Spring Gets News

The Universe is a Very Big Place will be on sale all week at Amazon as an ebook (.99 - 1.99) I will be posting excerpts throughout the week.


1997

“Come on, come on.” Spring tapped the little white stick against her knees, willing it to change color.

“I don’t think that’s gonna help,” Jason said. He was standing with his back pressed against the door of their stall, looking down at her. She should have stood too. It seemed like a standing occasion.  But after she had peed on the stick her knees refused to make the trip upward. They had just ceased to work. “If you keep messing with that stick you might skew the results.”

Spring shot him a look. “Since when do you use words like skew?”

Jason released his brown hair from the rubber band at the nape of his neck, only to gather it back up into a small pony tail and secure it again. He had done this at least a dozen times while they had waited for the results. “It’s one syllable. Don’t be shocked.”

Spring looked at the stick again. The little pink cross in the window had darkened, almost to a crimson red. She was not only pregnant. She was really, really pregnant. She thrust the stick at Jason and fell forward, cradling her knees. “Oh god!” Jason went to pat her head but she pulled away. “Please just stop.”

He said nothing as he squatted down beside. She could feel him listening to her, waiting for the sobs to subside. He had no problem fighting her, but he was at a loss when she cried. She took a deep breath to calm herself, a trick Lanie had taught her when she younger. She had suffered anxiety from crowds then, a job hazard for any carnie. “Breathe in, breath out,” Lanie had instructed her. “Find your center. C’mon girl. Stop breathing like you just run a fucking marathon. Slowly. In. out. Release.”

 Once she had calmed he reached for her hair, letting the baby fine strands of yellow-white ribbon slide through his fingers. She didn’t let many people touch her hair, but she let him. “I suppose,” she said, looking up at him with red, tear-stained eyes, “that purchasing a condom from a rusted machine in the lobby of Ed’s Guns and Exotic Animal Shoppe was probably not our wisest move.” She sobbed and laughed at the same time and felt a long line of snot fall from her nose. Jason grabbed a wad of toilet paper and caught it.

“You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here.”

Spring felt the wail in her throat and fought it. She was angry right now, and she was afraid she would say something she regretted. “I just got accepted into Arizona State,” she said, drying her eyes on the back of her hand. “After three years of struggling to get through Community College so that I could leave this… life behind, things were starting to change for me. Now what?”

“You can still go. This isn’t the 50’s.Girls go to school pregnant all the time. Even on TV.”

"I don’t want to go pregnant!” She started crying again and she tucked her face into her skirt, smearing mascara across the hem. He didn’t get it. “I wanted to go…hot.”

Jason laughed. “Hot’s what got you into this mess, my dear. You’re too hot for your own good.”

Spring snorted and took the tissue Jason offered her. He knew her too well. They had been friends for years, but a few drinks and a slow night slinging cotton candy last fall had changed it all. Now they were bound together, one way or another. As Lanie would say, their fate strings had gotten all jumbled up.

“I got a crazy idea,” he said, pulling her up by the arms. He was a good six inches taller than her and smelled like French fries and Old Spice. “Why don’t we get married? We’ve been practically living together in my van for the last six months. Why not make it official?” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “Just think…you, me, the little Bambino, touring the country side together. If he’s musically inclined we could start a family band. Be like the Partridges. Only not so gay.”

 I could, she thought, nuzzling into him. He was safe and warm and familiar. She remembered the day her mother had picked him up on the side of the road nine six  earlier. “Hitch hiking to Santa Cruz” he had said, off to pursue his music career. He never made it to Santa Cruz. Once he learned how much money could be made hustling kids out of their allowance to see The Half Monkey Lady, he had settled in. That was the way it was here. The Carnival was one big roach motel. You check in, you eat a bunch of crap, and you stay until you die.  Very few people escaped. They had intentions of leaving, but one by one The Carnival took them all. Heart disease. Obesity. Drugs. Equipment failure. Dead by fifty, most of them. There was no fading gracefully into old age here. You just stopped. If it didn’t take them entirely it took some of their best parts. Just two months ago a young man had given up a limb to a roller coaster. He had climbed the steel mountain to fix a dangling bolt, when the car ran over his arm. They say he may have saved some people with his bravery. But the papers never heard of it. Bad for business. Now he’s quietly employed as the ticket taker at the back of the lot.

“What do you say?” Jason pulled her in tighter. “I bet I’m damned good at changing diapers.”

She took a deep breath. Though she cared about Jason, he had nothing more to offer her than his body, his guitar, and the eternal belief that someday he would roadie for Phish. “It wouldn’t work.” She whispered. “We’re too different. And besides…”

Jason released her from his arms and narrowed his eyes, ready to battle. “And besides what? Oh, never mind, I know. I’m not good enough for you.” He pushed through the stall door and into the empty bathroom. “Afraid you will end up like your mother?”

Spring lowered her eyes. Yes, she was afraid of that, and why not? It was a legitimate fear. But there was more to it. She followed him into the bathroom. “We just aren’t right for each other Jason.”

“Oh, I see.” Jason fell forward over the standalone sink, slamming his hands into the mirror. “We were right for each other a few weeks ago weren’t we? And even a few nights ago. But not for the long haul. No, Spring reserves that spot for someone more worthy. Am I right?”

 “Stop it. That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Don’t think I don’t know about that little fairy tale you believe in. You get one love in this lifetime and that’s it right? Don’t waste it on the Ferris wheel guy.”

