stop smiling at him. I noticed the way that his tongue poked at his cheek when nervous.

He didn't make me feel like a fool. No, he kissed me on the forehead and helped me stand.

My knee stung like no other but my heart seemed free.

Yep, it's official-I adore March.

A Valentine's Story

February Challenge of the Month: A Valentine's Short Story

Warning: This story might just be true but I'll never say for sure

My ex-boyfriend used to call me his hood-girl. I loathed the phrase. Every time he uttered the words I was reminded of my lot in life, which must be why he didn't last long. No one wants to be reminded of what is lacking in their lives.

Whether the ex stuck around or not, he had a point. You cannot escape your past. I am and always will be the daughter of a loon. My parents divorced when I was eight. As a teenager, my father would pick me and brother's up for dinner. I always wanted to go to Denny's to see the hott server. Instead, my father would cook up a vat of SpagettiO's and we would eat in the parking lot of Albertson's. The chill of the snow was nothing compared to the chill in his station wagon.

I am what the ex said, a hood-girl.

There is a certain pride that comes when dealing with poverty. The more you struggle, the more you gain in confidence. You know that the worst will never faze you because the worst has already happened. And so, you venture out in the world ready for anything.

I can handle gunfire and death threats. I can even handle the hunger of wanting something more but I cannot handle him-- Zack. The obnoxiously hot guy who lives on the hill. His mansion is nestled between two large oak trees that have been around almost as much as his families money.

Zack wakes up in the morning and gazes out the window only to see a man-made waterfall and hundreds of tulips planted by his gardener. I wake up to the scenery of a brick wall and green trash cans. Our daily panorama is completely different but that doesn't matter. When we are together all we see is each other.

Every year we struggle with the same debate-how to handle Valentine's Day.

Zack was raised where the man brings flowers to their lover. I was raised where flowers are what you lay on the caskets of the dead.

A fancy dinner dance is out of the question because he can jig-it-out to all sorts of complicated dances, I cannot. I accidentally stamp on his feet with no rhythm whatsoever.

And so, we are caught in the middle of a tug of war between the privileged and the poor. Neither of us can understand the other. I am completely okay with not celebrating Valentine's day but Zack won't have it. Every year his family hosts a massive soiree at his mansion. After a week of constant debating, I nearly give up on the bloke. Strangely, Cupid throws a miracle our way. Zack begins to see the world through my eyes.

Valentine's Day could have been a nightmare but he saw things differently. He picked me up in his Cadillac. I tugged at my navy blue boots, wishing they were Prada, not Payless. I am nervous as all get up, until I see the pot of beef ravioli sitting between us. We pull into the local market, I smile up at him, realizing he has sacrificed more than his dignity to sit here with me.

The passerby's walk swiftly to get their groceries. They don't even notice us through the tinted windows. This is what I am used to, this is my world.

Zack hands me plate and dishes out a serving of ravioli. He smiles in a sexily sly sort of way and says, "I got you flowers and you didn't even know it."

"I don't smell any flowers," I said.

Zack ran his hands through his long brown hair, "They are in the ravioli-rose hip sauce, a family recipe."

There are no words to say as I munched on the divine dinner. We come from two different worlds, his Sunday dinner's are a formal affair. Mine are spent hoping that my drug addict Uncle doesn't burp mid-prayer.

I guess you can mesh two different worlds together.

I learned a valuable lesson that night with Zack. Your history doesn't define you. It mold's you into the person you are today. Cherish your past, so that you can cherish others.

My twilight loving sister knocked out a Harry Potter fan

Before I forget, we are pleased to announce that Jennifer Beckstrand, (Amish romance author) will be guest posting for Janiel on Friday. I personally cannot wait!

This winter season has been all about moving. My parents moved into a charming cottage with a winding driveway over Thanksgiving. Of course a Holiday in my family cannot be met without drama. And the major scuffle was between my two sister-in-laws.

I mean the holidays are stressful enough but when you add moving into the mix something horrid happens between clashing personalities. Okay, so here's the dirt.

One of my sister-in-laws is a MAJOR Twilight fan and the other prefers Harry Potter. She even named her pet bird Dumbledore.

