A couple weeks ago, I decided to re-read the entire Harry Potter series, back to back. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually read the books, and so far it’s been an eye-opening experience. (Dude. The movies have TOTALLY ruined the reading for me. I can’t help but hear the dialogue as inflected by the actors, and my mind defaults to the descriptions of people and places as imagined by the various directors. It’s kind of annoying, honestly).
Anyway, I finished HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER’S SORCERER’S STONE in a day, took CHAMBER OF SECRETS off the shelf, and BAM! I was whisked right back to the Summer of 2001. Because my copy of CoS has a very large, very noticeable scar.
That would be chocolate Slim-Fast spilled on the spine. It happened during this period in my life, naturally. Every time I pick up my copy of CoS, I remember plopping on a bench in front of Boston’s City Hall during my lunch break, trying to balance my liquid lunch on my knee while reaching into my purse for Chapstick, and then of course spilling the damn drink all over my book (as well as my lap). And so there it shall remain–a reminder of a dark day, permanently etched into the spine of a pretty great book.
Not all scars harbor ill memories, of course. Take this one, from George R.R. Martin’s A CLASH OF KINGS.
After the HBO series got huge, I lent my copy to so many people that the spine cracked and the glue strained to keep the pages in line. Every time I open the book, I fear it might be the end, but still it makes me smile, knowing all the people who read and loved the book after me.
Thanks to everyone who entered my birthday giveaway! I had a very relaxing weekend doing not much of anything in the Keys. Seriously. Taking a walk on the dock was about as crazy as it got. I so needed that!
Sigh. I love the water.
But enough about me. The winner of the $20 Amazon gift card as chosen by Rafflecopter is …
Katharine Owens
Congrats, Katharine! I’ll be emailing you shortly!
I love my husband, but, you guys, he’s pretty terrible at keeping secrets. My birthday is this Saturday, and for a couple weeks I’ve been proposing things to do, and his reactions are pretty much always like this.
Me: Want to go paddleboarding? I figure it could be fun to do on my birthday since the weather should be nice.
Husband: Oh, well, *coy smile*, um, I mean, yeah we could do that. *blushes and changes subject*
Me: I heard a lot of good things about [new restaurant]. I was thinking about making a reservation there on my birthday.
Husband: *uncomfortable laugh* Yeah, that’s one option.
I just sat tight and waited because I knew whatever he was planning wouldn’t be a secret for long (I mean, he basically even let it slip when he was going to propose to me), and I was right. Last week, he couldn’t hold it in anymore and told me he booked a room at our favorite resort in the Keys—and arranged for my mom to come stay with our kid so we can have a child-free long weekend, which kinda makes me feel like this.
So let’s do a giveaway! Up for grabs is a $20 Amazon gift card. Enter below, and the magical computer bot will draw a winner this weekend. Woohoo!
Here we are, on the final day of I Love Where I Live/Change Your Attitude/I Will Appreciate South Florida If It’s the Last Thing I Do, Darnit Week. Today is all about living and I’m just going to go ahead and let the pictures do the talking.
THE CULTURE
The beach. Self explanatory.
Airboat rides in the Everglades.
Calle Ocho—a street festival/Carnival that’s just a wee bit popular.
Reggae fest.
Ultra Music Fest. One of the two reasons Miami becomes an international music destination in March.
That other reason would be Winter Music Conference.
There are plenty of art festivals to choose from, year round.
The Miami City Ballet.
The Air and Sea Show.
Winterfest boat parade. A Christmas tradition along the Fort Lauderdale rivers.
Okay, it’s official. I like living here. South Florida offers so many different experiences, and I can’t imagine living—or raising my children—anywhere else.
What about you? What is the absolute best thing about where you live?
Here we are on Day 2 of I Love Where I Live/Change Your Attitude Week, in which I am trying to re-appreciate my hometown. Day 1 is here. But today, we’re on to something a little tastier.
THE FOOD
When it comes down to it, it’s all about food, isn’t it? And I’m lucky enough to live in a place that has an abundance of great culinary options. There are two reasons for this. One:
Five simple words: Fishing capital of the world. There’s “fresh” fish and there’s fresh fish. And let me tell you, there’s a huge difference between something that’s been sitting around a grocery store for a day or two and something that was caught that morning just a few miles offshore. HUGE. I’m not a big meat eater, but I eat a lot of fish. I’m lucky I can eat local (and sustainable!) nearly all of the time.