 Spring felt her knees give and her stomach roil. She moved back into the stall and fought the nausea. It seemed too early for morning sickness. “Jason, please. There are many reasons we aren’t right for each other. You’re my best friend but…”

“No, I get it. What could I possibly offer you?” He turned the water on and shut it off again. “I hope for your sake that fairy tales come true. Or you’re in for a long, lonely life.” Spring heard him pull a paper towel from the chute, wipe his hands, and toss it into the waste bin. “When you decide what you want to do let me know. I will be there for the baby if decide to keep it. And I hope you do keep it.” Spring listened as Jason stomped across the bathroom and out the door.

**
From The Universe is a Very Big Place. On sale Nov 20-26 through Amazon.

The Witches of Dark Root (Prologue)

Prologue for The Witches of Dark Root (on sale now).

Prologue: Magic Man

 

 Miss Sasha’s Magick Shoppe, Dark Root, Oregon

February, 2005

 

The shop was cold and dimly lit, musty and confining.

A spider web had attached itself to the archway that separated the main room from the back and I ducked each time I passed beneath it, not bothering to sweep it down. Shelves lined every wall of Mother’s Magick shop, displaying the hundreds of candles, masks, figurines, and baubles that made Miss Sasha’s the most popular attraction in all of Dark Root.

While the oddities fascinated tourists, I hardly noticed them anymore as I went about my work.  I hardly noticed anything anymore, except the clock that ticked down the minutes until I was released from my daily servitude.

“Excuse me,” said a woman who had been meandering near the book section for the last hour. “Where is your restroom?”

I responded by opening the front door.

She looked like she was going to protest but decided against it. My apathy for the shop was notorious. She would probably lodge a complaint with my mother instead.

“You need to order more peppermint,” my sister Eve said, emerging from the back room and sucking on a piece of candy. “We’ve been out for almost a week.”

“You order it,” I responded.

If she was going to eat the supplies, she could order them as well.

Eve launched into a series of reasons why I should perform the task––I was practically a boy and therefore, better at math, I had no social life and thus had far more time for work, etc. I was about to tell her that it wouldn’t bother me if we ran out of everything, that the whole place could implode for all I cared, when a crystal figurine on a low shelf caught my eye. It was an owl, an ugly thing with eyes that bulged and a beak that hooked. I wasn’t sure who had ordered it but I was certain it would never find a buyer.

“Bet I beat you out of this town,” I said, tapping its beak.

A losing bet, I realized. It had wings. I didn’t even have a car.

I checked the clock again––five minutes ‘til closing time––and glanced around the shop. It wasn’t as clean as my mother would have wanted, but then again my mother wasn’t here.

“I say we call it done,” I said, tossing my apron on the counter.

“Maggie, come take a look.”

Eve stood by the window. Her fingers twitched as she pointed to a man I had never seen before, seated by the window in Delilah’s Deli across the street.

“Who is he?” she asked. “I don’t recognize him.”

I moved to get a better view, nudging her out of the way. “Well, he isn’t from around here.”

Eve clucked her tongue. Of course, he wasn’t from around here. His sophisticated clothing identified him as a city person, not a man who spent much time slinking around a small town in Central Oregon.

“He’s handsome,” she said and I silently agreed. Though it was getting dark I could still make out his thick mane of wavy brown hair and the strong line of his jaw. He was leaning forward, talking to a gaunt young man who hung on his every word.

“We have to find out what he’s doing here,” Eve said. “It’s just not natural.” Though the town festered with tourists during the fall months when we held the Haunted Dark Root Festival, it was rare to see anyone arrive after November and before May.

“Probably just passing through on his way to Salem or Portland. Blew out a tire or had to use the bathroom.”

“You have no imagination.”

Eve chattered on about how he was probably a famous Hollywood producer. She couldn’t allow anyone a normal life; she always reached for the dramatic.

But she was right. There was something special about the stranger. He had an energy that popped and sparkled.

As if he knew he was being watched, he turned in our direction. Eve ducked but I held my position, staring back. His eyes were as grey and stormy as the Oregon coastline. He knew things...secrets and mysteries.

I felt jolted awake after a long sleep.

“We should bring him over.” Eve’s dark eyes flashed as she pushed a step-stool across the floor to gather oils and vials from the top shelf. Next, she collected an assortment of herbs from bins beneath the counter. “...Candles. I need purple candles.”

Like a fly to a spider, I thought as I watched her. She was driven when she had a mission, not the same dreamy girl who stared out the window all day talking about the life she was missing out on while she ignored customers.

“We could just walk across the street and talk to him,” I said, moving away from the window.

“Just because you’re too good for magic, doesn’t mean some of us don’t respect the craft.”

“I never said I was against magic.”

“Just practicing it. We can’t all be Wilders, you know?” Eve placed her stack onto the counter and arranged the objects into neat piles.

I felt my face redden. Wilder was a slang word, used to describe a witch who had no control over her magic. The light above us flickered.

Besides,” Eve grinned, as if she had said nothing wrong. “This is far more fun. Now, where’s the book?” She scanned the room for our mother’s spell book.

I shrugged. If she wanted to lure a man here against his will that was her business, but I wasn’t going to help.

“Here it is!” She held up a small, leather-bound journal in her hands. It was a rare book, Mother claimed, filled with spells and incantations that would have been lost to time were they not carefully preserved on these pages. As a result, only Mother’s direct descendants could remove the book from her store without suffering a terrible curse.