So, while I am helping my brother move the sofa, the Harry Potter lover begins dissing Twilight and how it's a book about finding a boyfriend and not a real novel-blah, blah. The Twilight lover goes postal. She begins flicking her nails in the air and cussing.

My brother drops his end of the sofa as I go careening to the wood floor. The fight is on. All I hear is a mash-up of words between the two, "Kristin Stewart, goblins, J.K.--shut the crap up."

My Harry-Potter-loving-sister lunges at Mrs. Twilight. This is the clash of two fandoms. One has a bloody nose, the other a ripped shirt.

Sadly, neither of them won because they ended of breaking my mom's beloved Santa candy dish. And a fight between Harry Potter and Twilight now means nothing because no one messes with my mom and her Santa decorations.

The good news- the dish was salvaved and so was Mrs. Twilight and H.P. Lover's sisterly bond. The two had to take a glass making class together to salvage the sucker and I got to be their referee. JOY to the world.

My family is dysfunctional and more

Challenge of the Month: Crazy Turkey Day adventure

Most Thanksgivings are filled with food, family and sometimes, fighting. For me, its not a Holiday if the cops aren't called. As my brother says, "We put the fun in dysfunctional."

Let me give you the dirt. A Holiday usually starts with a 10 minute prayer given by my father, who rambles on and on. And just when my eyelids are as heavy as an anvil, my Aunt interrupts him and says, "Oh, just shut up already."

And thus the chaos starts.

I usually plop down in the best seat in the living room-a purple plushy chair near the fire place. I can watch the madness perfectly from my cozy perch as I nibble on my Southern cornbread.

My Uncle, who has one singed eyebrow from deep frying the turkey, carves into the hunk of meat. Okay, normal enough but did I mention he carves the turkey with brand new scissors? Yep, he's on probation and can't use a knife. I smile at his persistence. He knows Thanksgiving is important to my Aunt (his wife) so he focuses on making each slice of meat look beautiful on the plastic red plates.

My other uncle, who is a recovering addict, helps my lil cousin put green olives on his toes. My cousin giggles repeatedly at the frog toes.

All the while, my Aunts and Uncles try to get the other riled up by calling each other majorly dirty words. I mean, words I wouldn't even call my worst enemy.

My Auntie opens a can of beer and burps, while my triplet cousins yammer on and on about some Disney Channel movie. Normal as normal can be until the neighbor-guest begins to pontificate about something that doesn't even matter at the moment, which really riles up my Auntie.

The neighbor and my Auntie get into a heated argument and the neighbor has no idea what tornado he has walked into-Sure, my relatives may seem cruel to other but that's because they are family. They can diss each other but if any outsider disrespects my family, they get eaten alive.

Needless to say, the neighbor gets thrown out of the house, which pissed my dad off. And then all I hear is a slew of cuss words flowing out of the mouth of my Aunts and Uncles. They all combat each other with words as the turkey is passed down a long table.

To me, the madness is calming because underneath all the angst is an understanding-these crazy, dysfunctional relatives would have back in any situation that would scare most people.

Sure, I had a ridiculous upbringing. At age 8, I learned how to pickpocket. When I was a gawky teenager, I could pick a lock with 2 bobby pins. But there has also been goodness, through my dear fam I have also learned how to battle my nasty lil demons. Most importantly, I have learned loyalty, which is the best gift. I'll take the dysfunction any day.

Embarrassing moment alert

October Challenge: Halloween month adventures

This week was my step dad's 60th birthday and the one thing he asked from me was to head out of town and hit fruit stand way.

He expected a purely country experience where we browsed though side street produce stands and heard the crunch of Fall leaves on the ground. His eyes shined as he talked about his picturesque weekend where the family sipped apple cider on a porch, listened to nothing but the quietness of the mountains. Unfortunately, what he got was the exact opposite of his wish.

Sure, we drove up the mountains and enjoyed the cool fall weather but we also got a flat tire. No biggie. My date, who was a country boy from the deep South, helped fix the flat. I was completely baffled that this bloke was mine and began to pace the asphalt. I stared at the trace of black smudged all over his cheek and thought, "Oh, yeah, this dude has earned his bonus points-changing a flat, spending time with my 'rents."