Now, as for how to prepare that fish, that leads me to my second point:
The diversity of the cuisine. South Florida is truly a melting pot of all different races and ethnicities. We don’t have black and white. We have Haitian, Israeli, Bahamian, Russian, Jamaican, Venezuelan, Brazilian, Cuban, Dominican, I could go on for a while. That means a wide variety of experiences and a wide variety of food.
Sometimes I can’t imagine living anywhere else.
What about you? Any local specialties your area is known for?
The alternate title of this is “Change Your Attitude Week.” You see, I complain a lot about living in South Florida. A lot A LOT. It’s unbearably hot for a good portion of the year. It’s crowded and congested. Most people drive like they’ve smoked meth and then knocked back a couple Four Lokos (that’s not really an exaggeration). It’s like the breeding ground for greed and rampant materialism (case in point).
It’s easy to buy into the negativity, but a few weeks ago, I read a quote … somewhere … by someone. I can’t remember. Basically that quote was something along the lines of “Whenever I am having an issue in my life, 99% of the time I am the problem, and 99% of the time I am the solution.”
Whoa.
Genius.
There are always going to be good and bad aspects to every situation, and how you approach both the good and the bad is key. So in honor of that, this week I’m going to remind myself what I like about South Florida, starting with …
THE WATER
This is where my family and I spend every Sunday morning.
My daughter does this.
While I read a book and look out on these.
Whenever I get stuck in traffic that moves 1 mph or get cut off by someone who’s not paying attention on the road (hey, did you know it’s completely legal to text and drive here? Or to ride a motorcycle without a helmet?), all I have to do is think of the water. The water calms. It heals. It reminds me that there is a bigger force than me in this world. Or, as Jack Johnson says,
You don’t want You don’t wait You don’t love but you don’t hate You just roll over me And you pull me in
So true, Jack, so true.
And it’s not just the beach. Fort Lauderdale is known as the Venice of America, and all you have to do is look at an aerial photo to see why.
(This is where the rich people live. I don’t live anywhere near here.)
The water is everywhere. Rivers, canals, lakes. It’s impossible to not see water here. I got married overlooking a river.
(True story: In the middle of our vows, a boat road by and one of the people on board shouted “Don’t do it, man!” You can totally hear it on the wedding video. Everyone laughed. It was pretty awesome.)
Water is in my blood. It’s a part of me. I have to be near it. And South Florida definitely has plenty of it. So I guess I’m staying.
What about you? Do you need a bit of an attitude adjustment too? What’s your favorite thing about your hometown?
I realized something Sunday night. I realized that I missed the ten year anniversary of February 24, 2002.
Let me tell you a little bit about February 24, 2002. It was a Sunday. I was a second year law student living in Boston’s Copley Square. I was eating 300 calories a day on a good day. I was down to a weight I’d outgrown in the sixth grade. I had no energy. I couldn’t carry on a simple conversation. I was struggling to keep up my grades, find a summer internship, write a journal article, be the best, be the skinniest, be anything but myself. I was at rock bottom and desperately in need of help.
I was out wandering the city. I called it “clearing my head” but really I was just trying to burn calories. After covering just about every inch of Boston proper, I walked into a department store and passed a display of evening dresses. There was one that caught my eye—a strapless, full-length lavender number with ribbons and boning and sashes. I decided to try it on, so I grabbed the smallest size off the rack and took it into a dressing room. And then I got confused. This was the most complicated dress I’d ever seen (and still have ever seen to this day—more so that any wedding dress I tried on). I had no idea where to begin, and so I puddled it on the floor, stepped into it and pulled. It yanked right up—but had nothing to cling to and fell right back to the floor. That’s when I noticed the side zipper. That’s also when I glanced up and caught a view of my back in the three-way mirror. I gasped. Literally. I saw every one of my ribs poking out of my sallow skin. I saw sickness. I saw disease. I saw death.