What the curse was, nobody knew, but Miss Sasha’s magick was formidable, and no one in Dark Root wanted to risk it.

Eve went to work creating a concoction of vanilla, rose petals and thyme, hardly glancing at the open book beside her. She had probably committed her man-luring spell to heart.

“Wouldn’t it be exciting if we fell in love and he took me away from this horrible town? Now that Merry is gone, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

I felt a dagger in my heart at the mention of our older sister’s name. Merry had left three years ago to marry some guy she barely knew and nothing had been the same since.

“You really think you’re going to get out of here before me?” I asked.

“Someone’s got to take care of Mom. Besides,” Eve looked at the clock on the far wall then back to me, “I have to get out of here. I’m going to be a famous actress one day. A psychic told me.”

I snorted, peeking out the window again. The curtains to Delilah’s Deli were shut now, indicating that the cafe was closed. I glanced up and down the street, hoping to see a sign of him or his car, but the street was empty. “Even if your spell does work and you get him to wander over here, what makes you think he’s going to fall in love with you?”

“The travel spell is only part of it,” she said. “One sip of my special tea and he’ll treat me like the goddess I am.” Eve retreated into the back room, returning with a white porcelain cup and matching teapot. “You might not have dreams, Maggie, but I do. God forbid that three years from now when I’m your age, I’m still working as a sales girl in this dump.” She dropped her apron on the floor and kicked it under the counter.

Without warning the door opened, startling us both.

The stranger entered, removing his grey felt hat. He looked around the shop, taking it in. I glanced at Eve, wondering how her travel spell could have worked so quickly.

She shrugged in response.

“Well, hello there,” she said, regaining her composure “Our shop is closed but we were just making tea. You are welcome to join us.” She slinked towards the man, offering him the teacup.

The stranger blinked uncertainly, declining the tea with a wave of his hand. He strode past my sister and stood before me.

“Actually,” he said, staring at me with mystical eyes. “Maggie Maddock, I’m here for you.”

 

Excerpt: The Universe is a Very Big Place

2005

“What do you mean you’re moving?” Pete was chucking rocks at an old tombstone, trying to lodge out ghosts. Fortunately for the sleeping dead, most of them missed.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” John said. “It’s disrespectful.”

“What are they gonna do? Haunt me?” Pete laughed but let the rocks tumble from his hand and onto the ground.

John shrugged. A haunting might do Pete some good, actually.

“This place is gonna suck if you go,” Pete said, pulling down his zipper, looking for a place to piss. He might have relieved himself on one of the headstones had John not given him the disapproving eye.

John took in the view of the cemetery. He and Pete had been coming here for the last twenty years and it pained him a little to think that those days would soon end. “I have to go. This place…it’s death to me. Death to my soul.”

Pete laughed. “Death of your soul, man? What the hell have you been reading?” He rubbed his nose with his hand, not caring that he had just held his pecker with that very appendage. “You just need to get laid.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Is this about Mara? I told you, it was an accident. You didn’t want her anyway. My dick‘s still burning.” If Pete were any other man in the universe John would have hit him. Mara had been a girl he really liked, but of course, like all the other women in Samson, she had a thing for Pete.

“It’s not about Mara. It’s about living my life. I’m 26 years old, living in my brother’s old trailer, working a dead-end factory job. I’ve never been in love. I’ve never climbed a mountain. And the only adventure I’ve ever had was getting lost in the corn maze at the state fair.”

Pete snorted. “Yeah, that was funny. You cried like a little girl ‘til we found you.” Pete let out a big laugh and slapped his leg. “You read too many books. But whatever you want, man. I aint gonna try and stop you from following your dreams.” John found this uncharacteristic display of Pete’s humanity creepy, yet touching. The two had grown up together and Pete rarely supported anything that did not somehow support Pete. “So where you gonna go then? Colorado?” Pete turned his attention on John, his tone more than curious.

John reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small section of the Samson Weekly. “No. There’s a recruiter in Evansville looking for people with computer graphics skills to work for a new company in Arizona. I might apply.”

“Arizona?” Pete’s words were heavy with disbelief. “You know how fucking hot it is in Arizona? Your pansy ass can’t take the Indiana summers, let alone an Arizona summer. Besides, thought you wanted to be a real artist anyway.”

John shrugged. “It’s a start and better than sweating away in a factory. And how is it you know so much about Arizona?”

“My cousin lives there. Remember Amy? The girl who finally took your virginity?”

John blushed. Amy had been his first real girlfriend but before the end of their Junior year her family had moved away. They say you never forgot your first love. Amy had been his only love, if you could call it that. On some especially lonely nights John still thought about her and wondered what she was up to.

“I visited her a few years ago during the Fourth of July. You don’t even need matches to start fireworks out there. They ignite all by themselves.” Pete laughed again and almost chucked another rock. He caught himself and aimed it at a scampering squirrel in the field instead. Fortunately for the squirrel, Pete had a hard time hitting a stationary target, let alone a moving one.

“Well, it’s gotta be better than this. You hear all anyone’s talking about lately? Harnessing the power of corn and cow farts to save the world. I want no part of it.” John looked past the tombstones, past the gate that opened to the park, past the houses and farms that sat just up the road. In his mind’s eye he knew every detail of this town: every house, every field, every signpost. His mother said that someday he would appreciate the security of the familiarity, but he hadn’t gotten there yet.