So, instead of watching my footing, I get distracted as my mom begins screaming, like she has a squirrel in her shirt.

And instead of acting cool and just glancing around to see what was up, I began screaming as well. Me and nature so don't mix.

My mom's hands are shaking and she says, "Skunk, look out."

But she's too late, I end up tripping over the skunk and as a sweet gift to my sorry-butt the lil animal emitted his nasty smell all over me.

The skunk tottered off and at this point, I am shocked. I stand there with my mouth open and staring at everyone's grossed out faces.

My mom glances at the fixed SUV and says, "You smell like someone wiped cow dung all over you."

I cannot stop giggling as I say, "Really? I thought I smell like lavender and cake."

I then get delegated to the back of the SUV by the groceries, produce and etc. My long legs are crammed and I am sitting on a flashlight. I smell like cow dung, as my mom repeatedly reminds me. I am as uncomfortable as a hobbit in a hatbox.

With a sigh, I wipe the dirt off my legs. I lean to my left and rest my head on the seat in front of me. To my surprise, hott country guy turns and faces me. He places his calloused hand on my arm and wipes the hair out of my face.

There are no thoughts of skunks or flat tires, I feel rejuvenated and calm.

Needless to say, Fall is my new fave season-thanks to a country boy from the deep South.

Fight for your dream

September challenge: Back to School

Lets be honest- when chasing your dream you're gonna have to fight for what you want.

For the past two years, I have had nothing but conflict circle around my writing dream. My family wants me to go back to college and focus on social work. And I get their confusion. I'll be the first to admit in high school I used my English class as a personal siesta hour.

I think that's why I am so grateful for my blogging and writing friends. They support and cheer you on like other. A big thank you to ya'll!

So, how do you fight for what you want when others believe its the wrong path. I learned from my writing teacher, you listen but in the end, you have to do what makes you happy. Focus on the love of the game-whether is be writing, painting or sports. The rest will work itself out with hard work.

I think Shaun White (2-time Olympic gold medalist snowboarder) summed it up best. In Vogue Magazine, he said, "It's funny because everybody asks me what I'm thinking about when I'm dropping in. And the thing is, I'm about to do something really focused. You don't hear anything. You don't think about anything. It just naturally happens."

Let your dream naturally happen. There's gonna be conflict but in the end, the struggle will be worth it.

Author Interview! With a REAL author! Caleb Warnock: Part 2

*Big announcement

Caleb Warnock, our Literary God-Like Instructor, has released his first book, the Forgotten Skills of Self-Sufficiency. And lemme tell you, this book is definitely a good read because of the incredible skills it teaches you.

When opening this book, you are immeditely taken aback by the stunning photos. This man lives in paradise. Yummy food, vibrant colors and all.

Secretly, I've always wanted to have a bit of Martha Stewart-like qualities. But alas, where she uses her kitchen to whip up a good meal, I use mine as an operating room to extract BB gun pellets (more on that another day.)

Caleb's book has helped me get even closer to my goal of self-sufficiency. And trust me, if I can attempt the skills in his book, anybody can. And the recipes are divine. His succulent slow roasted vegetables are delectable.

This man is a genius, in writing and in life. He's one of the few people that can look me in the eye and tell me that I am full of crap. He's also someone who can make me dig down deep and try harder. You are in great hands with this person.

Below is a clip Janiel made of our venture into Caleb's garden. You'll see his stunning garden full of things like stevia and Jerusalem artichokes. You will also meet his dog and darling chickens (which you can try to name and win a free copy of Mr. Warnock's book.) Read Maegan's post for more details. (Its right below mine)

This video is rare - you get a one millisecond shot of moi. Caleb offers us gnomeslayers a piece of fig and I (in typical fashion) cuss.

In this video, we see a few more plants and the neighbor horse and Janiel has to calm my sorry-butt down.

Author Interview! With a REAL Author! And a Contest! Caleb Warnock: Part 1

That was the intrepid Janiel, reporting from Caleb Warnock's chicken coop. The Gnome Slayers owe a lot to Caleb, not the least being that we first met each other in his writing class. To celebrate the publication of his first book, FORGOTTEN SKILLS OF SELF-SUFFICIENCY USED BY THE MORMON PIONEERS, the three of us invaded his back yard with a video camera. We discovered that not only does he know a whole heck of a lot about writing, he also knows a whole heck of a lot about gardening. And Eqyptian walking onions. And exploding eggs.