I cried on the floor of that dressing room for a solid twenty minutes, and then I picked myself up, hung the dress back on the rack and walked home. I turned the doorknob to find my roommates and closest friends waiting for me. Of all days—of all moments—they’d picked that one to throw an intervention. And so February 24, 2002 became the day I admitted I had a problem and agreed to get help. From that day on, February 24 was my recovery anniversary. Every February 24 was a day of bitter reflection, a day to look back not only on that year’s accomplishments but also on its struggles, a day to wonder when I was finally going to get over this thing already.
There are a couple schools of thought on eating disorder recovery. One says it takes seven years to fully get over an eating disorder. The other says you will never ever truly recover. Honestly, the latter school of thought scared me shitless for years. I’ll never recover? Ever? The latter school of thought sent me into hysterics when I found out I was pregnant with a little girl. What if I pass this awful mess on to her? I don’t want my daughter to inherit my issues. I so wanted to believe full and complete recovery was possible, but I was terrified that it wasn’t.
But then February 24, 2012 hit without incident. I don’t even know what day of the week it was. A month went by. Another week went by. And only then did I realize that not only did I miss it, but, more importantly, I didn’t care. I wish I could fully describe what that moment of realization was like without plunging this post into pure melodrama. Suffice it to say, I now understand the phrase “a weight has been lifted from my chest.” Because a weight has been lifted. A big one. That latter school of thought—the one that says you will never fully recover from an eating disorder—IT’S BULLSHIT, my friends. You can get better. You can battle your demons and walk away victorious.
I’ve disabled comments for this post because, honestly, I didn’t post this to get support, praise or encouragement. I posted this because once upon a time I struggled. Once upon a time I wondered whether the end was in sight. I know that there are people out there fighting the battle I once fought, wondering the same thoughts I once had. And I want those people to know that there is hope. You are stronger than you realize. You can beat this. I know it.
You know that WIP I’ve been mysteriously alluding to for the past several months? Well, now it’s completely done, revised, edited, and about to enter the submission world, so I guess it’s finally time to stop holding it so close to my chest. So here it is.
THE EIGHTH GUARDIAN
All sixteen-year-old Amanda has ever wanted is closure—to finally know what happened to her dad. Unfortunately, that information is hidden behind layers of classified documents, so when a slot in a top-secret government training school opens up, Amanda jumps at it. She’ll keep her nose down, study hard, join the CIA, and earn the clearance codes she needs.
But then Amanda is plucked out of school before graduation, rechristened with the name Iris, and dropped into an organization she’s never heard of: the Annum Guard. It’s a team of highly trained operatives who have the ability to travel back in time and tweak the past to improve the present. Enhancement, not alteration—or so they claim. But the deeper she gets into the organization, the more she learns that the Annum Guard is keeping some very dangerous secrets. Secrets like why the Guard has always been made up of seven members and she’s number eight.
So now, on top of having to jump back in time for her missions—missions she’s questioning more and more, and missions that wreak havoc on her body (humans weren’t meant to time travel, after all)—she has to start digging for answers without getting caught.
Because if she doesn’t—if she leaves the Annum Guard to its own devices—it won’t just be her life on the line. It’ll be an entire history’s worth of lives.
Some facts about this book:
I had to write it three times before I got it right. The first draft was 70,000 words. The current draft clocks in a few words shy of 100,000.
It’s had three titles. First was IRIS WAS A PUPIL, then came THE ANNUM GUARD and now we’ve settled on THE EIGHTH GUARDIAN.
I spent waaaaaaay more time trying to puzzle through quantum physics and time travel theories than I needed to.
I am more in love with this book than anything I’ve ever written.
I still can’t type “EIGHTH” correctly on the first try.
Some pictures that remind me of the book:
Fingers crossed THE EIGHTH GUARDIAN finds the right home, but if it doesn’t for whatever reason, at the end of the day I have a book I’m damn proud of. And that totally counts for a lot of somethings.
Now you tell me, what are you working on these days?
Today should be one of the worst days of seventeen-year-old Hadley Sullivan’s life. She’s stuck at JFK, late to her father’s second wedding, which is taking place in London and involves a soon to be step-mother that Hadley’s never even met. Then she meets the perfect boy in the airport’s cramped waiting area. His name is Oliver, he’s British, and he’s in seat 18C. Hadley’s in 18A.