Pete roused him from his thoughts. “Wanna hang out at the VW tonight? Jessica’s back from school and I bet she’s looking to get lucky. Can’t believe she went to an all-girl’s college. Anyway, you can have her this time. I think she’s bringing a friend.” Pete jingled the coins in his pocket and cocked a mischievous eyebrow towards John.

John cringed and shook his head. Pete had been with every girl in Samson. Twice. His claim to fame was that he had, at one time or another acquired every venereal disease the free clinic could treat, and a few they couldn’t. The last thing he wanted was to touch anyone or anything that Pete had laid his penis on. That was another good reason to move away. “No thanks. You can give me the details tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself,” said Pete, popping open the last of the six pack they had brought with them. “More for me. But remember, man. You can’t find adventure. You have to make it.”

John nodded, gathered up the empty cans, and made his way home wondering if his TV would be able to pick up The Wheel of Fortune or if it would be scrambled again.

***
From: The Universe is a Very Big Place

Lack of Pinterest

A few weekends ago I had my first sighting of what can only be described as 'Pinterest Hair'. Two young girls with clear skin sat across from me in the bleachers at a college football game, their hair elaborately done in pins and swirls, clips and curls, partly up and partly down. They had this modern/gothic/romantic/medieval hair thing going. And they were wearing football jerseys. The overall look was interesting, and disconcerting.

Now that I'm paying more attention I can see that others are hopping on the Pinterest train too, wearing makeup, hairstyles, and fashion they couldn't have come up with by themselves; serving meals that would shame Martha Stewart, decorating for kids parties like it was a cotillion, and even changing up their home to look like the interior of a castle rather than the one bedroom studio apartment it really is. They plan their engagements, weddings and honeymoons according to what is fabulous on Pinterest. And heaven help the boy who doesn't play along in their Pinterest Fantasy. All in the name of keeping up with the Kardashians.

Pinterest has done what magazines and advertisers have tried to do for years and years. It has become life.

Pinterest boards remind me of the 1950's advertising campaigns aimed at women...if everyone else is doing it you need to also. What would the neighbors think? Women beat themselves up to create the 'perfect life', two beautiful kids, a well-mannered husband, and all the brand new kitchen appliances a girl could ask for. Isn't that all you need to make your life just swell?

But, like advertising days of old, trying to achieve the image that's on the screen will eventually wear you down, body and soul. Have you ever seen a 50's movie where the woman had her perfect life but still dropped two pills into her martini the second Bob wasn't looking?

 It's fun for a while, we have to remember that Pinterest, like commercials, is all smoke and mirrors. These pictures were put up by creative pros, not normal people.

I have nothing against Pinterest. I put my books and my blog entries on Pinterest. BUT I think it's important that we see it for what it really is, glimpses into a fantasy world. Real women don't walk around in fog all day, with a castle in the distance, perfectly braided hair, bare faced except for lipstick, wearing a golden cape and fabulous boots. It looks cool, but it just doesn't happen. At least, not in my neighborhood.

So I say stop the pinterest hair. Stop it now, before you get all tangled up in the fantasy and forget what real life is all about.



Got Pinterest Hair? How about Pinterest boobs?

Ten Tips for Surviving Nanowrimo

Do you have a book in your head that you’re going to write someday? Are you sure that the next best-seller could be yours if you could just get it all out of your head and down on paper? Then join thousands of other aspiring authors as they embark on Nanowrimo-a month long trek to start, and finish, a novel of at least 50,000 words.

Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month. Since its inception in 1999, its popularity has been steadily growing as people from around the world decide to take the challenge. The rules are simple: Begin writing your novel on November 1^st and finish writing it by November 30th (or are at least get your 50,000 words done).

Want to give it a try? Here are ten tips that may help you survive the madness that is Nanowrimo.

1.       Register at https://nanowrimo.org. This is the official Nanowrimo site. There you will meet other Nanos and receive community support, feedback, and resources to help keep you on track. Though it’s perfectly acceptable to tackle Nanowrimo alone, it’s also nice to have some friends along for the ride. As the saying goes, ‘misery loves company’.

2.       Be frugal with what you share. Sure it’s fun to post your awesome opening sentence, a paragraph you are particularly proud of, or how you came up with protagonist’s background, but there will always be someone around(particularly in the online world) hell bent on tearing you down or offering you  unsolicited ‘constructive criticism’ This also goes for sharing your work with your family and friends. Even the most supportive loved ones can throw you for a loop when they attempt to ‘help’. So, until you are really comfortable with your story, think about keeping it to yourself.

3.       Budget your word count.  You have 30 days to write 50,000 words. That’s about 1666 words per day. Can you manage that? If not, how else can you budget your word count in order to hit your target?  I personally like to make a spreadsheet and tape it to the refrigerator. Every day I color in a cell corresponding to how many words I wrote (with my stepdaughter’s crayon). It’s a fun way to track my progress and it makes me feel like I’ve actually accomplished something.

4.       Take it scene by scene. Writing a novel is exhausting, both mentally and physically. It can take its toll on your health, your work, and your social life. One way to keep things in perspective is to focus on just one scene at a time. It can be 300 words or 3000 and you can make it as fun, interesting, and colorful as you want it to be. Eventually, you will put all these scenes together and like magic, you have your book.

5.       Stop comparing yourself to others. Some people are better writers than me. Some people can produce more words per day than I can. Some people will have a much easier time with the whole ‘writing thing’ than I do.  So what? I’m still me and I’m doing what I can do. That’s all anyone can ask of me, right? That goes for you too. And while we’re talking about this, please stop trying to copy the style of one of your favorite authors. If someone wants to read Tolkien, they will read Tolkien. If you’re not being true to yourself you’re depriving the world of getting to know you. Do you want that on your writer’s conscience?