We're so excited for Caleb's book to come out, we're going to be celebrating all week! Oh yeah, and we're also giving away a free copy, signed by the author. We each got our own signed copies too, so we can honestly say that the book is awesome! And user-friendly. And full of pretty, pretty pictures that Caleb took himself.

We learned in that last video that Caleb has 33 chickens. That's a lot of chickens, folks. And they all need names. Russo and I named three of them, as you will see in a later episode, but there's still 30 left. So if you would like your very own, signed copy of THE FORGOTTEN SKILLS OF SELF-SUFFICIENCY USED BY THE MORMON PIONEERS, just leave a name for one of Caleb's chickens in the comments on any post this week. Leaving a comment on more than one post means you have more than one chance to win. But you must leave a chicken name in your comment in order for it to count as an entry. We will announce a winner via random drawing next Monday. Easy enough, right?

Here's more about the book from Caleb's blog:

7/25/11– Provo, Utah -- Journalist Caleb Warnock announces the Aug. 8 2011 release of his book, “Forgotten Skills of Self-Sufficiency Used by the Mormon Pioneers,” on pre-sale now at Amazon.com.

Many people dream of becoming self-reliant during these times of fluctuating prices and uncertain job security. Using truly simple techniques, you can cultivate the pioneer's independence to provide safety against lost wages, harsh weather, economic recession, and commercial contamination and shortages. Strengthen your family's self-reliance as you discover anew the joy of homegrown food, thrift, and self-sufficient living.

Using truly simple techniques, homestead families harvested sweet, crisp carrots out of the snow-blanketed garden soil in December. They raised robust summer vegetables without expensive seed catalogs or nurseries. They created spectacular flower gardens at no cost. They ate fresh out of the garden twelve months a year, a skill that has now all but vanished. Their self-sufficiency provided security against lost wages, harsh weather, economic depression and recession, and commercial contamination and shortages.

Today, that kind of family security and self-reliance has never been more appealing. Many of the pioneer techniques are now lost to the general population. I was lucky enough to grow up in the kitchens and gardens of the last generation to provide family meals without relying on the grocery store. They managed their family budgets by putting to work centuries of received wisdom about food and self-sufficient living. My book teaches the reader just how simple and fulfilling the path to increased self-reliance can be, along with the pleasure of eating fresh garden produce with robust, homegrown flavor twelve months of the year.

This is not a book about bottling peaches or digging a root cellar. This book begins to overcome the myth that self-reliant living is practical only for up-before-dawn farmers or green-thumb gardeners with huge yards and no social life. The reality is that self-sufficiency need not be elaborate, time-consuming, or back-breaking. Any modern family can be strengthened by discovering these forgotten skills:

Growing Hardy and Perennial Vegetables: From Egyptian walking onions to self-seeding lettuce and spinach which thrives in below-freezing temperatures, our ancestors knew how to benefit their families with vigorous strains of garden goods. The early homesteaders ate fresh corn on the cob long after snow covered the ground and homegrown tomatoes at Thanksgiving -- with flavor beyond anything offered in today’s grocery stores.

Home-Grown Garden Seed: How did the pioneers garden without relying on seed catalogs and nurseries? Open-pollinated seed in the garden is the vegetable equivalent of wheat in food storage. My book explains the pioneer seed bank, the pros and cons of open-pollinated and hybrid garden seed, and a new effort now underway to revive it.

Eat Fresh in Winter: Following in the footsteps of the settlers, savvy modern gardeners can store their carrots, onions, parsnips, turnips, and beets over winter by leaving them exactly where they grew in the garden, or by using their garage!

Fresh Eggs: Taking a Second Look: Eggs were among the most valued homegrown pioneer foods. My book discusses how the backyard chicken coop disappeared, and why many cities, petitioned by residents, are allowing them once again. What every family should know when considering whether a few backyard hens might be right for them.

Baking with Pioneer Yeast: Learn about the health and nutrition benefits of baking with pioneer yeast instead of commercial quick-rise yeasts. Learn how bread was made for thousands of years before yeast was every sold in a grocery store.

