Sharpe Writing

I recently finished Isabel Sharpe’s WOMEN ON THE EDGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKTHROUGH. Thanks to my pal Jamie Sobrato for talking up Isabel’s first women’s fiction release on her blog last year, because I loved this book (yes, I’m ashamed to admit it can take me a year or longer to buy and read a book that’s on my Must Buy list). WOMEN ON THE EDGE OF A NERVOUS BREAKTHROUGH is like a slice of Desperate Housewives on paper. Hmm, I guess that sounds wonderful if, like me, you love Desperate Housewives. If you don’t dig the ladies of Wisteria Lane, try WOMEN, anyway. After all, I’m recommending it. What more do you need?

Because I bought this book based on Jamie’s recommendation and because I’m familiar sharpe_edge.jpgwith Isabel’s category romance career, I bought it during an Amazon binge without reading the back cover copy. From the cover, I assumed it was a murder mystery, but it isn’t. As I read, I realized the cover reflects more of a “Mother’s Little Helper” vibe, which suits the story to a tee. Plus, well, I don’t want to give away the plot, but the red carpet on the cover is symbolic.

Back cover copy:

Welcome to Kettle, Wisconsin, a town where everyone knows nothing bad ever happens.

Enter Lorelei Taylor—notorious, glamorous, and hot off a not-guilty murder verdict that stunned the nation. To the women of Kettle, bad things seem suddenly inevitable . . .

Sarah Gilchrist—A perfect house and garden can’t quite make up for a marriage that’s a wreck. Sarah is determined to rise above her opinion of Kettle’s dreadful newcomer and give her a perfect welcome. But in the face of Lorelei’s outrageous provocations, Sarah’s control starts to unravel.

Erin Hall—What her husband does to her behind closed doors stays hidden. But Lorelei’s acquittal gives Erin hope for the first time. Convinced Lorelei did kill her abusive lover . . . and got away with it, Erin thinks she may have some power after all.

Lorelei Taylor—In Lorelei’s eyes, peaceful, heavenly Kettle could not look any more like hell. She vows to shake up the town—smug, priggish Sarah; mousy, downtrodden Erin; and while she’s at it, her widowed neighbor, Mike. Except the harder she shakes, the more the shake-up is happening to her.

Sometimes the only thing women on the edge need . . . is a push.

We won’t get into who pushes whom. Nope, you have to read the book to find out.

I notice on Isabel’s website that her second women’s fiction release, AS GOOD AS IT GOT, is also now available. You can bet it’s going on my Must Buy list. And this time it won’t take me a year to read it. (She says bravely).

A Time for Lasts

Last night was Youngest Son’s last band concert. Every year his high school jazz and concert bands (he plays in both) stage a show at the local performing arts centre (yes, I spelled it the Canadian way for this occasion). It’s always quite an evening, full of song (as in singing), excellent music, and a lot of fun. Every year the graduating students band together (little pun) and buy their teacher a goodbye gift. He’s truly an exemplary teacher. I don’t know how he does it. Year after year, teaching those little cretins. Then picking up his saxophone to play with them in the jazz band. Very cool. In my opinion, it takes a certain sort of soul to become an exemplary teacher, and my hat is off to all of you out there who do it. This teacher has been with my son and most of the other kids graduating this year since grade seven, when he also taught part time at the elementary school to get the kids interested in music. That’s six years of teaching the same kids band. I know Y.S. has grown and developed a lot thanks to this teacher.

So, last night it was finally Y.S.’s turn to be among the band grads. They gave their teacher a podium that one of the students had built in woodwork class, and they’d had all their names engraved on a placque for the base of the podium. And it struck me…the last band concert…a few weeks ago the last band trip (a “Magical Mystery Tour,” where the kids literally did not know where they were traveling until they neared their destination, and we parents did not know where they were going either until after all the students had boarded the bus)…Y.S. is studying for his last few tests…next week my last child graduates high school…the following week he writes his last provincial exam (province-wide standardized tests for university entrance).

It’s hard not to get choked up when you’re faced with a lot of sentimental lasts. Twelve years of school rush by so quickly. It doesn’t seem that long ago when he was attending his first Kindergarten class…walking to school for the first time without me…then the first time without his big brother…then the first this and the first that…well, you know how it goes.

After he graduates, he’ll begin a whole new slew of firsts as the generous, ambitious, hopeful young man he has grown into. But, for now, he’s still my little boy in my eyes, and I’m soaking all the joy I can from the lasts.

Motherhood Hats

I’m going crazy helping my two sons organize their college and university educations for September. So no blogging today, not when writing is taking a back seat to Mom Putting on Her Guidance Counselor Hat. Gah, I can’t remember juggling university schedules being this complicated back in the day. Of course, when you’re in Arts, you have some leeway in your course selection. Can’t get into American History? Try European History instead. Believe me, after helping two boys through this jungle and negotiating it myself, I’ve come to realize how much leeway Arts students have compared to Science students. Youngest Son wants to major in Geology and needs to take specific courses in his first year across the board. However, we live in a town where both the local college and the nearest university (next town over) are both small enough that, between lecture and lab courses, we are facing big scheduling conflicts. Cross your fingers that things work out. If you don’t find me around here for a few days or I’m just posting links to other places on-line, you’ll know why. The Mom duties must come first. Then the writing. Then the blog.