6.       Don’t look back! There will be times when you doubt what you’ve written or the direction your book has taken. But don’t go back to fix things. Now is the time to write, as fast and furiously as you can. When I need to make changes to my book during the first draft I jot down notes on a pad of paper I keep close to my computer, then when I’m rewriting (second draft) I refer to them. You can come up with your own system, but don’t stop moving forward or you will never make your 50,000 word goal.

7.       Stay the course. There may be times (especially in the middle of your novel) when that brilliant idea you had in the beginning now seems lackluster, trite, and dull. Then suddenly, you will get an idea that’s even more brilliant than the last. Don’t even think about it (write it on your notepad for later. When you are done with this novel you can start on your next).

Keep working on your original book. Your brain might be telling you to abandon ship but that’s because it’s mulled your story over too many times. Your brain, like an adolescent boy, is always looking for excitement. Be the grownup in the writing relationship and stay with it. If your novel is truly horrible when you’re done (and your brain was right), you can fix it. That’s what second, and third, and fourth drafts are for.

8.       Don’t edit when writing. That means leave spelling and grammatical errors alone, even when they are painful to look at. Don’t polish up sentences. Ignore goofs. You can fix it all later. In fact, if you wanted to, you could spend your whole life fixing it. As the saying goes, a project is never done, merely abandoned. I promise the errors will still be there when you return to them, and most likely you will find even more. By waiting you can see them with fresh eyes, and fix everything at once. (If you absolutely must for sanity’s sake, you can run a spell and grammar check each day, but that’s all).

9.       Make writing a priority. Life is going to happen. Kids get sick. The dog needs walking. And sadly, dinner doesn’t cook itself. But don’t use life as an excuse. Carve out the time to write and stick to it (see Tip #3). Tell others that you are serious about this. Your family and friends may joke about it or even tease you. They may be jealous that you are working on your own goals or not spending as much time with them as you used to.  They might not understand how important writing your novel is to you. Make them. When I first started writing I endured these sorts of distractions and ribbings. Now, those nearest and dearest to me, understand how important this is and they give me space, time, AND compliments for following my dreams. Whoa! What a turn around. But you must stand up for yourself. If you don’t take it seriously, no one else will.

10.   Be kind to yourself. Don’t hate your book. Remember, this is a first draft, and the first step towards a new dream. Shower yourself with support: take breaks, get exercise, eat well, chat with your pals, and give yourself a hug. Writing 50,000 words in one month is a big deal. Celebrate your accomplishment.  You’re in an elite group. And, like you, your novel is a work in progress.
*
April Aasheim is the author of The Witches of Dark Root (3.49) and The Universe is a Very Big Place (2.99). Both available on Amazon.

Candy Crush Your Soul

It started out as a simple game and now it's taken my soul: Candy Crush.

I avoided it for so long, poo-pooing it whenever a Facebook friend would send me a request. After all, if its that popular, it cant be good. Right?

But now, I've found myself addicted, playing during commercial breaks, at red lights, and whenever my husband isn't saying something interesting at dinner. But the game is insidious. You can only play for so long before it cuts you off.

Next life in 54 minutes it tells me.

I've created things to do while waiting for said next life: wash dishes, vacuum, clean the toilet. In Candy Crush's defense, my house has never looked so clean.

But last night I hit a new level on the game and I beat it. And Candy Crush didn't just cut me off for an hour, it cut me off for an entire day.

"Come back in 24 hours for your next quest."

Mother F...

Of course, the beauty of this 'free' app is that you can spam your social media friends with requests for tickets and extra lives and even things that will make winning easier. Then they can get infected by the bug. Its a never ending trap.

But I haven't resorted to that. Yet. In 8 more hours I get to play again. I can last that long. There's a yard that needs to be weeded and a cat I haven't fed in several days. I have things I can do. I can make it.

I have become a Crombie (a Candy Crush Zombie). And I have joined my tribe.

White Noise Apps I Wouldn't Want to Hear

I just got back from a long weekend with extended family. While it was fun I couldn't help but miss my own bed, and the fan that runs while I sleep, providing some white noise relief. I was told that you could get apps for your phone that would also work to give you that background noise. There were options for running water, gong chimes, and thunder, but sadly, these couldn't quite compete with my own fan. While contemplating these lesser noises, I came up with my own list I think they should make. While they might not provide a great night's sleep, they'd be pretty fricken funny.



The Worst White Noise App Sounds Ever:

• Cat fight
• Sneakers in the dryer
• Audience of the Jerry Springer Show
• Bluetooth man at the grocery store
• Crazy old woman on the bus
• Bawling babies
• Smoke detector with low batteries
• Young mother giving her child to the count of 14 to behave
• Grandpa regaling youngsters with his 'Tales from Nam'
• Pudding hour at the Sunny Dales home for retirees
• Any Miley Cyrus television interview

If Jesus Had a Facebook Page

Status Update
God, I hate Mondays!

Status Update
Considering growing a beard. What do you think?

Jesus is now following:

• The Bethlehem Wine Company
• Galilee Sandals and Robes
• Donkeys and Things

Status Update:
Going on a team building retreat with The Big Guy. 40 days of training. See you guys in a month!