Forgotten Recipes : Delicious hunger-gap omelets, roast vegetables, winter pioneer treats, family-pleasing meals entirely from the garden and storeroom, heritage recipes, and more.

Caleb Warnock is a full-time journalist and have been working for a central Utah daily newspaper for the past ten years. He has won more than 20 awards for journalism and creative writing, including the Utah Arts Council Original Writing Contest, the David O. McKay Essay Contest, and voted top reporter in Utah. His freelance publications range from articles on wolf-watching in Yellowstone to backyard poultry-keeping to perennial gardening. He has published several true stories about his ancestors in the Friend magazine. Caleb is a full-time journalist for Provo's Daily Herald.

"Forgotten Skills of Self-Sufficiency Used by the Mormon Pioneers" is available at bookstores everywhere, in addition to Walmart and Costco stores, and Amazon.com. Caleb Warnock can be reached at cwarnock@heraldextra.com.

"Forgotten Skills of Self-Sufficiency Used by the Mormon Pioneers" by Caleb Warnock

Cedar Fort Publishers

$16.99, available Aug. 8 2011

Fire works and physical therapy

For the past year, I have been in physical therapy with my foot. I have a screw holding my arch together-an injury brought on by my own stubbornness.

This week while grinding it out with my therapist he said the most fascinating quote. Maybe it will help you in your journey toward your dream.

After an excruciating day with weights, he stared at me and said, "It's not happening because you want it too much. Just stop for a moment and breathe."

Which got me thinking, how often to we push for our wishes to happen the way we want it to?

Sure our dreams require us to have an absolute drive toward the goal. But what would happen if every now and then we took a step back and breath. Allow the dream to have some air.

This is my example of wanting something so badly and then finally taking a step back. Its written with my grandma in mind.

As a little girl I wanted to see the fireworks with you. Bask in their splendor while listening to the pops and booms all around us. You, in your moccasins, me, in my pigtails and tights. But wishes never come true when you want them desperately.

You passed away before I ever got my wish. For twenty-one years bouquets of fire have flashed in the night sky. Some Independence Days were rainy, others were sweltering hot. Year after year, I wished you were near me.

And just when I had laid to rest my burning desire, you surprised me.

On the Fourth of July 2011, I sit on a blanket across the street from your grave. The crickets chirp and the air is warm. I didn't drive to this spot but somehow, I am here.

My dearest friend smiles wildly and says, "See, I told you this was the perfect place to watch fireworks."

No words would form as I stared at your headstone. I got my wish, just not in the way I had planned.

*And so my friends, the lesson is simple. Just stop for a moment and breath. Everything will work out in time. Until that day, just breath.

PS- We have an amazing caption contest going on right now- want some cool prizes? Just check out Maegan's post (it's right below mine) She'll fill you in with the details.

Whip your dream into shape

June Challenge: What to do when your story isn't cooperating

Robert Frost once said, "No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No joy in the writer, no joy in the reader."

The dude is right-when chasing a dream there is gonna be a complete mash-up of joy and tears.
Chasing a dream is like life. You can plan all you want but sometimes crap happens. Let's be honest, going for what you want is life is a big risk. One that is thrilling, scary and at times, draining.

What I am learning is the end result of your dream isn't what matters. Sure, publication, an Olympic medal, whatever you pursue is incredible. But that moment is a little bit away. Right now you have to focus on the what you can do within the next 24 hours to reach your goal. The trick is to focus on how you chase your dream. Pursue your passion with absolute purpose.

When I first started writing a typical day went as this- Listen to music, begin thinking of the emotion in the story, curse loudly, write for 2 hours, curse again, stare at the computer in absolute angst for 5 minutes. When I finished stewing, I began the process all over again.

Now, granted I still curse (to my momma's dismay) when I make a mistake. Now, I am taking a cue from the athletes I research- have a short term memory. When you chase a dream you are gonna make mistakes. And you for sure are gonna get frustrated. How can you not get frustrated when you are hungry for success. You want the dream more than anything.

I've learned the trick in pursuing your dream is all about the short term memory. Learn from your mistakes and forget the losses and rejection.

Because in truth, anything you have to do to get to your dream is worth the struggle.