Twists of fate and quirks of timing play out in this thoughtful novel about family connections, second chances and first loves. Set over a 24-hour-period, Hadley and Oliver’s story will make you believe that true love finds you when you’re least expecting it.
I loved THE STATISTICAL PROBABILITY OF LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT something fierce, you guys. I sat down to read it yesterday afternoon after my daughter went down for a nap, and I didn’t stop until I’d finished the whole thing (big thanks to my kid for taking an extra long nap yesterday). Hadley is such a likable narrator, Oliver is laugh-out-loud funny, and the entire book is the kind of thing you should read when you need a pick-me-up. But underneath that, there’s also a level of depth that’s uncovered as Hadley tries to figure out her feelings on love in general.
A great read. I highly recommend it.
Mmmmmmm! Bread!
How’s that for a transition? I’ve talked before on here about how I’m a huge fan of Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day. I’ve been making bread for almost a year now, so recently I’ve felt comfortable experimenting with my own recipes. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes these are disasters of epic proportions (like the all-wheat/wheat germ/wheat flake bread I tried to make in January—I still cringe), but sometimes I stumble onto something amazing. Which is what I did last week.
Holy crap, you guys, I love this bread. It’s so, so simple, yet hearty, filling and delicious. So here we go! It’s called … hmm, I’m not sure. Oat wheat bread? Sure!
(This recipe makes two loaves. Also, I use a stand mixer, but this could easily be adapted to just use a big bowl and your hands.)
You need:
1 1/2 cups warm water
2 1/4 tsp. yeast (equivalent to one packet)
2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup oat flour
1/4 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/4 cup white wheat flour
1 1/2 cup unbleached all purpose flour
Directions:
1) Add yeast, salt and water to bowl of mixer and swirl together.
2) Add flours and beat on low (using a dough hook) until all ingredients are mixed and a ball of dough forms, approximately two minutes.
3) Leave dough in bowl, cover with plastic wrap or a wet kitchen towel, and let rise 2 hours.
4) Preheat oven to 450 (or 425 if you’re using convection). If you have a pizza stone, put it in the oven now to preheat. If you don’t have one, don’t sweat it. Sprinkle a pizza peel (or cutting board) with corn meal.
5) Split dough into two. Take one loaf and knead in your hands a few times. The other loaf can be refrigerated for up to a week before use, but don’t store it in an airtight container. I plop it into a bowl and loosely wrap Saran wrap over it.
6) Form dough into loaf, as such.
7) Let loaf rest on pizza peel or cutting board for 20-30 minutes. Then cut slashes in top of loaf.
Place a small, lipped cookie sheet on the bottom rack and pour 1 cup of water into it to act as a steam bath. Slide loaf onto pizza stone. (And like I said above, if you don’t have a pizza stone, you can always use a cookie sheet. Your bread won’t turn out quite the same, but you won’t totally ruin it either, according to my friends who’ve done the cookie sheet method).
9 ) Bake for 35 minutes.
10) Bask in the amazing smell that is wafting through your house. Slap some butter on a slice and enjoy!
I never would have thought it possible to love my husband more than I did on our wedding day, but every passing day he proves me wrong. Four wonderful years down, a lifetime still to go.
Alright, mushiness over, time for dessert!
One of my favorite magazines is Oxygen, which never ceases to kick my butt with its crazy workouts. The current issue has a recipe for something called the two-minute instant cupcake and promises to cure your sweet tooth. Yeah …. no. This thing in no way resembles a cupcake, nor does it satisfy any sweet tooth, but what it does do is make an easy, awesome, lo-cal, protein-filled breakfast with a little bit of chocolate thrown in for good measure.
Here’s what you need:
1 egg
1 tsp. cocoa powder
1/8 tsp. baking powder
2 Tbsp. milk
1 Tbsp. peanut butter (my favorite is the freshly ground stuff)
Put all ingredients in a coffee mug and beat together with a fork for a few seconds. Cover with paper towel and microwave for two minutes on high. Let cool and enjoy!
Place a small, lipped cookie sheet on the bottom rack and pour 1 cup of water into it to act as a steam bath. Slide loaf onto pizza stone. (And like I said above, if you don’t have a pizza stone, you can always use a cookie sheet. Your bread won’t turn out quite the same, but you won’t totally ruin it either, according to my friends who’ve done the cookie sheet method).
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