Jesus is now at: The Judean Desert

Jesus liked this:
Water

Status Update:
I'm back from a life-changing experience. I learned a few tricks, grew a beard, and lost 72 pounds. Can now fit in my 'good' robe.
BTW Satan is a real asshole. Just sayin'.

Jesus posted a new photo to his timeline:
Beard!!!











Friend Requests Sent:
Simon/Peter
James the Son of Zebedee
John of Nazareth
John the Baptist

People You May Know:
Herod

Status Update:
Shout out to John the Baptist! Thanks for friending me man. My mother, Mary wife of Joseph, thought we'd hit it off. I'm going to be out in the wilderness in a few days. I'll look you up.

People You May Know:
Matthew, the Tax Collector
Mary Magdalene

Friend Request Sent:
Mary Magdalene

Message:
Sup Mary?

Jesus liked this:
Fish

Friend Requests Sent:
Simon the Zealot
Judas Iscariot

Status Update:
Having dinner with Simon/Peter. The fish is delicious!












Jesus is now in a relationship with: Mary Magdalene

God Poked You!

Jesus' relationship status has changed to: It's Complicated.

Status Update:
My page has nearly 2000 likes. When I hit 5000 I'm hosting a raffle-copter Eternal Salvation Giveaway. Please like and keep sharing. (*All entrants are winners. Some rules apply)












Jesus has updated his profile:

• Born: Manger
• Skills: Inventor of the bottomless bread basket
• Skills: Turning water into wine
• Skills: Growing the world's most awesome beard

Status Update:
In one word describe how we met, then copy and paste this into your own update and I will do the same. One word. No cheating.
Comments:
-Fishing
-Fishing
-Money-changing
-Tax-collecting
-Dudes! WTH? One word!
-taxcollecting (LOL)
-you guys suck

Judas has tagged you in a photo.

Message Sent:
Hey Judas. Posting that pic of us from a decade ago was not cool. You know I'm self-conscious about my weight back then. Crop me out of the next one.

Jesus posted on John the Baptist's Timeline.
Had fun meeting you IRL. Let's do it again real soon.

Jesus shared a link:
The Mediterranean Diet

Judas has tagged you in a photo.
Me and my buddy JC at the Dead Sea during Spring Break. Good times!









Message Sent:
Not funny, Judas! That last one wasn't even of me. Cut it out!

Status Update:
It is National Leprosy Awareness Week. If you or someone you know has leprosy please post this as your status for one hour. Unless you have no fingers. Then see if someone else will post for you.

Jesus has updated his profile:

• Went to school in: Nazareth
• Worked at: Joseph's Bench Emporium
• Son of: God

Suggested Post:
A Course in Miracles

Status Update:
It was a good day. I walked twelve miles (got in all my steps for the day), gave a man sight, and raised the dead. Trying hard not to regain my pre-desert weight. It's hard with all the fish!

Jesus shared a video:
What if God was One of Us

Notification:
Judas has invited you to play Candy Crush.









Status Update:
Got a job interview tomorrow at Bethlehem Wine Company. Wish me luck!

People You May Know:
Pontius Pilate

Status Update:
Bummed! Did not get the job. They said I was over-qualified. What does that even mean? Thinking I'm going to take a nap and think about life for a while.

Suggested Post:
Author God
Read my thrilling new book: The Old Testament. Based on the life and times of ME!
At select scroll stores throughout the Eastern Mediterranean.

Jesus uploaded a photo:
Me as a baby. Wasn't I cute?

Status Update:
Traffic was terrible today. Had to take the donkey. Hope tomorrow's better. Goodnight world.

Judas tagged you in a photo
My man JC working miracles with the ladies!










Mary Magdalene has poked you!
God poked you!

Message Sent:
Mary! That guy in the picture doesn't even look like me. C'mon!

Jesus has changed his relationship status to: single.

Are you sure you want to unfriend Judas Iscariot?
Yes

Facebook Account Deactivated

Facebook Account Reactivated

Status Update:
Surprise! 

 

(April Aasheim is the author of The Witches of Dark Root and The Universe is a Very Big Place)

Chin Up!

Nothing screams peri-menopausal married woman like a shopping cart full of root dye, cat food, and a Ladies Home Journal.

I was reminded of how old I had become when I unloaded my cart, and the smiling young cashier made small talk with me. At first I thought he was flirting, and I flipped back my hair and shot him a dimple, but as he scanned the last can of Friskies and said, "my mom buys this for our cat too," I realized I had become my mother. And his.

I'm not sure when I started 'acting old'. It might have been on my last birthday (and for those of you who follow my blog you know how I feel about birthdays! http://aprilaasheim.blogspot.com/2012/02/five-stagesof-aging-grief-as-another.html)

 I was actually feeling pretty good about myself shortly before that fateful day. I was working out, eating better, and had a pretty active social life. On the day of I decided to treat myself to a microdermabrasion as the last aesthetician I had seen assured me that I didn't need any kind of fillers for my smile lines, just a good scrubbing (God I miss Andre!). But now, as the lady ran the micro-crystal over my skin I asked her what she thought.

From my vantage point, lying on the table, I could see her Botoxed brow attempt to wrinkle. "I think it's gonna take more than a micro. Let me send you to Lucy after."

Lucy ended up being a 27-year-old, thigh-high-boot wearing gal who swore she could make me look ten years younger.

"With a filler?" I asked, chagrined. I was hoping I could wait on those another few years.

"No. You see, the lines are caused by your chin, which is starting to fall. Haven't you noticed that?"