April Fool's Intervention

April Fool's Day and chasing your dream don't really mesh well. And that's a good thing because you, as a dreamer are giving your all toward your passion. The month of April allows you the chance to breathe and relax for a moment. Enjoy the silliness because it will refresh you.

With that said, lemme give you the April Fool's Day dirt- I have done some devilish pranks. Way back in the day, I had my pregnant sister pee on a pregnancy test. I then left the stick on the counter for my ex with a note that said, "You'll be a great father-NOT." Yep, I learned the hard way that you don't mess with men by giving them a pregnancy scare.

This year, I got my own comeuppance. Have you ever watched the show called Intervention on A & E? Today my family pulled an intervention on me. Lemme give you the dirt, my mom invited me over for dinner at Red Lobster. And I stupidly, came to dinner in my new super hero-style leather boots with sparkly beret. My family sits me down in the living room and says, "Russo, we love you but you have a problem."

My heart raced like a hummingbird on speed. My family has been down this path with me. Not but ten years ago, I was a coked-out mess.

I evenly stared my mom in the eyes and said, "Are you kidding me? I'm clean. I'll go take urine test right now."

My brother has tears in his eyes as he says, "You're addicted to hand sanitizer."

Strangely, my family is semi serious. Everyone is staring at me waiting for me to speak. I have no words. At this moment, I'm baffled, my eyes are blinking rapidly.

My mom, no joke, says in a calm voice, "I'm serious, you apply hand sanitizer every 30 minutes. You reek of rubbing alcohol. You have a problem."

At this point I am baffled. I began laughing so hard that my eyeliner is running into my mouth. I mean, I am the girl who once took so many pills that my lymph nodes just ached. I evenly stared at my parents and said, "I'm sorry but ya'll are worried that I over-do my germ protection?My, oh my, how things have changed."

Yep, this year, its official. I loathe April Fool's Day- I vote that it be banished from the calender. But then again, super silliness might just be our muse. Something to inspire us while on the road toward our dream.

Revenge-Is it worth it?

March Challenge of the Month: Green

What a vast subject. I could really take the topic of green anywhere. Money, leafy hash. Nah, those are obvious choices. How about we go backward in time to a spot in my life where I was clearly a wreck.

Lets talk about grass and my revenge.

Back story: I had 2 surgeries in a 9 month period. This moment in time was my downfall. I was a depressed, angry lil tart. I had met the hunkiest fireman. This dude's biceps were bigger than my head. We had a torrid relationship. I mean that much passion is bound to make anyone combust.

And boy, did we ever combust. Here's the dirt, I found out hunky fireman was cheating on me. A normal person would've moved on with their life. At the time, I wasn't normal. For the 4 months we dated, I was in the worst pain ever. No joke, I was immobilized. Every day I cried and took lortab. Dark doesn't even describe that time period.

So, upon hearing that the fireman cheated on me, I decided to write my initials on his lawn . . . with gasoline.

I'm sure you know where this is heading. You better believe I struck a match and let the front yard burn. Like I said, I was an angry lil tart.

Nowadays, I am subdued. I have learned to manage the pain-it's always there. An ever-present reminder of where my life can head if I lose track of my goals.

So, you see, dear reader, life isn't always going to go as planned. There will be sorrow beyond that which you can ever imagine. Nonetheless, there will also be an immense amount of joy.

I am on this path all because of the darkest time in my life. If I hadn't gone through the worst pain ever, I wouldn't have this journey of pursuing my dream. I wouldn't know my writer friends. And I most certainly would not know you, our brave readers/friends.

P.S.- Funny enough, Mr. Fireman is now one of my closest friends. He constantly gives me crap about burning down his lawn.

P.P.S-Since we're discussing green this month check out my garden class project. The bud of my Amarlyis is beginning to bloom.

Dear St. Valentine: Shut up.

February challenge: V-Day Horrors

There are certain things you should not say to someone you are romantically involved with-
Please note that sadly, I have uttered each line to a lover.

1-Before I kiss you, I have to ask, do you have herpes?
2-You must have a small . . . ego because you sure do overcompensate.
3- Sorry, Darlin' but you are officially one of those crushes who have been crushed.