However, I do have a treat today. Yesterday, Avery Beck answered my call for the Cutest Baby MeMe. Hop on over to her blog and have a gander at the very, very, extremely cute baby picture of her son. I can’t get over that smile. He’s definitely in the running for Cutest Baby.

If anyone else wants to play, check yesterday’s post. Give me a baby picture to link to tomorrow!

Cutest Baby MeMe

In honor of Dadbert’s birthday yesterday, I’m starting a meme. Anyone with a blog can play. Here’s how it goes. I’m posting a “Cutest Baby” picture on my blog. I’m not tagging anyone. If you want to play, here are the rules:

  1. Post a “Cutest Baby” picture to your own blog.

  2. Link back to my blog (or the blog of whomever/wherever you first see the Cutest Baby MeMe…you know, after they get it from me.)

  3. Include a link to your “Cutest Baby” picture in the Comments trail of this blog post, so I can easily hop over and ooh and ahh over the baby picture. In return, I expect you to ooh and aah over the picture I’m posting.

  4. Explain why you think the baby in your picture is deserving.

  5. The baby in your picture can not be you.

  6. The baby in your picture must be a relative.

  7. Repeat the rules on your blog if you want others to pick up the MeMe.

Ready, Set? Go!

dadbaby.jpg

I’m nominating Dadbert (naturally). Why? You have to ask? Look at those lips!! That cute little Three Stooges hairdo! The year was 1932, maybe 1933, depending how old he is in the photo (I’m guessing he was around six months, which puts the photo date around December ’32 or January/February ’33).

Dadbert is deserving of “Cutest Baby” because he has a perfect “Depression Era Pout.” I’m not sure, but looking at the picture, I think it was taken by a professional, but we’re talking 75 years ago, folks, so that’s ONE DARN CUTE BABY.

Show me yours!

Tell Me Tuesday

Today is Dadbert’s birthday. Happy birthday, Dadbert!

Dadbert is my new blog nickname for my father. I call him Dadbert quite frequently, and it’s more respectful than “Old Man,” which is another of my nicknames for him, so I decided it made a better blog nickname for He Who Gave Me Life than Mon Pere. Also, Dadbert doesn’t require an accent. So Dadbert it will be. Live with it. 🙂

What’s the news in the blogosphere? Writing or non-writing? From writers or non-writers? Myself, I had a bit of a tough writing week last week. Oh, I made progress, but every single sentence was like pulling teeth. Can I blame it on Mercury Retrograde? Or hormones? Or both? I think I will. However, now the hormone cloud has lifted, and the writing is moving along much better. In fact, I’m nearly to the NaNoWriMo mess of already drafted scenes for this project. I’m so close, I can breathe on them. I’m so close that I’ve started re-reading the NaNo scenes to ensure they and those I’m writing now will still bridge to each other. And you know what? I think they will. This gives me no end of joy. You mean there was a purpose to my NaNoWriMo experiment? I should know more next week.

Now, I open the floor to those brave enough to comment (yes, ye Commenters are a brave lot). What’s going on in your neck of the woods? Any news to share? If you have no news and you just want to give me a pat on the back, I won’t stop you.

Oh, and come back tomorrow, because I’m starting my very own MeMe! One big difference, I’m not tagging anyone. Participation in Cindy’s MeMe is strictly voluntary. So if you don’t come back, you don’t get to see what it is. And wouldn’t that be a shame?

 

SATC, The Movie

Eldest Son took me to see Sex and the City, The Movie yesterday—a belated Mother’s Day present. How would I describe it? “Predictable but fun.” (Yes, you can quote me). If you’re a fan of the series, it’s worth seeing in a theater, although it is “waitable” (as in waiting to rent the DVD). I didn’t want to wait, though, because I figured by then I would have heard all the spoilers.

I read an interview where Michael Patrick King (the writer) said he didn’t want the movie to feel like 3 back-to-back episodes of the series, but, um, that’s pretty much how it feels (okay, it feels more like 4 back-to-back episodes). That’s not necessarily a bad thing, though. Here we have some very well-loved characters, and there’s only so much Mr. King (good name!) could do with them without alienating his fan base. I give the movie a thumbs-up. Should they make a sequel? Definitely not. The movie provides a nice nightcap to the series. But I don’t need to get drunk.

The funniest part of the movie? “The Charlotte.”

The tenderest moment? “The Bridge.”

IMO, anyway. If you’ve seen the movie, what’s your take?

There’s a cute “Match Your Man” quiz on the Sex and the City, The Movie website. Look in the bottom right hand corner. I took the quiz, and it looks like Harry is the best match for My Liege. Well, I’ve been married to the guy forever, so that makes sense. 😉

You want spoilers? I got spoilers! I’ve formatted them in white font, so if you DON’T want to read spoilers, whatever you do, do NOT highlight the following paragraph. Highlighting the following paragraph WILL reveal the spoilers.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

Spoilers:

  • Carrie and Big get married

  • He breaks her heart first

  • Charlotte gets pregnant

  • Steve cheats on Miranda

  • They get back together

  • Samantha leaves Smith

  • They don’t get back together

  • The girls are all happy and together at the end.