No! I hadn't noticed it. Lucy said for a mere 2000 dollars I could get three full laser treatment that would zap my chin back in place. "It will feel like the worst sunburn of your life but it's totally worth it. Do it while you're still young. My mom did it and she looks great."

There were so many things wrong with that paragraph, but I slunk home, taking the cost analysis worksheet back to my husband who informed me that Lucy was a salesperson and that was her way of making money. And no, we weren't going to shell out 2k for me to get a new chin.

Still. The seed had been planted. I spent the next two months catching my reflection in the mirror, looking for turkey neck. I read magazines, looking for celebrities who were my age and older, checking to see if their jowls had set in. And I looked to peers around me, seeing who had avoided the face plague and who was still fairing well. It was a war, I realized. And according to Lucy, I was losing.

Since then I think I fell into old woman mode, dressing comfortably, making soups, subscribing to Oprah. Who knew that one comment, out of the blue, would change my perspective so dramatically? I went from feeling like a curvy cutie to a has-been jowl frau, with no ramp up time.

A few months have passed and I've come to grips with things. Lucy said my chin was 'falling' but it hadn't fallen yet. And even if it had, was that horrible? I was still me, no matter what my neck said. I had even started believing that cute guys could find me attractive again, if I lived in an alternate single Universe.

"What are you going to do today?" The cute cashier asked, bagging up my last can of Friskies.

"I'm going roller blading," I said, smiling.

"No way! I love roller blading."

"So do I," I said, and I meant it.

And that afternoon, after feeding my cat, leafing through my Ladies Home Journal, and covering up the gray hairs that had sprouted around my ears, I strapped on the skates and did some circuits around the neighborhood.

There were a million Lucy's out there, telling me that my only salvation lay in their costy and sometimes painful treatments.

But my time hasn't passed, nor will it, as long as I continue to live and embrace my life.

Maybe next time I send my husband for the cat food.

For Halloween: My Top Ten Witches in TV and Movies

Recently, I asked a large sampling of my friends to list their favorite TV shows and movies featuring witches. I collected their data (and added mine in too). See if you agree with the following list:

(Note: I realize that many were left out but I could only include ten. I chose the ones that were repeated the most often).

The Top Ten Movies and TV Shows Featuring Witches

10. H.R.Pufnstuf - If you were a kid in the 1970’s you probably remember watching H.R.Pufinstuff (and if you were an adult in the early 1970’s you probably remember tripping out while watching H.R. Pufnstuf). H.R.Pufnstuf was a live-action puppet show that featured a giant talking cheeseburger with a heart of gold and his arch nemesis, the evil

Witchiepoo. A green meanie, Witchiepoo lures innocent Jimmy and his talking flute Freddie to the crazy Living Island in order to get her hands on Jimmy’s instrument (His flute! It’s a family show!). Unfortunately, she is thwarted at every turn. Witchiepoo was the embodiment of the bumbling, broomstick-flying, nasty witches we all learned to fear as children. Although it only ran for 17 episodes it was very popular in its day, freaking out an entire generation of kids.

9. Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs - One of Disney’s first, full-length animated classics, this movie features an evil queen who wields dark, magical powers. When the queen learns from her magic mirror that she is in danger of losing her title as ‘the fairest in the land’ she goes to great lengths to ensure that this doesn’t happen. No one who has ever seen this film will forget the image of the evil queen in the guise of an old woman, handing Snow White a red poisoned apple. For this reason it made my list.

8. Sabrina the Teenaged Witch - Originally a comic book in the 60’s and 70’s, Sabrina was resurrected in the mid 90’s as a television series. The plot was simple, Sabrina, a half-witch living with her two witchy aunts, discovers on her 16th birthday that she too has magical powers. Of course, being new to the world of witchcraft, her spells don’t always turn out like she planned. Sabrina made my list because she was fun and fashionable and her heart was always in the right place even when her spells were not.

7. Hocus Pocus - This early 90’s flick didn't do well with critics but gained a big following once it was released on VHS and aired on cable channels. The story chronicles three naughty witches, the Sanderson sisters, who are resurrected from the dead and must use their witchcraft to siphon the life force from children in order to stay alive. The film has a dark theme but thanks to Bette Midler and Sarah Jessica Parker, has many fun and zany moments that lend to its charm. Besides, good eventually prevails in the movie, but it’s very entertaining to see how it plays out.

6. Charmed - In the late 90’s and into the mid 2000’s we got to know Piper, Phoebe, Prue (and later Paige) Halliwell, otherwise known as the Charmed Ones. These gals had some awe-inspiring magic and with help from their Book of Shadows, continued to grow in power. What I loved about the show was that it focused on the three sisters trying to maintain a normal life including dating and family dramas while protecting the innocent from things that go bump in the night.

 

5. Bell, Book and Candle - No witchy list is complete without this 1958 classic. The film focuses on witchy Gillian who falls in love (of course) with a mortal man and, because of this, is in danger of losing her magical powers. I loved this movie because the chemistry between free-spirited Gillian (Kim Novak) and Shep (James Stewart) is as bubbly and delicious as a fine glass of witches brew. Plus, it’s a classic and one of the first witchy movies my mother introduced me to. You can never go wrong with a classic.

4. Practical Magic - So, confession here. This is probably my all-time favorite witchy movie. BUT, not everyone I queried agreed. The plot follows two sisters, Sally and Gillian Owens, who live with their eccentric witchy aunts on Maria’s Island. The family has been cursed and no man can ever love an Owens woman without dying at a young age. The plot sounds tragic, and at times it, but it’s also sweet, and poignant, and hilarious. And very romantic. Don’t wait for Halloween to watch this movie. It’s great any time of the year.