My mouth gets me into trouble, which is why I don't celebrate Valentines.
Let's see, worst gift ever? A relish serving tray from 1978. Seriously, I wasn't even born when this gift was made. Plus, the gift was stolen from the miserable meathead's mother.
Why put up with this horrid gift? Three words, animalistic makeout sessions.

Best Valentine's gift ever would have to be from my dearest devilish dude-Sorry, ladies, he's gay. Every year, Jameses buys and frames a printed portrait for me to inspire my writing, or so he says.

Here's hoping everyone has a gaggingly perfect February. And if not, I have serving tray you can re gift. C'mon, I know you want it.

Walking in a Winter Wonder Whaaa?

December Challenge: Holiday Adventures

I love the Holidays, enough to bake gingerbread houses and apple-N-sausage stuffing. I go housewife wild but then there's the edgy/spicy side of myself that I have to be careful about-
I get horribly impatient while shopping.

Two years ago on black Friday, I got into a nasty scuffle at Wal-Mart. Okay, here's the dirt, so I moved some ladies cart from the middle of the aisle. For some reason that warranted her to go all postal on me. No joke, she come storming up to me and yelled, "Who said you could move my cart? You could 've gone around."

I stared at the booger hanging out of her nose and said, "I'm sorry but there are screw's in my foot holding my bone together. There's no way I'm walking around your cart."

She then called me a string of nasty names. Hunky Handy man stared at me warily, waiting to see my short fuse erupt. And sure enough, I got in her face and said, "I'm gonna tear your throat out."

This year, I had a much better reaction during a tense situation. Today, I saw an old friend at Wal-Mart. She looked stunning, even in grubby clothes. We chit-chatted about random stuff.

Then the old friend said, "I heard you're still at the same job. Funny, I thought your book would've been made into a movie by now."

The old me would've said a witchy comment back but instead I politely responded, "Not everything works out in the time frame that you want."

Who would've thought that this Holiday season would show me that growth is possible, even with stubborn lil me.

Gratitude

November Challenge: Things we are glad that we have

Care for a lil dinner in a pumpkin? This pic below is my Halloween creation. Yummy.

For some odd reason, when the Holiday season comes around I morph into a 1940's house wife. And no, you may not see a pic of me in my frilly apron. I have my dignity.

On to my list of what I am grateful for-

*Even though I sliced off a huge chuck of my skin with a paring knife, I am grateful that I did not reach an artery.

*I am lucky that my Piece Of Crap car still runs, even though hunky handyman nearly ran over my toe when doing an oil change.

*Being sick is a blessing because hey, at least I can crack people up with my Fran Drescher sounding voice.

*Sure, God gave me some wacked-out hair but at least I don't have lice. Trust me, been there, done that twice.

Last but not least, I may not be where I imagined when I was twelve but I am alive and mostly-happy. And that's what matters most.

No Way did THAT Just Happen

Challenge of the Month: Paranormal Experience


It's no secret for me to tell you that I can be a self destructive person. True, I have gotten better with age. In my late twenties, I have been able to make peace with myself. I have learned that life is fragile and can be taken from you at any time.

Halloween is a Holiday that centers around everything morbid-ghosts, death, etc. Sure, there is candy galore and so much more. Somehow, the death part is always personal to me.

A long while back, there was a two year period that I prayed for my death every day. Oh, dear reader, I really hate admitting that secret out loud to you but its the truth. Sounds selfish but I loathed what cards life had dealt me.

On a Halloween night, the weather was more like Christmas than Fall. Snow laid everywhere as a gaggle of my friends and I trudged into a physic shop. The scenery was exactly what you'd expect when in a fortune teller's abode (crystal ball, gypsy-like tapestries and everything Gothic)

The fortune teller went through all of my friends promising the usual-love, babies and happiness. I seriously was not listening to any of the drivel the crazy-lady said to my friends.

Not until, she stared me down and said, "You're at a dead end."

I rudely responded, 'Excuse me?" (Yeah, I'll admit, I was beeyotch back then)

Anyways, crazy-lady continued, "Change your life choices or your journey will end. Keep praying for death and you will perish before your time."

Those words still haunt me. I wonder, how in the world did crazy-lady know my inner secret? I had not told a soul. Many years have since passed since that freaky night of poignant wisdom. Death has not found me yet. Sure, he has taken someone very dear to me but that's beside the point.

I do not wish to die, at least not yet. And I have dear crazy-lady to thank for waking me from my slumber in the month of Halloween.

Are We There Yet?

September Challenge: Worst. Trip. Ever.

My worst vacation experience would have to be Las Vegas. And don't get me wrong, I adore that city. Two years ago, I went with mom and two brothers. Because nothing says, "we're tight as a family" like standing under a poster of scantily clad dancer.

In the evening, on our way to Blue Man Group, my mom decided we should take the bus from the Luxor to the Venetian. The problem was we got on the wrong bus. The bright lights of the strip faded from view. We began to head southward, down past the freeway. My mom demanded that the driver stop the vehicle. And surprisingly, the bus driver listened. He dropped us off in the middle of the intersection on the freeway.

I immediately knew trouble lay ahead as adrenaline became my best friend. We hustled across the street and darted into an under pass. Which was the residence of a ton of homeless people. There were no streetlights, my mom and I were cloaked in darkness. Cars were screeching above us and used needles for substance abuse poked at our sneakers.

My mom's eyes widened as she saw the make-shift cardboard homes. She grabbed a rock and turned into this momma-bear 'cuz no ones gonna mess with her and the cub.

I, however, was more nervous for her than for me. I've spent a night on skid row, so a few freeway underpasses were a breeze. Skid Row-I'm not talking about the band.

Anyway, some man, offered my mom a 'cabbie' and she eagerly jumped at a cab ride. I grabbed her arm and said, "Cabbie's slang for something you don't want. Keep moving, don't look down. Just move."

We arrived at the Venetian safely. To this day, I know we both were lucky not to end up like the CSI victims.

P.S. Kudos to Janiel for figuring out the title of this month's challenge. And double kudos to both Maegan and Janiel for the help with my post.

So This is Writing a Novel

August Challenge: Writing a novel

Ten years ago, I saw myself as a fashion buyer. Shopping for a living? In my mind, there couldn't be a better career. First step was my internship with Disney. I nailed my interview. A summer in Florida, so there.

But then life happened. I fell in a hole while hiking with my sister and snapped my foot in half. My brother joked that if you touched even an inch of the skin my foot would jiggle like jello.

So began my road to writing. Although, I didn't see the path forming yet.

I had to have a metal screw placed in my foot to hold the bones together. Nine months later, I had yet another surgury. This time on a hernia.

I wish I could say that I handled the trials well. But I didn't. I fell into a heavy depression. The one thing that saved me was writing. What's so funny is that I am the girl that always fell asleep in English class. But now, words are my lifesaver.

Most days, I am content to sit at the computer and edit my story to Death. The journey more often than not is a joy to me. Oh, who the world am I kidding? Lately, I have been peeved at my story. To the point where I just stare at the closed laptop. I know where the plot is going, I see it like a movie in my head. But lately I have been too riddled with fear to care.

Yes, I realize that my voice is a gift. One that I don't take lightly. I know that my manuscript will one day be on a bookshelf--right next to Janiel's and Maegan's novel. Okay, maybe not right next because paranormal romance is in its own wacked-out section of the book store.

When that day happens, I understand that I will need to give back and big-time. Because writing saved my life. Literally.

Delving into the Ungnown - Russo

July Challenge: Starting a Blog

Karma . . . or lack thereof. If you are blessed with the sucker then you are lucky. Truth is I have lousy karma.

Who I am now is NOT who I was ten years ago. I have been told I am nice. And I even heard the word endearing once. Oh, if they only knew.

I'm the girl who once told my roomate to cry in the bathroom
when she had a breakdown. The nerves in my hand are not
linked to my brain because seriously, if provoked I will punch you.

When talking about my life experiences, I often say, "Once upon a time." Frankly, I feel like my life has been split into two books. The heroine-yeah, that's me- has freaking brawled her way through life.

But not anymore, every two weeks I attend a support group.
I've also taken up athletics (instead of hitting people.)

The gnome that I am staring down is myself. And I have a LOT of
work to do if I am going to make up for my wrong deeds.

Time to get writing.