3. The Harry Potter Series - I originally forgot to include Hermione Granger from the Harry Potter films. When I think Harry Potter, I think wizards, but as I’ve been thoroughly reprimanded and reminded by all my Hogwarts loving friends, Hermione Granger is a witch, and a powerful one at that. I don’t have to list all the great things about this series. It’s a fantastic, magical world that you can get lost in for hours. The characters are interesting and well-developed, and they grow up in many ways along their journey. Though Harry is the star of the show our little witch Hermione holds her own with a quick wit and a quick wand. Plus, she’s super cute and someone we want to root for.

2.The Wizard of Oz - We all know the story: small town girl gets tossed by a tornado into the magical world of Oz. There, she meets Glinda the Good Witch and The Wicked Witch of the West. She also inadvertently knocks off the Wicked Witch of the East in the process. The movie is great in so many ways: amazing song and dances sequences, brilliant use of Technicolor, and unforgettable characters. The real charm of the movie, however, lies in it’s simple storyline: the pure heart of one little girl is more powerful than any magic a witch can do.

1. Bewitched - Every person I asked mentioned the 1960’s sitcom, Bewitched. Samantha Stephens is a lovely young witch who loves her dull husband so much that she is willing to give up her magical powers in order to please him. This includes doing her housework like (egads!) a normal woman.(Ladies, it’s not worth it! The only thing cowing to a man ever got poor Samantha was an even duller doppelganger version of her husband who appeared in the sixth season). Of course, Samantha’s nosy neighbor, her disapproving mother, and her practical joke playing uncle add drama and hilarity to the mix. This is one of the most beloved witchy shows ever made and in 2002 was listed in TV Guide’s 50 Greatest TV Shows of All Time. To this day, whenever I catch an old rerun on TV, I have to revisit Samantha and her zany family. It just feels like home.

 

(Originally written by me and posted in creatively green mom . com)

When I'm Gone

I've never seen myself as a poet, but I do consider myself a story-teller.
I wrote this poem five years ago while watching my mother read a bedtime story to my two-year-old niece Freya. I thought about the time when my mother wouldn't be around to do this anymore, and I imagined she might write a letter to her. I've never shared this before a few weeks ago, and I'm giving it to my mother tonight.



A Letter to My Granddaughter on Her 18th Birthday (Freya's Song)

My Darling Dear
My Guinevere
Though I have been absent now
For many years
And perhaps you no longer remember my face
Covered with folds like the pages of a book we once read
Of kings and fairies
And things that might be
When you sat small upon my knee
Before succumbing to your bed

I wanted you to see, my queen
That my stories are not yet through
Though I’ve taken my place
Among the bards of yesterday
I still reach out from time and space
To tell one final tale to you

Your future is a living story

Empty pages to be written in

With ink that cannot be erased

As you start on your adventure
Do not rush towards stories end
Notice lilies in the morning
Count the stars that end the day
Real heroes are not forged in glory
But in quiet journeys along the way

The greatest deeds a champion does
Are those we do not write about

Real moments that make up our lives
Are more important in the end
Than all the dragons we have slain
Or fleeting glimpse of unicorn
These cannot match the sun at morn
Or the smile of a friend

Dream big
Act small
In kindness
And my queen
Do not forget
Each life is a chapter
In a far greater story
Written across the universe
It is the small words that weave
Our stories together
Be thoughtful with pen
When contributing
Your verse

The Reality Show Reality

I'm not a huge watcher of reality shows, but I enjoy them in moderation. I usually pick one show a season as my guilty pleasure. Pretty Wicked Moms was my poison of choice last season and I'm really looking forward to Big Rich Texas returning in November.

That said, I have no idea why I watch them. It's like going to an all you can eat shrimp buffet. It seems like a good idea when you enter the joint, but by the time you are done with it all you can think about is throwing up.

My husband is fascinated by my love of aging, rich blond women and my hatred of them. "Why do you watch these if you are going to curse at the TV?" he asks. I respond by asking him why he does the exact same thing with football.

I took his question to heart though. Why am I fascinated enough by their lives to use up one of my DVR recording slots?

Maybe reality shows are the grown up version of playing Barbie. Bitchy, tequila-shooting, Barbie. These women all have the fabulous homes, the shoes, the clothes, the bullet boobs, the makeup and the Ken Doll. Granted, Ken is now a fifty-year old, womanizing alcoholic going through a mid-life crisis, but at least he still has his Malibu home.

Unlike Barbie, however, none of these women have jobs, or if they do its something like real estate agent to the stars or clothing designer for K-mart. It's all work that can be done on their own hours and with a drink in their hands.

Not to say it's all easy for these gals. Tragedies happen: Botox clinics shut down, cars get keyed by jealous bitchez, nails get chipped in cat fights. But, for the most part, these women are still leading a fantasy life that doesn't involve changing dirty diapers or scooping up week-old kitty litter. It's kind of nice to see that sort of parallel dimension.

Reality shows are like magic mirrors. They can transport us away for an hour to a place where the kitchens are always clean, but we're always glad to be back in our own hovel when it's over. And while I didn't marry Ken, that G.I. Joe action figure taking up residence on my couch while playing the X-box and calling for a sandwich is real and I love him.

And that's the real secret of reality shows: they make us appreciate our own reality, beach-less house and all.